by Alma Boykin
“No, ma’am, not without attracting a great deal of attention, both local and imported.” And making a side trip, and stealing some more equipment, and I’d really prefer not to do that just now. “I can probably convince it to leave if its force field is removed,” she allowed.
“Your notes claim that nothing short of an airstrike will destroy the ship and the creature inside, even once the shield is down. Do we have any other options?”
Rachel’s eye narrowed and she pursed her lips. “Yeeess, I think there is one, but there’s some risk involved. We drain the Larganga’s power supply enough to nullify that defense field. That shows we mean business and it will probably leave.”
“Or we can destroy it with less force by putting explosives inside the ship,” Jones pointed out. “How do you propose draining the Larganga, and what’s the risk involved?”
“Someone runs a cable into the ship and taps its auxiliary power supply. All transports of that class have one, and it’s easy enough for me to cobble together the necessary connection. If you distract the Larganga, a few people can slip through the defense shield and into the ship to make the connection. That type of field shifts strength to match the perceived threat, at the command of the operator,” Rachel explained as she ran some numbers.
“What do you propose to do with the power?” Marsh asked, as Khan nodded. “And do we have enough time, given how the dead area is expanding?”
Khan said, “Can you set up a stasis field around it? From what I understand, that should solve both difficulties.”
“Um, well, yes sir, I could. I’d rather set up a feedback, so that the more the Larganga ‘eats,’ the more power it loses until it’s drained. That might cause the power supply circuits to explode, though” she said, shuddering.
“You’re not jeopardizing my equipment, Na Gael!” Marsh declared firmly.
Jones concurred. “What would a stasis field entail, Cat One, and what does it do?”
“Setting up a master projector, probably at the command center here, and control circuit, with augmentation projectors at regular intervals around the Larganga’s ship. Once it activates, the field would, in theory, drain the ship’s power while simultaneously locking the Larganga within its current perimeter, and make it incapable of having its minions interfere, or of doing anything at all until a minimum power level is reached and the stasis field collapses,” Rachel said, glossing over several details and growing unhappier the more she thought about it. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, really bad—blaster charge whine in a dark ally behind me bad.
“Sounds perfect! Good thinking, Command Two. That’s what we’ll do, then. And work as fast as you can, Cat One, because the dead area seems to be expanding more rapidly than before. Make a list of the equipment you’ll need, and you, Radio One, and Command Two get it built,” Jones ordered, smiling at the group. “Oh, and if the field works and we can render the thing harmless, we’ll try to negotiate with it again and see if is willing to leave peacefully.”
“Very well, Command One,” Rachel murmured. You know just enough to be very dangerous, Rahoul. You have no idea what you’ve gotten us into.
It was a few hours past midnight when Rachel, the technicians, and other assistants got everything organized. As some of the soldiers took the six augmentation projectors and set them up around the now 600-meter-wide force shield perimeter, the Wanderer lay on her back in one of the troop trucks and tried to nap. She’d been insistent about being part of the group that would enter the Larganga’s ship. “Ma’am, I know where and how to make the connection. And I don’t want to risk anyone that I don’t have to,” she’d protested, lapsing back into old habits.
“Cat One, might I remind you that I am the one in charge here,” Jones had retorted, “and I make the final decisions as to who and what gets put into harm’s way.” She’d stood up from her seat in the command trailer and folded her arms, looking down at the unchastened Wanderer. “How many people will you need to complete the connection?”
“A minimum of three, two if I go in. One to carry the power tap and connect it to the ship’s circuit, and two to carry the cable and protect the third from whatever other minions are in the ship. And all three had better be good sprinters, because it will only take about one minute for enough power to reach the master control of the stasis field, if my calculations are right. At that point, the stasis field can be switched on, and no one should be within the perimeter once it activates.”
Someone knocked on the lorry’s tailgate and Rachel sat up, then clambered awkwardly out of the vehicle. I’ve spent too many centuries sleeping in my clothes she grumbled, accepting a cup of hot chocolate from one of the sergeants. An exhausted looking Rahoul Khan joined her at the makeshift canteen, eating a sandwich and sipping black coffee. Heh, you look as bad as I feel.
