The heat of the sun was soon obscured by a thick blanket of dark clouds. They would see rainfall before midday, Hannah was sure of it. She decided to reserve judgment as to whether the precipitation would be a welcome sight when it finally came.
As they walked, Hannah kept thinking about Robert Frost and his lovely, dark, and deep woods. She thought also on the promises she had to keep: that she would see Alli again, that both she and Michael would get through this. She had a mind to keep all her promises, too. It was the miles to go that were giving her problems.
If she'd had the time, she would have stopped to admire the strange wilderness around her. Hannah had grown up on Earth, and she'd never been to any of the colonies before. Seeing the black leaves and the black blossoms—dusted with what looked like emerald green and sapphire blue pollen—on the trees around her took her breath away, and she wanted to soak in the beauty that surrounded her. But there was a garrison to find and an alien in front of her who kept a relentless pace. Even so, she plucked a blossom and tucked it into a thigh pocket of her flight suit. Alli would be thrilled by it if she could get it to her in one piece.
"The leaves are usually green on Earth," she said idly. It felt awkward not to make some kind of conversation, regardless of whether they were able to understand one another. "Flowers come in pretty much every color, though. Plumerias are my favorite, I think, or maybe jasmine. I can never decide. I wouldn't have thought black flowers with black leaves could be beautiful, but here we are."
The alien looked at her and flared their mandibles. Of course Hannah was being ridiculous. She was talking about things this stranger had no notion of in a language they had not the first means of understanding. Even so, she couldn't help herself. It just felt unnatural, rude even, not to talk at all.
They walked a little farther in silence before Hannah noticed the burning smell. The alien must have smelled it too because they stopped in their tracks and took several deep breaths. Hannah took out her pistol, checked the chamber, and took a low-ready stance. The alien tensed but didn't go for their weapon. Instead, they set down their load against a tree and stepped away from the direction they had been following. Hannah followed at a distance.
Twenty meters later, they came across a clearing in the trees, and Hannah's breath caught in her chest. One of the downed hostile fighters smoldered and smoked before them. A missile had torn through the cockpit, nearly tearing the bird in half. Hannah could see a three-fingered hand sprawled against the dash, but it didn't seem to be attached to anything.
Hannah shuddered and the alien stiffened. They walked slowly toward the dead bird, and Hannah holstered her pistol again. Despite the smoke, little heat actually radiated from the wreckage; it was down to its embers, having already done most of its burning. The alien passed a gloved hand tenderly over a line of swirling script painted on the fuselage, and suddenly Hannah felt like an intruder.
As she turned, she caught sight of another fading pillar of smoke several dozen meters away. Even from that distance, she knew it was Alliance. She jogged quickly over to the newfound wreckage, letting herself believe there might be a survivor.
"Hanson!" she called. "Rousseau! You in there?"
As she got closer, she knew she had no reason to hold to that small hope. She could see the pilot clearly—at least what was left—and it was obvious no one could've survived that crash. She covered her mouth to keep the smoke out and the vomit in, and muscled open the cockpit with her shoulder, all the bones in her chest complaining against the action.
The pilot was burned beyond recognition. Her hand still covering her mouth, Hannah pulled at the charred cloth around the pilot's neck, fishing for their dog tags. She found the chain and gave a firm tug. The tag came loose with a sucking sound that sickened her, and she unclasped the chain. The tag firmly in hand, she let herself fall away from the wreckage before examining it.
She turned the small piece of metal over in her hand. Rousseau, Bao. Dammit, she thought. She passed a thumb across the tag, cleaning it of the blackness that obscured it. When was the last time she'd talked to him? How was she supposed to look his wife in the eyes, let alone tell her Bao wasn't coming back?
"I'm sorry, Rousseau," she whispered, gripping the tag. "You deserved a better leader. You shouldn't . . . it's my fault. I'm sorry."
