New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Pirra’s leg still hurt, even after it had been treated.

The wound hadn’t been that bad; the bullet had only nicked the bone, mostly just gouging an ugly canyon in the flesh of her leg.

One in a million shot, she thought.  Dessei limbs were very thin, much thinner than Human, Sepht, or Greggan limbs.  Humans often compared them to bird legs in that way, even if they didn’t bend backwards like an Earth bird.

She glanced at the time in her HUD.  It said that six hours had passed since the fight.

Fight, she thought bitterly.  It had been more like a massacre.

Nine alive, and three dead.  A quarter of her unit.  With the three wounded, they were at half strength.

She’d been brought back up to the Craton with the rest of her unit, while Response Teams Two and Three continued their investigation on the surface.

They’d also brought up ten of the mercenaries, the survivors.  There had been thirty-six of their company originally, but the Craton‘s bombardment had killed the majority.  Her team had only accounted for a single enemy – the one Suon had picked off before their Guardian drones had fully deployed.

Response Team One would all be dead if not for that orbital support.  They’d walked into a trap, and been cut down.

No, she corrected herself.  Three people had paid for her mistake.  Jack Lal, Niamha Mac Mordha, and Sabah Zivai.

She wasn’t feeling sorrow yet.  She was going to take more time than this to process what had happened, and for now she could still function on her training.

She glanced down at her cum of stimulant; it was still hot, steam rising from its surface.  Her people had never had an equivalent to those human “miracle drinks” like coffee or tea.  It held almost a religious, mystical power to them.  But they’d shared the idea of stimulants, and her people had made their own.

She sipped hers.  It was better than trying to sleep and failing.

The door opened, and an aide leaned in.  “The Captain says that you can come in.”

Pirra brushed past him, into the other room.

Jaya was standing there, surrounded by a handful of aides, all watching a man in a chair.

It was one of the prisoners.  He was a tall, broad man, with tanned skin and reddish blonde hair that he had cut on the sides.  A large, but neat beard covered the lower half of his face.

He was not shackled or otherwise restrained.  He appeared mostly unhurt, save for the stump of his left leg, covered with a plastic cap.  The medical unit was already preparing the stump for a new leg – either cloned or mechanical.

The man was not really present with them; he was a projection, a live feed from his cell.

This was much better than the face-to-face meetings that that madman on Gohhi had insisted on, Pirra thought.  The prisoner’s cell could be kept safely sealed, no need for a restraint suit.  With no one present with him, there was no possibility of hostages – or even the idiotic attempt at taking them.

It also meant that she could come right up to his face and look at it, study the eyes of the bastard who had killed three of her people.

His insignia marked him as one of the squad commanders, the highest-ranking officer that had survived from the mercenary group.

Right now, he was talking to the interrogator AI, which was simply asking him basic questions.  It was the only one he could see.

“What is your name?”

“Richard Amin,” the mercenary said.  His face looked completely calm.

Pirra knew he could not see her; she could dial into the call, with permission, and appear as a holographic image in his cell if she wanted.

She would ask.  But not yet.

“You seem very calm about losing your leg,” the AI asked him.  It presented as a pure-white robot, similarly to Y.  But the machine lacked personality, interests outside of its job, and any real qualities that made it more than a very, very smart machine – at least so far.

“Have we identified his group?” Jaya asked.

One of her aides answered.

“We’ve identified them as being members of Centauri PMC, a broad company that includes thousands of chapters across known space.”

“I’ve heard of Centauri,” Pirra said.  “They’re just an umbrella group.”

“That’s right,” the aide said.  “Centauri just sells their name and covers the legal and financial side of things; beyond that, each unit keeps its own standards on jobs and gear.”

He nodded to the man.  “This particular chapter call themselves the White Hands.”

“White Hands,” Jaya repeated.  “They are famed for being unscrupulous, as I recall.”

“Yes, Captain,” the aide replied.  Pirra looked at him, and his name popped up; Vittorino De Luca.  The man seemed efficient.

“The White Hands are wanted for numerous crimes on Union borderspace, and even in Gohhi.  They are among the seven groups accused of the Great Breaching of Station 12211, which caused over three hundred civilian deaths.”

“Then we have enough to hang him with,” Pirra said.

“Perhaps not,” De Luca replied.  “It’s shady ground, as the White Hands have always denied involvement in the incident, and this one mentioned that he had only joined the outfit two years ago.  That crime took place three years ago, and we have no access to the evidence.  We can’t tie him specifically to any crimes.”

Pirra’s crest rose.

“Prior to this event,” De Luca hastily added.

“Calm, Pirra,” Jaya said.  She went back to looking at the man.  “Has he said anything of use?”

“Not really.  He’s holding back for a real person, I think,” De Luca said.

“Then let us play along,” Jaya replied.  “Pirra, dial in with me.”

Pirra was surprised to be invited in.  She was more than happy to be involved with the interrogation.

The appearance of the two women, even Jaya with her Captain’s insignia, did not garner any fear in the man.  His eyes flickered to Pirra’s leg, and she realized that their injuries mirrored each other, though he’d come out poorer for it.

He still said nothing.

“Amin,” Jaya said.  “I am the Captain of this vessel.”

“All right,” the man replied.  “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Not in a military force we recognize,” Jaya replied calmly.  “Tell me why you fired upon my people.”

The man shrugged.  “Self-defense.  We saw a heavily-armed unit moving into our camp, and we defended it and ourselves.  That’s within interstellar law for unsettled systems.”

Jaya ignored the ‘education’ of interstellar law.  “Did you not see that they were wearing Union uniforms?” she asked dryly.

“People can wear any uniform they like.  We didn’t expect Union forces out here, so we just assumed they were scavenged.”

“You didn’t see the ships in orbit?” Pirra asked.

“No,” the man said.  “We didn’t even have a long-range communicator or sensors that could pick up a ship.”

A message appeared in Pirra’s HUD, from De Luca.  No transceiver was found.  Could have been destroyed, or he could be telling the truth.

“How long were you there?”

“We were put on the planet eleven months ago.  We were hired to hold this camp for a period of six months-“

“You’ve been there a year, but were just hired for six months?” Pirra asked.

“Initially, yes,” the man admitted.  “We were supposed to be brought out months ago, replaced with another team, but they never arrived.  Supplies kept coming in, though.  We were then told by our commander that the relief team had backed out last-minute, and our term was being extended with extremely generous bonuses.  So we stayed.”

There were buried caches of used supplies that would support the claim of a stay of one year, De Luca added.

“Who hired you?” Jaya asked.

“I don’t know,” the man replied.  “And if I did I wouldn’t be at liberty to say.”

“You’ll answer our questions,” Pirra snapped.  “You’re a murderer in custody, you don’t have any protection for your secrets.”

“It was legal self-defense by interstellar law.  Even your Union recognizes the right to self-defense!” the man interrupted.  “What would you have done in our situation?”

Pirra fought back her urge to yell at the man.  If she did not keep her cool, Jaya would have her taken out of the interrogation, and she didn’t want that.

She just wanted to see these bastards burn.

He wasn’t wrong that there were provisions for self-defense, especially in unclaimed space.  It might even support their position, if they truly felt threatened.

“You did not even attempt to communicate,” Jaya pointed out.

“Again, your people were armed.  We didn’t know how many you were.”  He shrugged again.  “It’s an unfortunate misunderstanding.  But there’s only ten of us left now, so I’d say you came out ahead.”

Pirra kept quiet now.

Jaya leaned back.  “So your defense is that you were simply hired to guard this camp, and when you saw people in Union uniforms come in, you executed that order.”

“Yes,” the man said.

“What is the camp for?” Jaya asked.

“I don’t really know,” the man said.

“We can extract the information if necessary,” Jaya told him.

“Waste of effort.  I wasn’t privy to the important information, like our employer or what they wanted with the camp,” Amin replied.

“Did you interact with the local !Xomyi population?” Jaya asked pointedly.

“We discouraged them from coming near,” Amin replied evenly.  “No more violence than was necessary.  We’re not monsters.”

His eyes went to Pirra for a moment, then back to Jaya.

