Episode 24: A Word in Season

Derek sat on his bunk and opened the results from his and Nova's search of the Gatlantean plane.

Traces of Iscandar's atmospheric content, listed in order of age, indicated at least four instances of Mazer—or at least his plane—coming in close contact with the planet.

Starsha had never mentioned a Gatlantean presence on Iscandar. Giving her the benefit of doubt, how would a Gatlantean vessel of any size have come to Iscandar without her knowledge?

The room seemed uncomfortably warm, and his long-sleeved uniform held in too much heat. Sweat dampened his scalp and slipped down the back of his collar.

The incident on Earth, preceding Argo's departure, came to mind. The ship he'd seen just before the blackout had hidden multiple times during the few minutes he'd observed it. Perhaps that camouflage ability extended to sensor sweeps. Starsha couldn't tell them about what she hadn't been able to see.

Another report, this one detailing the plane's specs, contained a section labeled Stealth Technology.

Derek's stomach seemed intent on hitting the deck.

If the Gatlanteans had stealth technology, why not implement it on all their ships? They'd crossed paths with that scout ship back in the dark matter sea. It hadn't bothered hiding. Neither had the capitol ships at Shambleau.

Either they were unbelievably arrogant… or it wasn't possible to scale the technology up that high.

He wicked sweat from his forehead and sent Nova a message. Results are in. At least four visits to Iscandar within the past five years.

She replied quickly. We've got to get our message to Starsha.

Meet you outside Hydroponics. Derek put away his comm.

When he reached his destination, Nova was already standing outside the bay door.

"Ready?" Derek said.

She nodded then appeared to rethink her response. "Well… no. Not really. How are we going to do this without him knowing we're suspicious?"

"I'm still working on that, but we have to send this message now. We need to find out what's going on, and the only way to do that is to get as much relevant information as possible. After he sends the message, we'll ask about the possibility of other Jeshurunians still living on Earth."

"All right. Let's do this."

They entered Hydroponics together and headed to Bahn and Silesia's treatment area.

When Derek pulled back the divider, Bahn, though still weak, appeared much improved, and Silesia's seeds were now healthy green sprouts.

Bahn's leaves rustled. "Hello, my friends. So nice to see you."

"You seem to be healing well." Derek approached but left a three-foot gap between himself and Bahn. Nova did the same.

"Indeed. Your personnel have seen to our needs quite admirably."

"Glad to hear it. But… are you able to send a message for us?" said Derek.

"The two of you saved my life and retrieved my root sister's seeds from that vile man. For that, you have my gratitude, and if you need anything in my power to accomplish, I will do it." Bahn lifted a trio of leaves at the end of one branch, as if raising a hand in promise.

"Are you able to send Queen Starsha a message?"

A bright rustle followed a two-second pause. "I have strength enough to relay a brief message to Adrianna inside the palace of Iscandar. What shall I send?"

He'd figured out pieces of what to say, but there were still enough gaps to make him nervous. "We have some… information… concerning enemy ships we've encountered since leaving Earth. We wish to… consult… Queen Starsha—find out if she has any relevant data."

"And of what origin are these enemy ships?"

Derek hadn't anticipated this question. Lying was a bad choice for multiple reasons, but telling the truth was a potential trap.

Nova seemed to sense his dilemma. She answered for him. "The radar has them labeled Gatlantean. We'd love to have any information Starsha has from Iscandar's past encounters with them—capabilities, technology we don't know about, that sort of thing."

Bahn fell still. "I see. I take it these are the same ships you've mentioned before." When he resumed movement, what portions of him weren't still wired to supports swayed to a slow, deep rhythm. "I will send your message, but a warning. The transfer process can be imprecise. Details may be lost."

"We understand," Derek replied.

"Very well." Bahn's quiet dance lasted almost ten minutes. "It is done. I'm sure Adrianna will reply as soon as she is able."

"Thank you." Derek didn't know how to broach the other pressing question. Sweat dampened his gloves. He crossed his arms to hide potential stains. "I also have a… concern."

"And what might that be?" Bahn's tone seemed a little too bright.

"When I found Deun in my quarters, he mentioned other Jeshurunians on Earth. He seemed pretty convinced."