When she turned away, she nearly ran into the alien. Hannah stepped back, straightening her shoulders and clearing her throat. She looked into the alien's honey-colored eyes for a long moment. "I think at least half my squad died up there," she said at last, "and I didn't even talk to them before we scrambled. Too furious about my captain stealing my strategy and putting his name to it, I guess. I should never have had my own command if I couldn't be bothered to talk to them before they went off to die." She brushed away a drop of rain that had fallen on her cheek (definitely not a tear) and took a deep breath. "I wouldn't even blame the brass if they discharged me when I get back."
Hannah pocketed the dog tag. She had more than a few letters to write before long, she knew. But there was a colony to save and a garrison to liberate if she could. First things first.
At length, she looked at the alien in front of her, matching their gaze. Eventually she found her voice again. "I'm sorry about your comrade. I'll bet you have a few letters to write when you get back too."
With that, she took a deep breath and took a step in the direction they'd been following. The sound of rain on the canopy above was starting to pick up. Some of the rain was even starting to make it past the thick leaves. They'd have to stick to the forest if they wanted to keep dry.
"Come on," she said, jerking her head toward the colony. "We'll collect any dog tags we find along the way. Right now, we need to focus on getting to civilization."
She felt the alien fall in beside her, a low thrum seeming to vibrate from their chest. It sounded mournful to Hannah, but she could be projecting. Still, it looked like they had a few things in common after all.
#
"Well, fuck," Hannah said aloud before she could bite back the words.
After two hours of walking, they'd stumbled across a sheer-sided ravine that separated them from the other side of the mountain. No trees. No cover. Just smooth rockface all the way down. Worse, the ravine cut high up the mountain range, effectively barring the option of going around it. If they wanted to keep up their pace, they would have no choice but to go down one side and scale the other. Even that way it would be damn near impossible to cross. The rain was falling steadily harder as time passed and would make the crossing just that much more complicated.
She smirked and elbowed the alien. "It's like a metaphor. You know? For us and . . . you guys."
The alien flicked their mandibles wide and placed a hand on their waist to keep any more elbows from finding it.
Hannah rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Fine," she said. "Don't let me be clever, then. Give me my pack so I can find a rope or something. This ravine is way too steep for my taste, and the rain isn't making me feel any better about it." The alien put the hook of the pack into her hand, and Hannah covered her wince with a cough.
There was a length of rope in the pack, but it was nowhere near long enough. Besides the first-aid kit, the lean-to, the knife, the black box, the rest of the ration bars, and a fire-starting kit, there was nothing else in the pack. All useful things; all useless for what she needed now. Hannah huffed and shook her head. "What did I expect? Grappling hooks? A harness? One of these days, I'm going to have to just admit when I don't know what the fuck I'm doing."
She looked around at the forest behind them. Maybe there was something fibrous she could strip and then fashion into a carpet of some kind, anything to give her some friction. Before she could start to look in earnest, a flash of movement caught her eye.
The alien had jumped down the side of the ravine and was currently sliding down the wet rock on nothing more than their boots. They moved several meters before reaching the bottom and splashed—though still upright—through the quick little creek that had started to run along the ravine floor.
"Great. I get the alien who thinks they're a stunt devil," she mumbled and rolled her eyes. She leaned over the edge of the dropoff and called down to the alien, "How exactly do you plan on getting out, asshole?"
So, the alien had made it down, but what about Hannah? She could go down the same way, but then they'd be in the same boat. And by the way the rain was coming down, they might even need a boat soon.
She scanned the opposite side of the ravine. It wasn't quite as smooth as it seemed at first glance. Maybe they could scale it? There were stress fractures and at least a few handholds she could see, even from where she stood. They'd have to go slowly, given the slick surface, but it was worth a shot.
A plan of action already starting to form, Hannah slipped her arms through the shoulder straps and secured her pack. Before she could give herself the chance to think better of it, she stepped over the edge of the ravine and let herself be carried down to where the alien was waiting.
The alien's mandibles were spread wide, and Hannah glared at them, but with no heat. "Dumbass," she said. "Wait for orders next time."
