by S. J. Talbot
Continuing down the hall, he saw Chief Raleth and Rasmus down a side corridor, speaking in hushed conversation. They looked up and both scowled at him, though the Chief's was simply his default annoyance -- Rasmus's was loathing.
"I trust you're managing to stay out of trouble," said the Chief, walking over to him, with Rasmus close behind.
Tausson flexed his still smarting hand. "Squad. How is the evacuation progressing?" Not that he had any right to know, but he could at least hope for an answer.
The Chief must have been feeling generous, because he said, "On schedule, although these humans are a surly bunch. Two weeks of nothing but squabbles -- over every little thing! This one wants that dwelling, that one brought more than the allotted personal belongings, they want more nutrient rations." He rubbed his stubbly bronze chin. "It's a wonder they survived this long."
That reminded Tausson of a question that had been nagging him since they arrived. "Why were the humans selected for relocation in the first place? They're the least advanced species I've encountered during my tenure with the Squad. They have no central government, they have a currency-based economy, their technology is laughable."
"They were deemed sufficiently advanced," snapped the Chief, pushing past Tausson, "and that's all you need to know."
Tausson turned to go in the opposite direction, but Rasmus, his bronze skin glimmering in the hall lights, blocked his way.
"I've been wanting to thank you," he said with a mean smile.
"You're welcome," said Tausson, trying to move past. Whatever trap his former Third was laying for him, he wasn't going to get caught.
Rasmus moved with him, preventing his escape. Tausson could have forced his way through, but laying hands on another could be interpreted as an invitation to spar, and he had a feeling that was exactly what Rasmus wanted.
"With you out of the picture," said Rasmus, "and Carterra about to return to Relica for birthing, I will become Commander of the Irral."
Tausson had come to the same conclusion a few days ago. While he pitied those who would be under Rasmus's command, there was nothing he could do about it. He had made up his mind to resign from the Squad anyway. He hoped to find peace back on Relica.
"I hope you'll prove worthy of her," he said. "She's a fine vessel." Once again he tried to pass, and once again he was forced to remain.
"When I'm commander, I'll get to choose my own Asteroid Mate." Rasmus moved to hardly an inch away from Tausson. "And you know who I'm going to pick?"
"I feel sorry for her already."
Rasmus closed his eyes, then bit his lip, rocking his hips as if breeding. Bronzes were known for their overly libidinous natures -- their frenzy never truly ended. Back on Relica it was more manageable, with daily pairings, and placing them with a new pair as soon as their current mate was gestating, rather than letting the cycle run its course. Rasmus had been assigned to the Irral with a mate, but she had begun gestating earlier than anticipated, and sent back to Relica. A replacement hadn't yet been sent, and Tausson was certain that the bronze pleasured himself daily with hardly a thought to the shameful nature of the act.
Rasmus bumped his shield against Tausson a few times before opening his eyes and saying, "You know that dainty, delicate-looking female you spent so much time with?"
Tausson's entire body went stiff. How could Rasmus know that he had asked Tierney? Or was it just coincidence? Was he simply rubbing it in Tausson's face that he could no longer choose an Asteroid Mate?
"Oh yeah," said the bronze, now squeezing himself through his shield. "I look forward to that. And I'm not like you quick dip silvers -- I take my time with my pairings." He closed his eyes again, and Tausson had to close his own to try and think of something else, anything, to keep from punching Rasmus in the face. But then Rasmus opened his mouth again.
"I like to feel around a bit," he said. "What the monitors can't see under the pairing cloaks can't hurt 'em, and when the females get into it it gets even better. I hope that rooter of yours has the stamina --"
Before he knew what he was doing, Tausson slammed Rasmus against the wall, his arm pressed against his throat. "I swear I'll tear off any body part of yours that touches Tierney."
By the shocked yet pleased look in Rasmus's eyes, Tausson knew he'd made the wrong move. He'd fallen into his trap. Jumping back, Tausson held up his hands, but it was too late.
"A spar, then!" Rasmus shouted, shoving Tausson back against the wall.
"It has to wait until after evacuation," said Tausson, furious that he'd lost his cool.
With narrowed eyes, Rasmus nodded, saying, "When the last human is on board." After one last spiteful grin, he left Tausson alone with his thoughts.
Why did I react that way? Why do I even care?
For Relicans, mating was nothing more than another task they had to perform. There were no monogamous mates, like there were on Earth. You paired with whoever you were assigned, knowing full well that your mate had likely already paired with many others, and would continue to mate with multiple partners after your cycle ended.
So why was Tierney different? Because she was human? Tausson had paired with other Asteroid Mates and never felt the way that he did now.
Tausson began walking back to his lodge, trying to make sense of his feelings. In his research into human relationships, he'd come across the word love many times. For Relicans, love was reserved for close friends, or love of their fellow Relicans in a broad, general sense. There was no such thing as romantic love for his people, but for humans "finding love" was the defining event in their lives, sealed by a vow that nothing would part them but death. Is that what Tierney wanted?
But there were many, many failed romantic relationships among humans, including breaking that same vow of eternal union. So if that was what she was hoping for, it didn't seem to work all that well either.