Jaya looked to her as well, then disconnected them both from the call.

Pirra watched the Captain expectantly, waiting for what the plan would be.

“Now we wait,” Jaya said.

“For what?” Pirra asked.

“For the results of the investigation on the surface,” Jaya replied.  She turned, leaving the room, her aides trailing behind.

Pirra looked back to Richard Amin, who was now drinking water.  He still looked calm, but there were beads of sweat on his forehead.

Good, she thought.  Let him be afraid.

---

< Ep 12 part 41 | Ep 12 part 43 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

The cluster of rocks were good cover, Pirra thought.

The fact that they were good cover meant they were also obvious; anyone watching with a military mindset would know this was the best spot for someone to set up.

Whoever had created the camp nearby must have noticed the Craton in orbit by now.  Or the diplomatic carrier.  The fact that they hadn’t sent any messages made it very likely that whatever they were up to was not something the Union would smile upon.

Smugglers, most likely, she thought.  Goods from a people about to be destroyed would be very valuable to certain collectors; valuable enough to even justify an entire expedition just for them.

They must be armed; the local lifeforms were too dangerous not to be.

“Suon,” she ordered.  “Up in that tree.  Give us overwatch.”

The tree was huge and squat, its base probably ten meters in diameter, and its branches only started three to four meters up, with a massively sprawling canopy.

Suon climbed up it easily, nestling in between some of the bigger branches for concealment.

“Kis, report,” Pirra asked.

“Signs of recent occupation,” Kiseleva replied.  “Scans show no life signs, human or !Xomyi.  Some of their devices were on until recently, they are still warm.”

Still warm . . . so they were still here.  At least some of them.

“Disposition of the camp?”

“General survival equipment, high-quality civilian market stuff,” Kiseleva said.  “I see no sign of arms.”

“What about artifacts?”

“There are sealed crates, could be anything.  Nothing else that is obvious.”

“How many occupants?”

“Some tents may have been taken down recently, but based on what the drones see, I suspect between ten and twenty.”

It was basic information, but they had a limited supply of drones.  It would take sending people in there to learn more.

The people from the camp were likely out in the woods, probably alerted by passive sensors if they hadn’t noticed the spaceplane landing.  They were probably watching.

Trouble from them they could handle, but only if she played it right, she thought.

They had guardian drones that could intercept enemy fire, but they were also doubling as their eyes and ears out there.  If she pushed them out to look for these unknown people, they’d be vulnerable.  They probably had large-caliber rifles like she’d issued to some of her people, and anyone hit by those . . . well, it wouldn’t be pretty.

So it was probably better to keep the drones in.  Big rounds could be intercepted well by guardian drones.

Most likely the people in the camp wouldn’t fire unless provoked.  Pushing the drones out might easily push them to that.

“Fire Team Three,” she radioed.  “Investigate that camp, find out what these people were doing.  Open some of the crates, look for relevant equipment, personal logs – anything like that.  Keep your eyes open.  We’ll be giving overwatch.”

“Copy,” Sergeant Hesson said.  “Mac Mordha, Zivai, Guoming, you’re with me.”

The team slipped off down the rocks, moving around to come out from another angle on the camp.

“Team two, be ready to move in for support if need be,” Pirra ordered.

She sent the majority of drones in with Team Three, covering them.

“Entering the camp,” Hesson said.  “Found a personal tent.  Just two cots.  Some sealed containers . . . some trash inside, nothing else.”

The team moved deeper, fanning out in twos.  “Found what may have been the communications tent,” Mac Mordha said.  “There’s basic stuff, but from the marks on the ground, they had bigger things in here.  Much bigger.  I don’t know what would have needed this much space except something like an interstellar transceiver . . .”

The fact that there were still the impressions told Pirra that they had cleared that out in a hurry.  They must have some equipment around to move things that big – exoskeletons or hauling sleds.  But those were not in sight.  So where were they hiding them?

“I think we found the mess tent,” Hesson called.  “This was big . . . we thinking ten or twenty?  I think it might have been twice that.”

Pirra’s heartbeat picked up.

“Any sign of who it was?” she asked.

“No insignia, no identifiers.  This is high-quality civilian stuff that could be used for military purposes.  Wait – there’s some food packages left.  Looks like . . . humans, mostly.  Some Greggan meals.  And Jervai!”

Jervai . . . they were an isolationist species, mostly peaceful.  But a notable percentage of their male population had a wanderlust – and bloodlust – that often led them to leave their space and take up jobs that could feed their interest.  Big game hunters, mercenaries, soldiers.  They were usually among the more elite that could be hired.

“All right,” Pirra said.  “Finish up your pass quickly, I don’t like this-“

The connection cut out.  Errors flashed in her HUD.

Then the firing started.  Her system screamed extra warnings, the Guardian drones were flying up, their flak fire intercepting shots.  Others hit their cover, sending chips of rock flying through the air.

She felt a pounding on her shoulder.  It was Kiseleva.

Pirra saw her mouth working behind her mask, and her system turned the lip movements into a neutral, generated voice in her ear.

“Our signals are being jammed,” Kiseleva called.

Pirra popped her faceshield, the heat and humidity of the planet hitting her hard.  For a moment she gasped for air, but then took a deep breath and yelled as loud as she could.

“SHIELDS OPEN!”

In moments, everyone had joined her, opening their face shields so they could hear her.  Kiseleva was making hand gestures, looking up into the tree.  He couldn’t have heard Pirra’s yell, but he must have seen, as she heard him call out, a single wordless yell to let her know he had his shield open.

“Team Two, move in, get Team Three out of there!  Team One, provide cover!” Pirra ordered.  Sergeant Bascet was watching her, and the realization that now he had to lead the squad against this unknown threat hit him harder than any of the flying bullets.

His face went through shock, fear, all of the emotions that one did not want to see on an officer in action.  He did not move up, but froze in place.

Sky, the man was locking up now, of all moments.  She had to put things back in Jack Lal’s hands, concussion be damned.

“Jack!” Pirra called.  The man dove down next to her.

“Take Team Two in,” she ordered him.

“All right!” Jack yelled, starting to rise.  “Okay, team, we’re moving-“

Before he finished the sentence, his head was gone.  Only his lower jaw remained, attached to his neck.

His body seemed to fall in slow motion forward, onto the rocks.  Pirra looked up in a daze, and saw that Jack Lal hadn’t even exposed himself to fire.  But a shot, that had to be from a coilgun, had punched straight through the rock.

Whatever weapon had killed Lal would take time to recharge, but she had to get them ready for that next shot.

“SPREAD OUT!” Pirra yelled.  “KEEP COVER AND RETURN FIRE!”

She rolled to the side, down the boulder, her feet hitting the soft mud.  There was a slight dip in the Earth, curving away downhill, that would give them some cover.  If they pulled back into the forest, they’d have nothing but the trees.

Her squad fanned out, keeping down below the lip of earth, using boulders where possible to grab cover between themselves and the source of enemy fire.  The crack of rifles, her unit shooting out blindly, filled the air.

Suon fired from up in the tree.  “Target down,” the call came, his voice completely calm.

“Share feed!” Pirra called to her system.  “Secondary sources!”

Their systems had alternate ways of communications than just radio.  She heard brief, hypersonic squeals, tugging at the edge of her hearing.  Humans couldn’t hear them at all, and the sound would die off quickly in the jungle, making it spotty as members of her team went out of line of sight.  But it was what she had to work with.

She got all the data the squad could feed her, amalgamating everything they saw to get a picture of the situation.

Flashes in the distant trees on the other side of the camp showed the locations of shooters, but they were firing and moving – the same as her team were doing.  Data streams cut in or out and the data they fed on targets shifted as her squad moved.

She saw that Bascet was moving, but tentatively, in shock.  He was firing, but staying back, making no movement forward.

There was a bright flash, as a concealed heavy coilgun fired out from across the clearing.  It tore through a tent and hit a rock, near where she had been.  It tore through the boulder like it was nothing and went on, into the forest.

“They have their own drone screen!” someone yelled.  “Regular fire is ineffective!”

