by Doug Hoffman
Isbjørn sniffed the body and pronounced, “this one's dead.”
Ludmilla hastened to Melissa's side and quickly checked her pulse and respiration. Taking note of the bruising on the side of Melissa's face, she pulled a pencil thin LED flashlight and checked pupil dilation for signs of a concussion. The Ambassador's “flowers” rustled, a sign of agitation but not the warning rattle that preceded their turning Melissa's attacker into a pincushion.
Gretchen spoke into her collar pip. “This is Capt. Curtis. We need medics, two stretchers and a squad of Marines at the Ambassador's quarters. Now!”
“We are quite concerned for MelissaScottHamilton's well being; It is distressing that such an attack took place between members of the same species; We responded in haste, as an opportunity presented itself.”
“Her pulse is weak and rapid, breathing shallow and her skin is cool and clammy,” Ludmilla stated. She also noted that the motile roots around the Ambassador's base were partly wrapped around the victim, as though caressing her. “She is in shock and needs to be stabilized as soon as possible.”
Isbjørn moved closer to the injured girl and made motherly bear sounds. Melissa looked up at the bear's face and in a sign of recognition reached out and touched Isbjørn's muzzle.
“We have tried to comfort her but we are poorly equipped to give aid to creatures of your kind; The one we neutralized entered without permission and assaulted MelissaScottHamilton without provocation; We hope our actions do not upset you, the threat was unfamiliar and our responses limited.”
“I am sure that Melissa will be all right, NatHanGon,” said Ludmilla, addressing the Triad for the first time.
“What did you do to the assailant?” asked Gretchen, eying the fallen gray form.
“I think your response was totally appropriate,” growled Isbjørn, hovering protectively over the fallen Melissa.
* * * * *
Outside the airlock, Beth and Billy Ray had arrived, two Marines in tow. A member of the original expeditions and a Naval officer, Billy Ray had access to the Ambassador's airlock code. As the door slid open he turned to the two Marines and issued orders: “One of you go 30 meters that way and the other back the way we came. Do not let anyone down here except for official personnel responding to the emergency.”
“Aye aye, Sir,” the Marines replied in unison, quickly moving off to their assigned positions.
Stepping inside the airlock, Billy Ray used the intercom to call the party inside. “Capt. Curtis? This is Lt. Melaku and Cdr. Vincent. We have secured the area and are awaiting instructions.”
“Very good, Cdr. Vincent,” came the reply. “There are medical personnel and a squad of Marines on the way. We will need the medical personnel with a stretcher in here as soon as they arrive.”
“Aye, aye, Ma'am. Might I ask what happened?”
“Some civilian miscreant attacked Miss Scott Hamilton as she was tending to the Ambassador. She is injured but stable; the Ambassador is unharmed.”
“Thank you Ma'am. We will send the medics in as soon as they arrive.” Under his breath Billy Ray cursed, “son of a bitch!”
“Is everything all right?” asked Beth, concerned as much by Billy Ray's reaction as the update from Capt. Curtis.
“I truly hope so, Beth. Why someone would want to hurt Melissa I cannot tell you. She's about the sweetest little thing you'd ever want to meet. Always smiling, not a bad word to say about anyone. If the bastard who attacked her ain't dead now the sum'bitch will be shortly, I guaranty it.”
Beth was startled by the venom in Billy Ray's words. It seemed that the calm, cool cowboy cared about other people after all, and deeply. As she searched for some comforting phrase the medics pulled up outside with a pair of floating stretchers.
“A couple of you bring one of those stretchers in here. Col. Tropsha is inside with the victim, she'll tell you what to do,” Turning to Beth he added, “Lt. Melaku, could you step outside and coordinate the responding emergency personnel?”
“Yes, Commander.” There was no doubt in her mind that Billy Ray's question was an order. She stepped outside; the airlock sealed and cycled.