Bahn's laugh resembled wind sweeping through full boughs. "The Usurper is a skilled deceiver. He chooses words that will prompt his desired response in listeners. I assure you, there is no truth in what he said. He wished to disarm you, circumvent your guard so he could escape—or kill you and I in the attempt. His efforts failed, of course. I commend you for your ability to assess a difficult situation and act accordingly."

Derek's chest seemed heavier as he faked a pleasant expression. "Thank you for clarifying. I hope your recovery is quick. When you receive Queen Starsha's reply, please tell the on-duty staff, and they'll inform me."

"It is I who must thank you, Captain," said Bahn. "I will notify you when I receive a response."

As he and Nova left Hydroponics, Derek kept his pace even and resisted throwing glances back at Bahn. He didn't stop walking until they reached a maintenance alcove.

"Someone's lying," Nova whispered. "Silesia told me plainly there were other Jeshurunians on Earth—at least, there were before the bombings. She said some might have survived. Why would Silesia offer that information and not Bahn?"

Derek matched volume with her. "I'm not sure. And, I hate to say it, but Deun's attack might have been a good thing."

"I believe Silesia's innocent. When we spoke, she never shaded her answers or avoided difficult questions."

"I'm sorry she got caught in the middle of this. Now that her seeds have sprouted, having her so close to Bahn might not be the best idea."

"She could come back to my room. I'll tend to her. After all, she doesn't need as much care as Bahn, and it would take some work off the science team. The separation would look sensible."

"I'll give it a few hours, then get the botany guys to move her. If Bahn is being dishonest, it might be better to restrict his access to Silesia. I don't want to lose our only remaining link to Iscandar." When Bahn had fought Deun, the Jeshurunian had been much larger and more violent than Derek thought possible. If Bahn did it once, he could do it again, given enough time to heal. "I'll instruct the crew to exercise caution around him. From what I saw two days ago, there's a lot we still don't know."

Four crewmembers passed the alcove. One glanced at Derek and Nova and whispered to another of the group, but no one stopped.

"We can't assume anything," said Nova. "Bahn could be hiding Jeshurunian presence on Earth because he thinks he's protecting them. Or he might legitimately not know of any of his kind living there. We're going to have to talk with him again."

"After we hear back from Starsha," said Derek. "I've jeopardized this crew on enough suspicions. Silesia should be back in your quarters by the end of third shift."

"Hopefully, she'll be safe there." Nova pulled her jacket tighter and tucked an unsteady hand under each arm. "Since finding Silesia's body, I feel like there's something waiting around every corner. I still have nightmares sometimes… about being kidnapped." Her eyes misted. "I know it's silly—"

"No. It isn't. Just because you came through all right doesn't mean you weren't afraid."

Nova pulled out her freshly cleaned handkerchief and covered her eyes. She shook with quiet sobs.

Before he talked himself out of it, Derek wrapped her in a hug. This scared him just as much as it did her. Only a week or two ago he would have been wracking his brain trying to figure this out alone. Now, even though he didn't know what to do, there was an imminent sense of quiet strength. It surrounded him, offered courage. "God's here with us," he whispered.

Nova nodded through stray sobs.

"We're gonna be okay."


Masterson checked his confiscated comm every two hours. Sympathetic guards had stopped patting him down, though they still searched his cell to comply with protocol. Guilt gnawed him for hiding the comm from them, but if they discovered it, they'd be duty-bound to take it, and he didn't want to force that decision on them.

Realistically, Starsha wouldn't receive his message until later today, though David should have gotten his immediately—not that he could respond with his comm locked into emergency mode.

At least now he could mark time without counting guard changes. The brig lighting—while good for searches and observing other occupants' habits—was terrible for sleeping. Morta's constant antics didn't help. Last night, the Cometine had clanked his empty dinner tray across the cell bars for a solid hour until the guards had wrestled it away from him. A stream of oaths and less-than-complimentary name-calling had lasted another two hours after that.

While Morta wasn't looking his way, Masterson slipped behind the privacy screen and fished the comm out of his sock. There were memos from superior officers and automated reminders from the operations schedule.

He checked the ship's course. A little under a week from Gatlantis now.

Footsteps outside the cell sent him scrambling to re-hide the comm in case whoever was outside decided to come in.

When he stepped out of hiding, David waited at the door. Regulations allowed visitors, but only for a few minutes at a time. To see his former first officer was a relief. He hurried to the bars and whispered, "You got my message."