Suon fired again, she heard the sharp crack of his rifle.  But he didn’t have a coilgun of his own; his heavy-bore weapon was effective against a large creature, but its large, slower-moving bullet was an easy target for enemy guardian drones.

She heard yelling, then.  Almost inaudible over the din of fire.

“WE’RE COMING!  WE’RE COMING!”

Pirra risked a glance over the top, firing off a few shots towards the enemy.  Return fire ripped into the space where she’d been a moment earlier, but her system had gotten a glimpse; Team Three, racing through the tents back to their position.

“COVERING FIRE!” she called out.  Her team all popped out, pouring fire onto the enemy.

Najafi cried out.  “I’m hit!”  He went down, still moving, hand on his shoulder.  Someone rushed to him.

Pirra popped up, moving and firing off shots blindly, aiming slightly high to make sure she didn’t hit her own team.  Risking a glance up, she saw that Mac Mordha was limping, being carried along by Guoming.  Mac Mordha’s face was a blanched white, blood running all down her front.

Zivai had stopped, snapping off a shot, but then two puffs of red came out of him, he jerked, and fell.  He did not move.

He must have cried out, as Guoming turned suddenly to look.

“Go, go!” Sgt. Hesson cried, firing behind him as he ran.

Then the round hit Mac Mordha, punching out a red mist on her side that came through the other.  Guoming’s knees gave out, and as she fell Pirra could see her face frozen in a shocked ‘oh’ as the round over-penetrated into her side.

But she was still moving as she hit the ground, and Hesson stopped, grabbing her arm and trying to drag her along with him.

“Niamh!” Guoming yelled, reaching for the woman she had been carrying.  Her entire side was covered in blood, her and Niamh’s both.

“She’s already dead!” Hesson yelled back.

They weren’t going to make it, Hesson wasn’t pulling her fast enough, Pirra realized.  There were tents between them and the enemy, but they probably had scanners that could give them an approximate location.

Pirra dug her hands into the soil and shoved off.  Yells came from behind her, and she knew what she was doing was fatally stupid, the wrong move.  But she raced out, grabbing Guoming’s other arm, helping Hesson drag her along until they reached her line.

Every moment the thought shot through her mind; she was about to be hit.  A bullet could come for her.  She’d left the protective envelope of their Guardian drones.

They dived back behind the rocks.  Pirra shook as she realized that she hadn’t been hit.

“Help her!” she ordered Hesson, her training working automatically, despite her shock.

Turning, she looked up and down the line.

Kiseleva was running towards her, and dropped down next to her.  For a moment Pirra thought she’d been hit, but no – she had only thrown herself down.

“We still don’t have comms, and they’re moving to flank us on both sides,” she said.

Pirra looked up.  No comms meant they couldn’t call up to the Craton.  But they didn’t have to have a radio for that.

“Keep the unit firing and moving.  If we have to pull back the way we came, we’ll have no cover.  We have to hold position.”

“What are you going to do?” Kiseleva asked.

“Call the sky,” Pirra said.

---

< Ep 12 part 39 | Ep 12 part 41 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Jaya would rather not have been called over to the carrier at a time like this, but the opportunity had been unexpected.

“Some of the !Xomyi people we have brought up from the surface have agreed to meet with you, Captain.  You should come soon – they have a different sense of timing than we do, so they may change their minds if they are kept waiting for too long.”

She had been hoping to meet some of the !Xomyi for weeks, but the situation, especially with those who had already agreed to leave their world, was tense.

The Craton and the carrier kept a good distance between them; with two such large ships, a minimum of fifty kilometers was standard.

The shuttle trip was not long, but she found herself antsy.  Diplomacy was not her strongest skill, and a poorly-known alien mind under great stress would test anyone.

Research-Major Nkosi and Ambassador-General Abashidze were both present to meet her.

“Greetings,” she said.

“This way, please,” the ambassador told her.  “I know you have been wishing for this meeting for some time,” she said, without preamble.  She appeared tired and in a hurry, Jaya thought.  “May I ask why?”

They began walking, wasting no time.

“I would like to meet some of the minds we work to save,” Jaya told her.  “I understand it is difficult.  If the timing is poor . . .”

“This is the best it’s going to be,” Nkosi said.  “We have stabilized the stress levels of this group.  They do have an interest in meeting other humans, though we have tried to be very careful.”

“Of infection?” Jaya asked.

“Of stressors of all kinds,” he replied.  “We are scientists, but our knowledge of !Xomyi psychiatrics is a new field, with no experts.  Modelling of their minds has not been as useful as hoped, due to how differently their recent lifestyle has been in comparison to our own – and from each other.”

“I thought they were all hunter-gatherers,” Jaya said.

“Most of them,” Abashidze answered.  “But there are a few semi-sedentary agriculturalists.  Even when the mode of production is the same, however, the specifics vary hugely.  Those near the coast eat an entirely different diet than those from plains or forests.”

“I see,” Jaya said, wondering just how much they could really differ.  They could synthesize a wide range of foods in a properly set up lab, so why should it be different if they were eating clams or grain?

The carrier was a massive vessel, and they boarded a tram to take them deeper.  After several minutes, Abashidze got a call.

“I must excuse myself,” she said.  “We’re having a problem.  Major, would you please take our guest on?”

“Of course,” Nkosi replied.

“What is occurring?” Jaya inquired.

“There is a fight among two groups of !Xomyi,” Abashidze replied, distractedly, still looking at a feed into her HUD.

“I thought different groups were being kept apart?” Jaya asked.

“That is the plan, though these two groups were related neighbors, so we had hoped . . .”  She blanched.  “Computer, increase travel speed!”

“What’s happened?” Jaya asked.

Abashidze did not reply.  The doors opened, and she stepped out, a scene of madness beyond.  Jaya could see no !Xomyi, but many aides and other Union personnel, running, and a group in armor hurrying towards a set of heavy doors.

Jaya looked to Nkosi, demandingly, as the doors began to close.  She put her hand up, stopping them, and stepped out.

Nkosi hurried up next to her.  “Captain, this is not-“

“What is going on?” she demanded.  When he hesitated, she narrowed her eyes.  “I am a ranking officer on this expedition.  I need to understand.”

“I believe that one !Xomyi has wounded another,” Nkosi finally said, his face flat.  “I . . . I think he is dead.”

Jaya was rocked.  “How did he get a weapon?”

“They carry their stone tools.  Many refuse to part with them for cultural reasons.  Thus . . .”

“They’re still armed,” Jaya said.

“Come,” Nkosi said.  “This is not the group we brought you to meet.  They are still waiting.”

The rest of the trip passed quickly.  The level they came out on was superficially the same as the last, but far calmer.  Stepping out, an aide took them to the airlock door.  Inside, they were cleaned, and finally allowed into the !Xomyi living area.

The air in here was denser, heavier, though her system said it was a compromise between an Earth-standard atmosphere and that of Ko.  It was also warmer – hot, even, though only by ship standards.

The room was huge; it was two floors in height, with sparse, fake trees across the area.  A clear path through them led to a small cluster of hovels, which seemed to be made of long poles, covered with animal skins.  The skins had been worked, being a uniform yellowish color, and on them in red paint were complicated symbols.  No two had the same pattern.

A group of !Xomyi were in the center of the huts, and looked up as they came into the area.

They were distinctive from others in images she had seen.  Their fur had been dyed red in parts, the same shade as on their huts.  White had been mixed in some, and as they stood, she could see that the adults did not have the remnants of wing flaps.  Perhaps ritually removed?

“You are welcome in our home,” one of the !Xomyi said.  His voice was deeper, and Jaya’s system identified him as Speaks With Sky, seemingly the leader of this group.  He had a black top knot of either hair or feathers, clearly from some animal, coming from the top of his head.  In his hands was a baton of some kind.  It was carefully carved, with images of !Xomyi faces – and at the top, a likeness of a human face.  It was heavily stylized, and Jaya found it very interesting to see how they viewed her kind.

“I thank you for your kindness,” Jaya said, offering a polite bow.  Speaks With Sky did not seem to know what to make of the movement, glancing at his fellows before back to her.