Tausson stopped, realization falling upon him like a collapsing silver mine.
Tierney was right. She wanted more than what he could offer her -- and so did he.
He didn't want to just see her by chance in the hall or once a day for pairing. He didn't want to leave her and their unborn offspring. He wanted to be with her all the time, to learn about her and hear her throaty laugh. He wanted to discover why she was afraid of the free room, and why she never slept at home.
He wasn't certain if the human way was the right path or not, but he did know that being his Asteroid Mate wasn't enough.
But what did she want? Did she want him? Or did she want the President?
As he tried to figure out how to get answers to his questions, the alarm sounded above him. Instinctively he ran to the command center. He might not be commander anymore, but he was still Squad. If he could help, he would.
Slamming open the hatch, he saw Carterra speaking on the sightscreen to Chief Raleth, who must have already conveyed back to his vessel. She spun around to see who had entered, and though she paused for a split second upon seeing him, she turned back to the sightscreen.
"You're certain of the timeframe?" asked the Chief. "We can't afford to be wrong a second time."
"I had Elic confirm it," said Carterra. "It's certain."
Tausson wanted to ask what was going on, but knew drawing attention to himself was a bad idea as long as the Chief was on screen.
"We'll have to increase the number of humans per conveyance," said the Chief.
Elic, her face tight with worry, said, "But ten thousand is the recommended maximum for mass conveyances. Any added stress to the vessels could endanger the humans."
"I'm aware of the risks, Officer," the Chief barked. Tausson felt sorry for his former Planetary Officer, but it wasn't his job to defend her anymore.
It was Carterra's. "She's right, Chief," said the commander. "We could lose as many as we hope to save."
"I'll take possible death over certain death any day. I'll inform each commander to increase to a minimum of 12,000, or more, depending on the capacity of their vessel."
"Twelve thousand!" Elic gasped.
Tausson still didn't know what the emergency was that was causing all of this, but what the Chief was ordering was unheard of. Yes, the Relican Squad wanted to save as many of each species as possible, and they all understood the inherent risks involved in that mission. But the lives of Relicans always came first. Placing such a strain on their vessels endangered not only the humans being conveyed, but the Relicans operating the transports. Why was the Chief so intent on saving a race that barely qualified for relocation?
"In addition," Chief Raleth continued, "we'll send every available Squad member to the planet to perform site to site conveyances for two humans at a time. Make sure those on the cart are prepared for the influx."
Carterra didn't respond. Tausson could see her weighing the risks, searching for safer alternatives.
"Do you acknowledge, Commander?" snapped Chief Raleth "Or must I relieve you of duty as well?"
The insult was directed at Carterra, but it was Tausson who responded. "You're not just risking the humans, but Relican lives as well. All this for some backwards race that still places greed over the wellbeing of its own people?"
"Stand down, Tausson," Carterra ordered, shooting him an angry look. Turning back to the sightscreen, she said, "Squad, Chief."
She nodded at the Communications Officer to sever the link. As the screen went black, she strode over to him.
"Carterra, this is a mistake --" Tausson began, but she cut him off.
"You are no longer commander of this vessel," she said in a sharp whisper. "You have no right to be in the command center, nor is it your place to question the orders of the Chief. Squad?"
Tausson's anger shriveled under her glare. She was right. He had meant to defend her, but instead had insulted her ability to command and speak for herself.
Lowering his eyes, he said, "Squad, Commander. I ask for pardon."
"Granted. Your conveyance and communication privileges are returned as well."
Although he was glad to hear that, the fact that he was being reinstated to even some degree before his conduct review by Control meant that not a body could be spared in whatever crisis was occurring.
"Can you tell me what this is about?" he asked. Meeting her gaze again, he saw the fear returning to her eyes.
"The humans have corrected a flaw in our calculation regarding the asteroid's trajectory."
"What? The humans?" It was almost inconceivable, with their limited knowledge and technology, that they could even identify a formula error, let alone correct it. "What does that mean?"
"The asteroid won't impact in twelve days, as we had calculated." His mate and former First placed her hands on her stomach, where their offspring was almost done growing. She looked at him and whispered, as if not wanting their child to hear, "It will collide in eight days."
18
Only one more night on Earth.
Tierney lay on the couch, watching the wispy shadows from the early morning sunlight dance on her office ceiling. She'd spent most of the night staring at her ceiling, and although her eyes burned, begging for rest, she couldn't bring herself to close them.
Jumping up, she tossed on the nearest clothes and raced out of the room. Down the winding hall, past the empty offices and cubicles, she ran as if someone were chasing her, pausing only to throw open the large glass doors that led to the lawn. Kicking off her shoes so she could feel the wet, crunchy grass beneath her feet, she ran out of the shadow of the White House and stood in the sunlight. Closing her eyes, she let the warmth that emanated from the center of this solar system soak into her body. She breathed in the scent of the nearby roses, listened to the sounds of the birds singing, and felt tears streaming down her cheeks.
