Khla has just landed the shuttle near the mining crew for the rescue. Hancock unbuckles himself and follows Kane, talking into his communicator. The Lieutenant finds the foreman standing in a group. There, two workers are lying prone with bandages on their heads, torsos, and arms. Kane asks, “What happened?”
The foreman replies, “Particularly bad lightning bolt shook the cave. These two fell hard. With the double gravity…”
“Got it. They stable?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good. Let’s get them aboard the shuttle. We’re leaving.”
The workers, who all look exhausted, nervously shift. The foreman replies softly, “Sir… We struggled just to get them this far. None of us have the strength left. I’m sorry. I-If you brought a team…”
Kane nods, “We’ll handle it.” He calls over the short range communicator, “Helmdraff, can I get your help a moment please? We have some downed miners and could use some help carrying them.”
As Kane waits, the foreman asks, “Helmdraff? That’s a navy rank?”
Kane nods, “Is now.”
“What rank is-…” The foreman’s thought screeches to a halt and his eyes widen.
Khla deals primarily only with military personnel. And, ironically, most of those same soldiers and officers treat her with some level of benign neglect up through actual respect, even for a prisoner. They’re rather kind to her, even aside from sharing rations.
What didn’t really occur to her is that not all humans performing work for the fleet are actually members of their military. Many jobs are being done by what humans call “Civilians”, or non-military personnel. Khla’s interaction with civilians is extremely limited, and there’s a reason why. She halts when the man Kane is talking to snatches a pistol out of his hip holster, aiming directly at her. A second human follows suit, and Kane says sternly, “Stow those weapons, gentlemen.”
Khla can hear Hancock’s conversation halt abruptly near her, and he nervously pulls his rifle up. The first man to draw shouts, “You brought one of those… THINGS!?”
The civilians of the human fleet have been put out in more ways than one by the Grodrrns, let alone the captives. Protests over the Grodrrns receiving precious food and water have become almost daily, though they are kept out of the military-only areas of the ship. The few times Khla has passed civilians, they cursed and threw things at her.
Her best option, now, as then, is to stand calmly. Her voice, her appearance, and her size are all intimidating. Her best bet is to allow Kane and Hancock to either defuse the situation or force the miners to back down. And, Kane’s mysterious forearm device has already clicked to life, rings rotating slowly.
The human supersoldier growls more sternly, “Lower your weapons, now.”
“No no no. Not with one of those monsters here. It’s just waiting for the right time. They may have you military dogs fooled, but not me. I was in Seattle. I saw.”
“SHE,” emphasizes Kane, “Is the only one who can fly through the storm to rescue you and your teams. And, SHE was willing to do so.”
“You think that makes up for anything!? One alien beast decides to have five minutes of penance, and we’re supposed to trust it? Why should we even trust any of you? Some protection the military provided.”
“The clock has to start somewhere. And, if you don’t want to be left behind if another fleet arrives, you will bite your tongue and get on the ship. AFTER you hand over your weapons.”
“No chance. You may be stupid, but I ain’t trusting that thing.”
Though it’s impossible to detect outwardly, Kane is losing his patience quickly. He growls coldly, “I’m giving you until the count of three to lower your weapon before I take it from you. With or without your hand.”
There’s a moment of quiet tension. The foreman glances from Khla to Kane and back. The miners are scared. Khla still isn’t a friend to the humans, and she can understand. She’s not afraid though. Kane and Hancock are on her side.
Kane starts counting, “One.” The other miners glance at everyone nervously, “Two.” The second man with a gun noticeably starts to lower and shake.
The human supersoldier starts to say, “Thr-…”, and both miners with guns drop them to the ground. Plastic chips from one of the weapons due to the heavy gravity. Hancock relaxes his posture, and Kane says gently, “Hancock, their weapons.”
“Yes, sir.” The young ensign walks briskly to each weapon, collecting it cautiously and carefully.