“How’s your leg doing?” he asked under his breath.
She shot him a glance, and murmured “If you mean can I run with ten kilos of gear in my hands, yes.”
He made a noncommittal noise, then asked louder, “How much power is in the Larganga’s ship, anyway?”
She calculated for a moment, “Oh, about enough to get it out of this solar system and into the next one.”
He chewed the last of his sandwich and looked over at her, considering. “Tell me, why are you so determined to try and keep this Larganga thing alive? It doesn’t sound like a particularly nice individual. Do you know it?”
She shook her head. “Never met one before. But Larganga have no home-world. Theirs was destroyed when its sun went nova, so they wander the galaxy. Aside from the rare group feed at a dying planet, they are solitary creatures because of their high energy needs.” She cocked her head to the side. “I suppose it’s because I know what it’s like spending your life always having to shift from here to there.”
Khan’s eyebrows had vanished into his hairline by the time she finished her explanation. “You’ve gone raving barmy. That’s the strangest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”
A mask of ice settled over Rachel’s features, and she turned away, setting her chocolate cup down with a firm and unhappy clunk.
Corporal Anthony “Tony” Lee, one of the scouts, came up to the two officers. Khan acknowledged him. “Sir, ma’am, sorry to interrupt, but Command One wants you at the command trailer.” Rachel tossed back the last of her cocoa, thanked the orderly, and followed the soldier into the cold, midspring night.
They found Jones standing next to the patched-together stasis field control box, beside a roll of medium-weight cable and the power tap. “Cat One, you, and Hunters Five and Six,” Corporals Lee and Andrews, “will make the connection. The distraction we’ve set up begins in five minutes. As soon as there’s enough power, I’m switching the stasis field on. Questions?” Rachel shook her head, as did the soldiers. “Good luck then. Five minutes.”
The trio drew as close to the force shield perimeter as they could, and Rachel gave an impromptu briefing. “Neither Blermal nor Pandos are carnivorous. The Blermal is fast, but it can’t really hurt you, unless it kicks you to death,” she joked, and the men managed chuckles. “Watch out for the Pandos’ claws—they’re heavy. I’m going to need about three minutes, max, to get the connection closed, and then we run. Do not worry about me at that point. Once we get clear of the ship, go as fast as you can, because that’s what I’ll be doing! Any questions?”
Corporal Lee looked down at her. “How do we get into the ship without being drained ourselves?”
“Very good question, Boer Four,” she smiled. “Very good. First, the Larganga’s going to be distracted. It doesn’t feed automatically—unless it concentrates on a food source, it can’t drain it. Second, I rigged these.” She handed the soldiers two dome-shaped badges. “There’s a very small battery and transmitter in there. The signal will confuse the Larganga’s perceptions, so it won’t be able to tell if you are alive or dead. As a result, it won’t be able to decided what to do about you,” she stated in
a confident tone, pinning a third to her jacket lapel. That is, if it works correctly. Electrical things still hate me.
“Thirty seconds,” the men’s radios reported. Rachel nodded, locking her eye on the darkness ahead and shifting form. The darkness grew brighter as her feline night-vision came into play. Almighty God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ . . .We do earnestly repent and are heartily sorry for these our misdoings; The remembrance of them is grievous unto us . . .Have mercy upon us, have mercy upon us most merciful Father. And give us the speed and determination of Traders meeting a first-time buyer!
“Three, two, one, go!” She charged into the suddenly weaker field, pushing through the barrier, troopers behind her with the heavy reel of wire.
As she had hoped, they got to the sunken entrance to the ship without interference. Enough cable had unrolled that the men could each get a hand free, and they had weapons at the ready as Rachel led them through the metal corridor to the panel where the emergency power connect was on the Larganga’s ship. As they watched for trouble, she opened it and started working. How many times had she done this as a drill onboard the Trade ships? At least once on every run, it had seemed. She heard a commotion behind her and ignored it.
