“The Sharika is launching rescue ships,” the duty officer said. “Few radio calls received, however.”
Within an hour, they rescued a half a dozen space-suited individuals, took them on board, and treated them well. That seemed to be the key to establishing contact, and opening a dialogue, of sorts. The news of the destruction of the station shocked the world, T’ming himself appeared on the local TV, breaking a long silence, to denounce the alien invaders, and promising vengeance, and retribution.
“That’s not very helpful,” Lori said, watching the translation.
The second effect, however, did prove beneficial. The second station, the new, larger one, sent messages, offering no hostilities, and inviting a visit.
“How soon can we do that?” Lori asked.
“The Scabiosa can drop orbit and rendezvous nearby within the hour,” an Anawoka replied. “Shall we ask them to do so?”
“Yes, getting the Pokoniry in first is a good idea.”
“Well, maybe we can salvage something from this disaster, after all,” Kayla said, with a dark look at Lori.
She returned the look. “Yes, perhaps we can.”
“Well, they’re talking, at least, the station staff, and their planetary agency,” Captain George reported to her later that night. “Still pretty hostile, lots of bluster, but the feeling is it’s mostly for show, for public consumption. Privately, they are appreciative of the rescue and return of their fellow station people.”
“Who is this–the Tajmyrians? Or whatever they call themselves?”
“Yes.” He paused. “They are leaning to accepting a landing, but a small delegation, to open talks on establishing a dialogue, a diplomatic understanding.”
“That’s progress,” Hunter said, looking at a new map of the country, with a major city highlighted. “This the capitol?”
“Yes, but they want the meeting to take place in a different province, here,” George said, indication a smaller city well to the west.
“Any problem with that?” Lori asked.
“Only this,” George said, shifting his weight, and looking worried. “They want a small group, and it must be the leader of the expedition, only.”
“No way,” Hunter said. “This bunch is not the least hospitable, and not to be trusted.”
“Hunter’s right,” an Anawoka said. “We must be cautious.”
“Tell them that the leader of the expedition goes nowhere without an honor guard, and will only visit with that understanding. If they agree, well, OK,” Lori said.
“Lori...” Hunter said.
“It’s a chance I’ll take. We have to start somewhere. And I’d just as soon it be me as anyone else.”
“You’re not going anywhere, without Eagle One, and me, and Morales, and lots of firepower,” Hunter said.
“I don’t want to provoke exactly what you’re afraid of. We’ll recon and scan the area, have a small landing party, and plenty of reserves nearby,” Captain George said. “I’ll get Morales working on it, and bring in the bigboys for their advice, and assistance, too.”
“I still don’t like it. What say the UN reps?” Hunter asked.
“They think it’s a good start, and if we agree, will establish our trust, and help open a dialogue.”
“Yeah, well, they better come along, too. Be there to ‘advise’ us,” Hunter said. He added, “And just don’t let them agree to give away the farm,” annoyance in his voice clear.
“When?” Lori asked.
“Soon as details can be worked out. Probably not before tomorrow.”
“All right, just don’t give them too much time. The longer they take, the more chance for trickery or chicanery.”
The next day, Lori felt calm, as anxiety and excitement swept around her.
“Morales has already overflown the site, as we told them we would, even though they objected, and said it looks pretty quiet. Not a military zone, appears to be a small town, with a college, or some sort of educational facility nearby. Lots of open farmland all around, and a couple of other towns to the east.” The site dominated a large wallscreen, Lori studying it, the terrain, the approach from orbit, and where the support teams would wait. “No big crowds expected, and they’re controlling the media. No frenzy, as on Earth. We’ve insisted that the meeting be in the open, under the sky, they have a little tent for shade, and refreshments, they said, next to the tall building, the welcoming center, they call it. Probably part of that college, or whatever it is.” Several other buildings, lower, spread out in two directions behind the taller one. “Not military, anyway, by the looks of it.”
“OK,” Lori said. “We’ll have our own recording going, cambots out, and all?”
“Yes, everything. We’re not broadcasting planet wide, until we see how receptive this bunch is. But we may, if they agree.”
“Or if they don’t and it goes badly,” Hunter said.
George continued, “The Anawoka have a translation program all worked out, it’s stored in the machine already, be simple to use.”
Lori nodded. “Good. OK, I’m ready. ETA?”
“An hour or so. You know they have weird clocks here, no day or night, everything is variable, seems keyed to high noon...”
“Sun-god worship again?”
“No, not that we can detect. Various and numerous religions, not unlike on Earth.”
“How are they handling it?”
“Most are silent,” the Anawoka said. “Others vary from outrage and hostility, to welcoming the several variations of the creator.”
“Not unlike Earth.”
“How’s it look, vectors wise?”
“Pretty clean. Nothing here we didn’t see on Uta, maybe a few more microbes, but all seem harmless to us off-worlders. The scientists say you won’t need an iso-suit.”
“OK, good. Let’s get ready, be on time, at least. Now, I want to meet with Morales, and the bigboys before we go. I don’t want an incident to spoil everything, especially if I’m in the middle of it all.”
