Van Horn grunted as he pulled himself into the transport, using the handrails mounted next to the side door. Once inside, he quickly and automatically moved to one of the benches that lined the inner walls of the shuttlecraft's main cargo bay. You never really forget your training, he mused as he realized that he had basically done what had been drilled into him in A-School years ago.
However, that training was now a bit unneeded, as the medic trooper and another scout suited soldier carried in Alexis, followed by Pavlo and Mikula. Then another trooper in a Kage suit climbed in from the other door. As he turned towards van Horn, the latter saw that the suit had a Lieutenant's bars painted on the shoulders. "Sorry, doc, but you gotta ride in the back with the other civvies." The officer spoke through his helmet speakers and waved to the back with his right arm.
Van Horn nodded, and stood up. "Right, sorry." He replied and began to hobble to the back, where there was an open space. "Old habits die hard."
"I'll bet." The officer said, amusement tingeing his voice. After van Horn had moved back a bit, the compartment began to fill with more battle armored individuals, who filed aboard quickly and efficiently.
Van Horn, however, ignored them as he came to stop where the natives had been put at the back end of the compartment, which was historically the safest part of any major aerodynamically shaped craft. He took a seat on the bench that sat opposite of the Farkas brothers as the medic trooper kneeled by Alexis. She was on the floor, and the soldier had taken his helmet off to look over he better. As the assault transport filled, he worked on the native.
"How is she?" Van Horn asked as he sat on one of the back seats. The trooper spared a glance up and then back down to his work before responding. "She was hit bad. At least, I think so." He frowned and applied a drug-patch to Alexis' neck, pressing it in to make sure that it would stick its micro-needles all the way through her fur and into her skin. "I've had no training in this physiology, so I'm just guessing." He reached into another medikit and pulled out a pair of scissors to cut the old, soiled bandages from the gatón's wound.
"They're a lot like us, from what we've learned. Same kind of body structure, with the obvious additions, and the same organ structure." Van Horn said as he buckled his safety belt. He took time to make eye contact with the two lupar, and motioned to his belts. Mikula, having ridden in the old Darter previously, understood easily and quickly showed Pavlo how to buckle himself in, despite his bandaged arm.
"So their biochemistry should be the same?" The trooper's question brought van Horn's attention back to the urgent matter at hand. "Yes. They can eat the same things, breath the same air, and I know from personal experience that the same medicines work with them as well." He replied as the doors up front shut and the rumbling of the jets started.
"Good to know." The trooper said as he shifted his position to better acclimate to the increase in gravity that accompanied the craft's takeoff. "Hopefully, Medi-Jel won't hurt them then." He said and applied one of the auto-morphic bandages to Alexis' wound.
"Grra'n nikru cho?" The Lupari words startled the medic briefly, and he turned to Mikula out of caution and training. "What the Hell?"
"It's all right, trooper. He just asked what was happening." Van Horn spoke, to the startled soldier, before turning back to the natives. "Kar'r vikunig tula chalardano. Ragatu cha harraki." He said, speaking back to Mikula in his own language.
The trooper turned back to van Horn and gave him a look. "What the Hell did you say?"
"I said that we're leaving his world, so stay calm and hang on." Van Horn replied. "Shouldn't you be holding her down?" He asked the trooper, indicating Alexis with an arm.
"Oh, right. Shit." The trooper had been so distracted that he had forgotten about securing the patient. Gotta keep your head clear Danny, even if these are aliens. He quickly grabbed some straps from a storage locker buried in the floor and used them to secure the strange being at his feet, laying the straps over her neck, midsection, and legs, buckling them into rings in the floor. He finished just in time, as the craft pitched back and accelerated forward as the pilot transitioned from vertical to horizontal flight.
Mikula felt sick to his stomach. The reasons were numerous, from the mental drain from a fading adrenalin high to the physical discomfort of being moved around inside a box that he couldn't see out of.
But by far, the worst nausea was from the emotional stress of seeing Alexis gravely wounded. I wasn't even hit so badly when they found me, after the Wobbies attacked. He thought, remembering the terrible night that now seemed to pale in comparison to the idea that Alexis might die. I... I don't know what to do... I don't know what I'd do if she... Mikula felt tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, and he closed them. No, not now! I must be strong, for Pavlo, and for Alexis. I can't indulge in my emotional whims until I know we're all safe.
He opened his eyes, and realized that some of the physical discomfort, at least, had abated when he had his eyes closed. Some of that returned now, but not nearly in the amount it had been at before. He briefly wondered why, until the craft jolted a bit. He grabbed the edge of the bench seat he was strapped too, and then turned to van Horn. "What was that?"
Van Horn shifted his gaze from where Alexis lay to Mikula. "That was something called 'turbulence.' It sometimes happens when you fly through the air."
Beside Mikula, his brother's jaw dropped open. "You mean we're flying?" He asked, which prompted a look from Mikula. "Yes, Pavlo. Didn't you notice that this thing flew through the air?"
Pavlo turned to his brother and gave him a nasty look. "If you hadn't noticed, I haven't exactly had anything to think about." He said, holding up his bandaged arm. He instantly regretted it, however, and he lowered it back, a look of pain across his face.
Mikula, however, glared back at Pavlo. "How dare you!" He snarled. "Alexis lies there, dying, and you hold up your arm like it's a badge to act like an idiot?!"
Pavlo blinked hard at his brother's temper. "Mikula... I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." His ears laid back against his skull out of embarrassment and not a little fear at Mikula's sudden outburst.