Shots echoed through the passage and she gritted her teeth, blocking out the distraction. Pin six, pin nine, pin four. Tighten collar. Pin five, cable connection initiate, verify tap connection she recited silently, unaware of anything except her work.
“Cat, how much longer?” Andrews yelped, but she didn’t answer. Something jostled her, and she glanced up long enough to swing her fist around and hit one of the Pandos in the eye. It reeled back and she resumed work as Lee tackled the thing.
She had just finished the last connection when a dull clang came up the metal passageway, causing her to wince. Please may that not be one of the ways out of here, or have cut the cable, please oh please. Bookkeeper be generous.
“I’m done! Fall back,” she ordered, matching motion to words. She counted four Pandos in the corridor as they ran out, and she called out “Good work! I owe you a round.” Whatever had clanged, it was not the doors leading out of the ship, and the cable had not been molested by the Larganga’s minions. Lee sped ahead, but Andrews and Rachel were not that much slower as the trio emerged from the ship’s entry point into the cold night air.
They ran as fast as they could out of the Larganga’s ship, heading directly for the well-lit command trailer. The two corporals outdistanced Rachel, but not by much. She concentrated on her footing on the broken ground, and counted down the seconds left until the full power connection would finish. Ten, nine, eight she ticked off, eye locked on the control box that she and Marsh had rigged up. Jones had her hand on the power switch operating the stasis field and was watching the escapees as Marsh and one of his radio techs monitored the power supply. The two soldiers cleared the perimeter, and Rachel lacked ten meters from safety when she tripped. She caught herself and struggled to her feet, three, two, one! No, not yet! Horrified, she registered the general’s coldly appraising look as the officer flipped the field’s power on. “No!” Rachel screamed as the world dissolved into chaos and pain.
Cold. She could feel cold. And wet. Real wet, actual damp soil clenched in her hands and jammed under her claws. Light, she could see light, and she was breathing, savoring the sensation of air moving through her lungs and heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t try to move, just lying still and relishing the actuality of sensation, of touch and smell. And sound, of distant voices calling and of birds overhead. The light was dim and she was cold and wet and mud was under her face and it was real. She just was, and that was enough.
“Rachel! Commander Na Gael?” A voice and another calling her name? Was that her name? Commander was, but the rest? She breathed in and out, not answering, not moving, as sounds and feelings, faces and images, swirled through her mind in a cascade of memories and dreams. With a supreme effort of will she pushed through the cacophony, breathing in and out, in and out, in a rhythm of control. “Cat One, can you hear me?” She could, but couldn’t respond until she sorted out what was real. Besides mud and cold and moving air.
Something warm touched her and she shivered at the contact. “On three.” What’s three?, she thought, concentrating on breathing and controlling her body so she could tame the storm in her mind. “One, two, three,” and she was rolling onto her back, something warm—a hand?—cushioning her head. Very slowly she opened her eye and saw a pale blur and darker blur hovering above. Beyond those, a darkening blue sky empty of motion. “She’s conscious and breathing, but still not responding. Cat One, can you hear me?” The sound came from the darker blur, which slowly resolved into a face. She closed her eye, then opened it again and coughed, trying to wipe her face with her hand and failing. Breath in and out, count heart beats, organize your mind from the beginning, she thought, and recited the oldest pattern of control that she remembered.
“How long?” she croaked, throat dry and raw despite the mud and water in the air.
“Forty hours, Cat One. Are you all right?” Who was that again? The name floated up and she grabbed at it as an anchor.
“I don’t know, Lieutenant Khan.”
Khan looked worried. He stood up and waved to someone as the pale blur, one of the medics whose name was drifting, checked for a pulse and shone a light in her eye. “Hypothermia, but everything else seems normal,” strange woman said to Khan and the out-of-view listeners as Rachel fought through the chaos in her mind, trying to focus on here and now, whenever that was.