She was already soaked all the way through, and the water level was indeed rising. They would have to move quickly before their situation got worse.
She stepped out of the calf-high water and set down her pack. She pulled out the rope and tied one end around her waist.
"Here," she said, offering the alien the other end of the rope and indicating what she'd already done to herself. "Tie this around your waist. If one of us falls, at least it'll be a short drop."
As the alien secured their end of the rope, Hannah took out the knife and then slid the pack around her shoulders again.
"Okay, I'll go first. I'm hoping the cracks are enough to get this knife blade in so that I can get a decent anchor. Follow me when you're ready."
The ravine wall wasn't straight up and down, thank god, but it was still going to be a challenge. Hannah wedged her knife into a crack and wrapped her fingers around the first handhold she could find. Her ribs and collarbone complained when she pulled herself up, but there was nothing to be done about it. They had to keep moving, had to get to the top of the ravine.
The alien started up after her in short order. They didn't have a knife like Hannah, but their talons seemed to give them plenty of purchase as they reached for handholds. Hannah breathed a small sigh of relief.
Inch by inch, they made their way up the wall. One handhold after another, they moved upward. The knife gave Hannah a little more efficiency, and she occasionally had to pause to let the alien catch up to her. Even so, it appeared they would make it without incident.
A crack of lighting split the air less than half a kilometer from their position, and Hannah felt her grip slip. She didn't fall, but she had to pause to collect herself. A gale followed the lightning, turning the rain pelting against her skin into uncountable needle points. Just another few seconds and it would be over.
Then another crack of lightning.
Another assault of wind.
Another barrage of knife points.
Fire burned through Hannah as the rope around her waist tightened and a new weight pulled at her. She looked to the side in time to see the alien sliding down the ravine wall. Their talons slowed their descent, but just barely. Hannah turned back to the rock in front of her and grit her teeth, bracing for the worst of it.
Under normal, healthy-as-a-horse-Hannah circumstances, she would have been able to carry the alien's weight, she was sure of it. But the pain that ripped through her now, set aflame all over again by the cinching at her waist, was too much, and she felt her fingers slipping, even from the handle of the knife. She let out a cry of pain and felt her fingers lose their hold.
She fell.
She slid against the rockface, her hands grappling for purchase and finding none. She felt the flesh of her palms and fingers rip and tear as she fell and could do nothing to stop the descent. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all.
The rope tightened around her waist once again, pushing all the air from her lungs, and she put out her hands to keep from spilling over. She'd stopped. Hannah looked up and saw the alien. Their forearm glowed orange, and the light seemed to be embedded in the ravine wall. With their free hand, they held the rope, waiting for Hannah to find another handhold for herself. Below them, the creek was quickly flooding and gaining its own rapids. If she'd fallen all the way, Hannah was sure she wouldn't have survived the trip down the mountainside.
Hannah reached out and found a handhold, stilling herself long enough to calm down and manage her breathing. She'd lost her knife, but she should still be able to make her way up. They'd lost ground, but they were still moving. That was enough for Hannah.
Lightning struck twice more before they reached the top. This time, neither one of them lost their grip.
Hannah's muscles and bones were screaming by the time she pulled herself over the ledge at the top of the ravine. Tears streaked her face, but the rain washed them away.
She took a moment to look over the edge of the ravine. The flood now moved swiftly behind them and would have undoubtedly washed them away if they'd tried to cross it now.
Hannah was relieved to see that the alien was as breathless as she was as they both sprawled on the ground trying to recover their arms and legs.
When she found her voice again, Hannah looked at the alien and asked, "What the hell is that thing on your arm?" When they continued to look at her blankly, she grabbed her own arm and pointed to theirs. "It was glowing down there. It looked like some kind of orange blade was coming out of your wrist."
The alien continued to look at her blankly until she waved her hand and looked away. "Never mind. Not that I'd be able to understand you anyway, even if you could guess at what I'm asking. I don't care right now. Whatever it is, I'm just glad you have it. I'd be at the bottom of this mountain right now if you didn't."
