Authors: B. V. Larson
I eyed it, and it took me a moment to realize it was an air car. Cruising at an altitude of about fifty meters, it glided slowly over the camp. All the running lights were switched off.
“What are they doing?” Carlos whispered nearby. “Who are they?”
“How the hell should I know?”
He shut up for a second, and we all stared. The air car came lower, and we could hear a soft thrumming sound. It was remarkably quiet for a machine of its kind.
“That thing cost some money,” Carlos said. “That isn’t standard tech. Someone had to buy that from Galactic with hard credits.”
He was right. I knew what air cars normally sounded like, and this one wasn’t a noisy, buzzing machine. They usually used fans and turbo jets that roared loudly enough to be heard a mile away.
I frowned at the machine. I was under the impression it was sneaking around, observing. I didn’t like it. I pulled out my rifle and sighted on the exhaust system.
“You can’t be serious,” Carlos said. “You don’t even know who’s in there. It could be our own tribune reviewing the damage. If you bring him down, Varus will fry you.”
“You want to walk out there and signal them first?” I asked.
“Um…no.”
“Right. If we shoot that thing down, our team will know we’re alive.”
“What if it’s an enemy?”
“All the more reason.”
“And what if it is legion equipment, and you kill the occupants?”
I shrugged. “That’s what revival units are for. Besides, no aerial units are allowed on this mission, it’s part of the contract, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“All right team,” I said, “take aim. Concentrated fire, aft portion of the ship. Let’s bring it down. At the very least, we might get a radio aboard big enough to communicate with
Corvus
.”
There was no more hesitation from my team members. They were desperate and scared.
“Mark…Fire!”
We all opened up. We only had light snap-rifles, but the air car wasn’t armored. There was a shield, but aiming at the exhaust ports bypassed that in many vehicles. The exhaust had to have a way to exit the vehicle, so the shield didn’t cover the vulnerable area. The bullets splattered the vehicle creating a shower of orange sparks in the night.
All in all, I’d say we were lucky to get a critical hit before it could rotate the exhaust section away from us. The aft fan cut out almost immediately. The craft wobbled, and the nose tipped up. I could hear it revving, showing the pilot was trying to get away, but it was hopeless. The air car slid downward at an angle, and went into a spin.
We got up, whooping, and charged after it.
The car crashed down into one of the puff-crete walls. I think the pilot had been trying to make it over the wall and out into the jungle—but he didn’t make it.
We swarmed the smoking car, standing on the hood and slanting windshield. The shields sparked and buzzed around our boots. Everyone had a gun trained on the passenger compartment, but the windows were dark.
“Open up!” I shouted. “Or we’ll shoot our way in.”
The window on the passenger side buzzed open. It was dark inside. We all peered in, trying to get a look at whoever was in there.
“Come out,” I said. “You’re trespassing in a combat zone.”
I heard series of clicks, and then the artificial voice of a translator spoke: “You have made a grave error.”
“This is a combat zone. All non-friendly vehicles can and will be treated as hostile. Who are you?”
Carlos was on the roof of the car, and I was standing at the door. Slowly, a figure unloaded itself. I could tell right away it was some kind of alien by the way it moved. I snapped on a light and was startled.
I’d seen this kind of thing before. It was an alien with six hands—or six feet, depending on how you looked at it. The limbs were long and spindly and between them hung a heavy, bloated thorax. In a way, it reminded me of a black widow spider.
The hands gripped the edge of the car door and it hauled its body out of the seat. It moved slowly, almost painfully. I wasn’t sure if it was injured or just being cautious. Then again, maybe it moved at a sedate pace naturally, like a sloth.
It was bigger than a human, but not absurdly so. If I had to guess, I’d say it weighed about three hundred pounds—and two hundred of that was probably located in that central, dragging belly.
Carlos made a little gasping sound when it emerged. The rest of the team stepped back a pace and gripped their rifles tightly. Unlike them, Carlos squatted on the roof over its head.
“What an ugly mother!” he said, his voice full of disgust.
The translator clicked again. “How dare you direct a weapon toward my person?”
I realized the alien must be talking to me. One of its hands extended toward me—toward my upraised weapon.
Thud!
Carlos slammed the butt of his rifle onto its head-section. At least, it looked like a head. It was smaller than a human skull, but it seemed to contain a cluster of sensory organs.
The alien froze for a second then sank down. Its limbs folded underneath it.
“That doesn’t look good,” Carlos said.
“You killed it!” I hissed at him. “You idiot, we didn’t even get to ask it any questions.”
“It was reaching for your weapon. You saw it, didn’t you, Kivi?”
“Just keep me out of this,” she said, coming forward warily to investigate.
“Are there any more of them in there?” asked Carlos, poking his nose into the interior.
I pushed him away. “You’ve done enough. The creature was alone and unarmed.”
“Huh,” he said, prodding it with his toe.
I gave him a shove and he staggered backward.
“Just trying to see if it’s still alive,” he said, glaring.
As he said this, the creature stirred weakly. It didn’t speak, and fluids were running from its head section.
“Kivi,” I said, “get into the car on other side. See if you can find a com system.”
Fortunately, except for the interface which had to be specialized for various species, Galactic com systems were fairly universal in their appearance and operation. Kivi found a unit and quickly connected with
Corvus
.
“They want to know what we’re doing down here,” she told me.
I looked at the alien, who was no longer moving.
“Tell them we’re engaged in diplomatic negotiations.”
