The view out of the wardroom’s holographic display showed a mostly white and blue-tinged ice-ball, a little wandering body which was known to humans by some complicated numerical designation which Ravindar couldn’t be bothered to memorize. He considered the stark, almost black-and-white scene, then looked down at the blue-scaled figure next to him. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, please tell me about your Ancient Mothers.”
Captain Sadaf shrugged. “What would you like to know? If I’m honest, I am wondering why you’re asking.”
The big Sikh smiled. “You may consider me a connoisseur of religions, madame. Some humans collect shiny stones, some collect artwork…in my case, I collect faiths. I do not mean that I follow those faiths, mind you. I was raised in one particular faith, and I follow its tenets with the appropriate fervor. But I am fascinated by religions of all kinds, by what other people consider the most important ideals or tenets in their life. I once engaged in a fascinating conversation with a follower of Zen Buddhism; if I’m honest, it’s an outlook far removed from my own. But it was still worthwhile to talk about, and in the end we did manage to reach a bit of a consensus.”
Sadaf nodded her horns. “I can imagine. You seem like the sort who likes consensus…and that’s a good thing. If you don’t mind my asking, why do you need to carry a weapon upon you at all times?”
“My kirpan acts as a reminder to me of my faith’s ideals, and also reminds me of my obligation. Sikhism’s ideals include generosity, compassion and service to humanity.” He reached up and touched his black turban. “It is also the reason I keep my hair uncut, and covered before God.”
“What of your obligation?”
“The weapon also reminds me of my solemn duty to protect the weak, and promote justice for all.”
“A fine set of ideals to strive for. If you don’t mind my saying, that weapon also acts as a method of control over your environment,” said Sadaf. She’d never once blinked, or looked afraid at the notion of the much-larger human standing next to her whilst bearing a weapon.
“Pardon?”
She pointed at the display, where one of the ship’s distilling rigs was marching its way to an icy crevasse to begin its extraction. It reminded Ravindar a bit of some diagrams he’d once seen of a virus attacking a cell to inject its DNA; the rig had spidery legs and a tall, central ‘stack’ which seemed oversized to his (admittedly amateur) mind. The latter must have something to do with its distillation duties.
The Captain’s finger didn’t waver. “This is a process which my species performed hundreds…no, thousands of times before we met the Coalition. And after forming the Coalition, my kind has performed it thousands of times more. Including this moment, one which we would call an ‘emergency’ fill-up. This process should go well. But it might not.”
Sadaf’s golden eyes fixed upon his. “Beyond this ship is the great void. What we auhn call the breath-sucker. Does that term translate well?”
Ravindar nodded his turban-clad head. “It does translate quite well, madame.”
“Good. Hopefully that gets across the lesson I shall impart to you. We are now deep within the breath-sucker. It does not cooperate. It does not care. You can die in one horrible, gory instant if you get complacent. At some point, everything, everything will go bad for you. I have been there before, my species has been there before, and your kind might also be in similar straits in your future.”
“We have been there in our past, madame,” replied Revindar with a sad smile.
“Indeed. But for future moments, you will have a choice. You can give up. You can panic. Or you can just – begin. Break it down. Work the first problem, then the next.”
“And then the next fifteen problems after that,” mused Ravindar.
“Indeed. No auhn claims that there is some after-life…what was the term Corporal Martinez used that one time? Valhalla? Ah yes. We do not believe there is some ‘Valhalla’ where the Ancient Mothers look down upon us and give us strength in the present day. But still, we auhn live only because they lived.”
Ravindar was starting to get a sense of what she was saying. “Thus, you wish to follow their example. You remind yourself that they also faced such perils, and survived.”
“Exactly!”
The big Sikh glanced down at her and winked. “Well, personally I would classify that more as a philosophy than a true religion. But I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”
Sadaf chuckled. In the display, the distilling rig now squatted like a mechanoid spider over its prey, namely the ice-filled crevasse.
Both Takh and Grakosh let out simultaneous expressions of joy; they stood off to one side while examining a different display, full of complicated data that Ravinder knew he could never make heads or tails of. “Looking good, Captain!” said the smaller snakelike alien.
“Indeed,” added Takh. “This vein has very few impurities, just some bits of gravel here and there. We can filter those out with no problem. The hydrogen we distill out of this will be very pure, certainly pure enough for the engines.”
Sadaf gave a relieved sigh. “Good. Well, let’s go hook up with our probe and get topped up, eh?”