David nodded. "How'd you get a security guard's comm?"

"I'll tell you later. What's happened on the bridge?"

"Don't know everything. Got transferred to maintenance. I'm not allowed near the bridge, but I overheard some others talking. Everyone up there is on edge since you got thrown in here."

"And… Desslok?"

"From what I gather, he's gone cold. Barks orders, and that's about it. The only people who know what really happened with the Eratite ship are you, me, and him. After the incident with the Cometine and then with you, everyone's too afraid to approach the Leader for fear they'll end up in here—or dead."

"I'm sorry, my friend. I never intended for you to get caught up in this."

"This fight's mine too. Though can't say I'm thrilled with processing garbage all day because of it, but if it keeps me in the battle, it's worth it. There's one other guy on processing duty with me. He seems unhappy about our heading back to Gatlantis. While I hate to appeal to ethnic prejudice, this guy likes Cometines less than most, and he might be willing to help me get you out of here once we dock."

From the front of the line of cells, the shift leader called, "Time's up."

"I'll keep bringing you news," David whispered before two guards herded him out of the brig.

Masterson stood by the door until long after David left. The past fourteen years had consisted of Masterson trying to wage every war by himself. Through it all, David had been there to remind him he couldn't fight legions alone and expect to win—even though he was stubborn enough to try.

Today, he was glad to have a friend.


Mark sat behind a console in the back corner of the second bridge. Other navigation corps members tended to their own tasks, and most ignored him. It was day two of digging through backlogged comm data, and if every session was as brain-numbing as the last one, he was confident he'd be asleep by shift's end.

An hour and a half before he could leave, his most interesting discoveries consisted of noise from a small nebula, and a three-note song from a planetoid they'd passed just before the starfly incident. Browsing raw data made his vision blur, and the sound files he had to listen to were about as stimulating as watching Royster drool.

Eager's people should have been doing this—or the communications team. They didn't have anything else to do. But considering Wildstar could have imposed a much heavier punishment, this was far from worst-case. No formal disciplinary action, and no notes on his record—just slogging through this noise dumpster for countless hours…

More new files occupied the top of his to-review list. Yesterday, he'd listened in order—new to old. Tim had left a note saying he'd done the same during his sessions.

He couldn't take another audio clip of white noise.

Instead of opening the next newest file, Mark took a few minutes and scrolled to the bottom of the repository. The oldest file was from the day the escort ships returned from duty—before Argo even launched.

Why would there be a comm log from that day?

Mark opened the file.

Along with a less pronounced space noise backdrop, the recording included a couple kids testing a home-made radio, a guy from Luna II sending his mom a happy birthday message on an open channel, and several test transmissions from Sandor.

Just before Mark closed the file, a series of high notes—like wind chimes or tapped glass—swept through the audio. Each sound reverberated, as if whatever made them stood inside an amphitheater. No discernible words accompanied the sounds.

Mark initiated a search for any similar recordings in the database.

After an hour, the search returned zero results.
Dredging something interesting out of this sea of anonymous static was probably too much to ask anyway.

With a sigh, Mark let the search tool stay open in the background as he kept combing. Only half an hour before he could grab dinner and get to sleep.

Minutes before his session ended, the search tool binged. A matching file had just been dumped into the slush pile moments ago. Curious, Mark opened it.

There were those crystal chimes again, and they had the same echoey quality, but this time, they were clearer, more distinct, as if he stood next to them. When words seeped into the audio, Mark almost jumped out of his chair.

"Enu ae Trelaina—Trelaina Telezart." A few brief sentences in the same unfamiliar language followed the first. The speaker's voice was bright and crisp and held an ethereal quality. Was the communications team so focused on potential Gamilon and Gatlantean attacks that they were ignoring anything else?

Mark shot a message to Sandor. You should hear this.


Derek occupied the desk chair in Venture and Alori's room.

Lt. Alori sat on his bunk, Bible open atop one knee.

Derek's earlier conversation with Nova played on repeat in his head, especially those last few moments. He'd hugged her once before—after the encounter with the jungle cats on the way to Iscandar—but that had been more to keep her from falling than out of personal connection. Now, the texture of her uniform jacket seemed to adhere to his hands, and the warmth of having her close lingered on his chest and arms.

"Captain? You still with me?" Alori nudged his arm. "I was sayin' how God loves for His children to spend time with Him."