Mikula, for his credit, realized just what he did, and he sat back into the bench seat and closed his eyes. "No, I'm sorry Pavlo. I'm just... Worried." He sighed, and was surprised when a hand landed itself on his shoulder. Mikula then opened his eyes again, and he saw Pavlo looking back at him with a sad look on his face. "I know, brother, I know."
"What the fuck was that?" The medic asked van Horn in alarm at Mikula's outburst. The latter frowned a bit before replying. "A brother's tiff." He said quietly, hoping that the trooper would follow suit. "Don't worry, it's over now." He continued as Pavlo put his hand on Mikula's shoulder.
The medic shook his head and went back to monitoring Alexis' life signs. "They really shouldn't be doing that, especially with the way they look. Somebody might think them some sort of mad dog."
Van Horn shook his head back at the trooper. "It's their nature to display emotions like that. And besides," he lowered his voice a bit more to where it was just above the noise of the main thrusters. "He's... Attracted to the one lying at your feet."
"Ohhhh..." The trooper said aloud. Figures, what with hormones and all. "Well, if you want to calm him, you can tell him that she's stabilized a bit, so her chances of living are going up." He frowned. "At least, I think those readings are stable for her species."
"What do you got?" Van Horn asked, and the medic reeled off a short list of blood pressure and heartbeat counts, amongst other things. Van Horn nodded once he was done. "Well, it's not healthy, but it's not too far from their norm, anyway."
"Good," the trooper replied with a sigh of relief and turned towards the lupar sitting to his left. "Can't say I've known them, but if he cares about her enough to yell at his brother, then I guess they can't be all bad."
"Heh. Well, they're good-" His words were cut off by another jolt. This time, however, it was a large one that pushed from the craft's aft. "What the fuck?" He asked automatically.
"Oh shit!" The trooper exclaimed. "That's weapon fire!"
"This is Gunboat Alpha-2, we are under attack by Blakest aerospace fighters! Need assistance now!" The urgent, excited call came in over the radio frequency. "Anyone here me?"
Commander Rick Parker triggered the transmit key on his radio by using the simple eye command software and hardware that was built into every Republic neurohelmet. "This is Hammer One, Alpha Two. I hear ya and I'm moving inbound." Even as he spoke, he triggered the thrust controls on the Jagatai Prime omnifighter that he flew, accelerating along his orbit. Alongside him the other three fighters from his flight boosted to match their leader.
"Hammer One, I read three bandits. Two Thrushes and a Stingray. Warbook says the lights are standard, but the Stingray is an F-92 version." The transmission broke for a second. "Damn fuckers have a good bead on us, and I can't maneuver too well 'cuz I'm full up and got wounded."
"Copy that, Alpha Two. Hammer flight's inbound, so hold on." He switched frequencies to his squadron's own. "Everyone copy that?" A chorus of affirmatives was his reply. "Alrighty then people, time to kill us some Wobbies." With that, he hit the overthrusters, and settled into his seat as four-and-a-half gees pressed him back.
Parker's HUD then lit up with four new icons as his unit closed with the source of the transmission; one friendly, and four enemy. Angling down a bit, he began to skirt the planet's atmosphere even as the enemy and their target left it. Just a little closer... A little closer... THERE! Having waited for the opportune moment, he yanked back on his stick and throttle, cutting thrust and bringing his weapons into line with the enemy.
"I'm on the Stingray." Parker called to his squad mates, clearly intending on taking the hardest target for himself. Let's see how you like being fucked in the ass, Wobbie. With that vulgar thought, he triggered his active radar and got a hard lock on the enemy's tail in mere seconds. Before the Blakest pilot could maneuver from his own chasing position on the M.I. Transport, Parker fired his Extended-Range Particle Projection Cannons and his LRM-20 rack.
The effects of his volley were astounding, as all three weapons hit. Fortune favors the bold, Parker thought as he saw both particle beams impact the enemy's rear fuselage, shearing off nearly three tons of armor and stripping all but the last amount of protection from the enemy's internal structure. Then the LRMs flew in, though only about ten of them hit, their damage spreading to both wings, but missing the severely weakened area.
"Damnit!" Parker yelled to himself, though without the radio keyed, his voice was lost in the padding of his neurohelmet. He didn't bother to think much of this, however, as the enemy ship broke off and arced up and left, trying to complete an Immalman loop. Parker responded by cutting his thrust entirely, slewing his fighter on a tangent to his previous course before slamming at maximum thrust again.
Where are you bastard? Parker mentally cursed his enemy as he swung the 70-ton craft onto a heading that he thought would intersect with the enemy craft. There! He sighted the Stingray making a run for the planet below. "Not so fast asshole." He said and triggered his Large Pulse Lasers, trading off the power of the PPCs for the lasers' accuracy.
It proved decisive, as the twinned stuttering beams of coherent light stitched holes into the left wing armor of the enemy fighter. Parker again cursed aloud as the beams did little more than slag pristine armor, and he prepared to follow the enemy's next moves.
He needn't have bothered, however, as his wingman in another Jagatai fired his own pulse lasers and LRMs, having gotten a good position. One laser missed, as did the LRMs, but the other laser bored into the weakened rear armor and tore into the fighter's internal structure. A flash brighter than that of the laser's erupted from the stricken ship, and Parker's Battle Computer signified that it was due to the Stingray loss of engine shielding.
Parker grinned savagely in his helmet. Got you now, cocksucker, he thought as he twisted his craft around as the Blakest struggled to get out of the sights of the other Jagatai. In his haste, however, he had forgotten about Parker, who was now bringing his ship into line with the enemy. Almost as soon as his HUD screamed a target lock, he triggered his ER PPC and LRMs again.