The gravity beneath everyone ‘lurched’ as the Rithro put herself into a new orbit. There was no need for stealth anymore, and so the remaining fusion drives were both moving the ship and acting as an artificial gravity.
Ravindar smoothed his beard with one hand. “We will need to fix your engines next, yes?”
“Yes,” said Sadaf. “We can make it out to the jump-point with only what drives we have operating, but it’ll be very tough to get that far without proper thrust-balancing. I mean, we could do it but it would be much easier to repair it.”
“But once you get out to Barnard’s Star you can, as the heathen Americans would put it, call in the cavalry.”
As Sadaf nodded her horns, a cheerful voice sounded out from behind them. “Hey, don’t knock calling in the cavalry! It’s a classic for a reason!”
Ravindar turned himself slightly to regard Martinez with a smile. “In your propaganda-filled cowboy movies, you mean.”
Corporal Martinez just looked glad to not be floating around like a soap bubble. “Nah, it’s been a classic trope way before Westerns. The heroes are in a bad spot, they’re pinned down, all looks lost…and then bam! The good guys swoop in and save the day.” He stood on the other side of Ravindar, his smile never fading. Based on the smaller man’s mood, the Sikh was pretty sure that he and Chao had managed to do ‘the deed’ again…which probably meant that they were the first two humans to do ‘the deed’ multiple times in space, and therefore had permanent bragging rights.
It was behavior contrary to his religion; one should perform such acts after one was properly wed, but Revindar didn’t judge. The corporal and Chao seemed happy, so that was sufficient for him.
Martinez kept talking. “I almost went into Air Cav, ya know, speaking of cavalry. Swoop in with the helis, firing all the missiles, with ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ blasting on speakers.” He looked at the distilling rig in the display without really seeing it. “I gotta admit, I do wonder what might have been. But I’m glad I’m here, now. Because now I get to see this.”
“And you get to break a few other records besides,” said Ravindar, with a grin.
“Um…well, yeah! This is the farthest any human has been from our planet, after all!”
“Of course.” Ravindar fixed the smaller corporal with a raised eyebrow, one which got across the message of I know what you’ve been up to, and now you know that I know.
“Er, anyways, I’m just glad to be out here,” replied Martinez with a bit of hesitation in his voice. To his credit, the corporal didn’t blush.
__________
“…and at the top of the news, the world was stunned as tech-darling Ned Struck was arrested by Secret Service agents right in the midst of his address to shareholders…”
Shaw clicked the ‘back’ button, and the voice ceased. “Fucker,” he muttered. There were a great many other epithets he could have used, but that one seemed the most appropriate. The sergeant leaned back in his modest office chair. The Borlaug institute still wanted him to hang out in Iceland, just to make sure his body wasn’t sprouting tumors to beat the band. However, their accommodations were very much dorm-style. He ignored his lowest-bidder surroundings while he indulged in a bit of mental revenge-porn. Let’s see, how could he obtain a flight to DC from Iceland without raising suspicion? Hmmm, that way might work. Then he’d need to track the fucker down and somehow get past the security detail on him…without hurting them in the slightest, of course. They were just dudes doing their job, no need to get rough with them. Then, of course, there was the matter of confronting the ‘mastermind’. One would have to set that particular bit up right. A few cameras to capture the inevitable confession, plus all of the necessary tools to extract that confession. For a brief moment, Shaw considered calling in Toke and that dead-eyed Brit bastard…but no, this was a personal moment of revenge and he should be the one to take the heat for the inevitable backlash. He knew the latter two would be up for whatever he proposed, but that was unfair to them.
After a while of leaning back and musing, he’d juuust about figured out a possible plan, and was in the midst of wondering if he should really go through with it. Shaw figured he’d already done his bit for humanity by showing off his regrown leg. The nations of the world were clamoring for the UN (or whoever was really in charge) to both A) release all of the current Icelandic data to whoever wanted it, and B) get the rest of the alien tech into human hands ASAP.
The former wasn’t really a problem. As near as anyone could tell, Sergeant Shaw was now back in his physical twenties. Every day in Iceland more older people, each with a vital skill-set, were getting flown in and added to the wait-list for the ‘tanking’, as it was coming to be known amongst humans. With every successful ‘de-tanking’, the tech became more proven and thus that much closer to getting released to the general public.
The latter…well, that was the real sticking point. It was all well and good to say ‘Yes, we humies should get the fusion-drive tech so that we can help fix the Rithro and enable them to sound the alarm to the Coalition network.” But this was also an ability which could turn just about any human rocket into a weapon of mass destruction, via sheer speed alone.
