by Mark Wandrey
He moved again and nailed more of the stringers. In another hour Shadow had reached the end of the roofline and stopped to take another drink. He was around 10 meters off the ground and glad his people didn’t suffer from vertigo or fear of heights, like so many Humans tended to. He didn’t mind the job much. Truth be told, he felt guilty for taking the money for his trip, and this would set him right.
A rumble announced the arrival of another shuttle. Shadow looked up to see a spidery-looking craft swinging in to use the short runway. At least this one didn’t fly over him, adding a red-hot blast of jet exhaust to the already blazing day. By the time he’d run down the other ridge line, the spindly shuttle was gone and another was coming down.
“Mother and Father must be happy with the plan,” he said.
“The shuttle service deal?” one of the men working below him asked.
“Yup,” Shadow replied. “Fair dinkum idea.” He grinned, tail twitching, and looked up at the sky. Evening was approaching. He could already see three stars.
Three stars…
“Shadow!” someone yelled. He couldn’t answer, because he was falling through space.
* * *
Rex was in ecstasy. The thin canopy before his eyes flashed with streaks of plasma as his drop pod plummeted through the thin atmosphere. He was a meteor, plummeting at 2,200 kilometers per hour.
They called the sport Hóngsè Niu. Rex had no idea why. Strap on an orbital drop shield, climb in a shuttle, and jump out at 100 kilometers. You decide where, but you had to be the first to arrive at the target. You got points just for surviving. More points for how fast you got down. Still more for being closest to the target. The point totals scaled, with on target being the most.
Rex had wanted to play Hóngsè Niu since he’d first seen it on Tri-V around age 10. Father said he’d gone troppo for even thinking about it. Drake’s thing was surfing. Rex liked surfing, too. In fact, he’d won enough money off the local shark biscuits to afford his drop shield and entrance into the Hóngsè Niu tournament.
“Number 98B, you are officially in the drop zone,” his radio crackled. The high gain signal barely penetrated the ionic disturbance caused by his drop. In another few seconds, he’d be LOS, or loss of signal. He took a final sighting with the simple radar beacon before it blacked out.
The drop pods were steered by flexing your body, and in turn, the shape of the pod. It took serious strength to do it, something he had in spades. Zuul were usually about 25% stronger than a Human. Rex had spent a thousand hours in Silent Night’s gymnasium working out, and twice that swimming, running, and surfing. He was 125 kilograms of raw muscle and sinew; from what he’d read, that was the upper 1% for his species and sex.
The pod slowly grew hotter; the heat dissipation system was barely sufficient. It was designed that way. Sweat began to soak his fur. Rex didn’t care, his heart was pounding, and his breath came in great gulps. It was the most exciting thing he’d ever done in his 14 years of life.
The plasma discharge began to clear, and he could finally see the ground. The radar beacon wouldn’t work now—from this point on, it was a visual game. Zuuls’ visual acuity was on par with Humans’, though less precise at long-range, detailed observations.
Rex made corrections based on nothing more than a tiny glimmer, more perceived than seen. The ground was coming up fast; the simple altimeter was scrolling down at a dizzying speed. His right hand itched with the need to pull the chute, but the second he did, he would have minimal control of his destination. The parachute was slow and hard to control compared to the pod’s quasi-aerodynamic shape. The ground was only seconds away. He’d never been more alive.
The altimeter read just 2,500 meters over ground. He took one last look down and spotted the landing zone, a massive white circle with a stylized red herd animal in the center. It was a kilometer to the northeast.
Rex contorted his body, and the wind of his more than 300 kph velocity buffeted him though the shield, deflecting his course. When he looked at the altimeter again, it was under 1,000 meters. He jerked the chute release, riding an adrenaline rush more powerful than the time he’d almost been crushed by a monster wave into a reef.
The chute blew out the back of the shield and reefed, slowing its expansion for a gut-wrenching quarter second. Bang! It jerked him so hard, his muzzle slapped into the inactive radar. He tasted blood. Worse, less than a second later, he smashed into the ground and blacked out.
