Ensign Hancock says good night to Lopez at her room and starts making his way back to his own. He doesn’t make it far before a middle-aged man steps out of an intersection beside him. Hancock turns, and Mr. Right finally says, “Rex.”
Hancock replies, “Mr. Right? Looking for Dr. Lopez?”
“Actually, no. I was hoping to catch you alone. Mind walking with me for a bit?” Mr. Right is lacking his typical eccentricity, which usually precedes the requests of his which Hancock has to refuse. Typically, though, he at least hears him out. The information itself might be useful, such as when he wanted Hancock to sign off on increasing electrical loading. He told Lopez about it, and she sent over some suggested cutbacks in design that would buy the drydock more electrical loading to help speed up production a little. What Mr. Right usually wants is rarely useless. He’s just lazy about the proper channels, or is afraid they’ll stonewall him for other priorities.
Hancock replies, “I can spare a few minutes, sir.”
“Excellent. Come with me, please.”
Mr. Right was given a choice between his stateroom and his office on the Providence, so the other space could be used. Somewhat surprisingly, he chose his office, which is right next to the technology lab. He leads Hancock to his office.
The normally-eccentric former businessman asks, “How… much has Doctor Lopez told you?”
“In regard to what, sir?” asks Hancock innocently. With Mr. Right and Dr. Lopez, it could be almost literally anything.
Mr. Right takes his seat, replying, “Specifically, her mother.”
Hancock tenses a little. According to Lopez, Mr. Right promised to send a private plane to retrieve the scientist’s mother, a humble DMV worker in a small town in Texas. Whatever course of events occurred, Anna Lopez didn’t make it onto any of the starliners.
Hancock replies as neutrally as he can, “She told me… enough, Sir.”
Mr. Right nods, “She’s right, you know. I did promise to send a plane, and Anna Maria Francesca Lopez is not on any of our ships. My promise wasn’t kept.” He pauses, gingerly pinching his temples. He adds, “I took it as a blessing she’s kept going this long, that she even acknowledges my existence.”
Hancock replies, “Respectfully, Sir, she doesn’t know any other option.”
Mr. Right says coldly, “We ALL know one. But… she hasn’t sunk to that point yet.” He sighs, adding, “I… am thankful… to you. She… obviously didn’t have many friends…”
“What’s this about, Sir?” asks Hancock cautiously.
Mr. Right hits the spacebar on his laptop. There’s a short pause, and then a voice starts –Mr. Right’s voice- “Hello!? Air Traffic Control!? I’m being told you grounded my plane! What the hell is going on!?”
“Sir, Sir, calm down. For inquiries-…”
“Private Flight Six One Six to Seattle-Tacoma. Departure time six P.M. That was TWO hours ago! It’s a private plane!”
“Sir, calm down. This is Air Traffic Control, not a complaint-…”
“I’M NOT FILING A COMPLAINT! I WANT THAT AIRPLANE IN THE SKY NOW! THE HELL I PAY MILLIONS OF DOLLARS FOR ALL THE DAMN LICENSES FOR!? MY AMUSEMENT!?”
“Sir, you do not possess authorization to call this-…”
“AUTHORIZATION!? YOU WANT AUTHORIZATION!? I AM RUSSELL RIGHT! I’M THE REASON YOUR AIRPORT IS EVEN OPEN! Yes! Captain Murphy! Look, I’m on with them right now.”
In the background, the ATC is trying to get his attention, but he continues, “I don’t care, Murphy! Is she on the plane? Is Anna on the plane? Yes? Okay, good! Listen, let me worry about Air Traffic. Look both ways and take off.”
SIR! YOU CANNOT ORDER A PILOT TO-…” “SHUT UP! I’LL DEAL WITH YOU IN A MINUTE! Murphy, take off. That’s an order. A billion dollars Murphy! Get Anna here NOW! I’m serious! I will pay you anything! Just get that plane in the air!”
“SIR! That is a federal offense! The F.A.A.-…” "LADY! YOU CAN SEND THE GOD-DAMNED F.B.I. TO ARREST ME RIGHT THE HELL NOW. BUT THAT PLANE IS TAKING OFF. Murphy, do it. If she’s not here in 3 hours, I will destroy you. Clear? Good.”