Carlos laughed at that. He soon had another hatch door open and was rummaging in the car.
“Hey, you know what?” he called out to me. “I think this guy is an alien—I mean one of
your
aliens, James. This proves you weren’t just crazy-drunk the other night.”
“Who said I was?”
“Everyone.”
“Hey, McGill,” Kivi called out to me. “They want to talk to you.”
I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry. I wasn’t sure if I was a hero or a villain, but I was certain I had some explaining to do.
Kivi patched the com channel to my helmet.
“Recruit James McGill online, sir.”
“You’re a recruit?” asked a female voice. I thought I might recognize it, but I wasn’t sure. “This is Primus Turov. I asked to talk to the team leader.”
I had it now. Primus Turov was my primus, Centurion Graves’ direct superior.
“I’m sorry sir, but I’m all that’s left. We lost our veteran and the unit centurion.”
“Pathetic. All right McGill, report.”
I hesitated. How much should I confess over this transmission? Were there more of these aliens gliding around the camp, ready to invade? For all I knew, this one had already transmitted for help to its saurian friends.
“We’re in trouble. We were trapped and ambushed at the lowest level of the mine by about twenty saurians, both raptors and juggers. We retreated and fought for hours. We finally found the tunnel they used to enter the mining complex and escaped through it.”
“We’ve pinpointed your position. You’re in the middle of the base camp.”
“That’s right sir, and we’ve just brought down an air car that was apparently spying on us.”
“An air car? You brought it down? Who gave you orders to do so?”
“I acted on my own initiative. We were left here, cut off, with no—”
“What’s the condition of the air car? Are there survivors?”
“We found one alien. It appears to be the same species that I encountered earlier on patrol. Identification should be much easier now that we have—”
“Listen to me, Recruit:
is that alien alive?
”
“Uh…I’m not certain, Primus. It has suffered injuries.”
“You had best pray that it is unharmed. Guard that alien with your life. I’m sending down a lifter. Standby.”
I stood there dumbfounded as the connection broke. Carlos came to me and clapped me on the shoulder.
“I listened in,” he said. “Looks like you screwed up, big-time.”
I threw his hand off and cocked back my fist to punch him.
“You fool!” I shouted. “I didn’t tell you to attack that alien.
You
are responsible for this!”
“Hold on! We all know who’s in command here, don’t we, people?” He swiveled his head and examined the crew.
They all looked uncertain. Finally Kivi spoke up. “No. You did it without orders.”
“Oh yeah, sure,” he said. “Right. I can see how it is. Why don’t you all just fill me with metal right now? That would be a better alibi, wouldn’t it? I went nuts, you shot me down, and then—”
I put the muzzle of my snap-rifle against his head. He froze.
“Don’t tempt me any further,” I said.
“Okay, whatever.”
The lifter came down to pick us up—or rather, to pick the alien up. They virtually ignored us, shoving us out of the way. A team of bio specialists ran in with some anti-grav gurney and carefully transferred the injured alien onto it. Then they rushed away. We followed, walking, but when we saw the ramp was already going up, we ran to it and hustled up into the ship.
I found a porthole and looked down at Cancri-9, which was all mist and darkness in the night. I wondered if I’d ever see this alien world again. I had to admit, I wasn’t missing it yet.
An hour later, I found myself facing Adjunct Leeson and Primus Turov. Neither of them was happy. The worst part was, I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d done wrong.
As I stood at attention, I reminded myself that I’d been in this position before, being shouted at by a group of officers. I kept my eyes straight, my face neutral, and I did my best not to react to the abuse my superiors were heaping upon me.
To be sure, it seemed grossly unfair. By my accounting, I was a hero. I’d led my team out of the mines, and after Centurion Graves’ sacrifice, there hadn’t been a single casualty added to the list on my watch.
We went over the story again from the top. Same questions, same order, same answers.
“Who told you to exit the mine through the shaft, Recruit?” Primus Turov demanded.
“No one, sir,” I said. “I did it on my own initiative.”
“And when you reached base camp, who ordered you to shoot down the air car?”
“No one, sir.”
“May I ask you again, who put you in charge?”
“We were surrounded by hostiles. Centurion Graves decided to use our only plasma grenade on the enemy, and he delivered it by running into their midst. It was a brave moment of self-sacrifice.”
Turov uncrossed her arms just long enough to motion impatiently for me to get on with my story.
“As he left us, he told everyone I was in charge. From that point on, I was in command of the team.”
She leaned forward, and her butt lifted from the desk she’d been sitting on. She came close enough so that I could feel her body heat. I wanted to look down at her, but I didn’t.
I kept staring ahead and remained at attention.
“Do you know who was aboard that air car?”
This was a new question. One she hadn’t posed five times previously.
“An alien, sir. Alien to Earth, alien to Cancri-9. Origins unknown the last I’d heard from our bio techs. It was the same type of alien I’d encountered before in the forest on patrol.”
“And that previous alien, you also killed him, am I correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Had either of these aliens at any time attacked you? Did they fire upon you? Did they perform some other overtly hostile act?”
I paused. “No. The first one was in a forest full of enemy combatants, however. The second was on the scene of what appeared to be a wiped out camp with no living legionnaires in sight. I took action based on the situation I was in.”
Turov chuckled and shook her head. She turned to Adjunct Leeson. “He’s screwed us good. No excuse. Nothing.”
I glanced after her and frowned. When she looked back, I flicked my eyes to the forward bulkhead again.
“Do you have something to add, Recruit?”