“He’s alive! Bloody alien doggo is alive!”
“Yeah, I’m alive,” Rex growled and moved. He hurt from head to tail, but he was alive.
“Guy’s totally an idiot.”
Rex was finally able to focus, and could see three Humans, all standing around him. He was lying on a field of grass painted white. “How close?” he managed to ask.
“Twenty bloody meters,” one of them said. “The only one to hit the white.”
Rex cocked his head back and howled.
Two hours later, the aerocab dropped him off just down the road from Silent Night’s compound, so he could walk the last kilometer. His Yack had a cool 10,000 credits—minus the cab ride. Second place in the Hóngsè Niu competition was his greatest accomplishment to date. Bonus, he’d gotten back before anyone had noticed he was gone.
The trooper at gate security barely looked up from his slate as Rex walked through. He had a slight limp, and some medical gauze and tape, mostly hidden under his fur. The drop pod was safely deposited back in the storage unit just outside Brisbane. An alien shuttle was on the landing field, and he saw Ripley talking with the crew.
Drake’s quad was parked by their barracks, so he was back from harassing the shark biscuits. The base was just as dead as it had been after the end of the war. He even spotted Shadow working on the roof for the new cafeteria. He’d been gone for days; dad must be pissed. As he walked, he raised a hand to wave at his brother. For a moment, he thought Shadow was waving back. Then Shadow slipped sideways and plummeted toward the ground.
* * *
Ripley ran a hand along the wing of the shuttle, admiring its rakish design, and the way it was mated to the fuselage. A nod to visual appeal linked with utility of purpose. It was clear the wings were variably swept, too, and there were hard points under the wings for mounting weapons or fuel tanks.
She’d been too busy admiring the shuttle to notice the pilot climbing down from the cockpit via a ladder until she spoke.
“Kobo Ask’sha!”
Ripley blinked as she turned. The translator hadn’t rendered it into English. What strange race must it be? Her ears pricked forward, quivering at attention—the pilot was Zuul!
She was dressed in a sort of vest with shorts. A slate was attached to one thigh, and she had a partial helmet that allowed her muzzle to protrude, while still providing a snap down visor to protect her eyes when flying into the sun. When she took off her helmet, her ears were back, and Ripley immediately felt the other’s anger.
“You are a rude one,” the pilot said, and this time it was translated. “Who is your Kal’shin?”
“I…I don’t know,” Ripley replied. What’s a bloody Kal’shin?
The pilot took a step back and cocked her head, ears and tail coming up in alert posture. “You speak the local language?”
Ripley froze. Her parents had coached all the pups to be careful around aliens, lest they become too curious about their origin. They were the only aliens to have Australian citizenship, and that wasn’t public knowledge. If she’d known the pilot was also a Zuul, Ripley would have avoided her. She tried to think of some furphy the pilot might believe.
“Were you born here?”
“No,” Ripley answered quickly. Then slumped her shoulders in dejection. This wouldn’t go well, no matter how she handled it. “We’re orphans,” she said.
“We?” the pilot asked. “How many are you?”
“Five,” Ripley explained.
The pilot looked at her closely, then came even closer and sniffed at Rip
ley’s neck. Ripley backed away quickly. Sniffing another in such a way was something she’d only done with her siblings and parents. It was instinctive with them; they’d done it since they were pups. Alan and Dana had copied the action to make the pups feel more comfortable and loved.
The pilot backed away, her eyes narrowed and tail high and still behind her. She shook her head. “I don’t recognize your clan scent,” she said. “A lot of merc units were lost in the last century.” She opened her eyes and looked at Ripley. “Are you happy here?”
“Yeah,” Ripley said, nodding. “It’s our home.”
“Okay,” the pilot said. “My name is Chuuz.” She took out a computer chip, slid it into the slate on her thigh, and removed it. “My contact information is on this chip. I’ll see if I can find out who your clan was. Would you like that?”
“Sure,” Ripley said, feeling conflicted. She pulled out one of the contact chips for Silent Night and gave it to Chuuz. She would have done it anyway after the ship was serviced. The other nodded and took it. “What do you need for your shuttle?”