This time, his aim wasn't as good, as the LRM-20 missed, sending a score of missiles into deep space. His PPCs, however, scored a direct hit against the enemy's left-rear flank. One tore into the already weakened armor of the left wing, slagging more armor off, while the other did far worse as it blasted the internal structure and equipment of the 60-ton Blakest fighter. Bereft of its internal support, the fighter collapsed under the weight of its own thrust, and soon the fighter imploded upon itself.
Parker winced at the brilliance of the fusion reactor rupturing, despite the fact that his helmet's visor protected his eyes from permanent damage. "Thanks for the assist, Drunkard." He called to his wing mate.
"No problem, skipper." 'Drunkard' replied. "Go Too and Peggy got the Thrushes already, so I just waited until the guy had you outmaneuvered."
Parker snorted over the open frequency. "Ahh, what do you know, you drunk?" He replied jovially, referring to the incident that gained 'Drunkard' his callsign. "Anyway, hold on." He said and switched channels. "Romeo Base, this is Hammer One, I read the immediate area as clear and Alpha Two is moving on." Parker called to the mothership after scanning the sensor data displayed on his holographic HUD. "Do you want us to clean up any more garbage?"
Static filled the line for a brief second before the Air Boss responded. "Negative, Hammer One. The board reads clear; I guess we caught the Wobbies napping." The male voice on the radio responded. "Return to Romeo Base ASAP. We're getting out of here."
"Roger that, Romeo Base. Hammer One out."
Van Horn felt the usual queasiness that accompanied the return to microgravity. Although for a former M.I. like him, the feeling passed quickly, he worried about the two natives who were now the first of their kind to leave their world.
As he looked over the two, however, van Horn felt somewhat contented that they seemed to not suffering too badly. At least they haven't vomited yet. "Mikula, Pavlo, are you two okay? This is not the most pleasant of experiences for everyone."
Pavlo nodded, and then brought his hand to his mouth and strained to clamp it shut. "Don't move your heads so fast! It will make it worse." Van Horn said before Mikula could follow his brother. He then reached underneath the bench seat and grabbed the barf kit that he knew was always carried there for just such a circumstance. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he flung the kit over to Mikula, sending it flying slowly over where the medic trooper monitored Alexis.
Mikula, for his part, was amazed, even despite the nauseating experience that was his life for the moment. He quickly got his wits about him, though, and grabbed the package that van Horn had sent over to him. "What do I do with this?" He asked the human, moving his head slowly as van Horn had told him.
"You open up the flap on the end towards your left, and take out two of the paper sacks." Van Horn replied. "Give one to Pavlo, and keep one for yourself. If you feel like something wants to come back up, and you can't stop it, do it in those bags." van Horn struggled to speak both politely and concisely. "Trust me when I say, that seeing vomit float around is even less enjoyable than vomiting yourself."
Mikula gulped, partially to keep his own nausea under control, partially in automatic response to van Horn's warning. He did as he was instructed, and took out the two paper bags from the larger, plastic one that they sat in. Imagine, bags out of something as valuable as paper. Mikula continued to be amazed as he slowly moved his arms in the strange environment, not trusting himself to move any part of his body too fast. He carefully handed one to Pavlo, whose face bespoke the degree of discomfort he was in. Pavlo just grinned slightly, and held the bag flatly over the end of his muzzle.
"Uhm, Pavlo, you have to fold it out if you need to use it." Van Horn said, trying not to smile. "Like this." He reached underneath for another barf kit, and pulled out a bag and showed the young lupar how to properly open the bag. Pavlo watched and mimicked van Horn, and held the opening of the bag over the end of his muzzle.
He must be really not feeling well if he's not talking, Mikula thought, worried for his brother. He then turned to face van Horn. "Earl, how much longer will we be like this?"
Van Horn's frown gave the lupar little comfort. "I can't say. Probably for a while, if we're going to be in orbit. But I'll see about getting you two onto the grav deck." Then he tilted his head as if a new thought came into it. "Hang on." Van Horn then turned to face the medic trooper and switched to English. "Corporal, do those new corvette transports have grav decks?"
"They do," the trooper replied, though he watched a biomonitor he had on Alexis instead of turning to face van Horn. "But you don't have to worry about that. The Lieutenant said we'd be boosting out right after we picked you up."
"What?!" Van Horn exclaimed. "What the Hell? We're just going to leave that planet in the hands of the Wobbies?"
The trooper winced a bit, but he continued his watch. "I don't know, since the brass didn't ask me." He replied gruffly. "But I'd say that one corvette and a platoon of Mobile Infantry isn't enough to take out an entire invasion force."
Van Horn just stared. "They sent, one, single, ship?"
"I certainly didn't see any more out the portholes on the way here." The medic replied, still keeping an eagle eye on the biomonitor's readout. "If you got a problem, take it up with the cap'n."
"I certainly will."
The remainder of the ride was thankfully uneventful, despite van Horn's fuming and the two lupars' adjustment to microgravity. Mikula, especially, hadn't felt much like talking, as the novelty of the trip wore off, he found his thoughts drifting more and more to Alexis. Her prone, unconscious form looked nearly dead, all strapped down and unmoving as she was. Only the telltale rise and fall of her chest and the constant, worried attention from the man in the armor let Mikula know that she was still alive.
His thoughts were interrupted by speech that came from a grilled speaker that was mounted on the ceiling of the compartment he was in. Mikula didn't understand the words, being in the humans' language, but van Horn quickly translated. "That was the pilot," he used the English word, not knowing any Lupari that would do it justice, "she says to hang on, because we're about to dock."
"Docking? With what?" Although confused, Mikula managed to grab onto the bench seat's edge as he asked his questions.