Kane asks, “Anyone else? We’re here to retrieve you. All three of us are. Anyone of you can pilot through that, and we’ll turn right around. Otherwise, shut up and get in the ship.”
The miners glance at each other. Without further argument, they quietly walk with their heads down. Kane waves Khla over, and they each take an end of the makeshift stretcher for the first injured miner. Kane says gently, “Please stay calm, we’ll have you out of here in no time.”
The miner nervously glances at Khla and whispers to Kane, not knowing she can hear him perfectly, “Are you sure, officer?”
Kane nods, “Positive.”
Hancock is sticking close to them with his rifle still ready. He says into the radio, “I’m sorry, Doc, I can’t talk. Small dispute.”
Kane and Khla work together easily hefting the miner up and carrying him. The miner is admittedly heavy to Khla, but they only have to carry two of them a short ways.
The two make quick work of moving the injured. The miners are all quiet, nervously watching the Grodrrn. Even as a young female, Khla towers over even the tallest of humans. Of course, she also knows the average human height in the fleet has decreased now with the loss of Earth.
Once everyone is loaded onto the shuttle, they secure the two injured miners to the floor as best as they can. Kane says calmly, as if none of what occurred had, “Strap yourselves in. The storm is no joke. We’ll come back for the mining shuttles if we can.”
Khla buckles in and checks the shuttle’s readouts. Satisfied, she gently navigates out of the cave. As she approaches the entrance, she eyes the gravel storm ripping across the surface. She says to Kane, “Lieutenant, I think we’ll need to exit at full throttle. The gust will be too much change at low speed.” If the wind catches them hard enough, it could shove them into the cave mouth. Full throttle lets her get far enough out to hopefully recover angle.
Kane replies, “You’re the expert. Makes sense.”
The down side of this plan is the fact that she has to accelerate now and pitch at exactly the right moment in order to thread through the entrance.
Kane jokes, “Try not to scratch the paint, though.”
Khla gets that one. She’s discovered, human jokes usually go over her head because she takes too long to mentally translate, and the context is lost once translated. But, this one, she gets. She does her best to chuckle softly. Grodrrns don’t laugh the way humans do. If something is humorous, they usually only grin. If something is absolutely hilarious, a tingle in their spine causes them to stamp their feet. A three hundred pound Grodrrn, small for their species, stamping her feet with teeth bare would frighten most humans.
Still, she does find Kane’s joke amusing, especially so because she understood it. She makes the lighting adjustments and shifts in her seat. She’ll only get one shot. If she fails, and they don’t die, it’s unlikely anyone else will risk the storm. She says over her shoulder, “Hold. We going.”
She throws the throttle full, instantly gripping the steering with both hands. The shuttle pitches and quickly races up to speed. Many things are about to happen all at once.
The humans compare Grodrrn controls to a piano, each finger having a distinct function on the control grip. This way, she can brace tightly in her seat for high-G maneuvers in high gravity environments without giving herself whiplash or a concussion.
Khla pitches the ship back hard. Immense pressure squeezes down on her as the shuttle shifts directions violently. Miners groan and yell out, but they’ll survive. Humans are tough little mammals.
Wind slams the hull, and the ship lurches sideways. It’s all Khla can do to compensate, while the hull screeches and roars from the sudden barrage. It’s no worse than when they entered, thankfully, but it startles some of the miners.
No matter. Khla keeps her fingers tight to her controls, making adjustments with sliding motions. The ship wobbles as it fights the surging wind, but Khla manages to guide it upwards.
The ship steadies out some, now that they’re ascending somewhat with the wind.
Hancock jokes, “At least the hull will be polished nicely…”
Kane chuckles. “I dunno. Sounded like it was pretty coarse.”
Khla smiles softly. With only the storm to deal with, she needs only be steady and attentive. The rest of the flight should go smoothly.