“This is a way we show respect,” Nkosi said, emulating Jaya’s bow.

Speaks With Sky seemed to accept that, His eyes closing slightly.  Her system told her this was a form of acceptance.

His eyes were smaller than most !Xomyi, she noted.  Being descended from nocturnal animals, most had large eyes still.

This group must come from a place where there is less shade, and smaller eyes are a minor change in their features to adapt, she thought.

“Sit by our fire,” Speaks With Sky said, gesturing.  “I am told you are friend to us.”

“I am,” Jaya said, sitting.  She looked to the others, but Nkosi leaned over to whisper in her ear.  “He is the speaker for this group.  Do not acknowledge anyone else unless they talk.”

“As a friend, then, I offer you a gift,” Speaks With Sky said.  He offered to her the baton.

Nkomi stiffened next to her, but she reached out automatically.  “I thank you again,” she said, eyes flickering to the researcher.

As she took the baton, Speaks With Sky put his hand on hers.  It was only a touch, but the feel of his rough and wrinkled skin was surprising.  It was warmer than a human hand.

He let go, and she took the baton.

“I ask you now for a gift,” Speaks With Sky said.

Jaya had an uneasy feeling.  “If it is in my power, I will give it.”

“Good,” Speaks With Sky said.  “We have spoken,” he continued, gesturing to the others around him.  “When we came, we were two tens.  Now, we are less than one ten.”

Jaya recoiled slightly, glancing to Nkosi.  “What has happened to your people?” she asked.

“We met your son,” Speaks With Sky said.  Jaya was confused, until a message from Nkosi came up in her HUD, hastily written.

“Gifts require reciprocity,” it said.

“My son?” she asked aloud, pointedly.

Another message; “son is generic; young man”.

“Yes.  He is the one who told us of the coming trouble.”  Speaks With Sky said.  He leaned back, closing his eyes.  “Long it was foretold.  When he came, we felt the prophecy had come to pass.”  His eyes opened.  “But now we understand that we were wrong.  He was not the one who would bring us to safety.  He was the Liar, who misled us.”

Jaya had had a bad feeling as soon as he’d mentioned a prophecy.  Such immaterial things were far too easily stirred to one side or another, to madness as well as mission.

“I am sorry you think so.  However, there is a disaster coming to your world.”

“Since following your son, we have lost over ten of our number.”

“Why did they die?” Jaya asked again.

“Your son-“

“I understand that.  But my . . . son did not slay them.  What was the specific manner of their death?”

The words must have been lost in translation for a time.  These !Xomyi had been given ear implants, like everyone else in the Union, that translated her words into their language.  But that didn’t mean their language had the same sorts of specifics.

After a time, Speaks With Sky spoke.  “They grieved.  They grieved for a lost home, and ceased to eat and drink.  Their spark dwindled, and then they were gone.”

Jaya leaned back.  “What is it you want to ask me for?”

“We wish to return to our old homes,” Speaks With Sky asked.

“If you do, you will all die,” Jaya said.

Nkosi suddenly spoke up.

“She means the disaster will befall you all.”

Speaks With Sky glanced at him, then back to her, but he was stony-faced.

“Your words needed clarification not to be a threat,” he said to Jaya softly.

“You may speak out of turn,” she told him.  She looked to Speaks With Sky.  “He represents his people.  My people are different, and I speak for them.  We are three speakers, not two.”

Speaks With Sky did not seem to like that, and still did not want to look to Nkosi.  “You have my request.”

Nkosi said nothing.  Jaya had a feeling that, despite what she’d said, if he spoke out of turn again it would make things worse.

“It is difficult, your request,” she said slowly.  “I may not have the power to grant it.  But I will try.  You must give me time.”

Speaks With Sky was silent for a long time, then he gave a single, sharp nod.

With that, he turned away.

The audience was clearly ended, and Jaya rose.  She and Nkosi made their way to the airlock.

The room was an incredible reproduction, she thought.  It almost looked natural.  But how could it possibly fool people who knew every plant, every tree, every animal and type of rock, with the combined knowledge and culture of countless lifetimes?

Was it any wonder they were unhappy?

Stepping through the airlock, Nkosi spoke again.  “I apologize, Captain, I did not expect that he would ask-“

“It’s fine,” she said.  “I know you would not have sprung such a thing on me intentionally.  But what has happened to his people?  Why are so many dying?”

“They feel they are caged,” Nkosi said.  “I have told them that this is only temporary, but their conception of time is very immediate.”  He shook his head sadly.  “They are among the worst-afflicted, though the survivors bear it well.”

“How many are dying overall?” Jaya asked, shocked.

“The range of death varies from 18 -55%.  Many simply fall into a deep depression, or shock, and pass away.  It is worse amongst the groups who were brought here under circumstances they feel dishonest.  And worst of all are those who were sedated-“

“Sedated?” Jaya asked sharply.

“Yes.  In a handful of instances, field leaders have made the call to have a group sedated and transported up without their permission.  It is a barbarity, I feel – but even if the majority die, some believe it is still the right thing to do, as then some will survive.  If they stay . . .”

They would all die, Jaya thought.  There would be no more of their people, no descendants, no one with even a memory of their people.  No traces, no artifacts or structures of them would even survive the moon crash.

It would be as if they had never existed.

She could see why some would make such a call.  But the scars from such an act would last for generations, if they would ever go away at all.

“What do we do about this request to return?” she asked.  “I do not want to lie to them, but I do not want to send them back to their deaths, either.”

Nkosi took a deep breath.  “They do have the right to die, if they wish.  But all we can do is stall – and hope they change their mind.”

There was no easy answer.

“I do not know how,” she said.  “But they must have hope.”

“This is not something that has escaped us,” Nkosi has said.  “But we-“

An alarm came up on Jaya’s HUD.

“Response Team One is approaching the target site.”

“Thank you for allowing me to meet with the !Xomyi,” she told Nkosi.  “But I must get back to my ship.”

---

< Ep 12 part 38 | Ep 12 part 40 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Finding an open area large enough for the RP-1 to land proved the most difficult part after that.

The best spot they could locate was almost ten klicks from the site they were investigating.

They may not be worldsloggers, Pirra thought, but her espatiers weren’t afraid of a little walking.

Mwanajuma took care of Lal’s concussion, declaring him fit for service.

“Good,” Pirra told him.  “You would just have to wait in the ship anyway.”

“The Responsemobile,” he corrected absently.

“We’ve got ten klicks of ground to cover,” she said to the team, ignoring his comment.  “Let’s get what we need and get moving.”

They had two Mobile Utility Carrier Units with them, quadrapedal drones just a little bigger than a person that could carry half a ton of equipment over any terrain a person could traverse.  They were little more than legs and a flat surface to strap things to, and standard kit for worldsloggers, though relatively novel for espatiers.

“Oh man, I love these guys,” Jack Lal said.  “Who’s a good Muckie?” he said, patting the machine’s sensor-head.

“I am!” the MUCU replied happily, letting out a purr.  They were all programmed to have slightly different personalities, which helped troops to bond with them.  Pirra was amused to see that this one was more affectionate than most, and it leaned into Jack Lal lightly as he pretended to scratch it where the ears would have been on a dog.

“Don’t give it a name or you’ll end up keeping it,” Kiseleva said, amused.

“Too late, he’s Muckie,” Jack Lal replied.

“I love you,” Muckie said, leaning against him again.

Pirra sighed.  “Just get them loaded up.”

Their gear for planetside was different from what they used on-ship.  The rifles were longer, and owing to the larger fauna on the surface, each fire team had been issued one larger-bore hunting rifle.

“Suon, Zivai,” she said.  “Take these.”  Second fire team needed one, but didn’t have a designated Marksman.  She glanced at the records, saw that Kessissiin scored highest in it for the group.  “Here,” she added, giving him one.  “Are you familiar with a big-bore?”

Kessissiin studied the rifle.  “I’ve been trained,” he said, a puff of pride in his voice.

“Lal,” Pirra called.  “Are you up to commanding your team?” she asked.