He scrubbed gloved hands together to erase the stubborn sensation, but it hung on. "Sorry, Lieutenant. Got a lot on my mind. I appreciate you taking time out of your sleep schedule to show me some things. This is all still very new."

"Ah, don't mind my schedule, Captain. It's my own fault. And don't be too hard on yourself. Everybody's gotta start somewhere. We've only had a couple talks so far, and you're learnin'. That's what counts. If you don't mind me askin' though, what's weighin' on you?"

He propped elbows on knees and leaned forward. "You ever meet someone you just can't get off your mind?"

Alori shut his Bible but kept a finger between the pages to hold his spot. "You're talkin' about a special someone."

"Maybe… I don't know how this is supposed to work." Embarrassment warmed his face. Even mentioning this had been a mistake. He got up and pushed the chair into place under the room's small desk. "You don't want to hear this. I should go."

"Respectfully, sir, sit back down. You're kin to me now. If something's important to you, I'm gonna listen." There was no hint of ridicule in Alori's expression.

Derek slowly dragged the chair out again.

"We were already talkin' about relationships, anyway."

"I'm not even sure this is a relationship."

"Sure, it is." Alori let his Bible fall back open. "Relationship is a fancy word people get nervous about. It just means a connection—somethin' you and somebody else share. You and me, we've got a relationship—several, actually. You're my captain, and I'm part of your crew. You're my student; I'm your teacher. We're brothers in faith. See? Nothing too scary. Every relationship takes work. Nobody was ever a good parent by ignoring their kids. Same's true of our relationship with God. It takes time and lotsa work getting to know the Creator of the universe. If you want to get to know this special someone of yours better, spend time with them. Talk about things. Let them be part of your life. And most importantly, let God be part of this too. He wants to help you build connections time and trouble can't break. Make sense?"

"When you put it like that, I suppose so." Derek's comm signaled an urgent incoming call. "Sorry, Lieutenant."

"No trouble, Captain." Tim put his Bible on its shelf.

It was Sandor. "Wildstar, get to bridge two. Venture's found something. Glitchman's already here."

"Be right there." Derek ended the call. "I've got to go. Can we pick this up tomorrow?"

"Course. I know I'm supposed to be on a strict schedule, but you think I could come see what Marcus found?"

"Sure, Alori. You're involved in this already, so I don't see why not."

The lieutenant accompanied Derek to the second bridge where they met Sandor, Homer, and Venture. Other curious crew members cast them frequent glances but didn't pry.

"What've we got?" Derek said.

Sandor held one side of the headset to his ear. After a few seconds, he offered the headset to Derek. "Not sure how Venture found this, but it's a good thing he did."

Derek put on the headset and signaled Homer to start playback.

What sounded like windblown crystals filled the audio for two seconds before the voice began. It seemed to be a woman—or a being with a higher register to their speech. The words were indecipherable, but the tone held clear concern.

"We'll have to run it through the translator," said Homer once Derek handed over the headset. "Not a clue what language that is, but it sounds like the speaker's in trouble."

Sandor agreed.

Mark, who had yet to say anything to Derek or Alori, nodded his consensus.

"Could I take a listen?" Alori said.

Sandor didn't protest, so Derek nodded consent, and Homer gave Alori the headset.

The lieutenant listened with eyes closed. When the recording ended ninety seconds later, he seemed troubled. "Somethin' bad's goin' on here."

"You think it could be a trap?" Derek said.

"No. She's the real thing. But there's somethin' in her voice. She's worried all right, but not for herself. Captain, I think she's trying to warn us."

If his stomach could have crammed itself into his shoes, Derek had no doubt it would have. "Let's see what the translation tells us before we try to pin down motive. This could be anything. It might not even be for us. The noise filters tossed it out. It could be we intercepted someone else's message."

No one seemed convinced, especially not Sandor.

Alori had a way of knowing things about people. What if he was right this time too? They had enough to worry about already.

Before he fell into a hopeless spiral of anxiety, Derek concentrated on facts. Mark had found this recording. The content still needed to be translated.

As he left the second bridge, he prayed the feeling of rising dread was only misplaced caution.


Starsha sat with baby Sasha through the night as the newborn cried. She'd slept an hour or two here and there, but every time she woke, she immediately wailed.