After another few moments of rest, Hannah pulled herself upright. The alien followed suit and took the pack from her shoulders. Hannah didn't have the energy to argue. They still had miles to go.
She looked at the alien and after a long moment said, "Thank you."
They flicked their mandibles, then the two of them made their way back into the trees and cover from the rain.
#
"I keep calling you the alien in my head. I need to find something else to call you."
They looked at Hannah, flicking their mandibles wide.
"How about Stripes?" Hannah drew lines on her own face, indicating theirs. "Yeah, I like Stripes. It's simple, easy to remember. I wonder what those mean. Is it some kind of rank? Social class or caste, perhaps? Maybe I'm thinking too much like a human." She considered for a moment before continuing. "I'd tell you my name is Hannah, but I don't suppose you understand me enough to use that information. It just feels odd not to have names."
It had been hours since they'd pulled themselves out of that ravine, and it was getting late in the day, darker than yesterday due to the cloud cover. Even in the cool humidity of the forest, she was sweating from the pace they'd set. Hannah wanted to pull her hair back into a knot, but her shoulders protested and she had to give up the effort. The best she could do was braid it into a loose rope and let it hang over her shoulder.
She had unzipped the top part of her flight suit and tied the sleeves around her hips. Except for a black sports bra, she was bare above the waist—a state of undress that normally would have given her pause in unknown company. Stripes wasn't human, though, and that seemed to mitigate her usual sense of modesty. With her skin bared, she finally got a good look at the dark purple bruises covering her shoulders and ribs. It was no wonder even the light feel of fabric was enough to irritate them. The movement of air on her skin instead was a relief.
Hannah didn't spend the whole time talking. Maybe about ninety percent of the time—just when she started to think too much about Michael or Alli. Or both. It had been more than a day since she and Stripes had crash landed on the planet's surface. There was no way for her to ascertain whether the siege was ongoing or if it had been successful, but she continued to hope for the latter. Michael was either dead, alive, or still fighting, and there would be no knowing one way or another for at least another day. Talking to Stripes helped, even if they never did more than flick or flare or dip their mandibles in response.
Stripes had taken point since the ravine, which suited Hannah just fine. Her breathing had been labored for hours now, and the pain was starting to make her dizzy. There were several different kinds of pain killers in the emergency pack, but Hannah was reluctant to take them. One required food on her stomach (something she didn't have enough of), another dehydrated her (drinkable water was already at a premium), and the third kind made her sleepy and dulled her senses (senses she would need in this unfamiliar terrain). She also had some vita-gel packs, and if she'd been bleeding out, they would've had some use. For broken bones and bruises, they were useless, so she was just going to have to grit her teeth and get through the next day of walking.
For as much as she tried to cover her discomfort, though, Stripes appeared to pick up on it. Maybe something changed in her voice, or maybe it was just that plainly obvious on her face, even to an alien. But when Stripes turned back toward Hannah, they stopped and reached for one of the water bottles and handed it to her. Hannah took it and drank carefully, trying to avoid gulping or drinking too much at once. The taste of iodine was strong, but she didn't care. She just needed something to help her cool down.
Stripes swept their arm toward the ground and took the pack from their shoulder.
Clear enough, thought Hannah as she dropped to the ground.
"Son of a bitch!" she winced when she realized dropping to the ground wasn't the best decision.
Stripes took a few steps away and began scanning the perimeter. Ever the soldier, Hannah thought.
Hannah took a few more sips of water as she watched Stripes. "You know," she said at last, "there is no way we should be here right now. It was your plan to obliterate us both, and you almost did it. The only reason we weren't is because Rosie hacked your ship, and I'm still at a loss as to how exactly she was able to do that. The likelihood that two species from completely different backgrounds—in terms of evolution, culture, technology, and just about every other way—would have computer systems similar enough to communicate so that one can hack the other with no previous exposure is, well, astronomical. Right? I mean, Rosie was a smart bird, don't get me wrong. First of her kind. Based on all that tech they found on Mars. But smart enough to hack an alien ship? I have my doubts."