Name Rada Ni Drako, called Rachel Na Gael, call sign Cat One, language: pre-diaspora Standard, called English by native speakers. Must be Ter Tri, not Imperial Defenders but Global Defense Force. She could hear soldiers running past and orders echoing through the evening twilight. Rachel braced herself and slowly, painfully sat up, arms trembling with the effort as the medic helped her.
What had worked that she had been worried about? Stasis field had done something, to the, what was it, invader, what was it? Larganga! As that set of memories rushed in, she focused on the creature and what Jones had said. “All right, Cat One. If the field works and we can render the thing harmless, we’ll try to negotiate with it.”
Rachel closed her eye again, reasserting control over the world as it spun around. The last thing she remembered was Jones’ expression and the sound of the switch turning on the stasis field and her own terror. Damn you! You couldn’t wait five seconds, could you?
Rachel tried to stand and failed miserably. “The Larganga. Need to get back into the ship,” she tried to explain, coughing again. The medic handed her a canteen of water and the Wanderer drank carefully, so she wouldn’t choke. “It’s drained to a critical level! I need to talk to it—help me up.”
Khan looked down at her with a mixture of disbelief and respect, shaking his head. “Hunter Four, Boer Four, get Cat One on her feet and escort her into the ship. She’s not going to give anyone a moment’s peace until this is finished,” he sighed as his radio squawked.
“Command Two to One,” Khan said into the microphone.
“This is One, go ahead.”
“Command One, be advised that Cat One is inbound to your position with an escort,” the executive officer warned, watching the petite figure staggering towards the Larganga’s ship, with much help from the two humans beside her. You are insane, Rachel, he thought, then went back to supervising the soldiers still outside the ship.
Rachel could almost move under her own power by the time they reached the interior of the ship. She felt Boer Four’s shudder as they stepped over the bodies of the Larganga’s minions, now truly dead. A light ahead led them back to the control room and Rachel swallowed hard, mustering the arguments she would use to persuade the creature to let her take it somewhere else, somewhere it could survive. She was so focused on the creature that she almost missed Jones, who stood directly in front of the Larganga’s enclosure in the control room.
“We
ll Cat One, it looks as if you could have spared yourself a trip,” Jones announced, pointing at the creature. “Your idea worked better than expected. It’s dead.” Satisfaction colored the lean woman’s voice and she smiled at the horrified alien.
As she got closer and her eye focused, Rachel’s heart sank. The Larganga was indeed dead. The creature lay in a heap at the bottom of its atmospheric tank, brown-purple appendages flaccid and already decomposing. Without the energy it needed to maintain its physical form, the creature would soon be nothing more than a puddle of silica suspension. While Jones directed her men to start removing the power tap cable and making plans for disposing of the creature’s ship and remains, Rachel crouched down and ran a hand over the outside of the Larganga’s protective casing, then followed a faint scorch mark extending from the case to part of the life-support equipment in the control center. Yes, bastardess, it’s dead. Because it committed suicide rather than give up what it thought it had gained, or because of stasis-madness. God forgive us both, drifting one, she thought at the creature’s remains. Rachel’s hands balled into fists as she fought to control her temper and emotions. Then she spun on her heel and limped out of the control room, back rigid with suppressed anger and pain, mind swirling on the bare edge of sanity. Go to Sheol, Evelyn Jones. Just. Go. To. Hell.
Rachel sat, numb, barely functional, in the transport back to headquarters. Captain Ngobo’s reminder about the conference in three weeks barely registered through the chaos spinning through her skull.
“Rachel, are you all right?” Khan asked again as he followed her down the corridor to the lab. He lowered his shields, trying to read her.
She stopped, turning. With unnatural calm, her voice answered in Trader, “No, sir, I do not believe that I am.” Cold rage snapped across her face and the thoughts behind the words that she spat in a bright-voweled, hissing language left him shaking. He managed to wait until the door to the lab closed and he heard the bar lock into place before fleeing.
