“It’s true! She will be as good as new… no, better!” She tried to convince Brisson with the sheer strength of her affirmation. “Believe me! I know. I was born in Vietnam – my body was all messed up. I was luckier than some, in the long aftermath of the war. The best thing that happened to me is that the Kelloggs, my new family, brought me to America. But even the best doctors couldn’t fix …” She seemed to find it hard to bring herself to really explain, and shook her head. “The Medic, it … it.” She let go of Brisson’s arms and pulled out what looked at first glance like a single, simple photo from the bib pocket of her dress.
Judy looked, fascinated, as the image within the thin sheet rotated, showing a three-dimensional view of the ‘pre-restoration’ Asian girl, dressed startlingly minimally in what was either some very colourful underwear, or possibly a bikini. As the twisted joints and scars were displayed in intimate detail, Brisson felt simultaneously repulsed and guilty for her prompt, prejudicial response, but kept her eyes on the image until the now obviously perfectly formed Jane put the ‘photo’ away again.
“So…” The youthful Miss Kellogg grimaced. “Don’t worry.”
“Yes, it’s alright,” Richard reassured Judy. “I’ve heard from Karen, and the Medic was completely successful, for Eric, and your boss and his niece.”
This time the message finally sank in. Judy staggered slightly and tried to keep her eyes focused as she thanked the girl, but they were blurred with tears. A moment later and she found she was in pain. She realised belatedly that she must have fainted, as the long arms of the Narlav were holding her scant inches from the bronzy floor; it was the strength of his grip that had brought her back to her senses.
***
Some indeterminate time later, perhaps a half hour or even a whole one, the NUIT threesome had been introduced to other GAF team members and seen a brief ‘snapshot’ of the multiple components in the construction of the myriad components that made up a fully-equipped Patrol Craft. At that point, Seagull shimmered into view again and settled down in one of the few vacant spaces on the bronzy floor big enough to accommodate the Aircar, with Karen visible through the rakishly sloping front Transplyous panel. The door swung up and two very changed humans jumped out of the rear bench seat. The first was even more impressive than the two ‘bouncers’ – he was a little shorter than George Pendle, it is true, but where George was merely extremely well-muscled, Eric – for this was the restored Kirouac – was seemingly sculpted out of living steel. The Medic had interpreted his physique, optimised his DNA, and the result would clearly have given any world champion level body-builder a serious challenge... and of course his now partly unearthly but apparently still genuine uniform was also adjusted to fit his improved physique perfectly.
He loped over to his colleagues and came to attention in front of them.
“Leroy, you are going to love that machine!” He glanced down momentarily at Fraser’s less than perfect leg and showed the ‘thumbs-up’ hand signal. Then he turned slightly, giving his attention to the girl that had, by her interaction with him, started his own move from splashing in the puddle-shallows of life to a point he now likened to waist deep. “Judy…” He grabbed both her hands and opened his mouth, then shut it again as he simplified his hastily planned speech and merely turned her towards his youthful and lovely companion, standing a little hesitantly, immediately behind him. “This is Amber, do you remember?”
Judy looked at the Restored Davis teen, noting her lovely face and the fact that she was dressed in a simple, wide-necked white tee-shirt and snug, faded jeans. The stunning young creature that she saw made her recall the most ‘happening’ of girls in her teenage peer group, girls that had made her feel so third class, so plain, so utterly resistible, during the last few agonizing years of school and the entire period of her somewhat less painful, but distinctly isolated and decidedly socially unrewarding university education. She felt her walls going up as she unconsciously anticipated a similar scenario, but this girl – that she had only met once before, over a year back, during the ‘siege of Citadel’ – threw her arms around her and hugged her fiercely.
“Judy! Get in, go get him. Bring him back and get restored – together!” Clearly the teenager somehow knew a fair bit about her current situation and thought very positively about it.