This was her last full day on Earth. Tomorrow morning, she would join the rest of her kind on a moon-sized ship and be carted across the galaxy by aliens she still wasn't 100% sure she could trust, and dropped off on a new planet, with new smells, sounds, dangers, and beauty. She'd never been much of an outdoorsy person, and though she traveled a lot with Nelle in the beginning, she never saw much more than the plane and the capitol buildings of the countries they visited. Now she ached for the missed opportunities. She'd never get to see the Grand Canyon, or the Aurora Borealis, never hear the songs of the whales or the roar of a lion in the wild. And soon none of those animals would even exist. They were unique to Earth. After tomorrow afternoon, this planet that she was standing on would never be the same as it was right now.
"It's too quiet."
Tierney whirled around to see Nelle standing in the shadows of some nearby trees.
"How long have you been there?" Tierney asked, wiping her face.
"Most of the night," she said, walking over. She was in her sweats and sneakers, her long blond hair hanging limp on her shoulders.
"I can't believe it's the last day," said Tierney. "It's already been a month."
Nelle stared ahead at the barren streets. It was still early, but even at this hour there were usually cars passing by, or joggers, people walking their dog. Today, there was nothing. Most of the city had already conveyed.
"Twenty-five days since first contact," she said, her face grim.
Tierney gave a mirthless laugh. "We were supposed to have a month."
Surprisingly, Nelle smiled -- the first real smile Tierney had seen on the President's face in a long time. "The fact that these Relicans can make mistakes, and that we can fix them, actually gives me hope."
"I just wish it had been about something else."
Nelle nodded. "Agreed, but they've been remarkably true to their word, doing their utmost to evacuate every single human, even at their own peril."
"Commander Arrat said that some of the ships are beginning to show the strain."
They both looked up, unwilling to jinx their good luck by saying anything more. Though the vessels weren't visible to the naked eye, the cart was. It looked like a second moon, rising and falling. Ever since it arrived, Tierney had felt like she was in some sci-fi movie on a distant planet, rather than Earth.
"Your family already transported, right?" Tierney asked. The President didn't have any children -- her wife had died shortly after she was sworn into office. But she was one of eight children, and had gone to great lengths to make it clear that none of her family members were receiving special treatment in the evacuation.
"Yes. They're in sector twelve. Hopefully I'll be able to visit during the trip. You?"
"They're in sector eight."
Tierney, Nelle, and most of the government was being settled in sector four of the cart. Each sector was several hundred miles wide, with no means of transportation other than walking. The Relicans had made it clear that conveying would only be used for emergencies.
"They were the last town to be conveyed in Illinois." Tierney rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Only thirty-two towns to go -- or at least that's what it should be. I haven't checked the schedule yet today."
"Have you spoken with Tausson at all?"
Tierney started at the question. She'd dreamt about him again last night -- during the brief time she had actually slept. He'd haunted her dreams for the last week, watching her from across the room, whispering her name.
Nelle, of course, had every right to ask about him. The day of the cart inspection, Tierney had been so distracted by seeing him and being near him again that she'd broken down and told the President what had happened. She'd been so distraught that they'd went into one of the houses to escape everyone's peering eyes.
"No," said Tierney. "Commander Arrat said that he's been helping with the evacuation by conveying individuals, as well as assisting with repairs on some of the Relican vessels, but that's all I know."
Tierney pushed back her disappointment. When the commander had told her that Tausson was partially reinstated, she'd hoped he would at least contact her, but there was really no reason for him to do so. She'd rejected him, plain and simple. Even if he asked her again, she'd
still have to say no. She didn't want to be with someone who only wanted her for sex, no matter how hot he was.
"What's that?" asked Nelle, narrowing her eyes at the sky.
Tierney followed her gaze and saw what looked like a meteor shower. About half a dozen flaming bits of... rock, maybe?... were falling through the brightening sky. Her stomach clenched in panic.
"The asteroid?" she whispered.
"No," Nelle said firmly. "That won't arrive until tomorrow, we're sure of it."
Her certainty calmed Tierney's terror slightly. "Then what?"
"Let's find out." She turned and strode into the White House. Tierney followed her into the Oval Office, where she picked up a transmitter she had been given by the Relicans to contact them.
"Commander Arrat, transmit."
Nothing. Tierney's heart was pounding in her chest. She started pacing the room, unable to bear the silence.
"Commander Arrat, this is President Freeland. Transmit."
Still no response.
"Maybe it was one of the ships," said the President, her face turning pale.
"The Irral?" Tierney's legs began to give way. She gripped the side of Nelle's desk for support. The idea of the Relican commander, her thoughtful patience, her unwavering commitment to the mission, being lost to the universe, made Tierney sick.
"Squad, President Freeland."
Tierney looked up, almost not believing her ears. But Nelle's obvious relief was confirmation.
"Commander Arrat!" Tierney cried.
"Has something happened, Commander?" asked the President. "We saw what looked like a meteor shower."
"There has been an explosion," said the commander, her words heavy with sorrow. "The Eklan, one of the Relican vessels, has been destroyed."
The joy Tierney had felt moments earlier vanished, the knot in her stomach returning instantly.
"There were casualties?" asked Nelle.