The man hesitated.  It was answer enough.  “Lal, you’re in my team, swap with Najafi.  Bascet, you take charge of team two.”

Jack seemed unhappy about it, but accepted the move without protest.  “It’s not permanent, right?” he asked.

Pirra didn’t answer, just gave him a slight smile.  “Depends how much you annoy me.”

They set out.  The jungle was dense, but drones went ahead of them, flailing razor-thin carbon wires to slice a path.  It was still rough going; the roots of trees, pits of mud, sharp rocks, and sudden pitfalls slowed them considerably.

Pirra had hoped they could cover this ground in less than two hours, but at this rate it might take them twice that.

“Is this like the jungles of Enope?” Kiseleva asked her with a grunt, hopping a log.  “I’ve heard much about them.”

Pirra was already past the log, scanning the horizon.  They had picket drones out, but she still wanted to watch for large lifeforms.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.  “I’ve never been to any of Enope’s jungles.  From the holos and films, it’s similar in the way that all jungles are . . . but I think things on Enope have more color.”

“There aren’t any flowers here, are there?” Kiseleva noticed.  “Perhaps they have not evolved yet.”

“They may never,” Pirra replied.  “Even if the moon wasn’t falling.  Evolution can lead to similar outcomes in similar situations, but we can’t make the mistake of assuming it will always follow the same steps.”

Jack Lal hurdled the log.  “What are we talking about?” he asked.

“I was asking if these jungles were like those of the Commander’s homeworld,” Kiseleva said.

“She’s not going to know anything about the jungles,” he replied with a laugh.  “Her mom’s a big wig, she wasn’t allowed outside.  I dunno if you know much about Dessei politics, but kidnapping is still-“

“Lal!” Pirra snapped.  “Shut up.”

The look on his face showed hurt.  But he didn’t say anything else.

Glancing at Kiseleva, Pirra saw surprise and curiosity – but little else.

“Let’s just keep our eyes on the mission,” Pirra ordered curtly.

“Yes, sir,” Kiseleva replied.  Lal just gave a nod.

“Commander,” Suon’s voice came from ahead.  “We’ve got movement.  Something big is coming towards us, and fast.”

Pirra signalled the alert, the whole squad moving to cover, readying their rifles.

That something appeared faster than she expected, bursting through a dense wall of hanging vines and ivy with a roar that shook the ground.

It was almost four meters tall, with long, powerful back legs, a sweeping tail, and arms big enough that it could have moved on all fours if it had wanted.  Its head was massive, lined with fangs that protruded from its mouth even when it was shut, and its bright, forward-facing eyes fell upon them.

The clearing drones were still flailing, their cutters slicing into the creature’s skin, and it swatted at them with huge, clawed arms, knocking a few out.

But we’re its real target, Pirra knew.  “Open fire!” she called.

A dozen guns barked.  The standard, armor-piercing rounds hit and left little impact on the surface, only little flashes of yellowish blood, but they’d tumble and cause heavier trauma within.  The heavy-caliber hunting rounds hit with far greater force, though, and she could see the creature’s flesh ripple from their energy.

It reared back, in surprise, and the next heavy rounds took it through the head.  It must have had something like a brain in there, as its eyes unfocused and it fell, the ground shaking with the impact.

“Hold position!” Pirra called.  The drones were registering new movement.

Something burst from the left – something even bigger.

It was the same sort of creature, but it had come around their flanks.

It moved with a swiftness that seemed impossible for a thing its size.  Its jaws opened and it dove in, crunching down onto one of the MUCU’s, which had placed itself in a vulnerable spot – by intention.  It was preferrable to lose equipment over an espatier, and even their armor wouldn’t stop something of that magnitude.

The quadrapedal drone and its cargo were crushed to pieces by the raw power of the animal’s bite force, though the metal edges cut into it at the same time, causing it to recoil in pain.

Then a heavy shot took it between the eyes.

The creature tumbled face-first into the ground.  It lay there, unmoving.

Kessissiin had taken the shot, she saw.  He stepped closer to it, and put another round through.

“Just to be sure,” he said.

“Good work,” Pirra breathed.

“I thought it could have a mate,” he said.  “That first one was a male, I believe.  The reports say the females are even more dangerous.”

“RIP, Muckie,” Jack Lal said sadly, looking at the destroyed remains of the carrier drone.  It was beyond recoverable.

“Drones have completed scanning the area,” Kiseleva called.  “There are no other large animals nearby, but there is a structure over there.”

A structure?  “Fire Teams two and three, keep positions.  One, with me.”

The four of them moved in the direction the animals had come from.  Could these have been trained guard animals?  It seemed absurd, but it was always possible.

The structure was not what she had been expecting.  It was not a sapient-built structure, but a nest.

The walls had been laboriously made of mud, perhaps pushed with snout or claw.  They were high, and Pirra had to step onto the side to get enough height to peer in.

And inside, among masses of grass, leaves, and bones, were four huge eggs.

“Oh,” she said, realization dawning.

Lal peered in, and when he stepped back his face looked bleak.  “They were just defending their nest,” he said.

Pirra felt the guilt, but then wondered if their deaths now were quicker and more painless than the ones from the looming death of their world.

How bizarre, she thought.  Life was carrying on here, unaware of what was coming all too soon.

“Let’s go,” she said, forcing herself to put the thought aside.  She didn’t need the distraction.  “We still have ground to cover.”

---

< Ep 12 part 37 | Ep 12 part 39 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

RP-1, also known as the “responsemobile” by some members of the team, was ready for orbital insertion.

“All team members secure, Commander,” Kiseleva called. “Now pack us up-“

“And ship us off to hell!” the rest of the team cheered.

The mood was light, positive, Pirra thought.  Like this was a weekend trip.

She didn’t like it.

Orbital drops were a very real scenario that they trained for and practiced often.

But it was always risky.  The spaceplane would get hit with temperatures of nearly 2000 С, and if anything went wrong, that would ruin anyone’s day.

The main hangar had been emptied of other personnel and the air removed.  The main doors opened, and the automated systems lifted them up and out.

Once they were free, the system plotted their course and they began moving.

Pirra went onto a private channel to Craton command.

“Captain, requesting permission to perform a Hazardous Drop drill.  We rarely get to practice under real drop conditions,” she called.

In the background, Jack Lal was leading the rest of the unit in a spirited, and highly inappropriate espatier song that involved a lost lover, a dead ship, and some kind of alien blob.

“This is Captain Jaya,” the response to Pirra came.  “Permission granted, Commander.  I expect your team to perform admirably.”

Pirra felt a thrill of amusement go through her.

They were just about to hit atmosphere when she turned on the all-unit channel.

“Team, we’re going to be running a Hazardous Drop simulation on our way down.  As of this moment, we are under fire.”

The singing stopped, and the simulation began.  Warnings popped up in their HUDs of missile locks, of incoming hostile drones, and of enemy forces on the surface prepared to do anything to make sure they did not land alive.

“Countermeasures activated!” Kiseleva called.  “Registering equivalent-level weapons technology.”

“We’re boned,” she heard Guoming mutter.

“Do not begin defeatist talk,” Kessissiin said sharply.

“Quiet,” Pirra said.  “Work the problem.  Are countermeasures working?”

“We have become effectively invisible to the missiles,” Kiseleva said.  “Until they launch the next batch.”

“Starting remote hack attempt,” Jack Lal called.  “Attempt one failed.  They have a good firewall, we’re not going to get in it in time.”

“We have dumb-fired weaponry coming up from the ground!”

“Begin evasive maneuvers, they have a good idea of our way down, I want to make it as unpredictable as possible.”

It was a risky move; the ship had high tolerances that could handle these maneuvers, but there were still great forces on a ship that was going through an atmosphere, and this was a denser-than-Earth atmo.  Going too strong on a maneuver could cause the ship to tumble like a leaf in the breeze.  They could get out of such a tumble, but they were not going to take a risky path just for this fictional scenario.  While it did move somewhat to give them the sensation of altering course, it kept it within tolerances.

“Plasma shell forming,” she heard called.  “We’ll be losing sensors soon.”