Judy felt her barriers crumbling in the face of this unexpected and uplifting embrace. The happy face so close to hers, with genuine concern in every facet of her expression, made her own startled response melt into an extreme grin.
“Thanks, Amber! I really needed that!” She looked around and, after a moment noticed Kirrina, still sitting in Seagull, motioning to her to climb aboard. She hurried over and got in, needing no further urging, and just grinned when Eric vaulted into the back seat again as the door began to close.
“We’ll be back!” He shouted at the GAF team members watching the action. “Get over to the ship, Leroy; the Chief will be following us in a few minutes in that bigger Aircar and he’ll want you to be in top form for this rescue mission. We are anticipating the Cold Lake base has become just a bit too cold for comfort, so we are dropping them some Energy Tanks to keep them going for a while, and bringing Latt back here.”
The door sealed shut and the occasional sounds (of tools being ratcheted, and containers being repositioned) were instantly shut out. Judy found it hard to breathe, anticipating her reunion with Latt, hoping against hope that he was unhurt, wishing Kirrina would move the Aircar faster towards the domed roof and through it, to the hangar doors and out, and then off through the storm to her fiancé.
Brisson had unconsciously put her hands in her heavy coat pockets. She pulled them out again, finding that the strange rod from the Hawk house was somehow in her hand. She brought it more fully into her view and then held it so the casually dressed first generation Earthling beside her could see it as she moved Seagull smoothly up towards the curved roof.
Karen took it with one hand, casually put a knee under the yellow and black control sphere to maintain control of their ascent, flipped her hair back into a loose bundle, twisted it with the other hand to tighten it, and held the rod against it.
Judy watched as the rod became a ring and the ultra-pale hair was neatly contained. A short shimmer took their Aircar through into the hangar and Brisson was relieved to see Marines standing by at the huge hangar doors, ready to ‘waft’ them through as Karen waved to them.
“Thanks!” The GAF foundling founding member mouthed and she nodded to the military as she tipped Seagull slightly sideways, guiding it through the gap the very instant that it was wide enough. She waited a moment to allow the holographic projection field to coalesce, reducing the radar signature of their Aircar to that of a large bird, and the visual signature to a blur or smudge against the sky. When she was sure the Aircar had cleared the doors, she pushed the soccer-like ball a few centimetres towards the large curved window in front of them.
Judy gasped as the Aircar shot forwards, surreally noting no discernible acceleration forces as the storm rapidly dropped below and behind them. As they broke free of the dense cloud cover a few seconds later and skimmed across the boundary layer, Kirrina grinned at the wonderfully observant Miss Brisson, her dimples showing as she pulled out another of the metamorphic metal rods from a pocket in her winter coat, beside her.
“A large door can hinge on a very small pivot. Or the future of a galaxy can turn on one miniscule mistake, though perhaps we should think of it now as one, incredibly fortunate discovery.” She flipped the rod into the air, and was not surprised that Judy caught it with a laugh of triumph and tried to use it in her own, somewhat tangled but extensive brown hair, now she knew, at long last, the terrible secret of its hitherto mysterious purpose.
Chapter Nine
Dropping uprooted quyz – Quetibb carelessness personified
Fludrad had been wheeled into the new ship just moments earlier. On the way in he had been able to see the shape of the completed v
essel and its chequerboarded skin. He noted that it was long, like a needle, but at least three times larger than the previous model he had seen – at devastatingly close quarters, wedged into the control room of his old ship. It is shaped like the deceptively little ships that brought down our mighty Warrnam! The Narlav grimaced, aware that this would be taken as an indication of pain from his scar-tissue fused feet and ankles, not his ever-present anger at this defeat, something he considered to be the greatest of all possible racial slurs.
He had also seen the two Drive Spheres, appropriated from the wreckage of the Space Hammer, mounted either side near the thickest portion of the double-pointed fuselage and braced by long filaments of silvery metal both forwards and rewards. This vessel should be capable of great acceleration, being equipped with such an excess of power. He moved his feet cautiously in the lower, covered area of his wheeled transport. Pain is good for a warrior! The grimace returned, this time because he found it impossible to think of himself any longer as a warrior material. I cannot walk, my arms have little muscle left to move them, and my eyesight has faded so much that I must use shaped Transplyous lenses to view small details, like the control mechanisms which I have helped these Quetibb modify.
Unknown to Fludrad, Gich was already in the compartment immediately above his one, resting in a specially designed, super-soft recliner and observing the Narlav on a video monitor.
“What do you think?” Quetod stretched upwards, enjoying the unusually tall design of this human life support area – for Quetibb often moved around on all fours, or crouched over, and the design of all their other transports economised on space by restricting them exclusively to these two postures.
“I think he is expecting the Quequanat to crash on take-off, and hoping we will all be killed. He reasons that what you’ve achieved so far is due to an inordinate number of active data modules surviving the crash.” Gich smiled, drawing a deep breath after this extended pronouncement.
“He doesn’t understand how we keep figuring out his attempts at sabotage. I have never before enjoyed watching another become frustrated, but somehow each time I see him do those strange facial expressions, I find myself snickering. But instead of focusing on your now impotent Controller, let’s watch Quedon; Fludrad will be doing the same, though we have made sure that his access to the data from our equipment monitors is not as complete as ours, of course.” Quetod was excited by the prospect of the first flight and especially by the chance to observe her soul-mate at work – normally she would be in another vessel, as their original Quequan could hold seven only by extreme, close, end-to-end packing, and only a single pilot could be allocated. Even if I were a passenger, I would be unlikely to have a view past the wall-to-wall fur of the other Quetibb to see his activities!
“Commencing first flight test.” Quedon selected the levers and activated the power regulators. “Going up to quitquel quevat[26].”
The first combination of Quetibb and Narlav technology rose up slowly from the sheltered area next to the wrecked Warrnam, pushing aside the fabric designed to ameliorate the temperatures at ground level. Gleaming and mysterious, the sleek ship quickly began to absorb the super-star’s energy, powering up the auxiliary features and charging the battery packs. Quedon adjusted the levers as they accelerated through the atmosphere, twisting the ship around so that the forward pointed end was aimed at the heavens. The artificial gravity field made this move seem unreal, almost as if the planet were an ornament being shifted relative to the ship, rather than the other way around.
Transplyous panels had automatically darkened, but the bright orb still dominated the forward view.
Gich realised that they were not going to stop at the planned target for this flight. He’s going to keep on going! These Quetibb are totally fearless! No wonder they made so many of those whiskers, those Quemvab, to brace the Drive Spheres… otherwise they would have been ripped off by now by the air crashing against them!
Quetod stroked Gich’s head, enjoying the now fairly healthy layer of hair there. “You are the greatest friend to our people!” She kissed the crown of the shiny brown coating and noticed that her charge looked increasingly excited by the flight. “Oh, you are surprised, aren’t you, by the flight path we are now on?” She felt proud that she could read the human’s face this well.
Gich nodded, but smiled broadly.
“Look!” Quetod pointed at the navigation panel – a duplicate of the one further ahead in the pilot area, where Queton, the dark brown furred navigator who had pulled Quedon back into the Quequan when the A/C was restored after the crash into the Warrnam, was reprising this role on the much bigger ship. “We’re going to fly around some more – if I know Quedon – and then we’ll land somewhere quite far from here, I expect…”
Gich instead looked at the lovely furry face of the Quetibb that had become such a close friend, noticing how she touched her long snout with her free forepaw as she spoke of her beloved husband. Something inside Gich hurt as this idea of companionship struck home. I’ve never even thought of such a thing! Gich’s eyes lost their focus. I ! … I am such a wreck… such a thing could never happen for me, even if, by some miracle, we make it back to Rhaal and we find some humans still alive there.