“Sir, Sir, I’ve contacted the F.A.A. They have instructed me to warn you; final warning, that flight is NOT to attempt departure. Please, sir, call off your pilot. Sir, sir, your pilot is disobeying Air Traffic-…”
“GOOD! He’s earning his pay! Unlike some people. You’ll be hearing from my lawyers AND every news crew I can find.”
“SIR! ALL FLIGHTS ARE GROUNDED! CALL OFF YOUR PILOT, NOW! PLEASE! SIR-…” A shrieking blast-like noice overloads the ATC’s sound track, while a similar burst is heard on Mr. Right’s side as he yells, “Gah! Murphy? Murphy!? You there!? WHAT’S-…!?”
The phone hangs up. Mr. Right turns his laptop to show Hancock the screen. The picture shows a satellite image, zoomed way in, on a private leerjet blasted to pieces by an explosion.
Mr. Right says grimly, “Do you know WHY all flights were grounded?”
Hancock shakes his head. He notices Mr. Right’s eyes are watering, though. A rare sight on the charismatic buisinessman. He replies, “Executive order… So government officials and super donators could fly.”
Mr. Right swallows hard. He chokes out, “I haven’t told Levi, yet. I didn’t want to risk her functioning. I just… I need someone to understand… I loved Anna once… I… I thought about crashing the starliners down… right there… on that very tarmac…” He leaps to his feet, yelling, “WHERE THAT GOD-DAMNED LOCAL HERO KILLED THE ONE THING LEVI’S EVER ASKED FOR HERSELF!” He clutches his head, venting furiously. He slowly simmers down. Hancock knows Mr. Right isn’t above a performance to achieve his goals, but this… this is genuine. Plus, not even Mr. Right would lie about this.
Hancock replies softly, “I’m very sorry, Sir…”
Mr. Right nods. “I tell myself over and over, everyone’s lost somebody. And, I can handle Levi thinking I’m an idiot or a clown… but...” He sighs. “More than anything, I just want her safe. More and more every day.”
Hancock, building a clear suspicion even before today, asks cautiously, “Sir… What is Lopez to you?”
Mr. Right looks at him. He replies, “She doesn’t actually know. Anna’s and my romance was short-lived. She thought I was an idiot, too. Found out about… four, maybe five years later. When I asked Anna why she never told me or tried to extort me, she told me, ‘I want my Levine to be humble. To know her true blood.’ I was never more touched than by that woman’s integrity. She raised Levi on a county salary, occasional boyfriends that rarely worked. I begged her, though, to let me pay for school, for school supplies, all of it. When Anna asked if she could encourage Levi to excel, my heart nearly burst. She thought I meant easy rich kid schools. So, she pushed Levi to advanced classes. Grants, projects, technical schools, apprenticeships, college… all in high school. And, to my word, I had to stay out of Levi’s life otherwise. And, I did. She excelled at everything –except sports, but whatever-. How Anna did it, I don’t know. She told Levi the money was coming from grants she applied for on Levi’s behalf, which was true. And, by twenty two, she had a doctorate in astromechanics. And, guess who was hiring an astromechanic with computer programming experience and an in-progress degree in electronics engineering?” He smiles.
Hancock, only really looking for a simple answer, replies, “So you ARE her father.”
Mr. Right counters politely, “By blood alone. Like I said, she has no idea. When I hired her, I treated her like any employee. Her skill let her climb the ladder to my right hand on her own. As a billionaire, I can play favorites, and otherwise, she didn’t know me. But, when I gave her a lab that was out of the way and secluded, sorcery came out of it. If you did the same tomorrow, I’d give you anything you wanted, too. All the while, I got to sit back and just… be so stupendously proud.”
“Why not tell her, then? She thinks you let her mother die. She thinks she has no family.”
Mr. Right sighs, replying, “I DID get her mother killed. If I had been patient, or simply called Murphy first… They might have made it. Maybe I could have even called the F.A.A…. Instead, I tried to be a billionaire.” He turns the laptop around and closes it. He adds, “You also seem to think she would believe me. I made a promise. I failed. She’d just see it as me trying to deflect or something.”
Hancock retorts, “You seem to think the girl you apparently spent a billion dollars educating can’t accept something as straightforward as the truth.”
Mr. Right says bluntly, “Nine hundred and twenty seven million.” Hancock cocks his head in disbelief, but Mr. Right replies to the statement, “Maybe you’re right… I just… Things work as they are…”
Hancock sighs. He says bluntly, “Sir, like you said. We’ve all lost someone. Lots of someones or everyone in some cases. Not many get the chance to gain someone.”
Mr. Right takes a deep breath and sighs. He replies, “I appreciate it, Rex. If you can, just… Try to make sure Levi is doing okay. I’ll tell her when the time is right. Until then, just keep being her friend, please.”
Hancock smiles, “Try and stop me, Sir.”
Mr. Right smiles and nods. “Thank you. That’s all I wanted this time. Good night, Rex.”
“Good night, Mr. Right.”
Hancock walks with swirling thoughts. He enters his and Kenzie’s room, and she’s already sitting in bed. She greets him, “Welcome back, Rex. Levi doing okay?”
He nods. “Hey, lemme ask you something. This might sound crazy, but what if I thought Mr. Right was Levi’s dad? Would you call me-…”
“He is,” replies Kenzie directly. She is knitting, one of the few hobbies she could pick up on the ship since paper is out of the question for drawing, things like tablet computers are low priority for manufacturing, and most other crafts or simple hobbies are also limited. Plus, it lets her make something she can give to people, including Hancock, and feel at least a little special.
Hancock chuckles as he sits on the edge of the bed to take his boots off, “That was fast.”
She scoffs, replying, “I mean, come on, Rex. It’s obvious. He’s two different people when she is or isn’t near. She shows up, no one else exists most of the time. Plus, he was a wreck after the crane incident.”
Hancock chuckles again, replying, “That WAS pretty intense.”
She nods in agreement. “I don’t want to just think you’ll always escape things like that, but, not gonna lie, I like it that you do…” He smiles and walks over to kiss her, joking, “Me, too.” He then asks, “You really think it’s that obvious though?”
“Mm-hmm. Definitely.”
“You think she knows?”
Kenzie shrugs, rocking her head neutrally, “Ehh, I don’t know. Levi’s smart, but… I dunno, she exists in her own little world sometimes. Something like that might slip right by her. Why? She feel bad about yelling at Mr. Right?”
The Ensign shakes his head. “Actually, Mr. Right caught me on my way here and told me. Not so directly.”
“Why?” asks Kenzie surprised.
“Well… He wanted someone to know the truth about Levi’s mother.”
“And you trust him?”
“Usually, no. But… this was… different. It explains a lot about them both. And, why he wasn’t too traumatized when the original Captain of the Polonia… did away with the politicians.”
Kenzie scoffs, “I’m sure something you saw makes sense.” She then pats his side, saying, “Hurry up and go shower so you can rub my feet.” He scoffs, “Yes, Ma’am.”
He can’t help but wonder if Mr. Right confided in him for a reason though.
***
Repairs continue on every ship. Some volunteers took a chance and ate foods from both the Grodrrns and the Cave Queen. While some of the Cave Queen’s flora proved to be poisonous to humans, which was determined quickly enough to counteract, most is edible. Likewise, the Cave Queen has sampled small doses of human foods, and she’s had no adverse reactions. The fortunate ability to share meals across the three present species means they can more evenly spread resources.
Khla’s battleship has traded some of the strange ‘pressurization blocks’, which are supposedly a solid block of almost pure oxygen. Mrff, the second in command on Khla’s ship and a little older and wiser, explained that it’s made possible by the foil-like wrapping, as the compression to a solid block has more to do with stripping electrons and forcing some kind of non-reactive nuclear bond or attraction –it doesn’t translate well-. But, simply puncturing a hole in the foil starts the rebalance of the oxygen’s electrons, forcing them to repel each other more normally. The subsequent release of normal oxygen allows one block to fill a space the size of the hangar bay to one Grodrrn atmosphere, which is about 11-12 pounds. They also trade stored meats, shoring fabrics –similar to the human temporary patches, but more versatile with what surfaces they can attach to-, and any salvaged Zarakyssn equipment in exchange for, surprisingly, water –since Khla’s storage tanks were hit-, a full ship’s service distilling and reverse osmosis combo unit for purifying water, and two of the three captured Grodrrn shuttles, as well as a couple of the meteor eels and frogs the humans have captured.
The truce fleet is in orbit near an asteroid belt somewhere in deadspace. Both Khla and Dzor confirm their location is neither Zarakyssn nor Fievegal territory –after about four hours of essentially little more than space-sextant measurements, triangulation-like calculations, and another hour bickering over their precise coordinates in the range of a fraction of an astronomical unit. Mrff performed the same calculations independently, and his result sparked a new argument about whose was truly right. Khla accused them both of using red stars, which supposedly have less pinpoint accuracy because of gravitational refraction, while Dzor argued that ultraviolets, which Grodrrns can apparently detect to some degree, can have false amplification from something like laminar flow of the high-energy photons, making the star in question appear to be a different star than it is.
Mrff did his best to translate as they argued, indicating such passionate debates –which he did nothing to stop- were not only a common occurrence, but therapeutic to the two Baskylla Jardzens. And, because they were essentially arguing inches in the ocean, Captain Long only stepped in when the two were pressing their foreheads together in their boisterous debate. Dzor was mostly healed at the time, but she gets nervous when two beings each over 500 pounds start hitting each other.
And, at Captain Long’s request, Dzor has been returning to Medical to rest so they can observe his recovery. He made the small mistake of telling her that regenerators can cause complications due to the rapid recovery, such as fusing shrapnel to bones, supercharging cancerous growths, and masking symptoms of bacterial or fungal infections, which is partially why Grodrrns who desire military service in the Fievegal are screened for genetic markers signifying enhanced immunity and disease resistance. If they do get an alien infection on a distant world, their immune systems tend to overtake it. So, Captain Long has been certain to ensure Dzor is under observation as he sleeps.
It’s been a long road to where they are at this moment, and it’s far from over. Captain Long leans on the railing looking out of one of the plasma doors. Rather than try to dismantle them, the humans are incorporating them. They’ve rigged power from the captured Zarakyssn ships, which use a fluid instead of electrical wires. Until the science teams can piece together the functions of the devices, they’re stuck with the Zarakyssn designs. The fluid of which is extremely caustic to biological materials.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Heavy footsteps slow to a stop behind her. She turns and smiles. Baskylla Jardzen Dzor was in medical for what was expected to be the last day. She asks expectantly, “Well?”
The Grodrrn replies, “I threatened I pull off arms. They clear.”
“Ha-ha. Very funny, Jor.” He’s a master of keeping a straight face, but she knows he wouldn’t. Everyone’s still nervous around him, save the handful who saw him in action PROTECTING human lives. She turns, and they start walking as she asks, “So, ready for one more surprise?”
He snorts in amusement, asking, “Een hangor?”
“Not this time. You’ll have to follow at my pace.”
He states in a slight groan, seemingly disappointed, “Very well.” She smirks up at him, though. He doesn’t try to rush her or anything because he clearly isn’t bothered.
As they walk, they pass marines and civilians. Many of them greet both of them, and Long returns the greetings. Almost all of the humans call him by his title, in spite of the current circumstances.
Dzor asks, “Copton. Why hoomins call me by teetle?”
Long looks up at him, as if she hadn’t noticed. “Hm? It is your title, correct? If you’d prefer the more formal Bask-…” “No. Eez not that. Eez that I omm –was- preeznor. Yet hoomins treat ozz eef actual Yarjen.”
Long smiles. “Well, even with prisoners, we try to respect titles. It’s a courtesy to your position, regardless of your deeds. And, you never got formally disowned by the Fievegal. We’re still discussing the ifs, hows, buts, and whens of incorporating you and your crewmates to our crew, formally, but the expectation is that we’ll try to honor your ranks and titles. Just because you’re serving our military –if you do- doesn’t mean you have to stop being Grodurn military.”
Dzor says bluntly, “Fievegal not Grodurn military.”
Surprised, Long replies, “Oh! Sorry! I just figured the Fievegal is the official government of Grodurra, so its military was too.”
Dzor replies somewhat distantly, “Eet eez. Fievegal Military eez offeshul on all words conquered by Fievegal. Boot, all words steel possess own military een ceremonih. First word Grodurns conquer ozz Fievegal was Grodurra.”
Long nods sympathetically. She says softly, “That makes sense… How long has the Fievegal been around?”
Dzor replies, “Seex thousand, seven hoondrid, thirty one solar sickles. Mmm… Eleven thousand, neen hoondrid, ond… seex or seven years een hoomin teem.”
“Wow! That’s an incredibly long time.”
The Jardzen nods. “Chulm’chn een Grodurn Jibrak. Mm… Royal Army. Oother yoongleengs deesrespict her. I deesrespict her…” The Jardzen trails off.
Long asks softly, “What did she say?”
“Grick… {Sorry…}”
Long knows ‘Gryk’. Neezha would say it when she fumbled something or bumped someone. It means ‘sorry’, but in a more humble way. She isn’t sure if he’s apologizing, or if it’s what his Chulm’chn said. Instead, Dzor takes a breath, saying as if nothing happened, “I sooprise you not sooprise I, oov all Grodurn, have feemahl Chulm’chn.”
Long smiles softly. Maybe it was nothing. The Grodrrns are rather blunt. She replies, “A little. Is… She waiting for you on Grodurra?”
Dzor shakes his head. “Grick lost word she ever say to me. Keel een bomb attock on paradd een honor oov Saurmynnyka.”
The color drains from Long’s face. The way Dzor described the Fievegal until now made them seem above things like parade bombings. But, even more importantly, his mother –a rarity in Grodrrn culture- was killed in one.
Dzor looks at her, asking bluntly, “Why quiet?”
Long looks down, replying, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have pried. I’m very sorry for your loss, Dzor.”
“I blame self for long teem. Boot, I know, deep down, she know I was fooleesh yoongleeng. Eez bond. Nothing like. Whin peer say eet was blesseeng, I put his head through stone wall. Fined mooch, ond deesqualifee from joining Jibrak.”
Surprised, Long remarks, “You were going to honor her…” He nods.
Dzor looks up, saying, “They say Yeerkyzz –orphan- grow ogrissive. Donjeroos. Oonloyal.” He snorts, looking at Long. “I guess eez correct.”
“Who can blame you? You lost the person you loved most. But, you channeled it into something constructive; a career worthy of you.”
He snorts again, saying dryly, “Trizzon.”
“I believe we all have a higher purpose, Jor. Why do you think your Hulm’hin chose to wake up everyday to be a loyal member of the Jibrak? It was her calling. It undoubtedly gave her pride. And, she believed in what she was doing. You stood against monsters for a race you once swore as enemies because you chose to fight for what you believed.”
The Grodrrn scoffs, saying quietly, “Incissant Yukonja.”
“You’re lucky Craw won’t tell me what that means, Jor. But, she laughs warmly, so it must be a kind word.”
“Belive what you want.” He then asks, “What eez sooprise?”
Long smiles, replying, “This.” She points at a door. She leads to it and opens it. It’s a fairly small room, all things considered, with enough room for a Grodrrn-sized bed on each side, a desk for each side, and an enlarged shower and… Dzor looks at her in surprise.
She smiles, replying, “Sorry it’s a little small, but… It’s yours. You DO have to share it with Craw, still. I hope that’s okay. We’re tight on sleeping space, which is at least good population-wise, but-…”
Dzor puffs air down the back of her head and neck, startling her a little and messing up her ponytail a little. She squeaks in startled surprise, “What was that!?”
“Grodurn thonk you.”
“R-Really?”
Dzor nods. “Thonk you…” He looks at the room. It’s not much, but he’s seen how many humans can crowd the halls during the busiest of times. She adds, “There’s a ration card for you on your bed, as well as an extra blanket if you get cold, some extra clothes… Sorry everything’s… you know… just big human things. We WANT to get the fleet a little more… normal for everyone, but…” Dzor interrupts her by puffing air on her neck again. She yelps, “Hey!” Her face turns pink, and she scolds, “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”
Dzor shakes his head sincerely. “Eez more thonn I ixpict. Thonk you. No need to talk so much.”
She relaxes, “Sorry.”
“No need. Ration card. Does not look like food.” He inspects the plastic card on his bed.
Long chuckles, “It’s not, itself. You show that to the cafeterias or ward rooms, they’ll scan it, and they’ll give you your meal for each meal time. Your ration is a little more than when you were a prisoner. As soon as we can catch up, we’ll raise everyone’s.”
Dzor asks, “So, eef I keel ond take oothor ration cards, I git more food?”
She glares at him playfully, retorting, “Very funny, Jor. Behave, please.”
He crosses his arms, standing as tall as he can, which touches his head and collar to the ceiling. He asks arrogantly, “Who going to make?”
Long crosses her arms, unintimidated. “If I have to, me.”
Dzor snorts in amusement, turning away to inspect the bathroom. He says dryly, “Not so long ago, you tremble een my presence.”
She smiles warmly, replying, “Not so long ago, I didn’t know anything about you.”
“Steel know little.” He looks at her.
She replies sincerely, “I know that. But, I intend to keep learning. I honestly hope you’ll command a ship. With your experience, it’s a no-brainer. BUT, the Marines are hoping you’ll don shocktrooper armor and join them on the next exploration or assault. I know enough about you to know… Your choice isn’t likely going to be what I hope.”
“Eef duties demand experience, then demand.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to stand alone on one of our bridges questioning your life or pride again. I want you to find and do what gives you meaning. If it’s on the ground, that’s okay. If you want to learn to be a pilot, or even just to cook,” She scoffs, imagining Dzor serving food to everyone, “Then, that is your choice. I often suspected, though, when we talked, you like to fight. You just know to direct it the right ways. I admire that.”
Dzor thinks a moment without much expression. There are times his thoughts play out on his face, but more often, he is hard to read. She doubts it’s a stressed or scheming thought in his mind, though. He’s likely just pondering the notion of having a real choice for once.
He finally asks, “Teem to consider?”
She nods, “Of course. And, we won’t be too strict if you change your mind. But, I ask that you give us time to replace your first chosen role if you change your mind.”
He nods, “Thonk you.”
She then hesitantly makes to leave. She stops, though, saying without looking at him, “I am… happy, Jor. That you decided to stay.” She looks at him, adding warmly, “I enjoy talking to you. We’ll continue our chess games soon.”
Dzor hums. He says simply, “Incissant Yukonja.”
She smiles, adding, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll see you later.” She starts to walk away, knowing he’s hit or miss on farewells.
Instead, once more, hot air blasts her neck and messes with her hair, startling her with a shiver the length of her spine. She whirls, yelping, “Hey!” He had silently lunged across his new quarters to do so, and he rears back to a smug stance. She blushes, asking hotly, “Are you lying about teasing me?”
“I don’t tease. Goodb-…” He halts, sniffing the air. His expression turns cold, and his whole presence darkens with aggression. Without a word, he storms past her. Long yelps, “Jor!? What’s wrong!?” She has to run to catch up with him.
She asks again, “What is it!?”
Dzor finally answers, pausing at intersections to follow his nose, “One leeves.”
“One what?” Some of the Marines notice, asking, “Captain!? Something going on?”
She replies, “I don’t know! Yarjen, what leaves?”
He snorts, replying, “Lee-lives. War Queen on sheep.”
Long stumbles, asking, “You can smell her?” She rams into his back when he halts on a dime, and the Marines jogging after them barely stop in time. Long nurses her nose, which thankfully isn’t bleeding, as Dzor spins, growling deeply, “Ixplain.”
Long replies, a little irritated, “Providence captured a large Zarakyssn. It locked itself in one of the haulers for atmosphere. We think it escaped the destruction of the first ship, but we haven’t been able to communicate with it. Lieutenant Kane’s device locked up after the battle, and he collapsed.”
Dzor snarls, “Eet MOOST be keeled. NOW.”
“Dzor, it’s a prisoner. And, it was seen HEALING our troops. We want to know why.”
“Then eez medical War Queen. Keel now!” He starts scanning the air again.
Long grabs his arm, urging, “Yarjen! Calm down! We’re taking precautions. We disabled the engines, we’re jamming and shielding its signals. If it IS a War Queen, all the better to learn-…”
“LEARN NOTHEENG! HEEVE MEEND, REMIMBOR!? Oothor Queens find. Come. Keel her now!”
“Jor, please calm down! I understand your caution, but we need to question her even a little, and to do that, we need Kane-…” Dzor snorts more angrily, growling, “I quistion. Where!?”
“Dzor, she’s a prisoner. I won’t let you harm her.”
He tenses tightly, which makes Long briefly nervous. But, he relaxes. He says more calmly, “Move fleet today. Move every day.”
“You really think they could find her this far out of their territory?”
Dzor nods affirmatively. “I don’t know, boot, not worth reesk. Eef you weesh hold for now…” He flexes his jaw, clearly unhappy with the notion, he finishes, “Moost not allow teem to catch ooss.”
She nods. “We can abide that. Thank you Dzor.”
“How you intend to question eef no one speak Zarakyssn?”
Long replies softly, “We… were going to wait until Kane recovers. But… did you really mean you can question her?”
“Leemited. We oonderstond feen, boot, we stroogle to pronounce. Zarak syllbles Grodurns can not prononce.”
“Wait, you understand them? Every word?”
He nods, “Virtual. Words leek Zjeekha have no translation, boot disteenct meaning.”
“That’s perfect! Just get her talking. What she talks about will get us started.”
Dzor snorts. He replies, “Rather keel.”
“I know… But, please? We’re trying to understand the universe. Not kill everything in it.”
Dzor nods. “I know. Your compassion…” He sighs, finishing softly, “Mooch appreciate…”
Long, expecting him to say ‘weakness’, stares at the Grodrrn in stunned silence for a moment. He states, trying to move past the moment, “We talk to War Queen now. Sooner talk, sooner get her off sheep.” He starts walking towards the hangar. He stops a few feet away when Long doesn’t follow. He states, “We talk now, yes?”
She snaps out of it, jogging after him, “Sure! Yes! We can do it now.”
The two walk to the hangar, and they find the hauler ship being chained down. A plasma door separates an un-helmeted War Queen who is casually cleaning some kinds of hand tools. She does tense up when she sees Dzor approaching, though, and slinks to a back corner. It becomes instantly obvious she’s hiding something the way she covers the corner with her body. She whines and chatters, which causes Dzor to snort.
Long asks, “What’d she say?”
Dzor replies, “Oopset I omm here.” Dzor makes some hand gestures at the Zarakyssn War Queen. She answers with a short answer. Dzor states, “She hides something.”
“How much can you communicate with signs?”
“Not mooch. Zarakyssns have no written longweej, nor roboost veesual commoonication. Eef can’t be pointed to, can’t be asked about.”
“Can you ask about her? Who she is, why she’s here?”
“I can osk abott her. Not why.” He makes some hand gestures. The War Queen seems to ask something, and Dzor makes one more gesture. She seems disappointed, but starts talking. Dzor translates as she goes, “She say, she ‘viss-surn-nurr’, War Queen of Healing.” He grumbles, “Meesnomer. Torturer ond brain-” “Shh,” hisses Long. “Focus.”
He continues, “She first War Queen to arrive. Her injuries have… severed ‘gizz-leh-hih-mrr’… Mmm, ‘Diveen bond’.” Dzor suddenly snarls at her mockingly. He makes hand gestures. The Queen pleads, repeating at least part of what she said. Dzor says dryly, “She claim her heeve-meend ability coot off. She moost theenk we fools.”
“What if it was?” asks Captain Long.
Dzor snorts, “Eez not.”
“But, what if?”
“EEF, then hilpliss boog more hilpliss thonn soldier. Liss leekly to attempt boarding sheep.”
Long nods. The Queen chatters again, insisting. Dzor hand-signals again, and she looks around desperately, still chattering and buzzing. Seemingly disheartening, she pulls something out of the crate she had attempted to hide. The object, which causes Dzor to growl angrily, is about the size of a standard pillow, but round with extended tendrils. It reminds Long of a shark’s egg, which pretty much fills her suspicion, given Dzor’s reaction.
Long urges, “Yarjen, stay calm. What is it?”
He growls, “Eez eeg! Jittison now!” The Queen cradles it protectively, speaking nervously to Dzor. He turns to Long, snarling, “Keel both now, or we be overrun! Feelthy-…”
Long touches his chest, saying gently, “Jor… Please calm down. Why did she show us? What did she say?”
Dzor huffs in irritation, but calms slowly. He replies, “You peety her. Geeve een to her lies.”
“She said that?”
“No. She say she want troost. Show ozz sign oov good faith. No secrits or lies.”
“Mmm… not that convincing to just blindly trust her…”
Dzor nods, “Agreed. We keel ond jettison now, ond be done.”
She scolds lightly, “Jor, no. Senior Chief? Is the stinger contained?”
A Marine nearby replies, “Yes, Captain.”
“Can you have it brough over? I want to see what she’ll tell us about it.”
Dzor asks as the Marine affirms and orders others, “You keep thot-… thot poison?”
Long nods. “We study everything. Understanding its properties could prove useful.”
“Donjeroos. Too donjeroos.”
Long chuckles, “So were you.” When the container arrives containing the Zjeekha stinger, Long shows it to the Queen. She asks Dzor, “Can you get her to describe it?”
Dzor nods. He signals at the Queen. The War Queen starts talking, still holding her egg. Dzor translates, “Eez steenger from creature called… ‘Nurzz’killa’brrk.’ Beeg creature, leek naszhtah.” Dzor pauses when he realizes Long will have no idea what that is. He replies, “Beeg eensict. Minny legs. She say eez from world een Zarakyssn space. Steeng makes prey go berserk ond keel all around. Then Nurzz’killa’brrk eat all. Reetual called… Zjheekhalla-tee-onn-nonn. We call joost ‘Zjheekha’, ofter chanting. She say Zjheekha eez lost rizzort, use when foes too powerful. She say Zarakyssns seek uniting, not keeleeng.” He snorts, grumbling in Grodrrn.
“What does she mean by uniting?” asks Long. “Because no one felt particularly politely invited into any alliance.”
“Eez Zarakyssn lies.” Dzor hitches his thought, correcting, “Religious beliefs. Fievegal believe Zarakyssn eat oothor races, ond this soomhow unites that race weeth Zarakyssns.”
“Ask her to clarify, please.”
“Cannot. Notheeng to point at.”
Long thinks for a moment. She points at the Queen, and then makes a hand puppet eating motion, and then points at herself and Dzor. The Queen looks at her, confused. The Queen says something, and Dzor states. “She theenk you ask abott hunger ond food. She saying she have rations, ond wants you to geeve her rations from oother coptured vessels.”
“Was she polite about it?” Dzor snorts, “Yes…”
She nods, “That can be arranged. But, what about ‘unity’? How do we ask about it?”
“What does eet matter? Zarakyssns eat oother rasses. Theess eez fact.”
“We thought that about the Grodurns at first, too.”
“That eez lie! We discooss theess. Hoomins suitable carrier for Saurmynnyka. Would have become mimbors oov Fievegal after.”
“I know. My point was, we should keep open minds until we know. She hasn’t been aggressive yet, and even saved a fallen Marine’s life with surgery faster than any human could ever do.”
“Joost because alien kind once, do not ixpict not to be enemies. A bondmate can keel as easily as oggressive monstor.”
The auburn-haired Captain smiles softly, “I understand your point, Yarjen. But, if you followed that logic blindly, you’d never have any friends.”
Dzor hums deeply. He doesn’t argue further. He asks, “How hoomins commoonicate weeth pora-er, Cave Queen?”
Long perks up, “Oh my gosh! I’m glad you mentioned her! She’s perfect! She communicates uh… I dunno, magic, as far as I’m concerned. But, her ability negates language barriers. At least, so far. We’ll ask her.”
“Ond, eef she refuse?”
“We’ll find a way. I’ll order the fleet moved tonight, and tomorrow, we’ll ask the Cave Queen for help. Can you tell the War Queen we’ll be back later?”
“Why? She eez enemy. Owe her no onswors.”
“Just do it, please. We’re not the Fievegal.”
Dzor grumbles as he signs to her, “Then she know when escopp, return to horde weeth informigence…”
Long chuckles, “Then it’ll be my fault. Until then, she’ll be under guard anyways.”
The Queen replies, and Dzor says, “She acknowledge ond osk you keel her ond jittison.”
“Nice try, Yarjen.”
He snorts in disappointment.
***