This was the most dangerous part of a combat drop.  Such a thing was, in reality, near suicide.  An enemy below would just be able to bring too many weapons to bear, they’d have too little ability to maneuver, and even if they did one could not realistically dodge a smart missile.

“Dropping a spare fuel pod,” Kiseleva said.  “We won’t be able to lift off, but it’ll provide some protection.”

All simulated, Pirra knew.  But the feed of the pod dropping, just before the plasma shell around them got too intense to make such a move safe, came up in her visor.  For the sake of seeing how it was projected to perform, she kept the simulation going.

The fuel pod had chambers, which it would dump at intervals.  The fuel ignited instantly as it hit the pod’s own plasma wake from the drop friction, and created a literal wall of fire.

An enemy on the ground would have a hard time seeing through it.  They wouldn’t be able to get a precise lock, and anything else they sent up would be just a shot over a large area.

It was not a bad plan, she thought.  The computer gave it a 42.8% chance of getting them down in one piece.

“Coming out of silence . . . now!” Jack Lal called.  The feeds cleared up, and they saw the ground.  Fire was coming in wildly, but quickly began to home in on them.

“Point-defense cannons firing!” Kiseleva called.  “We’ve got friendlies above us in upper atmo, they’re dropping fire-“

Suddenly everything went red.

“We’re hit,” Pirra said.

“Breaking up,” Kiseleva said with a sigh.

“We’re all dead,” Jack Lal added.  “What was it?”

Pirra checked.  “Lucky shot, actually.  Ah, well, that’s how it goes sometimes.”

Their actual flight was going quite smoothly.  The shaking had mostly stopped, and Pirra twisted in her seat.  “Good job, everyone, that was as good an attempt as I’ve seen.”

“Someday,” Kessissiin said.  “Someone will come up with a good way to land troops under hostile fire.”

“Unlikely, I think,” Kiseleva said.  “The odds are just too stacked.  You can only overwhelm such defenses, try to give too many targets.  The question then is how many you are willing to sacrifice?”

“Look, guys,” Lal said, raising his hands for silence.  “The answer is obvious.  If we just paint big smiley faces on the bottom of the ships-“

The ship lurched, hitting a pocket of turbulence.  Lal drew in his arms, too fast.  He yelled out, as everyone was thrown hard in their seats.

“Jack!” Pirra called.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he mumbled.  “I just elbowed myself in the head . . .”

Pirra whistled out a Dessei curse that she knew would not be translated for the others.  “I really shouldn’t have to say this, but everyone keep your limbs down until the ride has come to a complete stop.  Now, don’t guess, anyone – is he okay?”

Kiseleva was studying a readout.  “Med scans suggest a mild concussion.  We can deal with it on the ground.”

Jack made another joke at his expense, and Pirra sighed.  Hopefully, this had been the extent of drama for this mission.

---

< Ep 12 part 36 | Ep 12 part 38 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

It was Zey’s sleep-talking that woke her up.

“Hello,” Apollonia heard, jarring her to consciousness.

The two shared quarters on the outpost, space being at a premium.  And usually Zey’s talking did not bother her.

But tonight, the woman seemed nearly lucid.

“I want some more,” she said.  “It tastes so good . . . mmmm . . .”

Apollonia made a face in the night.  Zey was enjoying some tasty snack, but now she was actually making a munching noise that was strangely disturbing.

She got up and dressed, stepping out into the night.

The wind was as bad as ever, but not the worst it had ever been.  She went to her favorite spot at a railing, peering down, and feeling glad again for the fencing that made falling off an impossibility.

The water below was terrifying.

The waves were so dark as to be nearly invisible, only the white caps could be seen.

There were no porpishes playing down below, but they were about; she could hear them breaching and making an oddly mournful call.

Strange creatures lit up in the water, showing bizarre shapes that seemed truly alien.  Sometimes she thought they were squid-like, but the next moment they were an entirely new shape.  They seemed drawn to the pylons that held up Outpost Alexa.

The porpishes were hunting them.  She could tell when one was caught, because the glow would suddenly turn into a huge cloud that took time to dissipate.

She heard footsteps approaching, just barely, over the wind.

Turning, she saw it was Alisher.  He looked tired, but smiled pleasantly.

“I was going to wake up Nurse Boziak,” he yelled.  “But since you’re already awake, want to go inland?”

Apollonia only caught about half of what he said, but it was the right half.  “Sure!” she called back.

Ten minutes later, they were in the undersea crawler, preparing to head ashore.  It was just her, Alisher, and Hawa, and the lieutenant quickly explained the situation.

“We’ve got a vital node that’s gone out,” he explained.  “Something big bumped it, we think.”

Apollonia’s heart beat faster.  “Is this something big still around?”

“Maybe.  We’ve got defensive drones around the area, so it’s nothing to worry about.  Protocol says we have to bring a medical tech with us on a night mission, since there’s more hazard of injuries like falls.  But don’t worry, we’re going to be in a well-lit area, so you probably won’t have to do anything.”

“I’m not stepping one foot out of the defense ring,” Hawa promised.  “It’s well-lit and safe.”

“So what do I do?” Apollonia asked.

“Just stand there and look cool,” Alisher replied.

The crawler came ashore and they transferred to the hovercraft.

It was the pre-dawn time, she saw as they lifted, with the edge of the sky just turning a lighter blue.

“How far are we going?” she asked.

Hawa glanced at her.  “I forget you don’t have a HUD sometimes,” she said.

In her still-sleepy state, Apollonia found herself annoyed.  “I make do.  I just pester people,” she said.

“About a hundred and fifty klicks.  We might be there for a few hours, though.  Don’t worry, I brought snacks.”

He actually had; the chips tasted funny to her, and when she looked at the package she saw they were green tea and onion flavor.

Who the hell ate those?  She’d never even seen them for sale in the fancy marts on Hell Rock.

Nevertheless, they were chips, so there was only so bad they could be, and she ate up her bag.

The trip felt longer than before, perhaps just because she was tired.  She was starting to doze off by the time they arrived.

“Apple, you can stay in the car if you want,” Alisher told her.

Fat chance of that, she thought.

But she fell asleep almost immediately after they landed.

She awoke with a start.  Sunlight was beaming into her face, and as she remembered where she was, she felt terror at the idea that she might miss a chance to see a dinosaur . . . -ish thing.

It might even be her last chance, she thought, heart pounding.  She clambered awkwardly out of the vehicle.

She didn’t see Alisher or Hawa, but her tablet told her they were on the other side of . . .

Her eyes were drawn to the massive carcass.  In life, it had been a super-giant, one of the six-legged, huge herbivores that wandered these jungles.  Now, bones jutted out of ripped flesh, and half of its side had been torn out.  The entrails would be on the other side from her, but she could smell their stench already.  It was so much worse than she had expected, and the flies!

There were carrion creatures all over it.  Nothing larger than her hand, and she wondered where the bigger ones might be, but then remembered the security drones.  They must be driving off a lot of things.

Checking her system, she saw that they were indeed working overtime.  In six spots, animals from about the size of a cat to bigger than a human were being kept back.

Looking around, she saw no such creatures.  But the cause of the damage to this station was apparent.

The ground had been churned up, turned to mud.  There were footprints all over.

Some were the big, strange prints of this thing.  It must be of the same species as the one she had caught a glimpse of on her first trip out.

Others were from something with equally-huge, splay-toed feet.  Like a dinosaur, one of the big predatory ones.

This thing had been hunted, had been killed, and then the killer had eaten its fill.  In the struggle, their tiny little station of equipment had been damaged.

She walked around the carcass, waving away flies as big as her finger, and tried to find its head.

It had a long neck, like a sauropod, but the head was different – like a star-nosed mole, with scads of tentacles that were already swelling under the hot sun.

Its mouth was open, and the stench coming out of it was even more rancid than she could have imagined.  One of its eyes had popped, the other a gross milky-white, and she quickly walked away.

As she rounded the head, she saw piles of horribly yellow entrails spilling out far beyond.  They looked like any earth animal’s, at first glance, except for the fact that they were yellow – and so was all the blood.  In many spots it had dried to a sickly brown color, almost green.