“Look, I figured him out!” Quetod carried on, missing this retrospective moment entirely in her enthusiasm for the flight and her life-companion. “We are going around now to the night-time side of Quelood, our home.”
Gich’s eyes came back into focus in time to see the lower half of the forward view change to the super-bright surface of this twin world, steaming with lakes which would almost instantly kill any human or Quetibb who entered them. Ahead, as the ship accelerated further under Quedon’s bold direction in the vacuum of near space above the atmosphere, the darkness of the surface appearing below contrasted with the gradual cresting of the twin world around the curve of the horizon, the brightness of the thick cloud cover on Quelood, which was so close ahead as to appear to be falling into her companion planet.
“That’s my birth place.” Quetod pointed at the world coming into view. “I haven’t visited there for some quidolque.” Our meeting there can now be brought forward, and I can perhaps have some time to visit my relatives… before we continue our testing.
Quedon continued to fly the ship around his home world, the one designated by his ancestors long ago as his ‘father planet’, bringing more and more of veiled Quelood into view and showing how the shadow of Quelood was almost central on the companion world. He reduced speed only as he neared the centre of the hemisphere that always faced Quelood, the world designated long ago as his mother planet. Dropping down into the atmosphere again, with the almost total darkness of the area enhanced by the eclipsed area overhead, the infrared sensors automatically brought the darkness into a kind of twilight.
Gich gasped as the green fields below showed in almost colourless grandeur from their vantage point, one like that viewed from a commercial airliner on far-distant Earth – a place both unknown and unimaginable to the sole human survivor of the Narlav attack on the twin Quetibb worlds. “Such a living world! Oh, you are truly blessed!” The thought of Rhaal was such a contrast. Even weeds no longer grow there…
The clear sky of night continued to allow Gich to savour the view of endless agriculture as Quedon brought the ship down and cruised a few hundred metres above the gently rolling fields.
Queton had contacted some key Quetibb leaders and they were gathering to the newly designated landing place, some on foot, if they were near enough, and others via the subterranean train network. This network existed on each planet for quick access to the desert lands on the sun-kissed sides of both their worlds, from the more temperate hemispheres where all Quetibb lived.
Gich continued to find the flight fascinating – such a contrast to the half-life which had been all that was available to the Drive crew member for many, many days – and did not feel tired or sick. The effect would catch up later, of course.
As soon as the ship touched down, the door into the main passenger area swung open – yes, this ship even had the luxury of hinged doors – and twenty or thirty furry VIPs hurried aboard, not at all disturbed by the fact that their sleep had been interrupted, rather, they were pleased to be invited to travel to Quelood.
“Welcome aboard!” Quedon spoke over the intercom. “We shall get our cousins on Quelood to begin construction of further such vessels.” The fact that this would involve figuring out how to make new Eliminator Reactors and Drive Spheres failed to dampen the infectious Quetibb enthusiasm for the task. “Never will we be naked again before Narlavs.”
Soon the Quequanat was rising into the atmosphere again. This time Quedon took them up even faster and Gich monitored the whisker-like tethers for stress levels, impressed with both the readings seen and the wide safety margin that the displays inferred was still available. Looking up from the many displays, Gich was surprised to see only space ahead. A look at Quetod got an interesting response.
“I’m not sure, but I think I’ll get to test this soon!” She reached for the green levers mounted within easy reach of her right front paw.
“Ah! The Negatruction weapon!” Gich’s level of excitement threatened to overwhelm the still extremely weak human. “I’ve never seen that in action…”
Sure enough, the Quequanat flew on, deeper into space, under Quedon’s direction, until a city-block-sized rock came into view, about a kilometre or so ahead.
“Everyone, please watch, my dear Quetod will demonstrate the new weapon the Narlavs have so generously given us… and at the same time remove this asteroid, which my scientist-friends say would come closer and closer to our worlds in the course of time, perhaps becoming a hazard to our descendants eventually.”
Cavalry Page 8