* * * * *
The two medics guided the floating stretcher into the Ambassador's chamber. One pulled up short at the sight of Isbjørn crouched near the patient but Ludmilla gave him no time to dither.
“Bring that stretcher over here,” Ludmilla snapped. “She is shocky and has suffered trauma to the left side of her face. We need to get her immobilized, under blankets and to the medical section immediately.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the medics replied. There was no doubt in either of their minds that those orders came from a medical doctor. Carefully, they freed Melissa from the caring embrace of the Triad and with the assistance of Billy Ray placed the injured woman on the stretcher.
As she was eased onto the floating device, Melissa looked up at Ludmilla and said “I tried to stop him, Ludmilla, like you taught us, but he kept on coming.” She teared up and started to cry softly.
“There, there Melissa,” Ludmilla said, trying to comfort her, “do not worry, it is not your fault. Everything will be all right, the Ambassador took care of that animal. We need you to just lay back while we take you to hospital.”
As Dr. Tropsha and the medical people departed with their patient, Billy Ray squatted on his haunches looking over the body of the assailant. “Am I mistaken or is this feller dead?”
“He is most definitely dead,” responded Isbjørn, in a way that implied she would have made sure of it if he wasn't.
“What I want to know is how that bastard got in here,” fumed Gretchen.
“Well, this might have had something to do with it,” Billy Ray replied, removing a small metallic object from the deceased’s rear pocket. It was the signal recorder the assailant used to hack the door lock.
“Get that to the technical section. I want to find out exactly how this happened and make sure it never happens again.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
“And send in the other stretcher, we need to move this piece of human garbage to the morgue. I want to know who this creep was and where he came from. By the way, Ambassador, how did you kill him?”
“Yes, it looks like you stopped him in his tracks,” added Isbjørn, who then nudged Billy Ray to complete the triplet.
“Yeah, you saved us the bother of a speedy trial and a quick hanging,” the still riled cowboy finished.
“We pierced him with a number of quills, each tipped with an assortment of neurotoxins; Having no prior need to formulate a debilitating agent for humans, we used a wide spectrum of substances that were almost instantly fatal; We are happy to be of assistance, we are quite fond of MelissaScottHamilton.”
Base Administrator's Office
The day following the incident in the Triad Ambassador's quarters, Ludmilla called a meeting of the Moon base's governing council. Present were Captain Curtis, Isbjørn, Rajiv Gupta and TK Parker, just returned from Earth. Also in attendance were Yuki Saito and Jo Jo Medina. Upon hearing news of the attack TK became particularly incensed.
“How is that young woman doing, Dr. Tropsha?” he asked as the others were still taking their seats. “I can't believe that such a thing could happen here at Farside. Were did that polecat come from and how did he slip through the screening interviews?”
“Melissa is doing fine,” answered Ludmilla. “Her shock was more psychological than physiological. I have treated her with analgesics for the pain and kept her overnight for observation. As for her attacker, it would appear that he was picked up with a group of other refugees from a small college town in the mountains of California,” the Chief Administrator continued, scanning over the report on the surface display in front of her. “He evidently was a repairman and maintenance worker on the college campus. His interview revealed nothing untoward and several of the other school people vouched for him.”
“Vouched for him or just said they knew the bastard?” TK muttere
d.
“Most likely the latter but who knows? As fast as we had to move while rescuing useful survivors we were bound to catch a few hidden criminals in our nets. He was probably a sexual predator for years, but managed not to get caught. He did have some technical skills or he never could have constructed the device that gave him access to the airlock.”
“I find that more troubling than the fact we found a bad apple among our new personnel,” commented Gretchen. “Rajiv, how could someone override our security so easily?”
“Well, Gretchen,” replied the installation's head scientist, “we really did not anticipate anyone actively trying to thwart the door locks on the secure areas.”
“In general, areas are restricted for safety reasons, not to prevent criminal activity,” added Chief Engineer Medina. “Obviously we need to take stricter precautions.”