Shaw’s phone buzzed. He fished it out of his jacket pocket with a grimace; thus far he’d been able to dodge most of the reporters looking to cash in on a quick story which boiled down to ‘how does it feel to have a leg again?’
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Fucker…” he muttered again. The number on his phone was one he didn’t recognize. He half wanted to just ignore it, but then again he was kind of bored at the moment. He thumbed the ‘accept’ button. “Yello?”
“Please hold for the President of the United States,” replied a clipped, professional speaker.
He almost stood on instinct, then waited with a bit of trepidation until a very familiar voice sounded down the line.
“Sergeant Malcom Shaw?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Relax, this is not a formal call. Far from it. So I assume you saw the news? How far did you get in your planning to put Struck into a shallow grave?”
“Oh it wouldn’t be shallow, ma’am. I’m a professional. You make that hole six foot deep or you may as well not even bother. The one thing that’s stumped me is where to get that much quicklime on such a short notice.”
The President let out a throaty chuckle. “Well, I’m sure you of all people would have found a way. But. I want you to spread the word to both your team and anyone else in your, er, specialized network. Ned Struck is off limits. Understand? He’s going to stand trial, in front of everyone. In front of the entire world. We do this right, from now on.”
“Ma’am, for the record I was merely considering it as a mental exercise. But…yeah, I’ll make sure they all know.”
__________
Thomas Wong looked at the diagram in front of him, then at the assembled staff around this table. The windows beyond showed a lovely Pasadena afternoon, with a golden light shining through which, thankfully, was not at this time due to distant forest fires. That would probably have to wait until the fall.
“Explain this all to me again,” he said, in a deceptively calm voice.
One intern for the Jet Propulsion Laboratory spoke up…a bit of bravery which rose their stock quite a bit in Wong’s eyes. They’d definitely get the ‘fast track them for a proper job’ tag on their file. “Sir, it’s a matter of baseline. The ship as proposed will be…well, it will be massive compared to anything we’ve put into orbit, but its ability to scan the environment will still be limited. Current testing with Kifa, the xyrax, has shown that knowing your space is critical for any engagement. Think of it much like the use of radar during the very first big air battles. If you know where your enemy is coming from and with sufficient precision, then you can aim your counter-attacks that much more effectively.”
Wong considered the diagram again, which looked a bit like a Maltese cross. “So this is intended as a sensor package, right? One which we can deploy around the ship to get a better baseline. My main question is, how do we deploy them? The mass budget for our proposed ship is big, but it isn’t infinite. It will be wasteful to use rocket motors to propel them.”
That same intern rallied. “We shoot them, sir.”
He drilled the intern with his eyes. “Explain.”
The intern rose, pointing with a laser pointer at various bits in the diagram. “There are weak points here, here, here, and here. But the package is still able to withstand thousands of gees of acceleration, since everything on it is solid state. With the proper folding strategy, we can fit the whole thing quite easily into the warhead-space of the New Jersey’s 16-inch shell.”
“Well, that does put a new wrinkle on things.” Wong regarded the diagram with fresh eyes. “We deploy a host of these things to start with, and they’ll feed data back into the ship to enable better aiming. What do they detect?”
“I’ve got the full list of sensors here, sir.”
“Good. Let’s all go over it. I want to make sure we don’t miss anything.”
__________
“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” asked Takh, for about the fourteenth time.
Haley McCoy didn’t quite roll her eyes, but she came close to it. “Yes, I am my big dorky alien boyfriend. Huh. Now there’s a sentence I didn’t expect to say out loud this year, or in any other year for that matter.” She reached across the SUV-limo’s rear compartment to pat his substantial knee. “They’re just people. Humans, I mean. You’ve met plenty of them, my folks aren’t any different.”
The huge alien fidgeted his hands together. “Yes, but they’re your…parents. That means something. I mean, it means something to my kind and from what I understand it means something to yours as well.”
She grasped one of his fidgeting hands and brought it up to her mouth to bestow a small kiss upon it. “Aw, you’re so adorable. Look, I already told them. They’ve had the requisite freak-out period. They’re the ones who asked for us to come on by. But it wasn’t that big of a freak-out, if I’m honest. I think they figured I was into the ladies only.”
“Ladies?”
McCoy growled. “I kept telling them, I hadn’t met the right guy yet. Until I met you.”
Takh’s mandibles quirked into a grin. “Ah, until we ‘met’ via the unlikeliest of chances. I suppose Captain Sadaf’s Ancient Mothers had a hand in that, eh?”
“Probably.” McCoy leaned back in her seat, managing to ignore the three black (sorry, Dusky Gray) SUVs trailing in their wake.
After their return from the Rithro repair and refueling mission, she’d been inundated with requests for interviews from pretty much…well, anyone. Bloggers, actual news sites, indie reporters, the lot. After consulting with her bosses, she’d accepted a few of them just to show the flag, so to speak. They’d been minor disasters for the most part. Only a couple had bothered to ask her about herself and her past; the rest had been pretty much gleaning for salacious tidbits on how she and Takh Dal P’Tama did ‘the nasty’.
McCoy and Takh had…come to an accommodation. They were both happy with the current situation (very happy indeed) and how they made each other happy was nobody else’s business. She was, for sure, sick of questions about how hung her alien boyfriend was.
“Dale is your father and Susan is your mother, do I have the names correct?”
“Yep,” she replied, and smiled. “Relax, honey-babe. Like I said, the pump has been primed. This is not coming out of the blue.”
The vaguely-pastel homes of suburbia flowed past the windows until a particular one came into view. The SUV parked, and the driver emerged. He couldn’t have looked more like a proverbial ‘Man in Black’; McCoy figured that she should send him to Teresa for some styling tips. The black-suited, earpiece-wearing driver opened the door for her and Takh; she figured that this plus the ‘Les Miz’ experience was getting her spoiled as to the proper ‘red-carpet’ lifestyle.
__________
Takh unfolded himself out of the smaller human vehicle and stood, gazing upon those who might soon become his extended family. Upon the porch of McCoy’s home stood two smiling figures; Takh had picked up enough on human facial expressions to know that the much-smaller one (the female?) was smiling with trepidation, while the much-larger one (the male? Yes, he was the male) smiled with obvious glee. Dale’s figure was not quite as big as Sergeant Shaw or Agent Vila, but was every bit as muscular. It was clear where McCoy had picked up her body-building genetics from; her mother explained her shorter height. The security team had arrived beforehand bearing some translator earpieces, so hopefully there would be no miscommunications.
“Heeeyyy!” called out Dale. “It’s my baby girl! Along with quite the tall drink of water!”
McCoy lit up. “Hey, mom and dad!”
Susan regarded Takh with a suspicious eye. “This is…well. This is something we didn’t expect. But then again, I kept expecting you to bring a lady-friend home. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”
Takh flinched as McCoy hugged his substantial bicep against herself. “Mooom. I kept telling you, I needed to meet the right guy! So here he is!” She stared up at him, and in a much quieter voice said, “Go ahead, say it.”
The XO cleared his throat, bringing his mandibles together in a dramatic fashion before replying. “I believe at this point I should say…get to da choppa?”
McCoy’s father burst out laughing. “Lovely! I won’t make you watch it again, I’m sure my baby-girl has made you see it plenty of times.”
“Only once or twice…” Takh managed to get out, just as Dale seized his upper right hand in an almost crushing handshake. Okay, this human was even stronger than he looked. Takh managed to say, “I tell a lie, it was three times,” before he found himself pulled into the house with extreme prejudice.
He allowed himself to be towed along by Dale as the latter kept talking. “We already got the list of approved foods from baby-girl…”
“Dad, will you stop calling me that?” hissed McCoy.
Dale paid her no mind as he kept on. “…so we’re doing some grilling, of course, but only of what you can eat without problems. So make sure you eat up!”
Takh looked around the living room; fortunately, the ceiling was high enough that he was in no danger of scraping his head. Susan had disappeared into the depths of what he assumed was the dwelling’s kitchen. “I’m sure that it will be lovely,” he replied, “I thank you again for your hospitality. Both of you and of your species.”
Thankfully, Dale finally dropped Takh’s hand. “Hey, who doesn’t like a good barbeque? Oh, I gotta introduce you to the latest member of the household. JACK! GET YER BUTT IN HERE!”
The XO flinched at the sudden shout, then stared in wonder as a much smaller human came clomping out of one hallway leading into the room. “Daaad, I was just about to hit level seventy…” His eyes grew big upon seeing Takh.
Dale smiled in a quite smug manner. “I think you’ll find this more interesting than your Fortnite-WOW-COD-BLOPS-whatever.”
“But dad, I thought this party was tomorrow. Wasn’t it tomorrow?”
“Learn to read a calendar, sport.” Dale gently bopped Jack on the head and strolled towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna check the grill. Should be hot enough by now. Anyone want a beer? Not you, Jack.”
McCoy spoke up. “I’ll get the beers. And I’ll make sure my bratty little brother isn’t getting any.”
Jack made what Takh was sure was a very rude gesture at his departing sister’s back. Then the much-smaller human resumed his fascinated regard of the giant alien.
“You’re tall,” he said at last.
“Indeed I am.”
“Sis said you’re even stronger than Sergeant Shaw,” said Jack with the air of someone admitting heresy.
“Why don’t we find out?” asked Takh, and he stuck one of his primary arms out in a fist in front of Jack. “Go ahead, grab on.”
The small human regarded the proffered fist with trepidation, then grabbed a firm hold. With a simulated grunt of effort, Takh hauled him off of the floor. Jack let out a whoop of exhilaration as he dangled from the alien’s fist, then let out another, even happier whoop as Takh deposited Jack on his substantial shoulder.
“There,” said Takh with satisfaction. “Now you’re tall too.” Jack’s head now brushed the ceiling.
“I sure am! Wow, this does look so different. Um, I…I have a question to ask…”
Takh sighed internally. He was sure what the question was. “Go ahead.”
“Are you dating my sister? I’ve seen it on the news.”
“We have confessed our feelings to each other. Whether this leads to something deeper is still to be determined…”
“How does that all work?” asked Jack.
“Work?” Takh un-slung the human child off of his shoulder and back onto the floor. “Explain your question, please.”
The little human rolled his eyes. “I’ve been through Sex Ed in school, okay? I mean, you’re so much bigger than she is. Sis is hella tough, but even so…how does it, you know, work?”
“I mean, I don’t think that’s appropriate for me to say…”
He was thankfully interrupted by McCoy, who held two bottles in her hands. “How it works, sport, is none of your beeswax.” She handed one bottle to Takh. “Now go and help dad with the grilling. He’s got about half of a steer out there and he’s determined to feed every bit of it into all of us plus our guest of honor here.”
This was the moment in which Takh realized humans could pout. “Can’t I have a sip?” asked Jack.
“I gave you a sip awhile ago and you said it was nasty. Hasn’t gotten any tastier in the meantime.” McCoy met her sibling’s eyes while she took a substantial gulp from her bottle. “It’s an acquired taste. But only when you’re of the appropriate age.”
“Aw, man!”
McCoy grinned. “Look at it this way. There’ll be ice cream after dinner. Mocha chocolate chip. Turns out udhyr are immune to both coffee and chocolate.”
“Nice!” Jack all but sprinted out of the room.
Takh gave a rattling chuckle. “Children seem to be the same no matter what species.”
“Yep. Helluva shock to the folks. I was an only child for the longest time. So there I was, graduated out of Basic and halfway through Jump School…and then I get word that I’m gonna be a sis. To their credit, my mom and dad have stepped up to the problem.”
“Indeed. I’m sure he’ll be a fine adult…”
Takh was about to add something more, but then he felt something warm and soft go floomph onto his foot. That sensation was then followed by something his translator bead insisted was a question.
“Mrrreeh?”
He looked down. Two pale-green eyes stared back up at him. The eyes were attached to a furry black-and-white puddle of fur which now sprawled over one of Takh’s clawed feet. Its legs were tucked in, showing what somehow seemed like a vast expanse of snow-white fur along its belly.
“There appears to be a small furry quadruped upon my foot,” Takh said.
McCoy glanced over. “Oh that’s Haianel. They’re a complete doofus.”
Takh looked down and beheld the wonderful, downy promise of that white tummy. He reached down with his right off-hand to explore that wonderful expanse…
“Don’t.” McCoy’s voice stopped his lower hand as it descended for the tummy-rub. “It’s a trap. They always do that, they look all cute with the unspoken question of ‘won’t you pet my tummy’? But then when you try it, they claw the crap out of you.” She stepped closer and showed him a small white scar over one of her knuckles. “See this? I’ve been in the shit more than once, I’ve had goddamned RPGs fired in my direction, and I never got so much as one scratch on me. But I still got this. And this scar came from this asshole here.” She looked down and gave Haianel a glare.
Takh gave an udhyr smile, one which displayed his mandibles to the fullest. “I see. Well, my kind is much more durable than you squishy humans, so I believe I will take the risk.” He did indeed take that risk, and as prophesied Haianel clamped tight around his petting-hand with four sets of claws and teeth. But Takh got to pet that belly, he wasn’t damaged thanks to his natural armor-plating, and Haianel got to indulge in their asshole-ry so they were happy as well.
Afterwards, there was much feasting upon meat and drinking of beer. Overall, it was a very successful visit.