The stench again prompted her back.  But why was she trying to get past it, anyway?  Alisher hadn’t called her.

She was free to do as she liked.

She looked out.  There was one direction the scavengers weren’t coming from.  She could go to the edge of the security zone and peer out.  Maybe she’d see something.

The jungle edge was clear, the plants straining to grow past the cuts into the empty terrain, but held back by regular sweeps of drones.

Stopping at the edge of the cut zone, she picked a path and went through.

The jungle was immediately dense, the humidity raised significantly, and she felt mushroomy bits and leaves rub against her clothes as she pressed forward.

Wow, this was a dumb idea, she thought.  But she kept going.

The ground seemed to be sloping down, and when she looked back, it seemed that her entrance had been much higher up than she expected.

She’d just go a little deeper, she thought, though a sliver of fear was starting to creep into her stomach.

She took another step – and found no ground.

Letting out a yelp, she fell, tumbling awkwardly, just avoiding landing on her head, hitting her shoulder instead.

Tumbling, she felt a sharp pain in her ankle as she tried to catch herself.  She kept falling, her leg hitting repeatedly, the pain spiking to blinding levels every time her foot hit.  Thorns ripped at her, catching on but not tearing her uniform.

Then she came to a stop.  The ground was flat, mushy even.  When she put a hand into it to push herself up, it sunk in.

Please be mud, she thought.

Something was on her face, and she reached up despite the awkward angle and grabbed at it.  It felt insubstantial, strand-like, and a handful of it felt like holding a marshmallow, but with something hard inside.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that it was webbing, and that she was holding some kind of creature.

It snapped sharp jaws and thrashed in her grip.

She flung her hand out, trying to get rid of it, but the sticky strands of silk stuck it to her hand.

It was going to get those fangs into her!  She thrashed her arm, until finally the thing flew off with a thunk onto the muddy ground.

It scrambled away noisily, and she sat a moment, panting.

Where the hell was she?

She was in a dip, a meter or so below the level of the rest of the jungle.  A dense copse of trees stood off alone, slightly ahead of her, while the opened area extended a few meters to her right, collapsed in, then spread out again, out of sight behind the copse.  Off directly to her left was a swampy area, part of what she was in.

Pulling her hand out of the muck, she saw that there were little creatures writhing in the mud that was stuck to her.  She shook her hand to get them off.

She must be in that mud.  Standing up, she stumbled out of it, towards a drier patch.  Light from above filtered through, leaving a strangely bare spot of yellowish soil.  She moved towards that, each step sending sharp pains through her ankle.  She thought she felt something hot running down her skin, but her suit and ankle seal at the top of her boot was still intact.  Without breaking it, exposing her skin to the many creatures and germs out here, she couldn’t check it.

Fumbling on her belt, she found her tablet, still there.  She’d felt herself land on it several times as she fell, and she feared to see how much she’d busted it up.

The screen had to be cracked at least, and she’d be lucky if it worked at all.

Wiping mud off the screen, it lit up, and turned to her normal desktop view.  It was working!

There was a red alert on the screen, telling her that she’d passed the security perimeter, and to stay still, waiting for help.

“Apollonia?” she heard in her ear, Alisher’s voice.

“Yeah, I’m here,” she said.

“Apollonia, are you there?” the call came again.

“Yeah, I’m here!” she called louder.

Part of her sensed the movement off to her left, but she didn’t register it consciously.

“Apollonia, if you can hear me, stay where you are, we’re coming,” Alisher said.

“I said I can hear you!” she yelled.  Then she saw that there was mud over the mic on her tablet.

She started to wipe it, but then movement caught her attention.  It was still not conscious, but she turned to look, the scale of movement triggering something in her.  It was big, far too big.

Huge.

The creature was huge.

As it raised its head, it towered twice her height.  And its body was still laying on the ground.

It had a long muzzle, and through lipless jaws she saw the teeth, as long as her hand, protruding.

Two eyes, focused straight forward, were fixed upon her, watched with a cold curiosity.

It was not a Tyrannosaurus Rex.  But it looked enough like one.

It considered her, a mere three meters away.

This had killed the creature above, she thought.  Then it had come down here to rest.  She had awoken it, stumbling through the jungle like a buffoon, yelling while right next to it.

“Help,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Its jaws were longer than her whole body, she realized.  The skin on them was mottled, a disgusting yellow, and she realized it was dried blood.

It started to rise.  She stumbled back, and its interest visibly increased.  When it was on its feet, it took a step forward, into the light.

The stench came with it.  It was so powerful it made her gag.  Hordes of flies, disturbed by the movement, took off from it.  In the light, she could see how disgusting it was; vermin crawled across its skin, burrowing into dirty crevices.  Snot ran from its nostrils, and large flaps of skin dangled from its throat.

It was wrinkly, she thought.  Thick folds of extra skin around its neck reminded her of a turkey, but any amusement at that thought could not last, in the face of it taking another step forward.

She felt the ground rumble.  It was not from its step; that had been shockingly almost silent.  It was making a sound, but so deep that she could not hear it.  She could only feel it in the ground itself.

She was about to die, she realized, her legs turning to jelly.  Primal fear of the predator, developed across the endless span of evolution, was thrown to a level she could not imagine at the sight of something so much larger than any predator humanity had ever encountered.  She felt she had no control of herself, and time moved in simple flashes, without thought.

The creature’s head snapped up, as a group of things flew in.  They were small specks the size of her hand, but they circled the beast’s head.  It snapped at one, the movement impossibly fast – but the flying thing avoided it easily.

They were drones, she realized.

The beast took a step back, and one of the drones crackled, a bright light jumping from it to the animal.  It let out a sharp sound and backed up more.

“Apollonia,” a new voice said.  It was Cenz.  “Do not worry, I am here.  Try not to move, movement will only draw its attention away from the drones.”

The massive thing she could only think of as a dinosaur backed up more, into the jungle.

“It is retreating,” she heard Cenz say.  “Apollonia has only a minor injury to her ankle.  However, her audio pick-ups are not working.”

“Oh thank you, Commander!” Alisher said.

Apollonia automatically tried to say again that she was okay, but even if her recorder had been working, she could not make herself make a sound.

She was on the ground again, she realized.  She did not remember falling, but she had.

And she’d peed her suit.

The suit had cleaned it up, but she knew she had done it all the same.

The line clicked as something changed.

“Apollonia,” Cenz now said.  The channel had switched to private.  “I do not know what you were thinking, walking into the jungle on your own like this, but it was an extremely foolish move.  This large predator could have killed you, very easily.  It is a wild animal, and I suspect the only reason it did not kill you is that it recently ate.  It was too tired to even play with you – which I assure you would have been just as lethal as if it had wanted to eat you.”

He paused.  “I know that you are young, and that you have had a difficult childhood, Apollonia.  But this was beyond irresponsible.  There are consequences to actions, and regardless of how great our technology is, it does not mean that we are immune from harm – or nature.”

Apollonia tried to reply, to say that she understood.  But she still could not talk.

A sound from above came as the hovercraft approached.  It lowered quickly down through the tree line, and when it landed, Alisher came out.

“Apple!  Are you all right?” he asked.

She still could not talk.  She only nodded.

---

< Ep 12 part 34 | Ep 12 part 36 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Jaya had often thought about how she would run her own ship as Captain.

The only real issue she had found, now being the acting Captain of the Craton, was that Ian Brooks had already run a good ship.

There were few changes she could make.  She did implement a few alterations to schedules and operations, making a mark so to speak.  They were not huge, and despite some initial discomfort from a handful of officers, it had gone smoothly.

Their discomfort had been good, in a way.  The hard work was being done on the surface, and it would be weeks more yet before the Craton was actively called upon to be taking in teams and groups of !Xomyi refugees.  The ship was acting only in a support role, and that could breed complacency.

Shaking things up had been a way to keep everyone alert and active.

Drills were another, and right now she watched in interest – and no small enjoyment – as the bridge crew ran through one.