Hannah thought for another moment before shaking her head. "No, it's not just astronomical. I'm going to go with functionally impossible. The only way Rosie could've hacked your fighter is if they had the same logic base. And the only way . . ." Hannah snapped her attention on Stripes—another mistake that shot another bolt of pain straight through her. "Are you protheans? Shit. We thought your people were extinct!"
Stripes held a steady gaze on Hannah, their mandibles flaring. She dearly wished she knew what those expressions meant.
Hannah shook her head again. No, those prothean ruins were over fifty thousand years old. If the protheans were still around, why wouldn't they be there anymore? Mars had been arid and had lacked an appreciable atmosphere for much longer than fifty thousand years, so an environmental cataclysm wouldn't be a pushing factor. And why would they have gone to all the trouble to leave almost—but not quite—nothing left? No roads, no schools, no water systems, no homes, no marketplaces—nothing civilian. But a beacon? An archive? What use would there be in dismantling everything innocuous but leaving all those sensitive artifacts just lying around where anyone with a mind to look for them could find ithem? So they left slowly and purposefully, but not necessarily with the intention of not being found. Why leave at all? Maybe they weren't the ones doing the dismantling. A conquering army, maybe? That still left the question of why they would leave behind tech caches lying around the place where anyone could find them. And why wouldn't the conquering army stick around and take advantage of the readymade infrastructure? If there had been a conquering army, why was there only evidence of the protheans and not of them?
Too many questions. It was all above Hannah's pay grade.
"No," she said at last. "Not protheans. But you got your tech from them, or at least you base the tech you have on what they left behind. Just like us. Damn. How spread out were they? The chances that two different civilizations would be influenced by the same dead one, at least technologically, is, well. We'll go with not impossible, since they left those relays behind. But still damn near impossible. I wonder how many others there are. I suppose it's possible that it's just us, but then it's still an awful waste of space, isn't it?"
She replaced the cap on her water bottle and handed it to Stripes, who clipped it back to the pack. "All of this is beyond me," she said as she tried to ease herself off the ground, which was easier said than done. "I just fly my bird and try not to get shot down. Much good I've been at that. I'm probably way off base anyway. We still have a few more hours we can walk before it gets too dark to see. Should we press on? Tally ho, and all that?"
A piercing, burning pain shot through her at that moment, and Hannah nearly doubled over. It took a moment, but she regained her composure and slowly straightened her back as much as she could. That tumble down the ravine wall must've knocked something even more out of place. Waves of nausea broke over her, but she managed to keep it all inside.
Stripes was watching her, much as they always did, with a constant, unblinking gaze. After a moment, they set the pack back on the ground, pulled out a ration bar, and handed it to her. Hannah took it, but carefully, afraid the shake in her hands would be too obvious. They pointed to the ground then went back to the pack and pulled out the lean-to.
"No," Hannah said firmly. "Do you understand no? We still have hours to go. If we stop now, that's just more time we have to make up on the back end. It's better if we press on. I'm fine. I can keep going."
Stripes stepped toward her and put their hands on the sides of her ribs. Even their light touch was enough to send another jolt of pain through her.
Hannah set her jaw and looked up, holding their steady gaze. "It doesn't matter. I'm a soldier. I have an objective. Everything else is just noise."
Stripes put more pressure on her ribs and the pain burned hotter. She clenched her teeth and continued to hold the gaze. "We should hurry, then. Not stop. The pain's only going to get worse the longer we're out here. Unless you plan on carrying me when I can't walk anymore?"
They took their hands and wrapped them around the one of hers that held the ration bar. They went back to the pack and unclipped the water bottles. One was empty, and the other was nearly spent. Without so much as a mandible flick, they turned back into the forest and disappeared into the trees.
Fine, Hannah thought. But I won't be useless.
She ground her teeth against the pain and went about setting up the camp for the night. The rain had eased somewhat, but it was still steady, and the cool drops were heaven on her hot skin.
#
Hannah was more relieved than she could express when the dark of night finally surrounded them and the temperature dropped by a handful of degrees. The rain kept up its steady pace, but her lean-to did a decent job of protecting her and of catching the heat from the fire they'd managed to build and cover. Stripes stood in the rain, apparently on watch. Hannah had no idea what they could be watching for, but didn't have the energy to think about it.
Drowsily, Hannah pushed herself as far back into the shelter as she could then patted the ground beside her. "You can use my lean-to if you want, Stripes. You're going to get pneumonia standing out there like that."
Stripes seemed to ignore her, but even in the daze of coming sleep, she noticed when the alien sat down beside her under the shelter. She would've chuckled if she wasn't so sleepy.
This evening, with the rhythm of raindrops to lull her, she fell asleep quickly. She woke once during the night with a wet coughing fit, but mostly, she slept without stirring.
When she woke the next morning, she noticed that the rain had stopped and saw that Stripes was pacing back and forth, their flight suit dark and soaked through. When they saw that she was awake, they knelt down and put their hand against her forehead. There were streaks of red on the palm of their hand. She didn't remember seeing that bit of color yesterday.
"I'm fine," she said. "It's damn hot on this planet, though. Damn humid from the rain." She shivered. "Or maybe it's cold. Sorry. I'm just tired still I guess."
She started coughing again. It stung her insides, and it seemed that no matter how much she breathed, she couldn't get a breath deep enough to abate the dizziness she felt. She didn't care about any of that as long as she got a little rest. "Just give me a minute," she mumbled. "We can go soon."
#
When Hannah opened her eyes again, Stripes was leaning over her, their arm glowing orange again and passing over her slowly. When they stopped, a display popped up. They seemed to consider what they saw there for a long moment, then let out a low rumble and brought up a different display. After a moment, they spoke into their arm. A moment later, another voice—automated and feminine—spoke in words Hannah could understand.
"Hannah, can you hear me? Can you understand me?" they said.
Hannah nodded and winced at the movement.
Stripes spoke again into their arm, and again the voice followed once they had finished. "I need you to rate the pain on a scale of one to six."
Her eyes closed again. Talking was too much, but she held up one hand, extending five fingers.
She started to slip again into the fog of sleep, but then the alien—Stripes, she reminded herself—shook her gently and held the first-aid kit in front of her. The kit was open, and Stripes seemed nonplussed. Was it possible for these aliens to look nonplussed?
"I think you have a fever, Hannah, but I can't tell which one of these medicines will help bring it down. I need you to show me which one you need."
Hannah took a hand, surprisingly heavy, and pointed at the bottle of pills that didn't need food and didn't need water. She started coughing, but it was a distant feeling, painful but as if it were happening to a different body. When she had finished, she opened her eyes and noticed that the ground was redder than she remembered. She felt something on her tongue and pressure on her throat. She felt Stripes swipe a finger across her chin and cheek in much the same way Hannah had wiped away bits of food from Alli's face on occasion. Did she have something on her face?
It took only about a minute for the pain to ebb and for the throbbing in her head to subside a little.
It was easier to stay asleep after that. They could get moving again in no time. Just a little more sleep was all she needed.
#
Hannah knew something was wrong when she thought there were more than one Stripes. A number of them were bent over in what looked like exhaustion. One or two stood a little straighter and saluted the original Stripes. Some of them even had spikes on their heads. Maybe that's why some of them had different helmets in the recordings. Why so spiky?
"This human is a prisoner of war," Stripes said. The voice she could understand was near her ear, and Hannah noticed vaguely that her own arm now glowed orange. "I expect her to be treated accordingly."
"Yes, ma'am, Major Ravaka," said one of the other Stripes, this one with spikes on their head. That Stripes had a face with a complicated white pattern on it, and she could see every line when they looked at her at the sound of the automated voice. "Is it wearing your omni-tool, ma'am?"
