by S. E. Smith
The doctor reached forward to grab her bag and Tessa gripped it protectively. “Don’t touch my bag.”
A’yla pulled her hand back, glancing at the wall before saying, “You can set your bag on this table. I won’t touch it.”
Tessa didn’t see a table, but then one scooted out from the wall, just big enough for her bag to fit. Cautiously, she set the bag down, staring at it a moment before making eye contact with the doctor. If they searched it, they’d find a picture of her fiancé— In his Human Alliance Forces uniform. What would they do then? Would they still consider her a civilian?
A drawer opened from the wall and A’yla pulled out what looked like a medical scanner, swiping it around her head, shoulders, torso, arms and legs. When it beeped, the doctor studied it a moment.
“I would like to put you in a healing vat for two days,” she said, placing the scanner back in the drawer, which disappeared back into the wall.
Tessa’s heart raced. “Two days? I don’t—”
“Your skin has suffered extensive damage, affecting several of your internal organs. It’s amazing you aren’t nauseous.”
Tessa was nauseous all the time. It was simply a state of being for her.
“And you have two broken bones in your arm that didn’t set correctly.”
Tessa looked at her right arm. “It has already healed. Not a whole lot that can be done about it now.”
“You probably also think our food is poisonous,” the Korthan doctor said with a huff.
What? Their food was poisonous. What did that have to do with her arm?
The dividing wall that came up from the floor pixelated and vanished completely. Tessa managed to hold in a gasp but couldn’t prevent her jaw from dropping for the nth time.
The Hellhound looked up from his alcove, but L’Den was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a younger Korthan male was standing there, smaller than L’Den but with silver eyes no less intense. He had on a black uniform, colorful shapes shining from his right breast like the doctor’s. Not quite like the doctor’s— He didn’t have as many as A’yla had.
“What she needs is a good night’s sleep and plenty of rest. No doubt she’d like a shower. She will need to return tomorrow for chamber treatment. Then we will start a suitable nutrition regimen. There’s nothing alarming for now, but do not give her any food yet.”
The young Korthan nodded his head as the doctor spoke to him. It was never pleasing when someone spoke about a person as if she weren’t sitting right there, but thank goodness they weren’t putting her in some healing chamber vat whatever immediately.
The thought of being in some Korthan vat made her uneasy but, so far, nothing she had seen in this medical facility looked like witch doctor stuff. If anything, the Korthans probably thought the humans were cared for by witch doctors. The technology here was mind-blowing.
And why was the doctor giving this younger Korthan instruction about her anyway?
“Come with me,” the young Korthan said and L’Den’s Hellhound jumped from the alcove, stretching before executing a full circle around the young man, antennae twirling before standing in alertness.
Mogha, she heard in her mind. She looked at the ceiling before quickly looking at her bag. What the hell was that voice? The tone— Was someone correcting her?
Tessa grabbed her bag from the shelf, holding it to her chest as she walked past the doctor. If they were going to allow her to get cleaned up, she wasn’t going to argue.
As they meandered through the promenade and entered a corridor, Tessa noticed other Korthans with shiny objects on their clothing. They were not always in the same place, but there did seem to be a pattern to their arrangement. Clear, red, blue, green, gold, then silver.
A turbolift took them down several levels before opening on what Tessa assumed to be a living area, if the rows of doors lining a hallway were anything to go by.
There was no one in the hallway and no one going in and out of the rooms. The Korthan walked and she followed, the mogha taking a moment to sniff her bag as they went.
Stopping at the end of the hallway, the Korthan pulled one of the shiny objects off his uniform.
“This will give you access to this section of the ship and your living quarters.” The man handed her the object. It was metal, silver, the size of a button. She glanced at the others on his uniform. From what she could tell, the gold one was metal too. Were the colorful ones gemstones?
They just stood, the man watching her. Another awkward moment passed before he plucked the silver button from her hand.
“This is how you use it,” he said, placing it on a piece of glass to the right of the door. The glass lit up, the door sliding open in the next second.
Tessa blinked as he handed her the silver, Hellhound trotting forward, Korthan right behind him.
“I am your escort, T’ym,” the young man said, hands formally clasped behind his back. “These are your quarters. I’m confident you can find everything you need, but if you need me for anything, just press this panel here.” He indicated another rectangular piece of glass just inside the doorway.
“My escort?” Tessa said. So much was happening, she simply couldn’t process it.
“Yes, every guest on this ship has an escort.”
A guest? Was the war over? An agreement made? Why were these Korthans treating her so well? Maybe they really were going to take her home—
Or was ‘guest’ another way of saying ‘prisoner?’ L’Den did say they’d be returning her under Civilian Order Treaty 217. That didn’t exactly sound like the war would be over. Maybe he wanted to do a prisoner exchange.
“You do know I’m human, right?” she said, taking a quick glance around the room. It didn’t look like any prison cell she’d ever seen. In fact, it was plain luxurious.
“It is not my place to question who the KCC Commander chooses to be his guest,” the young man rocked on his toes. How old was this Korthan?
“Who is this ‘Commander?’” Tessa said.
T’ym’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “L’Den, of course. You arrived with him, did you not?”