"With a ship. One of the ones I told you about, that travel between the stars." Van Horn replied, and his voice took on a quality that was unreadable to the lupar. Any human, however, could tell that van Horn was pissed off, but controlling his rage through sheer force of will.
Mikula seldom had time to think about van Horn's more pensive speech before he felt the craft jerk forward. The feeling of nausea returned full force, and Mikula briefly wondered if he was going to vomit after all. Fortunately, however, the deceleration stopped, and soon the shuttle reverberated with the distinctive ringing thud of metal contacting metal.
Everyone in the transport waited quietly; the humans because they knew what was coming next, and the lupar because they didn't. Soon enough, however, the rushing of air was heard through the armored walls of the shuttle, and the troopers standing up front began to shuffle their feet in anticipation of leaving the cramped confines.
Mikula, however, was terribly unsure of everything, but like his brother, he kept his muzzle shut and waited to see what came next. When the side and front doors opened with a hiss, the troopers filed out slowly, using their suits' arms and claws to casually fling themselves out into the shuttlebay. It was a dance of huge, massive bodies that Mikula couldn't help but find fascinating, even with all that had happened.
Speech from the man kneeling by Alexis brought Mikula's attention back to the tableau, and he waited until van Horn had finished conversing with the other human before speaking up. "Earl, what did he say? Is Alexis all right?" The worry in the lupar's voice was almost tangible.
Van Horn looked began to unbuckle his restraining belts as he replied. "He said that he's going to take her to sickbay so that the ship's doctor can look at her."
Mikula frowned in puzzlement, his ears matching his face. "I don't understand. Why does he want to take her to a bay of disease?"
Van Horn blinked, and tried not to smile. "No, Mikula. A 'sickbay' is what we call a doctor's... Place of business on a ship." As he spoke, van Horn released the last straps and floated out of his seat, pushing himself to slowly move to where the medical trooper was unstrapping Alexis from the floor. "Don't ask why, because it's a long story and we don't have time for it now." Then the medic picked Alexis up slowly, grabbing her by the shoulders and deftly pulling her along as he pushed himself off the floor, angling towards one of the open doors.
Mikula finally realized that he should be getting out of his restraints, and he began to unbuckle them. However, the microgravity made things unfamiliar all over again, and he fumbled with the buckles.
Van Horn sighed and pushed off the floor lightly to come to a rest 'above' Mikula and Pavlo's seats, so that he could face the lupar. "Here, let me help." Of course, the fact that he was upside down caused the two natives to stare in amazement. "How are you doing that?" Pavlo asked.
Van Horn worked on Mikula's buckles before responding. "It's complicated. Let's just say, that there's nothing pulling me down at the moment." Which is a lie, the human thought to himself. But I don't think they can really absorb the concept of microgravity yet. "In any case, you're free now Mikula," he said as the last buckle flew free. Van Horn then turned to Pavlo. "Now, let's work on yours."
Even as van Horn worked with Pavlo, Mikula felt the need to test this new environment. He pushed himself off from the bench as if to get up... And he found himself tumbling end over end until he hit the opposite wall. "Yipe!"
Van Horn saw Mikula fly off, and he tried not to laugh. "You used too much strength when you pushed off." He finished unlatching Pavlo's belts as he talked, and then he pushed himself off and grabbed Mikula by the ankle, eventually bringing both to rest on the wall. "There. Are you all right?"
Mikula blinked a few times, still unsure of his orientation. "I'm... I'm fine." He replied.
"Good. Now," van Horn turned to the other lupar. "Pavlo, you try now, and remember, use only just enough to get yourself moving."
"Okay." Pavlo said unsurely. He nevertheless did as he was asked and, having seen his brother fly about, used only a tiny amount of force. With a small push from his hands, he floated from his seat. Although he moved at a more controlled pace than Mikula, he nevertheless had the same spin. "How do I stop?" He asked.
Van Horn sighed. "You know what? Both of you just hang on." He grabbed Mikula by his shirt collar, and he pushed off, towing the lupar as they headed for Pavlo. Another grab and some twisting of bodies, and van Horn had propelled them forward through the compartment and out the bow door of the shuttle.
Outside, the room they were in was brightly lit, and it was filled with sights and sounds and smells that startled the two natives. Van Horn realized long ago, however, that they'd be scared, and so he did his best to explain calmly as he pulled them along in his trajectory. "This is a recovery deck, where small craft like the one we rode in on can land and hitch a ride." He spoke to the stunned natives, bouncing off the shuttlebay wall as he did so.
Mikula was barely listening. The room was so full of wonders that he was trying to absorb them all. In one corner, a human wore some large, massive suit that resembled the strange armor that their rescuers had worn. As Mikula watched, this man slowly walked on the floor, pulling behind him a large box with multiple dart-like shapes in a rack. Then his view changed as van Horn pushed off the wall and dragged his two friends along, and Mikula now saw a pair of people attaching something that looked to him like a large, snake-like rope to the side of the craft that dominated the space. Then the lupar blinked and he realized that there were two such craft in the massive room, the other sitting further away.
Before Mikula could see any more, however, the view shrunk as van Horn dragged him into a hallway. "Better turn around, Mikula, so that you can avoid hitting your head." Van Horn's words prompted Mikula to do just that, and he spun around. Well, at least that's not too hard, he thought.
He then looked ahead, and down the wide corridor, every few meters there was a slight constricting. As he watched, the trio came to one, and van Horn twisted his body to come to a rest on the lip of such a protrusion. "There, we're in a smaller place now, so you two might be able to move yourselves along." The human said.
Then they felt a muted thump come through the doorframe, which caused both lupar to try and crouch instinctively. However, microgravity conspired against them and instead of crouching, they just pulled their legs up and sent themselves into a slow spin... Again.