***
“{HOW COULD THEY BE AT NEITHER LOCATION!?}”
Baskylla Jardzen Khla’s voice thunders the command bridge. The planet they’re orbiting has the scarce minerals they expected; potassium, some nitrogen, sodium, and a few other minerals deemed necessary for life. The Zarakyssns aren’t completely thorough in harvesting a planet. Stories suggest, even long before the Fievegal was founded, the Zarakyssns completely harvested worlds into oblivion. If that is true, they have since stopped.
Khla knows only through Mrff that the Zarakyssns are rumored to take a religious stance on the issue. The origins of such a religion suddenly stopping their Zyuudronn-inspired consumption of the universe around them may forever be a mystery, but Mrff, and others like him, convincingly believe that the Zarrakyssns view the universe as a sort of time-keeping apparatus. Because everything both the Zarakyssns and the Grodrrns know seem to agree that nothing can exist in nothingness, time is no more immaterial than matter, at the end of the equation. Time does not seem to exist without energy. Energy does not exist without even the tiniest amount of matter. Matter and energy cannot change forms without time. These concepts are so deeply entwined with one another, they cannot exist alone. Time causes energy to convert to matter. Time causes matter to come together. Matter coming together collects energy. Matter and energy feed back on time, causing time dilation.
That last part being central to the supposed Zarak religion. If those who believe as Mrff does are correct, then the Zarakyssns are afraid of drastically altering the mass in a specific locale. Doing so would shift the time dilation of that area, which may or may not affect gravitational pull. But, more and possibly most importantly, it would offset the balance of the great timekeeper, and doing so too heavily could stop time’s forward march. And, according to that belief, the instant time ceases, life ceases.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
True, the Zarakyssns are merciless conquerors. But, they undisputedly value life in a macabre way. While the location is unknown, Fievegal intelligence is fairly confident that no species conquered by the Zarakyssns truly goes extinct. All that are biologically compatible with Zarakyssn biology are cultivated to feed the Zarak hordes. Many Zarak soldiers have died taking first bites of a new species, but typically, their palettes are quite sturdy. For those not compatible, they are often experimented on or used as labor. And, for those not suited to labor or eating, a handful are frozen in cryogenic stasis and the rest are hunted for sport or used in war training.
With all of that in mind, Khla knows this world serves a second purpose; bait. Humans are not the first new species taking to the stars, and they won’t be the last. Whether or not the religion is real, the Zarakyssns patrol their harvested worlds for fledgeling fleets, just like the humans.
His scales are tight and unusually dry. The humans have been out of reach for [over a month] now. A lot can happen in that timeframe as it stands. If the humans haven’t been discovered by now, it’s only a matter of time before a Zarak patrol stumbles over them without warning.
He finds himself silently praying that Dzor lends all of his expertise. Cooperation with the humans in that regard would easily be forgivable. Khla would make sure of it.
He feels so ineffectual and helpless. Grodrrns aren’t supposed to be helpless. They’re top five in the list of physically known strongest sentient lifeforms in the galaxy. Even the Zarakyssns, an empire of slavers, have trouble keeping a Grodrrn captive. If Dzor figures it out, if he leads the humans to safety, Khla will gladly pursue them to the bitter ends of the universe, so long as his precious Zhi doesn’t end up the food or plaything of those despicable tiny beasts.
He notices how silent everything has been since his outburst a moment ago. No one has or had a good answer, and his question is unlikely to be satisfied anyways, leaving silence as the best option. Fortunately, it seems no one took it too personally, including the small human female Laurel. She is watching him nervously from her chair, installed near his for when she chooses to be on the bridge.