In this scenario, she was out of action.  How didn’t matter, nor did it matter if she was dead or alive; all that mattered was that junior officers were in control of the ship.

The idea was that the moon had begun breaking up sooner than expected, and the crew were scrambling to keep the ship both safe and to evacuate as many teams from the surface as possible.

“We need to move the ship closer so we can pick up those shuttles that have breached atmo,” Navigation called.

“No,” Operations disagreed.  “We’re already too close to significant chunks of the moon that threaten the ship – we don’t have the ability to deflect objects that size.”

Comms chimed in.  “We have two more teams launching from the surface, but they’re experiencing heavy bombardment of small debris, I don’t think-” he suddenly went silent.

“We lost them,” he said, his voice heavy.

Response stepped up.  Its commander was, in this scenario, Lt. Commander Pirra.  “Our duty is to our mission.  Navigation, have you plotted us the safest path you can?”

“Aye!”

“Then take us down.  Ops, get the weapons going, try to give at least a missile bump to anything big that threatens us, and use the point-defense guns for smaller objects.  Orient the frontal cone to catch anything they miss.  Tell all the shuttles our path and get them to move to meet us.”

“But the pieces we can’t deflect-” Ops began.

“Are we going to be hit by them, Nav?” Pirra asked.

“I don’t think so.  The odds are small – this is our best shot.”

“Get us moving.  Ops, get to your task.”

The Operations officer looked to Jaya, mouth agape.

“Don’t look to me,” Jaya said.  “I am dead.”

Pirra was not a bridge officer, but in this scenario, there was little for Response Team One to do except be on the ship.  Though they should have been down running their own companion scenario about fighting fires on the ship, Pirra had delegated that role.

“The bridge needs a Response officer,” she had said when she had arrived.

Jaya had found herself quite amused by this call.

“I’ll allow it,” she had said.

“We’re moving in,” Navigation now called.  “We’ve got large pieces of the moon – Dark, they’re bigger than us – just forty clicks at heading . . .”  She read off the numbers.

“That is too close,” Ops said.  “We can’t even hope to budge a piece that big. If it breaks up further-“

“If,” Pirra said.  “Keep our heading, monitor the piece.  Warm up the zerodrives – if need be maybe we can nudge any pieces with a partial field.”

Nav nodded nervously.

It was, Jaya thought, the kind of crazy thing Brooks would try.  Zerodrives were not toys, and using them in the way he often did was widely considered foolhardy.

“We have shuttles approaching,” Flight called.  “Their path is rocky, though.”

“Get what point-defense guns we can on it,” Pirra called to Ops.

“The moon piece is starting to break up!” Navigation called.  “It’s calving – a piece is on a course that will hit us in thirty seconds!”

“Get that drive going, alter its trajectory!” Pirra called.

“It’s too big!”

“Nudge it, buy us a few more seconds.  Get us a course that will avoid it if you can.”

“There’s no safe path we can register-“

“Dive into the planetary well,” Pirra ordered, looking at the charts, herself.

“We can’t escape a planetary gravity well like that easily-“

“We’ll make a jump at the last minute – we’ve got the drive up, yes?”

Science called out.  “We cannot make a jump in a planetary atmosphere, the repercussions-“

“Will not be worse than what’s already happening,” Pirra replied.

“We’ve got three shuttles docked,” Flight called.  “Those are the only ones in range . . .”

“Give them our best calculations for a safe path out, tell them to burn until they’re clear and we’ll get them as soon as we can,” Pirra called.  “Prepare for zerojump in-“

The emergency lights on the bridge suddenly went back to normal.

Everyone froze in surprise, as the emergency suddenly became the normal.

“Very good work,” Jaya said.  “Lt. Commander Pirra, your bravery in action would have netted you a medal, or perhaps killed everyone.”

Pirra looked suddenly somewhat chagrined.  “I stand by my actions, Captain.”

Jaya nodded sharply.  “Good, I am glad you are not second-guessing yourself.”

“May I ask, Captain – why did you stop the scenario before we finished?”

“We have a signal coming in, Captain,” the comms officer suddenly called.  “It’s Research-Major Nkosi.”

“That is why,” Jaya said.  “Bring the call through.”

Nkosi appeared.

“Hello, Captain, I am sorry if I am interrupting your war game.”

“It is only a practice for a rescue operation,” she said, feeling for a moment like he’d been making some kind of soft rebuke.

“My mistake,” he replied, and she genuinely could not tell if there was more to it.  “I wanted to speak to you about your latest scans you sent over.”

Jaya checked the logs; they had been sent over just ten minutes ago.  “Is there some problem with our work, Research-Major?”

“No, not at all.  But there was something unexpected.  In this location . . .”  A map appeared, highlighting a part in the middle of the main continent.  “Your scans observed the remains of a camp.”  His face went troubled.  “I can tell you with certainty, Captain, that it is not one of ours.  We have never had people within a hundred kilometers of this area, let alone a field camp.”

Jaya took a moment to process that.  Bringing up their detailed images, she could make out the camp.  All that could be seen were the tops of tents, some of them quite large.

They did not match any Union-issued tents, however.  They were not just camouflaged visually, but contained electronic baffles that made them hard to pick up.  The Craton‘s powerful scanners had seen through that, but . . .  even if Nkosi was mistaken, his people wouldn’t have had any reason to use such things.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” she told him.

“I find it troubling, Captain,” Nkosi said.  “My guess is that it has been occupied for some time, longer than we have even been here.  Who else has come to this world, and why?  Why are they hiding?”

“There is only one way we will find out,” Jaya said, looking to Pirra.

The Lt. Commander saluted her.  “I will prepare Response Team One for orbital insertion.”

---

< Ep 12 part 33 | Ep 12 part 35 >

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!

---

Hard Biter had been gone days now, and life for the !A!amo carried on.

Brooks found himself impressed by the ways that these people accepted death in their midst.  They mourned, and then they continued.

He saw in their psyche no sign of the stress this life must bring to them; their bodies bore the scars, the aging from endless struggle and toil.  But they remained themselves in mind, without blemish.

Post-traumatic stress was likely too strong a negative to exist in a people who lived day-to-day, he thought.  It made him wonder what illnesses civilization had created, even as it had cured the more obvious ones caused from without.

Without technology, sickness for the !A!amo was a constant threat.  They understood cleanliness to an extent, cleaning themselves and their children regularly.

But the deeper causes were both unknown to them and they were nearly helpless once a sickness took hold.

A week after the funeral, two of the children suffered from fevers that they could not cure.

Cool River collected herbs, making a paste which she spread on their heads and wings.

“It will draw out the fire,” she explained.  “But whether they live or die is up to the spirits.”

She refused to look at Brooks as she said it, but he did wonder if it was a request.  So far, despite the gift of his scanner that he frequently saw them using to search for tubers – and they had figured out how to tell it to search for other edibles – they had asked for nothing from him.

“These fires of the mind are common this time of season,” Knows the World told him.  “It claims our youngest often.  This year, we are lucky it is only two.”

Brooks called upon Y to intervene.

“Of course, Captain,” Y told him.  “If you wish, I can summon a team to come and give the !A!amo full physicals as well.”

“I don’t think so,” Brooks told him.  “I want you to visit the children when no one else is around.  Give them what they need, and they will simply believe it is good fortune.”

Y hesitated.  “Captain, this is an opportunity to show to the !A!amo that with our medicine we can-“

“I understand what it is,” Brooks said.  “Do it as I instructed.”

Y complied.  The sickened children, Causes Trouble and Sweet Child, recovered.

Thanks was given to the spirits, and to the strength of the children themselves.  Their parents doted upon them as they recovered.

But he had a feeling they attributed it to him.

The mystique was a powerful thing, he noticed.  He seemed to be avoided for some days after.  Sometimes, small groups of the !A!amo would be talking to each other in hushed voices, and grow quiet when he was close.

Their ears were sensitive, and even his equipment could not pick up these conversations.

They did not seem to fear him, or to be angry, but the lack of communication made it difficult to progress his trust with them.

There was nothing to do but wait.

---

< Ep 12 part 32 | Ep 12 part 34 >