Ripley went about directing the ground crew providing Chuuz’s shuttle with the required fuel and power. Every time she glanced at the Zuul pilot, Chuuz was also watching Ripley. To say it made her nervous was an understatement. This went on until her mother came running out of the nearby hangar.
“Ripley!”
She turned as Dana ran toward here. “Mother?”
It was clear Dana wanted to yell something and only just managed to restrain herself. “What are you doing?”
Ripley wasn’t sure how to respond. After all, it was Dana who’d assigned her to the incoming shuttles. “I’m doing what you told me to, Mother.” She tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but knew she’d failed.
Dana leaned in closer. “Why didn’t you tell me the pilot was a Zuul?”
“You didn’t tell me what to do if we ever met another Zuul, only to be careful talking around aliens.”
“Ayden,” she said, turning her head.
“Ma’am?” the ground crew supervisor replied.
“Take charge.” Dana ordered. “Ripley, come with me, please.” Dana glanced toward the shuttle and saw Chuuz watching curiously. The two locked eyes for a long moment.
Ripley felt a surge of fear. What did I do wrong? She was about to complain when her ears swiveled toward a sudden chorus of yells. She turned to look and first noted Rex nearby. He was frozen in place, looking in the mid distance. Ripley followed his gaze, movement drawing her attention. Shadow’s gray form was plummeting from the roof of the incomplete cafeteria. Dana screamed.
* * *
Sonya whipped around, slate clattering to the floor.
“Girl, what under the alien-infested moon are you—”
With her mother’s scream echoing in her ears, Sonya couldn’t register Dailey’s words. She sprinted out of the hangar, leaping clear of a too-small Human and homing in on her mother’s scent. Ripley’s, too, tangled with something both familiar and wild, but she didn’t have time for mysteries.
Where were they? They couldn’t be too far, even her hearing couldn’t pluck her mother’s voice from kilometers away. She lifted her muzzle, forgetting to be subtle, and breathed deeply as she ran faster.
There.
Rex’s scent as well, and then she rounded a long building and skidded to a stop, working to make sense of the buzz of activity.
Her mother, smelling of fear even from this distance, crouched on the ground. Rex was snarling, not the most unusual thing, but this held a spikey wave of worry her much larger brother rarely felt.
A cluster of Human workers in a ragged circle, one off to the side talking to the air. Comms, she reminded herself, and realized she’d stopped moving and wasn’t looking down where they all were.
“Sunny!” Ripley twisted back to look at her, and Sonya moved without conscious effort, racing for her sister’s side.
Unable to avoid seeing, any longer, the unmoving form of her littlest brother.
* * * * *
Chapter 3
Brisbane Australia, Earth, Cresht Region, Tolo Arm
“He should be dead,” said Dr. Tanner, Silent Night’s chief physician. He was watching the medical table’s readouts dance up and down in the peculiar pattern of a Zuul’s physiology.
“He landed on the lumber cut table,” Alan Porter said, shaking his head. “Zuul appear to be tougher than a stack of particle boards.”
“Nothing’s broken?” Dana asked. Alan looked at his wife. She was white as a sheet, eyes red and tears slowly leaking from her eyes.
“No,” Dr. Tanner said. “He’s got a minor concussion, that’s it.”
“Then why hasn’t he woken up yet?” Dana asked.
Tanner shrugged. “Don’t know. Brain scan shows strange higher-level function. If he were Human, I’d say he was dreaming. I’ve scanned them all, and far as I can tell, this isn’t what Zuul dreams look like.”
“Give him some nanites,” she said.
Alan gave a little start. Nanites weren’t cheap, and they were in financial deep water. Bloody deep, if the company and their ship didn’t show up soon. He didn’t think they had enough funds to stand up a platoon. More than likely he’d be lucky to get contractor work for a bigger company. The Australian government wouldn’t care, either. They’d want their taxes.
“That’s a waste of nanites,” Tanner said.
Alan gave a quiet sigh.
“Alan,” Dana pleaded.