Mrff is the first to speak. He commands calmly, “{Your Baskylla Yarjen asked a question, hatchlings. Let us not rest idly without answers. Seek an answer. Start by ensuring the humans were not here. Search for rubbish and other debris. Forensics, begin basic jump identification protocols. Navigation, begin running through every planet again. Include all known asteroid belts. Lastly, communications. See if there are any Zarak communications to intercept. Whatever your reasons for aiding this pursuit, renew them and get to work.}”
The bridge is stunned only for a moment longer. The various officers snap to, though, and they begin delegating tasks. Niolajt Jardzen Mrff turns to Khla, saying, “{I, too, will seek answers, Yarjen. Excuse me.}”
Khla observed the speech patiently, scratching his chin deep in thought. He says just as Mrff turns, “{Wait.}” The bridge comes to a halt once more. He says calmly, “{Do not launch any ships. Align us to the furthest planet we identified and charge falight drive. Then, commence Gravionic pulse.}”
The pulse control officer protests, “{Yarjen! That will give us away instantly!}”
Mrff adds in a low voice, “{And the human fleet will surely flee, likely deeper into Zarak space.}”
Khla retorts instantly to Mrff, “{If they CAN flee, so the better. It means we have time. May they be listening intently.}” He then adds to the crew, “{Scan for any fleet matching their size.}”
The officers adjust their orders, and Mrff urges softly, “{I must recommend against this rashness.}”
“{You must, and you have, old friend. But… the humans will not likely detect a Zarak patrol. Not unless Jor is aiding them. These two planets weren’t right. Now, we charge ahead or fall back. And Grodrrns never charge ahead.}”
“{But…}”
“{BUT,}” interrupts Khla. “{Humans do. We can neither catch nor protect them our way. We must attempt to coopt their way.}”
Mrff sighs. “{As you wish. Regardless, I will tackle this problem fom my end as well. Summon me if I am needed, Yarjen.}”
Khla nods. Mrff exits, and the Baskylla Jardzen monitors progress. Laurel remarks softly, “That didn’t sound good.”
Khla does his best to soften his expression, and he replies to her, “We sconn for fleet. Boot, preeparr joomp. Zarroksinns weel deetick sconn. {We scan for fleet, but prepare jump. Zarakyssns will detect scan.}”
“But… won’t that give away the fleet, too? I only know a little, but sonar, on Earth, reflects off of targets in all directions, so…”
He gently cuts her off, replying, “Theess eez troo, boot, Zarrokssinns weel need deetormeen wharr tharr sheeps are tuu ileemeenott. Een thot teem, hoomins sholl flee. {This is true, but, Zarakyssns will need (to) determine where their ships are to eliminate. In that time, humans should flee.}”
Laurel sits quietly for a moment. She replies, “And… you’re sure this is the best way?”
“No. Boot, eef wee trih tuu sorch, wee mitt lond een Zarok bottol formott. Ond, Zarok… hmm… interpshun weepon ockteevott mooch foster thonn we conn recharge, ond we tropped. {No. But, if we try to search, we might land in Zarak battle formation. And, Zarak… hmm… interruption (he means interdictor) weapon activate(s) much faster than we can recharge, and we trapped.}”
“I see…” The human looks distantly out at the stars. The view is currently pivoting as the ship aligns for the coming jump.
Grodrrns are not nearly as social as the humans. There are plenty of Grodrrns who go weeks at a time without saying a word, and they are just as content and well-adjusted as a Chulm’chn-to-be who just left the Saurmynnyka’s bed chamber. In fact, Khla and Dzor stumbled across a marooned Grodrrn pilot who had survived total isolation on a near-habitable world populated with hostile beings. He actually had trouble speaking because he hadn’t said more than a few words –mostly curses under his breath lest he be hunted- for [147 years]. Beyond having to relearn his own language, he was completely sane and functional, and he still serves to this day as a Niolajt Jardzen on another ship.
Humans are nothing like Grodrrns in this respect. Khla has quickly learned that Laurel becomes depressed if she isn’t engaged in conversation almost daily. There are times she can barely stand minutes of silence. The other humans on his ship, of course, have the luxury of being in cells together. Laurel is surrounded by a language she still has much of to grasp, speaking of military matters of which she has no counterpart experience as a human.
“How eez hulth?” asks the Jardzen as gently as he can muster.