“I still think you should be armed...”
“Hunter, I’m not about to start shooting a bunch of natives. And if they overpower me, and get a hold of that technology, what then? No, I’ll have the locator, full time radio, and the translator. I’ll be fine.”
Hunter said nothing, but she could see the tenseness in his silence.
Lori’s projected landing on Magadana did not go unnoticed among the historians on six ships. “The Saxons seem to be the first to land on new planets with intelligent beings,” they said in messages to each other. “And so it will be again here, also.”
“Another historic day, for sure.”
Eagle One slowly circled the landing area, a green and grassy lawn near a tent erected in the middle of a complex of stone buildings, not unlike a quadrangle on a college campus on Earth. It scanned for weapons, found none. Above two of Morales’ lighters circled, too. Dropping closer, Eagle One carefully scanned the small delegation of several dozen who awaited them in front of the tent. Several appeared to be wearing military insignia of some sort, others various vests, scarves, sashes, or hats of rank. Some held walking sticks or staffs. They waited patiently, watching what, to them, must be an amazing apparition–a silent small air car, floating in the sky. But they handled it well, remaining in place until Lori landed, and stepped out on the soil of Tajmyr, on the planet Magadana.
Hunter remained in the pilot’s seat, with Tari nearby, she watching the several monitors from the cambots already floating overhead.
No music played, no ceremony, as the two species stared at each other over the dozen meters separating them, if they were shocked by the appearance of a biped, they hid it well.
An individual stepped forward, and a voice said in the translator in her ear, “Will you not join us so we may talk?”
They stood around a circular table in the middle of the tent, no chairs, of course, and Lori’s head nearly hit the lower edge of the roof as she stepped into the cool shade be
neath the canopy. A large vase of flowers sat in the center of the table, a welcoming sight, she thought, till Hunter told her, “Listening devices are hidden in the bouquet.” But no plethora of TV cams, or media staff, that they could see, as on other planets.
The meeting began with introductions, Tari recording them, strange names all and bewildering titles, some aristocratic, some royalty, some military, perhaps some honorary, hard to tell.
Lori told them her name, let the translator, in a small device she placed before her, repeat her words, and said, “I am Lorelei Saxon Lindbloom, the leader of the joint expedition visiting the cluster. We are explorers and traders, and come in peace.”
The group immediately jumped on that phrase, citing the wonton, unprovoked destruction of the great space station, and demanding compensation. She let them rant on, listening to their words in one ear, and the advice from her staff in the other. She let them conclude, demanding an immediate answer.
Lori said, “All matters are open to review, discussion, consideration, and resolution, in due course. That is why I am here, to initiate that process, not to end it. Are you willing to meet, and talk? We have much in common, and many differences, and are willing to remain for a while, to do so.”
She sensed a relaxation in the other group, and figured they had gone through a set piece, the name of T’ming used repeatedly, his honor damaged, and it must now be restored. Lori thought she made further progress when she said, “Imagine the glory going to T’ming, when he opens profitable and valuable trade with explorers from distant worlds. His praise will be sung across all of Magadana.” That increased the sense of calm in the group, and went over well with her own people, too.
More discussion went into another meeting, who should attend, when, what might be discussed, how might the station be replaced, what sort of technology would be available, what sort of trade materials and goods were of interest, and other mundane matters. The aliens brought out food and drink, but Lori demurred, removing a container from her own pack, and saying they could eat or drink nothing from one another until extensive testing occurred.
That lead to more discussion, the talks very much relaxed now.
After two hours, they seemed to wind down. Lori relayed a number of matters from her advisory team, the group answered some, but said they did not know others. They then offered a tour of the facility, saying it was indeed a place of education, and dealt exclusively with space matters.
“Be careful here, stay in the open,” her earphone said.
Lori followed the leader of the group, keeping a bit of a distance from the others, but they now wanted to get closer, and some began taking photographs of her as well, they walked the grounds as someone described the purpose the of the various buildings they passed. Dropping down into a shallow depression between two taller buildings, they said the low bunker-like place housed a simulator of their ships. Her tour group invited her for a look, if she felt comfortable. With Eagle One hovering low overhead, she said she’d look in the doors, but could not go inside.
They lead her to the doors, twin ones, which opened outward, and she peered inside, into a brightly lit interior. A number of displays, with people standing nearby, ringed the open corridor. They offered to keep the doors open, and limit the people present, if she wished to see the displays. Intrigued, she paused a moment, as Hunter strongly cautioned against it. Hesitant, she turned to demur, when she felt herself pushed violently into the building, saw a huge net suddenly erupting behind Eagle One, and started to shout, when something crashed into the back of her head, and the world went black.
Chapter 17 - Dank Prison
She woke up naked on the floor in a small room, damp, cold, head pounding, her arm uncomfortable underneath her chest. She shivered, her eyes blinking. She moved to ease her arm, and a stout foot stepped on her back, holding her down. Alien voices around her spoke, but the translator was off. She caught the tempera of hostility, fear, and anger in the voices. Her other hand rubbed the sore place on the back of her head, feeling a hard, lumpy, tender spot there. Her fingers felt something sticky, and when she looked at them, they were red and bloody.