“I think we all can agree to that,” Rajiv concurred.
“Good. Rajiv, can you and Jo Jo coordinate with the military security people and come up with better physical security measures for sensitive areas? The last thing we need is an insane person sabotaging one of the power reactors or poisoning the food supply.”
“We'll get right on it, Ma'am,” Jo Jo assured her.
“I would also like to institute a series of interviews of all base personnel, to see if we have any other criminals lurking in our midst.”
“What do you mean, Ludmilla?” asked TK.
“We have a number of ex-law enforcement people here on the base—several policemen, at least one FBI agent, and others with experience in criminal profiling. I am thinking of having some of them sit in with a psychiatrist and a social worker to do the interviews.”
“I'm not real sure I trust all that psychiatric mumbo-jumbo, but having people interviewed by the police might set the population on edge, if you get my drift.”
“I am thinking we should do this without revealing the true reason for the interviews, TK. We can say it is to make sure everyone is being utilized to their greatest potential, and that everyone is happy with their assigned work.”
“Ah, a cover story,” said Gretchen. “Now you are being devious.”
“Trust me, Russians know devious.”
“You should include a bear on the interview panels,” Isbjørn added. “We can often smell fear on a person, and we can provide observations that might be overlooked by a human.”
“Good idea, Isbjørn,” TK chuckled. “If nothing else it will help make the interviewees nervous and more apt to slip up.”
“Da, good idea. I will have my staff work on setting things up.”
“I must say, this is quite unsettling. When it was just people associated with the project we never worried about such things. Why would people we saved want to harm us?”
“People are strange critters, Rajiv,” TK observed, drawing a snort of agreement from Isbjørn, normally the most tactful of bears.
“We humans are often irrational,” Ludmilla agreed, “It's possible that some of the people we helped really did not want to be saved, or feel guilty about not dying along with everyone else. Some may even blame us for the alien attack.”
“Captain Curtis quoted Commodore Perry after the Fleet's victory over the alien invaders,” TK added. “There's another version of that quote, from an old comic strip. The way Pogo put it was: 'We have met the enemy and he is us.'”
Base Operations Center, Farside
A few days following the incident in the Ambassador’s quarters, Billy Ray ran into Beth coming out of Base Ops. Both officers had busy schedules, and given their duties their paths did not often intersect.
“Well howdy stranger,” Billy Ray said, as Beth came into hailing distance. “We never did get a chance to properly say good night the other evening.”
“Well 'howdy' yourself, Commander,” Beth replied, smiling. “No, we were swept away by the flow of events, I'm sorry to say. How is that woman who was attacked?”
“Melissa? She's doin' OK according to Dr. Tropsha. She's probably back at work already.”
“My goodness, she must be made of sterner stuff than most of the science staff.”
“Don't let Melissa's petite frame and girlish looks fool you, she was one of the original crew and has seen more strange worlds and space battles than most. She's one tough lady.”
“Well, if you see her give her my best, will you? I doubt that our paths will cross very often. In fact, I'm taking a squadron of new corvette crews out on a training mission in a couple of days and won't be back for a fortnight.” Let's see if he takes the hint, Beth thought, or was that too subtle a clue?
“Out on a training cruise so quickly? Sounds like you are going to be busier than a one legged man at a butt kicking contest.”
“A what?” Beth replied, caught unprepared by Billy Ray's use of American slang, and southern slang at that.
“Sorry, that's probably considered politically incorrect. What I should have said was, given that yer going to be shipping out so soon, maybe you'd like to join me for dinner?”
Ah, he did get the message. “This evening? It just so happens that I'm free. Where were you thinking, your friend Jesse's establishment?”
“Naw, Jesse's is great but she really just serves snacks and bar food. I was thinking of a new place that just opened up, unless you're opposed to French cooking.”
“A French restaurant would be fantastic! I'm off at 1830 hours and will need to nick home for a quick freshen up—call me around eight?”