"This... isn't very nice." Pavlo muttered, some of his space sickness coming back.
Van Horn sighed. "Well, first, reach out with an arm and try to grab the door frame." He waved his own hand towards the protrusion he stood on.
Mikula frowned, but said nothing as he concentrated. Wait for it, and then reach. He thought. Waiting a second, he reached out and managed to grab the frame and held on. His grip was strained a bit as he fought his own inertia, but soon he stopped spinning. It's like everything I do is magnified.
Even as Mikula turned to see that Pavlo, too, had managed to grab on - despite his wounded arm - two tones played over the ship's intercom, and a voice rang out. "Earl? What was that?" Mikula asked skittishly.
"That means hold on, and put your feet on the floor." Van Horn said, and he aligned himself so that his feet were facing the brown-painted floor. Mikula and Pavlo saw him do this, and they too, used their arms to twist themselves in the right direction. I think I'm getting used to this.
Then, all of a sudden, a rumbling sound started deep below their feet, and they drifted to the floor. In seconds, the sensation of gravity returned, and the three of them stood together in the corridor. "What the Hell?" Mikula asked aloud.
"The ship is moving, which gives us back a kind of gravity." Van Horn explained. "In any case, you two shouldn't have any problems moving around for a while, so we should get Pavlo to sickbay so that the doc can look at his arm after he's done with Alexis." With that, he turned and walked in the direction they had been moving prior to their stop.
Mikula and Pavlo shared a look at each other, and then followed. What a strange place, where you feel like you're falling, and then you're not. Mikula thought to himself. And what is wrong with Earl? He seems so... Distant. But soon, these thoughts faded as his primary worry came back.
Please Gods, let Alexis be all right.
The trip to sickbay was uneventful, although as soon as they got there, van Horn had been called in to consult with the ship's doctor about native physiology. Afterwards, the doctor took a look at Pavlo's arm and van Horn's ankle briefly, and pronounced that they could wait until he was done with Alexis. With that, he shooed them out of the cramped bay, and told them to wait at the nearby observation blister.
And so, we sit and wait. Van Horn thought bitterly to himself. No explanations, no reason why we're not clearing the planet, nor even a fuckin' meal. Van Horn had insisted that their group eat a small breakfast that morning, and now they had gone hours without food. Though, with Alexis hurt that bad, I'll admit that I have little appetite.
The room they waited in was a special observation room that was built with the idea of allowing the ship's crew a chance to see that their world wasn't just a metal box. An important psychological facet of space operations, van Horn remembered from his university days. The room itself was little more than a blister on the surface of the ship, just on the other side of the armor belts. When in combat, the room would be vacated and locked away from the rest of the ship so that if its delicate, thin skin of metal and ferroglass was hit, the main integrity of the ship wouldn't be harmed a whit. The fact that we're here and not in a recreation room, or even in the galley speaks well of how we're running away. Van Horn was understandably upset, having promised help to the natives, only to have his government seemingly abandon the planet and its inhabitants to the predations of the zealous Wobbies.
Van Horn sighed, and stared out the window that faced aft, which was 'down' as the quarter-million ton vessel accelerated at one gravity. Below, van Horn could make out the glowing orb of white, blue and green that was Bowman's Planet. Every planet, no matter how vibrant in life, or how harsh it's environment, they all look like fragile glass orbs from this distance.
He felt movement at his side, and he turned to see Pavlo walk trepidly up to where van Horn stood. "I hope you would not mind some company?" The lupar asked.
Van Horn gave him a small smile. "No, that would be fine. Besides," he spared a look to where Mikula sat on the floor, staring at the same. "Your brother doesn't seem to be too talkative lately."
Pavlo nodded. "He is worried about Alexis." He said with a sigh. "As am I, but..." He trailed off.
"I know," van Horn replied with a nod. "It's harder on him."
They stood there a moment, and then van Horn turned to look back out the window at the planet they were leaving, prompting Pavlo to follow suit. "You said that we were leaving our world. Is that it?" He asked the human.
Van Horn nodded absentmindedly. "Yes, it is."
A thousand questions and statements ran through Pavlo's mind, but he could only settle on one. "It's beautiful."
Van Horn grinned a bit. "Every world is beautiful at this distance. But, there is something inherently special about the world one was born on." He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, remembering. "I know the scientific reason is that it's the first world we see from such a distance, and so it makes a first impression that no other world can compete with." He paused and took a breath. "But my gut tells me that there's just something special about a man's homeworld. We can feel it just by looking at it, that it's home."
Pavlo stood quietly, thinking about what had been said. Then he looked up at van Horn, despite the fact that the latter still had his eyes closed. "I think you might be right." He said quietly. "Although I can't say much about whole worlds, I felt the same way leaving Tanzano." He sighed. "Despite all the problems we had, despite the fighting... It was still home."
Van Horn opened his eyes and tuned his head to Pavlo, giving him a smile. "That's exactly right, Pavlo." The smile then died and he turned back to face the planet again. "So what do you feel, looking at your home now?"
Pavlo turned and faced the world again and thought a bit before speaking. "Well... It's still beautiful. But also... I feel sad that I'm leaving..." He then shook his head. "And now that I think about it, I realize that we're leaving everyone behind." He then turned to van Horn. "I guess we won't be helping anyone back there, will we?" He asked, mostly sad, but with a hint of anger buried in his tone.
Van Horn winced visibly, and then closed his eyes and tilted his head to rest it on his chest. "Pavlo... I really didn't want it this way." He then opened his eyes and looked the lupar in the eyes. "But I gave my word that I'd help, and I intend to follow up on it. We may be leaving now, but that doesn't mean we won't come back and finish this."