Alan turned his head to the left. The window on the examination room opened into a small waiting area, which was crowded with four more Zuul. Hugely powerful black furred Rex. Tan Drake, not as big but just as tough, if not tougher. Ripley with her straw blonde fur and pale blue eyes watched intently. Next to her Sonya with her rich red fur, perfectly still.
They all had lighter eyes, except for Shadow. His were rich, dark blue. He’d always been different, from the day he’d taken them home to Dana. Smaller, weaker, but also smarter and more interested in the world. Animals fascinated him, until he discovered religion. He’d been on a nonstop quest to learn as much about Earth’s myriad faiths as possible since then.
Shadow’s four brothers and sisters watched everyone in the room with the same sort of unblinking stare Zuul used to unnerve Humans. Alan always felt it was like being stared down by a guard dog.
“Doc says he’s okay,” Alan said, turning back to his wife. Dana didn’t like his answer, so he tried to soothe her. “If he doesn’t come around in 24 hours, we’ll reevaluate the nanites.”
“That’s reasonable,” Dr. Tanner agreed.
“Do you know why he fell?” Alan asked his wife.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I was talking to Ripley when I saw him fall.” Dana suddenly looked at him. “Oh, right. I completely forgot about the shuttle.”
“What about it?”
Dana looked at the doctor who had a slate and was comparing medical data. She moved closer to Alan and lowered her voice. “The shuttle pilot was a Zuul.”
“Oh,” he said, then his eyes got a little wider. “Oh!”
“Yeah,” Dana agreed.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was about to bring her to see you so we could talk when Shadow fell.” Through the glass they could see Ripley talking and all three of her siblings listening with rapt attention. “Looks like they all know now.”
“How come you didn’t stop her from meeting the pilot?” Alan asked her.
“I didn’t know the pilot was Zuul,” Dana explained. “The shuttle was registered to a Jeha transport company. I didn’t think it was one of the bugs’ designs, but I’d gotten a call from one of the power plant techs asking how much more fuel we needed to process. By the time I got back to look out the window…” She sighed, then shrugged. “The two were talking, and the damage was done.”
“The shuttle still here?”
“No,” Dana expl
ained. “It lifted off while we were waiting for medical to show up.”
“Damn, I would have liked a chance to talk to the pilot. Who knows what she thinks, or what Ripley said?”
“I think we better find out,” Dana said and gestured with her head. All four of the conscious Zuul were looking at her. Rex had his arms crossed and ears back in a sure sign he wasn’t happy.
Alan nodded. “Sooner rather than later. We don’t want four adolescent Zuul chucking a wobbly on us while their brother is sick.”
* * *
“What’s wrong with him?” Rex demanded.
“Why did he fall?” Ripley asked.
“Why was he up there?” Drake asked.
“Is he going to die?” Sonya’s voice was so quiet, Alan almost didn’t hear her question.
“Okay,” Alan said, and held up a hand. “It’s late, let’s get some tucker and talk.”
“We’re not hungry,” Rex snapped. “We want answers.”
“Okay, but I am hungry. So I’m ordering you to come with me.”
All four of the Zuul pups looked surly, with Rex having an outright mutinous snarl on his muzzle.
“Come on, kids,” Dana said.
Rex turned and looked at her, and his expression slowly softened. Alan nodded, and they left the infirmary.
The cafeteria highlighted why they were building a new one—a pair of steel conex shipping containers welded together with windows cut out and interior fixtures installed. It had served as the company lunch hall for 20 years, since Alan Porter had formed Silent Night and bought the old airfield. It was rusty and smelled of fish.
Every time the young Zuul entered, he could see their muzzles wrinkle in distaste. Alan could only guess at the horrendous stench through their powerful noses. He went to the chow line, took a tray, and selected some food. He really wasn’t all that hungry, but he’d needed to take the initiative.
As he selected a drink, his wife behind him, he noted the four siblings standing in the cafeteria entrance, unsure. As usual, it was their leader, Rex, who moved over and took a tray to gather some food. The others followed a second later.