“Yes Ma'am,” Billy Ray smiled. “That's a date.”
Kuiper Belt, the Solar System
More than a week after Task Force Alpha headed for home, an alien messenger probe that had been quietly drifting away from the site of the battle came fully alive. It carried within it the last report from the Destroyer of Worlds and sensor recordings of the battle that brought its captain and crew to ruin. It documented the boarding by the Earthlings and the final attempt by the captain to scuttle his ship.
Sensing that the Earth squadron was well away, the messenger powered up its drive and headed for the nearest alter-space transfer point. Not a course back to the Destroyer's home world, but back to the Dark Lords who sent it. A long, shallow transit to a destination not much more massive than Jupiter, it would take the probe months to report what it had seen. The dark ones would then have to decide on the next step in this escalating war, and how to eradicate this troublesome planet filled with warm life vermin once and for all.
Part Two
Look Upon My Works Ye Mighty And Despair
Chapter 9
Maison de la Belle France
The French restaurant that Billy Ray escorted Beth to was off the beaten path, as many good French restaurants were. Several levels below the main atrium and down a long hall leading to one of the agricultural areas, they came to a nondescript door. A simple sign hanging above it read “Maison de la Belle France.” Stepping inside they found themselves in a warmly decorated room with the atmosphere of a country farmhouse.
The hostess hurried up, clutching a stack of large menus to her bosom. “Bonsoir, mademoiselle, monsieur. Une table pour deux?”
“Good evening yourself, Kim,” replied Billy Ray. “I didn't know that you were working here, or that you talked French.”
“Hi, Billy Ray,” the attractive young blond woman said, obviously relieved to be speaking in English. “I still work for Prof. Gunderson in Science Section, but I'm helping out until Jean-Jacques gets his restaurant off the ground. You just heard about 50% of my French, but Chef de Belcour insists I greet people en français to set the proper atmosphere.”
“Beth, this is Kimberly Lawson. She was Dr. Olaf Gunderson's assistant on the second voyage. Kim this is Beth Melaku, commander of the Farside corvette squadron and pilot extraordinaire.”
Beth shot Billy Ray a sideways look for the over-the-top introduction. “It's very nice to meet you, Miss Lawson. I'm still envious of all you who have traveled to other star systems. I hop
e to go on such a journey myself someday.”
This time it was Kim who looked away momentarily before replying. “I hope that your trip works out better than mine. Please come this way, I have a nice table for two near the windows.”
They followed the hostess to a table covered with white linen, flanked by two real wooden chairs. Out of the large window next to the table was a holographic scene of rolling country side covered in vineyards—obviously a panorama taken on Earth before the alien attack. A view of a France that no longer existed.
Kim seated them and handed each a large, hand written menu, saying, “let me take your drink order and I'll come back and tell you about tonight's specials.”
* * * * *
“I seem to have said something wrong earlier,” said a concerned Beth, as Kim hurried away with their drink order—a Manhattan on the rocks for him and a Hendrick's martini, up, no fruit, for her.
“My fault, I shouldn't have brought up the voyage without warning you first. You see, Kim and Jean-Jacques, who you will probably meet later tonight, and several other people were part of a diplomatic party that was bushwhacked by the hairy crickets.”
“My goodness! Was anyone hurt?”
“Yeah, one of the delegation died, and a couple were badly wounded, including Jean-Jacques. Doc Tropsha spent ten hours putting him back together afterward. Kim was wounded but not nearly that bad.”
“Still, it must have been a horrifying experience, being attacked by aliens on an alien planet far from home. No wonder I upset her.”
“She'll get over it, but there are a couple of other things you should know. First is that Jean-Jacques is French, I mean really French. And he used to work for the UN.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he was a total douche when he first joined the crew. In fact his being aboard was because he tried to turn Ludmilla over to some Russian agents at the UN's Vienna headquarters.”