Pavlo nodded his head, his anger gone. He was genuinely pained that we weren't going back. The lupar thought. He then turned his head to look at the world that was all he had knew until a few weeks ago. It looks so small, so fragile. It's as if I could reach out and squish it with my fingers.
The silence stretched, and van Horn turned to look with Pavlo at the planet, the image of which had shrunk even as they had been speaking. We must be moving at some fantastic speed, if a whole world grows that distant that fast! Pavlo's thoughts again turned to amazement as he realized the strangeness of his situation. In fact, it's only been a few hours, and yet we can see the whole world... Or, just this one. The idea of worlds other than his own still was something that was hard for the young lupar to grasp. This in turn sparked a question. "Earl?"
"Mmm?" Van Horn replied nonverbally.
"If we're leaving my world, then where are we going?" Pavlo asked, his ears pitched down in confusion.
Van Horn blinked in confusion himself. "I... I honestly don't know." He said. "I was so angry when I was told that we're not staying to fight the Wobbies, that I forgot to ask."
Pavlo's ears twitched. "I am not sure I like the idea of not knowing where we are going."
Van Horn shook his head in reply. "Neither do I." He stood there thinking for a minute. "Well, if I had to venture a guess, we'll probably be heading to the outpost on Hetverreland. Or maybe the new colony on Idaho." He frowned. Unfortunately, neither have very good medical facilities. Van Horn thought to himself. Hetverreland is a supply depot and staging base for anti-pirate sweeps, and Idaho is too new to have anything but basic support facilities.
While he was pondering these equally unsavory alternatives, another person walked into the room. Van Horn looked up and recognized the red-haired trooper that had attended Alexis on the trip up from the planet. "Oh, hi."
The soldier smiled politely back. "Hi. The Cap'n wants to see you, so Lieutenant Vickers sent me to escort you to the bridge."
Van Horn blinked in surprise. "The captain himself wants to speak to me?"
The trooper's smile broadened a bit. "Actually, our captain is a she. Captain Mary Ladavic to be exact." His smile then disappeared. "And She doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"Most captains don't." Van Horn admitted with a sigh. "All right, but these two have to come with me." He indicated the two lupar with a wave of his hand.
The trooper blinked. "Uhm... The lieutenant didn't say anything about them."
Van Horn grinned. "Of course your lieutenant didn't."
"What do you mean, sir?" The soldier asked. Van Horn shrugged before replying. "Well, I'm sure everyone on the transport knew that there were natives with me. I don't think the lieutenant wouldn't forget so easily. Since your orders were undoubtedly to extract my ass out from the fire, they probably didn't say anything about natives." He turned to take in Pavlo and Mikula, the latter finally raising his head in curiosity. "So you lieutenant didn't say anything because, officially, he has no orders about them. Which means we have some leeway in how they can move about, since their official status isn't defined." He turned back to the soldier. "So therefore, they can come with me."
The trooper just stood there and thought it over for a minute. Then he looked at van Horn and smiled. "I didn't think that they sent lawyers to study other cultures."
Van Horn chuckled. "No, I'm no lawyer, thank God. I just was in the service for a couple of years, so I know how M.I. troopers squeeze the rules so they can piss off the squids."
Now the guard grinned broadly. "Damn straight, sir. Well, I guess they can come along then." He turned and started for the door. "If you'll follow me."
Mikula wasn't feeling up to going anywhere, but he also wasn't up to being alone on some strange craft that was alternately loud and smelly, or quiet as a tomb... And still smelled strange. So when van Horn and Pavlo went to follow the other human, he had tiredly stood and followed.
Soon enough, however, his natural curiosity started to override some of his gloomy thoughts. Where are we going? He asked himself as the group walked down another corridor, occasionally passing other people from van Horn's race. Although they tended to stare at the two brothers, Mikula didn't care because he was staring right back. All this time with Earl, and still I haven't had any idea on just how different his people are. He was amazed at the differing skin and hair colors, some of which seemed unnatural. Purple hair? I must ask Earl if that's normal. He mused as a woman with such hair walked by.
Before long, they stopped before a closed door. With a quick press of some buttons by the human leading them and the door split down the middle to open, both halves sliding to the sides. Mikula looked on with wide eyes, but he couldn't stop to ask as van Horn and the other human got inside the small room on the other side of the strange door. Mikula and Pavlo followed after van Horn beckoned them, and they stood facing the two humans as the door closed behind them.
What's going on?! Mikula had a brief moment of claustrophobia, which was made only worse when he started to feel like he was moving up. "Earl, what's happening?" Pavlo asked before his brother could.
"We're in a device called an 'elevator." Van Horn replied, using the English word again. "It moves us up or down, so that we don't have to climb a lot of stairs or ladders."
"So we're moving up?" Mikula asked, even as he started to understand. Ah, so that's why I feel like we're moving. It's because we are.
Van Horn's nod confirmed it. "Yes. We're heading towards the... The Bridge." He used the Lupari word for the same structures that crossed rivers. After all, it's the same word in English. He rationalized. "I know what you're going to ask, and o, it's not a real bridge. We just call it a Bridge out of tradition."
"What are you telling them?" The trooper asked out of curiosity.
Van horn turned to face him. "I'm just explaining where we're going, and why they feel like we're moving, even though they don't see it."
Then Mikula spoke. "Tull herro klaa stulu farrangas."
Van Horn laughed aloud, which startled the other human. "Sorry. I told him about how we call the command center of as hip our 'bridge' and he said that we have some strange traditions."