“Yes, of course. My apologies.” Well, no one was hurting her, so might as well go with it. Prisoner. Guest. Either way, it was certainly better than being stranded on that planet.
“I will be back at o’eight five ten to escort you back to the med bay. If you need to know the time, just wave your hand in front of the lamp. Goodnight.” T’ym made to leave, then turned. “Do not lose your gemkey. They are difficult to replace.”
Gemkey? T’ym’s silver eyes glanced down at her hand. Oh, the silver button. Don’t lose the gemkey. Got it.
A’rch trotted out behind him and she was under the distinct impression that L’Den was somehow watching her through the Hellhound.
He does not like to be called a Hellhound.
“I don’t care what he likes to be called,” she said to her thoughts. “He’s creeping me out.”
No other weird pro-mogha subconscious thought appeared in her mind.
Now that she was alone, she allowed a little bit of her guard to drop, slowly wandering around the room, keeping her bag protected against her chest.
As she got to the far end, a section of wall slid to the side, revealing another room beyond. Stars, was that part of her quarters too?
Peeking inside, she saw a bed covered in fluffy plump pillows. She hadn’t seen a real bed in so long that she didn’t even realize there wasn’t one in the previous room.
Setting her bag down on the bed, another wall slid aside. This next room was a bathroom the size of the bedroom, laden with onyx-like tiling containing white and pink fossils shaped like fish and seashells. Was this ship a luxury liner?
On second thought—
She couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to clean up. There weren’t any mirrors, tubs, or showers to be seen. It was all just tiled walls. A luxury liner would at least have a toilet of some kind.
Catching her reflection in
the tiles, she was glad there wasn’t a mirror. Her hair was bleached almost completely white, matted and knotted. Her skin was red and cracked. She didn’t even look human.
Tearing her eyes away from the image, the pillows on the bed were a familiarity and they beckoned, but first—
The supposed bathroom might have been an anomaly, but the front room and the bedroom had tables, chairs, lamps, a bed, and a couch. Tessa searched under every surface and cushions. No motion sensors or cameras. Good.
Jumping on the bed, relishing in the soft comfort, she opened her bag, reaching in to grab the picture that kept her going most days—
Her hand came into contact with a warm scaly substance and she snatched it back.
Looking into the bag, beady eyes stared out at her. “Squeak! What are you doing here?”
Grabbing the small scaly creature from within, she hugged it to her chest as it nuzzled under her chin, soft fur on its face warm against her skin. Its tail twirled in circles, fluffy tufts of feathers at the end tickling her nose.
“How am I going to keep you alive?” Tessa said. She had some spider jerky, but what could this creature eat on a spaceship? Looking around the room, nothing threatening presented itself, as food or otherwise. “Well, I think we might be safe here, at least.”
Finding food was a problem for another day.
Chapter Four
L’Den could feel the emotions warring within the newcomer and they tore at him. Pacing his quarters, he pulled his hands through his hair. What was he going to do? This woman was his bond-mate, a human, no less.
But he couldn’t just leave her on the desert world. Korthans only had one shot at a mate. He didn’t know it could happen with a human—
L’Den stopped pacing. Did that mean he had two chances? Was there still a chance with a Korthan female?
He scrubbed his hand over his face. He didn’t have the answers but leaving her was out of the question.
L’Den took a deep breath and let it out. He couldn’t let this distract him from his duties.
Checking the time, he still had plenty to do before the evening command staff meeting. He had called ahead stating the source of the distress beacon and that she was to be treated as his guest. There’d be hostility toward the obvious human, but the crew would not question his authority. However, the command staff wasn’t shy about sharing their opinions.
Initialize worksurface three.
Sending the internal command to the wall, his desk was erected along with a chair that rose from the floor. Swiping his hand next to the edge of the desk, a data port appeared. Slipping his wrist-cable into the data port, a monitor rose from the desk surface.
There was a wealth of information in the data he downloaded from the human shipwreck, but nothing the Korthans didn’t already know presented itself—
L’Den paused his scroll at the first visual recording of the human female, Tessa Mathews. She was in a blue flight suit, vibrant eyes to match, shoulder-length dark brown hair nothing like the sun-bleached mop that adorned her head now, her skin untouched by the sun, no sign of the scab-covered cracks she was suffering.
Beautiful—
Initialize playback.
“Captain Johnson is dead. As Chief Scientist, I will continue the ship’s logs.” Tessa’s voice was formal, her rigid posture matching her tone. “We do not know exactly what happened, but it appears that we were hit by some sort of space eddy. We were thrown off course with cascading systems failures. Frank and Lisbon did everything they could, but we couldn’t regain control.”
A quick look at the ship’s roster revealed to L’Den that Frank was the Captain’s first name and Lisbon was his co-pilot.
“Ranger VI splintered on impact.” Tessa took a deep breath, the action softening her features momentarily. “Half the crew is gone. We lost Lisbon, Arnold, and Doctor Smith as well. Sasha is seriously wounded. Without a doctor, we don’t know if we can help her.” She swiped at a tear as it rolled down her cheek. “That leaves me, Hamilton, Carl and Britt. We are setting up shelter, salvaging what we can, but we are definitely not getting off this world on this ship.”