Surprised, Laurel glances at him. “Me?” Khla nods. “H-Who’s health? Mine or the baby’s?”
Khla smirks. Yet another contrast. Grodrrns almost always assume self when being asked something like that. He replies, “Both, trooful. {Both, truthfull(y).}”
Laurel smiles softly, “Um, I’m doing okay. I-… I’ve been puking a lot.”
“Eez food?” asks Khla, growing ready to discipline someone.
The small human quickly replies, “N-no, no! Er, I don’t think so. I think it’s just morning sickness… My silly human hormones going crazy.”
Khla relaxes. He says warmly, “Good. Ai hot jettican chef. New food alwihs flawverluss. {Good. I hate jettican (he means jettison and can, mixing up the expressions) chef. New food always flavorless.}”
Laurel blinks at him a few times before a smile spreads across her lips. She then starts laughing. She replies jovially, “Yes, please don’t jettycan the chef. I’m fine. Just nature running its course.”
Khla nods. He waits expectantly for his other answer. Laurel says tenderly, “Definitely a she… and the doctors say she’s healthy. I just want her out so I don’t have to pee as much.”
Khla does his best to chuckle. It’s funny, but he must show his enjoyment differently. The human woman smiles softly. She adds, “Thank you for asking.”
Khla nods. The scanning officer announces, “{Yarjen! Pulse primed and ready.}”
Navigation adds, “{Aligned to coordinates and jump distance set. Standing by.}”
Khla nods. “{Fire gravionic pulse.}”
“{Firing, Yarjen!}”
The ship thrums deeply with an electronic groan, and the lights flicker. The scanner starts showing blips in seconds, identifying planets, asteroids, and ships.
Ten ships are on the edge of the solar system they’re in. Fifty ships in three groups two solar systems out. Four hundred plus ships. One thousand. As the pulse penetrates deep into Zarak territory, countless blips are returned. Fighters are rarely picked up, meaning each of these is a fighter-killer class or larger. While Khla’s battleship is much larger than any one Zarak counterpart, it is not a match for so many.
Khla quickly says, “{Mark all data and attempt to identify the human fleet. They had 5 large ships, last we knew, with a sixth possibly complete. Navigator, commence jump.}”
The two addressed Nordzens reply together, “{As you wish, Yarjen!}” They coordinate the efforts, and the screens black out as the jump bubble forms.
Meanwhile, Mrff pores over the flight logs from his recent mission. His instincts are nagging at him. He listens to the recorded audio as he pages through the command-line-like flight changes and computer entries. Not many know about the change log, which can show all of the shuttle’s user inputs for a flight. It’s useless gibberish to an untrained eye, but Mrff has been on both ends of investigations where such data is used. Most assume it’s just a camera watching them, but this records far deeper.
Mrff is far from being a young Grodrrn. He has many cycles left in him, but he is not easy to fool. He has been on MANY missions in many different verczii. The Niolajt Jardzen has calculated and verified routes and locations hundreds of times.
As he listens to the playback, he notices what should have sprung out of the water at him; the time stamps.
Individual stars were searched for within seconds of Mrff ordering it, like they were already known. The calculations that followed were marginalized, as if a location was being extrapolated from a different known location. At a glance, this looks and sounds right, but it isn’t. Using the stars, it’s supposed to be basic triangulation several times over to find an intersecting point. There is no adjusting from another position, especially not this quickly.
Mrff additionally could chalk it all up to the incompetence of a novice. He didn’t want Dzhonn there, and having him there made Mrff complacent. Maybe he would have died instead, but his ship would be in a better position than now.
Mrff is not a Baskylla Jardzen for many reasons. Not least of those reasons is the fact that he is often quite impartial on matters of politics. This matters because he tends to be far more forgiving of mistakes of subordinates, often choosing the benefit of the doubt instead of the assurance of execution. The dead never make further mistakes.