The Trooper smiled. "Well, it is naval tradition after all." This prompted a chuckle from van Horn, which the soldier joined in on. "Too true, too true Mr.-" Van Horn blinked. "You know, I don't believe that we've been introduced properly."
"Ah. Well, I'm Dan." The trooper said and held out his hand. "Dan Castellano."
Van Horn reached out and shook his hand. "Earl van Horn, though you probably already knew that."
The elevator then stopped, and the doors opened. Van Horn pushed lightly on the two lupars' backs, and they walked out ahead of the humans. Castellano followed. "Yeah, I knew that. Have to know who you're saving, yanno." He replied with a casual smile as he retook the lead.
"Indeed. Anyway, if you don't mind my saying so, you don't look like a Castellano." Van Horn observed, pointing to the soldier's red hair and fair skin.
The trooper chuckled. "My paternal grandfather was Hispanic, but the rest of my family is mainly Irish. So I get the easily-sunburned skin, and the lady magnet of a Latino name."
Van Horn laughed as they came up to a door that had a keypad and a hand scanner. "Spoken like a true M.I." He said as Castellano went up and punched a code into the pad. Before either could speak again, the door opened to the side, revealing the command bridge.
Castellano walked in as the door opened, and van Horn and the lupar followed. On the other side, however, even van Horn had to pause to gain a sense of direction in the large room. Not to mention admire the place. Few people got to see - in person, anyway - the command center of a WarShip, and van Horn realized that of the two such ships he had served on, neither of which had he gotten a chance to visit their respective control rooms.
Before him was a display of modern wonder. The front of the room held two rows of consoles, the one next to the bulkhead a solid bank, while the next row out was split to allow access to the first row. Various operators either stood or sat at these stations, and a large display panel that Van Horn realized was an expensive dual-use screen that could display two- or three-dimensional images, depending on the sensor video feed and the necessity, dominated their part of the room.
Behind that area was a large, circular construct, and van Horn realized that it must be the ship's command holotank. From there, any commander can have any kind of view he or she could want, from single fighters to the entire battlespace. On the walls to either side of the holotank were various control stations, at one of which a crewmen sat, taking in data and keeping the tank primed for use.
Between the holotank area and its controls and the main ship controls at the front of the room was a figure sitting in a chair that sat on a portion of the deck that was slightly raised above the rest of the room's. The person in the chair turned around, and van Horn realized that it could only be the captain.
"It's about time. What you'd take the-" She halted her words when she saw the two natives standing next to van Horn, their attention grabbed to her by the sound of her voice. The captain's eyes widened, and then narrowed to a look that made van Horn want to be wearing his old battle armor. This is where we see just how good an officer she is, he thought to himself.
He needn't have waited long. "Van Horn, my ready room, now." She said and pointed to a door that was embedded in one of the walls next to the holotank consoles. Although her pitch was normal, her tone left little leeway in interpreting her emotions. She's a wee bit ticked. He thought. But she at least has the discretion to not blow up in front of her command crew. Externally, he just nodded, and gathered up Mikula and Pavlo by eye and then walked to the door, his friends in tow.
Reaching the door, it opened easily, and the trio went inside as the captain spoke behind them. "You are dismissed, Corporal. Mr. Mannerheim, you have the conn." In the few seconds before she arrived, van Horn looked over the small room that was typically the captain's prerogative on larger ships. A couple of decorations... Isn't that the Blood Star? He asked himself in amazement. There've only been twelve of them awarded in the last two centuries!
Then the captain walked in and closed the door behind her, making sure that it was locked. Then she walked to a chair that was behind the desk that dominated the room and sat down. "Now, Mr. van Horn, perhaps you could explain to me why I have three aliens in my ship, and how you got into a firefight with a Blakest patrol when you were explicitly told to avoid engagement? And, pray tell, why are those two here, now?"
Her frosty tone chilled van Horn as he unconsciously stood at a relaxed state of attention. "Captain Ladavic, I'd say the more important question is 'why is there no counter invasion to kill the Wobbies off once and for all?'" He replied testily.
"Don't you get all prissy with me, boy." Ladavic retorted, her voice somehow becoming even frostier. "You may be some big shot in your professors' quilting bees, or whatever eggheads like you do, but here I ask the questions. Now, why the Hell were you engaged with the enemy?"
Van Horn felt his face flush with the captain's admonishment, but he decided that it was best to start from the beginning. "You have a recorder handy, captain?"
Ladavic simply reached out and pressed a button on the keyboard built into the desk. "It's recording now."
With that, van Horn took a breath and began.
Mikula was tired from standing, having been in the room with the angry lady for some time now. He knew that it was important, however, given how van Horn reacted around the other person, and from what little English he could understand. This must be an example of the women that Earl said were fighters, he thought in his boredom. I know I sure don't want to make her mad. The middle-aged captain of the ship was a stern woman, and the occasional looks she gave Mikula and Pavlo made the former want to shiver. Those eyes, blue like Alexis,' but without the warmth. That, again, brought his thoughts back to the wounded gatón. Mikula's emotions continued to run strong, but they were muddled. I don't want her to die... Why wasn't it me? I don't know what I'd do if she died.
"Mikula." Van Horn's voice brought the lupar back to the situation around him, and he found Pavlo and the two humans looking at him. "Are you all right? You look like you're in pain."
Mikula shook his head a bit. You have no idea. "I'm fine. I am just... Thinking, about what has happened."
Van Horn nodded. You are in pain, all right, my friend. But you still need some time to work through its meaning. "Okay then. In any case, we're going to find a lace where we can get some rest and food, so I need you two to pay attention." He widened his view to include Pavlo at the last part.