Someone pulled her upright, left her sitting on the floor. Everything was stripped from her body, her clothing, necklace, wrist watch, com-link. Her rings, too, the finger raw and red where they’d been pulled off. She saw some of her things piled on one side of the room, someone still rummaging through them.
A face looked in front of her saying something. She pointed to her things, and started to say, “Transla...” when a hand smacked her face. Reeling backward, only bumping up against whoever was behind her kept her from falling over. A hand swung at her again, and she deflected it with a quick snap of her forearm. Again, a punch, deflected once more. A flurry responded, she kept her arms going, protecting her face, huddling on the floor.
The alien stepped back, shouting something to others. One grabbed one arm, another her other, none too easily. They lifted her slightly, and when the hitter stepped toward her again, arm back, she let him get close, and kicked him as hard as she could with both feet, one between his forelegs, one in the center of his exposed chest. With a grunt, he reeled backward, collapsed on the floor. Silence in the room. The alien looked about, spoke in a much lower voice, menacing.
Four of his henchmen jumped her, grabbing her legs and arms, and the alien stood up slowly, and walked over and kicked her. She tried to twist away, but only felt her skin bruising in the tight hands of those who held her. More blows descended on her, and she decided to feign greater injury, and began to scream at each blow. She went limp, they dropped her to the floor, and she curled up into a fetal position, as kicks and hits pummeled her back, buttocks, hips and legs. She stopped screaming, lay quiet and inert.
The attack ceased. Through half open eyes, she saw aliens peering at her, poking her, lifting her head, and letting it drop again. More discussion among the group. Then silence.
They rolled her onto a filthy litter or something, and carried her away, up several flights of stairs. As they started down a corridor, two rather vicious looking animals appeared, loping alongside her, sniffing at her, their very large mouths full of teeth. At an open door, the handlers turned and dumped her into a small, dirty room, a cell of some sort, nothing on the cold floor, a tiny, barred opening high in the wall letting in a little light, and cool air. The lights in the corridor went off.
This must be deprivation for the natives, she thought as she sat up when the sounds of the jailors faded outside, Keep ‘em in the dark, they’ll be blind. And she might as well be. Cut off from her air car, she felt just as helpless.
Allowing herself a ten minute pity-party, she rubbed at her bruises and aches, and held her hand against a cut on her forehead that still seeped blood. The wound had bled copiously, down the side of her face, into her hair, no doubt helping put an end to the beating. Finally, it stopped.
Now what to do? First thing is to find a way to contact Eagle One. Nothing in the cell, no bedding, no mirror, empty. A small hole in the floor, near the outer wall, was probably the toilet. Nothing else. She stood on tip-toe, and taller than the natives, could barely see over the lower edge of the window, and saw only fading sky there. She shivered again in the cold, and walked around the tiny cell for a few minutes trying to warm up.
The short door appeared to be of a composite material, no hinges on her side, maybe controlled by electric locks. A small, open square would let the jailers check on her anytime. She saw no signs of video or other monitors, and such devices seemed too advanced for this place. She sat on the floor, leaned against the cold wall, and waited.
After a while, as she shivered in discomfort, they came for her again. She got stiffly to her feet, towering over the natives, slowly followed their beckoning, and walked out into the midst of a troop of them, the now snarling near-dogs at the fringes, and moved along to a small, well lit room at the end of the long floor of cells. Just outside, two guards sat at a control station of s
ome sort, Lori noticed the dials and several switches on a panel with lights. Past the control station, a large doorway led into another small room, with a double window looking outward, maybe a lounge or something. Another opening lead to a darkened corridor, another wing of cells, presumably. Two guards came to the wide doorway, and looked at her as she was led into the other room.
Again, the interrogation in the unknown language began, by a native squatting behind a short table, the only one clean and well groomed in the room. But no physical abuse, yet, when she remained silent. She noticed the pile of her clothes and some of her things on the table, pointed to it and motioned as if speaking, and pointed again. One of the bullies scattered her things, and she pointed to the translator device. He flicked it toward her, and she saw the com-radio tangled with it. She reached slowly for the translator, began separating it from the tangle, passing one hand over the radio, while resting her wrist on the switch, a quick hit, and lifted the translator. Holding it in plain view, uncomfortable and untrusting with a number of dark, metallic things, rifle or guns of some sort pointed at her, she flicked it on.
She said, “With this device I may hear your words in my language, and you mine in yours.”
She stood, shivering in the cold.
The well groomed one said, “You are a guest of the Hierarchy, the exalted T’ming, prince of the realm, uniter of the provinces, pride of his people, savior of freedom, protector of all.” He looked at her. “Place the device on the table.”
“What do you want of me?” she said as she eased it down onto the rough wooden surface.
“How many other of your kind come with you?”
“Countless numbers, more than...,” and a blow to her back shoved her forward. Any harder, it might have broken her spine. She grunted, leaned forward, and tried to breathe normally.
“Give me exact numbers, not your smoke talk.”
T-47 Book II (Saxon Saga 6) Page 29