After multiple walks, a stop at Elisa's, two trips to the med droids, and three feedings, she didn't know what else to do. Over the past two days, Sasha had slept often and fussed infrequently, but this was the first night Safala's caregiver was gone.

"I'm sorry, little one. I've never done this before." She held Sasha close to warm the newborn in case she was upset by the room's cool ambient temperature.

It didn't make a difference.

"Mistress?" Adrianna called over Sasha's cries. "I have news of the Argo and her crew."

"They're all right?"

"Yes. Bahn says they weathered the starflies and an attack by Desslok. They captured and imprisoned Deun."

Starsha tried again to soothe Sasha by circling the room, but this time, she also did it to settle her own nerves before asking the question she most feared. "Did Argo destroy Desslok's ship?"

"I don't think so, Mistress, but Bahn was quite vague on the matter."

Her heart stopped thundering, but her chest still ached. "Thank you… Thank you, Adrianna. Did Bahn say anything else?"

Adrianna's tone darkened. "It seems Deun cut down Silesia and attacked Bahn."

Starsha sank into the chair beside the wall-length window. She'd known Bahn and Silesia since she was a little girl. They'd lived with her until the Eratites came. Losing them was like losing family.

"Derek Wildstar and Nova Forrester have replanted Silesia's seeds, and they sprouted last night. She will be all right, but she will be unable to communicate for some time, and Bahn's wounds limit his transfer abilities, but he will heal."

"Thank Yahweh…" A tear escaped. She let it fall. "I can't imagine what horrors either of them endured. Did Bahn address why the Eratites are so far from home?"

"No, Mistress. I'm sure whatever their reasons, once they return home, they will see to it Deun is not allowed free again. Incarceration on Earth could be the best thing for him."

"Maybe…" Starsha supported Sasha's tiny head with one hand and cradled the newborn so her cheek rested in the crook of Starsha's neck. The girl's squalls varied in volume, making hearing anything else intermittently impossible.

She mentally walked through Sasha's nightly routine. She had to be missing something. They'd taken a walk, read a short book; Sasha had the same infant supplement as before, then Starsha had put her to bed.

Everything was exactly the same.

The first night, Starsha had been so tired she'd collapsed into this same chair and fallen asleep listening to Safala's caregiver tearfully sing Sasha lullabies.

"I'm sorry, little one. I forgot your song." Starsha rocked the little girl. "I don't know all the words. Would it be all right if I sang something else?"

Outside, the stars hung over the palace in a blanket of twinkling lights. Gamilon hung at one end of the sky while both waning moons hovered at the other.

Starsha decided on something she'd loved since childhood.

"Though you wander far and wide,

Shaddai keeps you by His side.

Do not fear the fading light,

For you're always in His sight.

Even when the stars are clouded

Behind fear and hopelessness.

Adonai remains undoubted,

Ne'er forbids His child His grace.

Through life's long and dreary day,

We shall ever lose our way.

Though we tread o'er shifting sands,

We'll be ever in God's hands.

Even when the stars are clouded

Behind fear and hopelessness.

Adonai remains undoubted,

Ne'er forbids His child His grace."

Peace settled over the room, and Sasha's crying ceased as Starsha repeated the song. By the third time through, the little girl was asleep.

Resigned to spending the rest of the night in the chair, Starsha settled in.

Her comm went off.

She eased it out of her pocket without waking Sasha.

The origin code said Gamilon, but she didn't recognize the sender's name. Had to be a wrong code.

She opened it to tell the sender they'd reached her in error, but the first few words stopped her.

S,

By the time you receive this, we will be six or seven days from the Cometine worldship Gatlantis. I pray this finds you quickly. If it does not… this may be the last thing you receive from me.

I'm sure you've heard of the conflict with our old friends. They are all right, as are the Leader and I, but I do not know why they are here. I pray Adonai it is to thwart Gatlantis.

I only regret I could not do more to help them.

May you be at peace in this time of war,

M

Why was Masterson sending her a message from someone else's comm? And what did the Cometines want with Erats?

Though she was exhausted, Masterson's message kept her awake the rest of the night.


Episode 24 Notes:

Editing pass, 8/25/22

The title for this episode was taken from Isaiah 50:4

The Lord God hath given me the tongue of the learned, that I should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary: he wakeneth morning by morning, he wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned.