From underneath a partially-dismantled refrigerator, Beaky and Arachna watched as the door to the trash compactor slowly opened. They lay ready for whatever came through. The voice said to expect medical personnel. Were they some sort of elite combat unit sent by the Yumens to take them out?
Arachna's inherited Yumen memories did not contain very much information on medical personnel, except that they were associated with extreme pain, suffering, and death.
She could only conclude that they were warriors, perhaps more fierce than the marines she'd previously faced. Whatever they were, she was ready.
The door to the compactor opened. A team of masked Yumens dressed in loose-fitting, blue-colored clothing entered the room. Medics? The word floated through Arachna' mind like a falling stone in a pond.
Was that all they wore for armor? It didn't look like the bulky metal carapace that the marines wore. Perhaps these Yumens had finally evolved a class of fighters that knew how to fight on their own. It was better to fight with one's true body than with a fake one. These would indeed be dangerous warriors.
"Hello?" one of the Yumens said. He was slightly taller than the others and carried a red box in his right hand. "Is everything all right? We're from the Medica and we're here to help. The Emergency Stop was triggered so we know you're in here."
Silence.
Beaky and Arachna said nothing. Was this some sort of ruse? These Yumens pretended to be helpful right before they attacked.
They had blue masks running across their faces but their eyes remained uncovered. No helmet. She felt trepidation course through her veins.
An image flashed before Arachna's eyes—a memory. A Yumen female. Who was that?
Arachna felt a special fondness toward her. Joy. Happiness. Security. Love. Who was this stranger? Was she family? Family of Engineer Carlsen perhaps?
The female was soft and gentle. She'd lived her life with Carlsen, together, happily. Her lips creased upward and she lovingly caressed Carlsen. The two were a pair.
The engineer had loved this woman deeply. Interesting that these Yumens did have a sense of family after all. Something hidden deep within them. Not all Yumens were this way, but some of them were. Maybe they had redeeming qualities after all?
Suddenly, Arachna felt a sense of intense grief, sadness, and, most of all, fear. The beloved Yumen female lay on a cold, hard table, her face pale and her eyes turned upward, her breath and heart stopped.
In her mind, she saw the Yumen dead, surrounded by these blue-masked Yumens—these medics. The same Yumens who now entered the trash compactor, offering their help.
What do we do? Beaky said psionically. The dactyl was quivering. Was that excitement for the fight or fear? Likely both. They seem harmless.
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Do not be fooled, Arachna said. These Yumens are death itself. My Yumen host feared the sight of them more than anything.
Beaky nodded. He would obey his queen. Do we fight?
No, Arachna said psionically. We should observe them before we fight. We must know why Yumens fear these medic warriors so much.
The medics continued to make calls, searching for anything alive inside the trash compactor. They walked throughout the room. The team didn't actually turn up any of the garbage. It was as if they were afraid to get any of it on their pristinely clean clothing. They were sufficiently happy to continue calling out, however, with their loud voices.
"We're here to help," one of them said. "We can take you back to the Medica. If you're hurt and cannot call for help, make a sound and we will find you."
Silence.
The room was still. Nothing moved. Not even a creak.
"False alarm?" a female voice said. Her tone sounded so innocent, even gentle. Arachna knew better.
"Strange," another Yumen responded, this one male. "We've not had that happen before, Dr. Sandra."
"Very odd. Well, let's get going," the Yumen known as Dr. Sandra said. "Tell the crew to disable the compactor as a precaution. Just in case."
"That'll turn the entire ship into a wastebin with nowhere to throw things away," the man glared. "Disgu—" He paused as he caught sight of the female.
Dr. Sandra glared at him, shaking her head. Her mouth was covered by her blue mask but Arachna guessed it conveyed a sense of contempt.
"Fine," the man said. "I'll make the request. We don't have authority but we can—"
"We are the Medica," Dr. Sandra said, curling her brows. "Our recommendations are for the safety and health of the crew. Commander Rip Graves will not countermand a recommendation so close to retirement."
The other Yumen stood silent. His eyes were wide open as if he was unsure of how to respond.
The female continued. "A little trash won't kill them but they need to send someone to either fix the emergency stop or find whoever is lost in here. Not our job."
"You know that'll never get done," the man said. "Not in the bureaucracy that is an Authority Science Vessel."
"Not my problem," Dr. Sandra said. "We need to get back to the Medica. We have lives to save."
She walked off with a sense of self-importance. The others followed her. This medic female seemed scary. If she could give orders to the commander of the entire ship, she must truly be a feared warrior.
Stay here, Arachna said. She lifted herself up with her six hind legs and crawled silently toward the retreating team of medics.
What? Beaky said. They will find me. Where are you going?
You are safe here, Arachna said. Yumens said no one will come here. Plenty of food. Places to hide. We remain psionically linked.
You should stay here too, Beaky said.
No, Arachna said. I must follow these Yumens. Find out what makes medics so powerful. Feared. Maybe a clue to how to defeat them.
I will come too, Beaky said. Protect you.
Stay. Arachna said. They both knew Beaky could not navigate through the ship as easily as Arachna could. He was too large to fit inside the air ducts and could not fit into small hiding places easily. Besides, the entire ship was looking for an escaped dactyl. No one was searching for a queenling.
The last Yumen exited the trash compactor. The automatic door began to shut, lowering itself from above. A moment before it closed, Arachna made her escape.
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Dr. Sandra