"Clearly, Lieutenant, she is. Now please focus. We need to get in touch with her people," Stripes (Major Ravaka?) said. "They'll know how to treat the infection."
"Not an option ma'am," said the other Stripes. "They only just stopped pursuing us about an hour ago. I'm not going to risk anymore of my squad to deliver one of their own back to them, and no damned treaty requires me to do so. Ma'am."
Hannah knew a few officers who came up through enlistment and might be able to rival the inflection on that last word—a breath away from insubordination—but not many. She'd have laughed if she could breathe.
Stripes nodded. "Then we'll have to take care of her ourselves. They're levo and they appear to have a skeletal structure similar to the asari. This one's ribs are broken and her lungs have been punctured. Get her stable until we can get a levo specialist," Stripes said.
The Stripes with the spikes shrugged. "I can't make any promises, ma'am. It looks like she's bleeding internally, and our medi-gel is dextro-specific. If we use it and it turns out she's allergic, we could kill her."
"Get her to the Citadel if you have to."
"I don't think Octavus is going to divert a whole cruiser to get one POW to the Citadel, ma'am, and it's beyond our responsibility to do so. Even if we could, not even Alune Memorial would know what to do with a human."
"We've been on this planet a month, Lieutenant," Stripes snapped—growled even. "Do you mean to tell me we've learned nothing about them in that time?"
"No, ma'am. It's just that—"
"You have your orders. Make it happen. If she dies, I'll see it remarked in your permanent record. You have thirty minutes until an extraction shuttle gets here. Are we clear?"
There was no more conversation after that, and Hannah drifted away again.
#
When she opened her eyes again, the first thing she noticed was how white the trees were. Hadn't they been black before? When she turned her head, she saw Stripes sleeping in a chair next to her. It was the chair that surprised her. Why would there be chairs in the forest?
"Stripes?" she managed. Her voice was rough and felt like she hadn't used it in a while.
Their eyes shot open and they sat up faster than Hannah had been expecting. Without speaking, they stood and held up their arm, which started glowing orange again.
"Dr. T'Oriza," they said into their arm, "please report to Med Bay. The patient is awake."
Hannah coughed, but the pain in her chest didn't seem quite so pronounced anymore. "Stripes?" she said again.
They flared their mandibles. When they spoke, it was like she heard two different voices again, and only one of them she could understand, but there was no delay this time and the voice didn't seem automated. "It's Major Odessus Ravaka, actually. But you can call me Stripes if you prefer it. Don't try to move, by the way. You're bound to the bed, but more importantly, you'll hurt yourself if you try. Personally, I thought the restraints were superfluous since you've been unconscious, but that's protocol."
Hannah heard a whooshing sound from somewhere on her other side. She turned her head toward the sound and saw a blue woman walking through a doorway. No. Humans weren't blue, and the alien walking toward her had something that looked like short tentacles on their head and indigo tattoos around their eyes. They smiled like a human, though.
"It is good to see you awake, Hannah," they said, pulling off one glove and pressing a blue hand against her cheek and forehead. "I was starting to worry about you."
"Lieutenant Commander Hannah Shepard," she corrected the blue person. "Alliance Navy. Serial number 426784325. My captain—Captain Viet Tran of the Alliance carrier SSV Feynman—will want to know my status."
The two aliens shared a look before the newcomer answered. "I am Dr. Sana T'Oriza. I have been your attending physician since you were brought aboard the Honorable. You have been a crash course in human physiology, so I hope you will forgive me if it took some time to figure out what to do with you. Lucky for you, humans seem to be roughly analogous to my own people when it comes to some of the more vital parts."
Hannah closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "Where am I?" she said. "How do you know English?"