The two lupar nodded at van Horn, and the latter turned to the captain and switched back to English. "We'll be going then, captain, if you don't mind."
"By all means, get some dinner." She said. Her voice, while not exactly friendly, was softer than before. Takes guts to go and save some people that ain't even your own species. "I'll have my first officer look into getting you three some place to sleep tonight."
"Thank you captain." Van Horn tuned a bit, intending to head for the door. Then he remembered a question he had. "Captain Ladavic, if I might ask a question?"
Ladavic, having turned her head down to look at some report on her noteputer, looked back up. "You may ask, but I can't promise an answer."
Van Horn nodded and then spoke. "Can't you tell me why there are no ships here to kick the Wobbies' ass straight to Hell?"
Ladavic leaned back in her chair at that and thought for a second. "I guess nobody could have told you, but the Snow Ravens began moving their assets into the Outworlds Alliance two weeks ago."
Van Horn blinked. "Already? I thought that they only opened negotiations a few years ago?"
Ladavic nodded. "Yes, but apparently, the Alliance citizenry and leaders are impressed that the Ravens took care of Dante so efficiently."
"I thought we were the ones who even gave the information to the Ravens to begin with?" Van Horn asked, frowning.
"We were," Ladavic responded with a sigh. "But the Ravens didn't mention that... And besides, at the time our forces were stretched too thin, and we made that deal in the wake of the star Adder Invasion to keep the bastards off of our backs." She stood before continuing. "So we're at this junction, where the entire fleet is aligned to watch for enemy incursions, and the army can't spare any of their transports, lest they need to redeploy to some godforsaken rock." Ladavic snorted as a new thought entered her head. "Hell, van Horn, you should consider yourself lucky that we were conducting our initial operational tour spinward, otherwise you'd be dead, or captured from that little stunt you pulled."
Van Horn nodded. "I suppose so. Thank you for your time, captain."
It was later that night that van Horn was again called to confer with the ship's doctor. Walking into the small but well-equipped sickbay, he wondered what Doctor Jennings needed to know now?
"Dr. van Horn, good for you to come down." Jennings said from the small desk that sat in the cubical just off the main bay that served as his office. The brown-haired, slightly rotund man stood for a second in greeting as he waved van Horn over. "I need to speak to you about your friend."
Van Horn took a seat that Jennings indicated with a hand as he spoke. "How is she doing?" He asked.
"She's doing as well as I can figure out. My exobiology classes never taught me how to deal with sentiments that weren't human." Jennings replied wit ha shrug. "Still, we have her stabilized, and she'll be fine until we can get her to a sufficient medical facility."
Van Horn frowned. "Sufficient for what?"
Jennings grunted and scratched the small beard he wore. "Well, I'm not going to lie to ya. She took some nasty hits. The Wobbies are using hollow-tipped fragmentary rounds in their guns, as near as I could tell from the shrapnel."
Van Horn's face changed to one of anger. "Those bastards! That's a violation of the Geneva and Ares Conventions!"
Jennings shrugged. "Since when have those godless freaks cared for the Conventions?" He then shook his head before continuing. "But I digress. The point is that she lost her left kidney and her liver, not to mention she has severe damage to her spleen and intestinal track." Jennings paused as van Horn's face sagged like a man being hit below the belt. "I'm afraid she'll need to have full replacements if she's to live outside of a hospital."
Van Horn blinked. "But, where? Surely you don't have that kind of equipment here on the ship?"
"No, we don't." Jennings replied with a sigh. "But I know for a fact that where we're going has some of the best hospitals in the Republic."
Van Horn frowned again. "Where are we going then? No one's told me yet."
Jennings blinked. "Kinda surprised no one's mentioned it, since half the crew is hyped up over it. Anyway, our next destination is New Honshu."
"New Honshu... A Fleet Base?" Van Horn asked incredulously.
Jennings nodded. "More than that, there's the Katsuhiro Otomo Memorial Hospital complex. I know people there, and they're all good." He then leaned forward. "Now, the rub is that this friend of yours isn't exactly human, so we're gonna need to send them a DNA sample, and as you know, the Right to Privacy Acts say that we can't take a sample without someone granting us the ability to do so."
Van Horn nodded. "I am aware of that. I am also aware that the acts have clauses in them that allow sampling if a patient's life is in danger and him or her is either too hurt to be conscious, or has no family available to grant release in such a circumstance."
Jennings nodded. "That's right, and normally, I would have started already, but I am unclear about the exact legal standing that these people have in our government."
Van Horn nodded. "And you asked me here because I'd know, being involved with the study program?" He paused got a nod from Jennings in reply. "Well, the idea is that they have full representation under our laws as 'legal immigrants.' Even though, of course, we extended our dominion over their world, rather than them traveling in."
Jennings nodded again, and he gave a small smile. "Gotta love legal crap for its ability to confuse the hell outta ya." He said, and then shared a short-lived chuckle with van Horn. "Well, that would explain why y'all have been there for years and still haven't gotten a DNA sample yet."
"Yeah," van Horn replied. "They get the same protection, 'cuz otherwise some asshole corporation would come in and start sampling their DNA for some weird ass reason." He shook his head. "Probably for gene-engineering some new species, or something."
Jennings grunted. "Yes. Well, now that I know where we stand, I can take a sample of her stem cell DNA and have the analyzers break it up and send it to the K.O.C. by HPG." He stood up, prompting van Horn to do likewise. "Thanks for your help, Doctor."
"No, thank you for your help." Van Horn replied and held out his arm. He continued as Jennings shook it. "You probably saved the life of someone who's a good friend to me."
Jennings waved him off. "It's all part of the job, and this medical equipment is just sitting here anyway."
"Thanks anyway."