Tessa’s eyes darted around the room, her sense of being at a loss easy to ascertain.
“End log,” she said abruptly, and the screen went black.
Another quick look at the roster showed that Arnold and Sasha were scientists while Hamilton, Carl and Britt were HAF, or Human Alliance Forces. L’Den suspected the Captain and co-pilot were HAF as well.
What were they doing in this area of space to begin with? L’Den searched written files and route diagrams. From what he could ascertain, they were scouting for resources.
Did that mean the humans were desperate? Perhaps the Korthans were close to winning this war. Worth mentioning at the meeting.
Playback resumed and a skinny human male with a long face sat in front of the camera. “If we get off this planet, I’m going to kill every single Korthan myself. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for those bastards.”
Letting out a derisive snort, L’Den scrolled past. They weren’t even being chased by Korthans or shot at by Korthans when their ship crashed. Amazing how humans managed to blame Korthans for everything. Though he didn’t expect anything less from someone in the HAF.
Another interesting visual log presented itself. First, there was just sound—
Screaming. A woman.
Initialize playback, he sent the command.
“What happened?” A man rushed into view, grasping at the screaming woman as someone else helped lay her on a makeshift platform.
The female’s arm was bent at her forearm, clearly broken clean in half. L’Den’s heart dropped when he realized it was Tessa. Each pained moan she emitted splintered his soul. He wanted to jump into the recording and soothe her.
“A boulder at the ledge gave way and they fell into the ravine. Hamilton is dead.”
Was that the name of the accuser, the skinny male with the long face? The man in this video had a round face, probably Carl. Well, L’Den wasn’t sad to learn the method of Hamilton’s demise.
The speaker was a woman. This had to be Britt, the other female survivor.
L’Den believed he knew the ledge Britt spoke of. He remembered a meandering cut across the land to the south of the wreckage, caused by some rushing river that had long since dried up. The walls of that ravine were at least one hundred feet. Tessa must not have fallen all the way while Hamilton apparently did.
“The logs are rolling,” the man said, pointing at L’Den, at the camera.
“Turn it off,” Britt yelled, and the screen went dark.
L’Den blew out a breath, heart pumping. Perhaps he should have someone else look over these recordings.
Are you okay? A’rch’s voice sounded in his mind.
Yes. Fine. His voice was clipped. He wanted to get this female onboard the galaxy-ship. Now he wasn’t so sure it was a good idea—
Staff Meeting: Ten Microns scrolled behind his eyelids and L’Den disconnected from the desk, the monitor vanishing. Not having cleaned up from the recovery mission yet, he supposed he’d better make himself presentable.
Whatever you say. The mogha sounded hesitant but didn’t press. The staff meeting is about to start, A’rch added after a moment.
L’Den smiled. Why did he bother making reminders for himself?
L’Den stood, hands clasped behind his back, looking over the round table of six seated officers, each of them studying him intensely. He was glad they couldn’t read his thoughts like his mogha could, said companion pacing the floor next to the table.
“I think we all know what the first order of business is,” he said. He was certain they were as surprised as he and T’ren were—
“So, a human.” Engineering.
“How long has she been down there?” Science.
“How did this human send out a Korthan distress signal?” Communications.
“Are there more coming?” Security.
The questions came at once, only the Captain and the Operations Officer not voicing their thoughts, postures saying enough. Yes, definitely as surprised.
Captain K’ursick held up a hand and everyone grew quiet. He nodded for L’Den to continue.
“From what I’ve gathered with the procurement of their ship’s logs and manifest, Tessa has been stranded for two years.”
“Tessa?” S’ym asked. As Communications Officer, he’d be interested in how she sent out the distress signal and her name.
“Yes, that is the human’s name,” L’Den said.
“You said ‘their,’” T’yke, the Operations Officer, found his voice. “Do you mean as humans in general or was there a crew?”
L’Den held out his right palm, a projection of a blocky starship, clunky in comparison to Korthan ships, leaping to life above the table.
“The ship was what they called a Ranger-class science vessel. It contained a crew of nine. They were searching for resources on the edge of Invader space when a space eddy knocked them off course. This human woman is the only survivor.”
L’Den dropped his hand and the ship disappeared.
“You brought her on board as a guest,” the Captain spoke. “Your service as a Protector is exemplary. No one will question your decision. But, do we have any reason to be concerned?”
“She’s one of the scientists, not a hostile. I scanned the bag she brought onboard and there are no weapons in it, just a few of her affects.” He couldn’t see specifically what was in the bag, but there wasn’t anything dangerous in there. “They were blown off course. It is my analysis that any search parties don’t know where to look. It has been two years, so it’s unlikely any humans are coming.”
“What does the mogha think about bringing this human onboard?” J’ake said.
L’Den winced. Leave it to the Security Officer to bring that up. As part of a species who lost his entire planet to human terraforming in the name of colonization, the Korthans valued A’rch’s opinion.
Said mogha stopped pacing and looked up at L’Den, no doubt picking up the topic of conversation through their bond. Well?