Stripes—Major Odessus Ravaka—pointed to the side of their head. "You needed a better translator than the one on my omni-tool, so I had Dr. T'Oriza give you a subdermal one. I hope you don't mind. And you can keep that omni-tool if you like. I have others." They held up their arm and let it glow to demonstrate the point. "We worked out translation programs for quite a few human languages within a week or two of pacifying the colony. Protocol, really. Nothing a standard xenolinguist worth the title couldn't figure out, especially when your people have already gone to the trouble of recording so many of them. At least you communicate vocally, and not through pheromones or bioluminescence. And like the doctor said, you're aboard the Honorable, the turian cruiser your people attacked."
Dr. T'Oriza shot Stripes a look that would've seemed disapproving on a human face. "We will discuss some of your verbs later, Major."
Hannah shook her head. Why was everything still so fuzzy? "We couldn't take you out. I mean, we could and I think some of the captains lobbied for a full blitz, but the admiral is a smart woman. I think she knew we couldn't predict what the response would be to completely destroying an alien ship. We just needed to get your comms offline so we could root you out of the colony." After a moment, she opened her eyes again. "Wait, your . . . your omni-thing helped me understand you? And now I have a translator?"
They pulled their mandibles in against their face and seemed to straighten their posture. "The omni-tool isn't really meant for translating, but it worked for our purpose. I gave it to you primarily to monitor your vitals. The translation tool was a secondary concern."
Hannah shook her head again. "So, what? You already had a translator with one of those programs? You could understand me? The whole time? Everything I said?"
Their mandibles flicked, and they ducked their head. "You talk a lot for someone in hostile territory."
"I wouldn't have talked so much if I thought you could understand me."
"Why would you assume I couldn't understand you?"
Hannah frowned. At least she hadn't said anything sensitive. She didn't think. "Am I a prisoner, then?"
Stripes nodded then shook their head. "Only until we can get you healed and arrange an exchange with your people. My superiors don't currently agree with me on what constitutes timeliness for such an arrangement, but I think I'm making progress."
"Or you could tell the Council," Dr. T'Oriza interjected with some heat, "and this whole affair would come to an end."
"That's not my call, Sana. Colonel Octavus was perfectly within his purview to keep the humans from activating a dormant relay."
Dr. T'Oriza seemed to sneer. "Was he perfectly within his purview to make first contact with a new race without Council approval? And to have that first contact be a martial one?"
Their mandibles pulled tight against their jaw. "It was a discretionary call. Or perhaps you would have preferred we let them use the relay to let something like the rachni through again?"
"Does Michael know I'm here," Hannah asked, ignoring both of them and bringing the conversation back to information she could parse.
Stripes looked back at her and ducked their head. "Your people have reclaimed the colony for the time being, but not without casualties on the ground. That's all I know. We don't have any names for the human KIAs. You're the only human POW on this ship, but no contact has been made with your people yet."
Hannah's throat closed and her chest tightened. She felt a burn behind her eyes and suddenly the room seemed to spin very quickly. "I'm tired," she said, her voice breaking and betraying her. "I think I need to sleep."
Stripes and Dr. T'Oriza exchanged a brief glance, the obvious disagreement between them cooling. The doctor put a hand on her shoulder and said, "I will give you something that should help."
As the doctor took a syringe and infused some new clear liquid into her IV, Stripes took her hand and squeezed it. "I thought you might want this," they said, taking up something from the nightstand and pressing it into her hands. Her tablet. "It fell out of your flight suit while we were transporting you, but I made sure it didn't get left behind. I'm pretty sure you'd have kicked my ass if I'd lost it."
Hannah didn't know whether to smile or sob, so she did both. Stripes switched it on, and soon the sound of Alli's heartbeat filled her up. It was slow and even, so she was probably sleeping. If she wanted to, Hannah could almost feel her little girl's small, warm body pressed against her as she snored quietly and twitched to her dreams.
Stripes gripped her hand one more time. "Sleep, Hannah. Get better. We'll figure out next steps later."
Whatever Dr. T'Oriza put into her IV worked its magic. The world went black, and for a time, Hannah didn't have to think about Michael not being in it.