So, Mrff would gladly accept incompetence and tackle their current problems from a different perspective. After all, he’d like the chance to make a few more of his own mistakes.
What this log shows is a different story.
Dzhonn deleted one triangulation calculation and only one, before using the exact same planets again. Unsurprisingly, his math was perfect –both times- and he got the exact same coordinates.
Mrff can’t fault a lie if the alleged liar doesn’t know they’re lying. The wrong truth is still a truth to someone. It’s merely wrong.
What Mrff doesn’t like is the ‘recalculation’. Dzhonn didn’t even try another set of stars. No pilot makes it far with that level of negligence.
His evidence is shaky, though. Dzhonn could easily plead incompetence, and even Mrff would be hard-pressed not to believe him. But, his gut doesn’t believe that. His instincts tingle with danger.
Mrff hates these games of espionage and sabotage. He is a battler, not a Rop. He doesn’t latch onto a host and poison from within, and he loathes rooting them out. They’re always deeply anchored, with a dozen ‘friends’ who will vouch for their trustworthiness, unwittingly being fooled themselves.
First and foremost is to catch Khla up to speed. No matter what, he needs to know of the error in location, if nothing else.
Mrff jogs back to the bridge. Khla is resting his head in his left hand, thinking. The Niolajt Jardzen says, “{Jardzen, I have an important update. Our location was all wrong. We picked the wrong planet.}”
“{Location?}” asks Khla, surprised. “{What do you mean?}”
Mrff takes a deep breath. He replies, “{I believe Dzhonn has betrayed us. His calculations appear to have been intentionally wrong. There’s no telling how far off he put us.}”
Khla shakes his head in frustration. He retorts, “{Wait, bow back a step. What’s this?}”
“{Helmdraff Jon! He calculated the wrong-…}”
“{Who?}” asks Khla in genuine surprise.
The authenticity of that surprise halts Mrff in his thought. Can he truly be serious? Of course, Khla is always serious in task, at least for official business. But, how could he not know the pilot HE assigned? Confused and surprised, Mrff replies, “{Helmdraff Jon? He was the co-pilot YOU assigned to the recon mission I just flew. You PERSONALLY assigned him.}”
Once more, genuine confusion is plaguing Khla as well. The superior officer asks cautiously, “{Niolayt Yarjen… Are you feeling well?}”
Mrff growls as calmly as he can, “{How do you mean, Yarjen?}”
Khla sighs. “{It’s not uncommon, Murf. There are treatments. Relax, and take a few calm breaths.}”
Treatments!? Treatments for what? Reality? Mrff tries to remain calm, but he growls out chillingly, “{Treatments, Yarjen?}”
Khla nods. He says apologetically, “{If the stress has been getting to you that badly, I wish you would have spoken. But, we’ll evac you as soon as we land.}”
Mrff holds his posture, but his fingernails are digging into his palms. Khla thinks Mrff imagined Dzhonn’s existence? How coult that be? True, Grodrrns have reportedly had stress fractures of the mind, -or at least, that was their defense when caught in extraordinarily compromising situations-, and in those situations, they went to their graves claiming others were responsible.
But, how can that be true now? Mrff intended to try, but he sincerely doubts he could have actually calculated the location AND piloted as he needed to in order to survive. So how could Khla, of all people, forget Dzhonn? If Khla was the only one who knew of him, then Dzonn could vanish if the Baskylla Jardzen somehow forgot him. But how? Is Khla suffering from his stress?
It’s about this time that Mrff notices something. He looks around to be sure. Khla and Mrff agreed to trust three and only three Grodrrns fully enough for this task; themselves and one female orderly. And, that orderly is serving water to the Firing Nordzen.
That leaves one very important question. And, though he doesn’t know how yet, it has happened. He suspects he knows the answer when he asks.
Mrff looks directly at Khla, asking coolly, “{Where is Human Laurel?}”
Once more, genuine surprise and confusion twist Khla’s expression, and he asks, “{Who?}”
***