For This Alliance May So Happy Prove
Chapter 2
Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to The CW or to NBC.
The hoofbeats of several horses thundered down the side artery of Edendale towards an unsettled area to the east of the town center. It was to have been a grand industrial park, luring businesses there with the promise of cheap land rents yet being within reach of Baton Rouge, New Orleans, and Mobile in Alabama. However, the park itself had never materialized after the recession had hit several years before, and to this day the land had been graded flat, but otherwise left for lack of any money to continue the building. And certainly, after the Blackout, nobody was going to roll on in with bulldozers and construction cranes.
But that night, by fortuitous chance it was where the huge object that had sailed so majestically overhead the town had landed.
As they approached the object, which lay flat on the ground, they could see in the fading twilight the long scar it had left on the ground, and where it had plowed through forests and bushes they could see the occasional orange flicker, signaling the odd brush fire. Ray tugged slightly on the reins to slow the horses down. He said, "We're about a third of a mile away now, I figure. Think those fires'll be a problem?"
Jerry leaned over to get a better look and shook his head. "They're too scattered. Damn thing up front probably chewed up so much soil there's nothing to spread 'em."
Ray, for his part, turned and leaned out to catch the eye of one of the men on the truck bed. "Patrol positions, now."
Thumps of feet on the truck accompanied the shuffling Ray could see through the rear window, and he knew that two guys were now resting themselves against the canopy, their guns poised to shoot at anything coming towards them, and two more were keenly watching to their rear and sides. The ship, Ray saw, had stopped almost dead-center in the industrial park, its black hulk lit only dimly by the half-moon just above the horizon.
Ray's eyes had adjusted to the almost total darkness, aside from the Coleman lamp hanging in the truck. He could begin to make out the sleek lines of the vessel that had fallen upon Edendale. He could see what looked like regular square or round holes that must be windows. Something about the thing – vessel – ship – niggled at him. It just didn't seem anything close to what he remembered were within human capabilities before the Blackout.
Ray let that sense of foreboding guide him as he tugged the reins once more. The horses obediently halted, and he handed the reins to Jerry. "We're staying put here for now. Alert the riders."
Jerry nodded, and as Ray hopped out of the truck, Jerry hopped out on the other side and bellowed, "Riders! Over here!"
Ray grabbed his gun from the bench seat and checked the magazine, then checked his body armor. Amid the clop-clop of horses and riders gathering around the truck in a loose circle, Ray looked at the Coleman lamp, then at the truck bed. He said, "I want one of you to stay with the truck back here 'case we need to send word back to town if things go sideways. Got me?"
A tall baseball-cap wearing man with a perpetual five o'clock shadow, who Ray remembered was Scott and who lived several houses down from him, barked, "Yeah. I'll stay."
"Good," he replied. His voice rose as he spoke to the group in general. "All right, first off. I see too many of you. Anyone back in town on patrol at all?"
"Shit, sorry, Ray," muttered someone on the far side of the truck. "But c'mon, we all saw that damn thing."
"Okay, but now's not the time to leave the town undefended, huh? Plus, I don't want anyone gawking around here when we don't know who's in that or what it is. So, you six in the back there" —he pointed—"Go on back and keep the town quiet."
Although nobody had ever replaced the town sheriff after the old one died a year before to dysentery (after that, people in the town routinely boiled their water), Ray had, in some respects, taken on that task, probably because he usually knew what to do in a tight situation. It hadn't hurt to be in the National Guard reserves when the Blackout happened, either.
So, on this occasion, scattered acknowledgements hit Ray's ears as he beckoned to Jerry, hand out to grasp the lamp's handle, and he thanked – well, maybe not God, but whatever was out there bigger than him, that the town's defense corps and lawkeepers deferred to him even as they might be keyed up over the massive craft's landing.
Ray looked around, gripping the Coleman lamp as he held it up to see. "The rest of you, get your horses tied up somewhere close by, and fan out quietly across the flat area with me in the middle. Nobody fires or talks until I give the order. Understood?"
Again, he heard murmurs of acknowledgement and for the next few minutes, the area was busy with people finding trees or still-standing posts to secure their horses. Meanwhile, he said to Jerry, who had joined him, "Got any water?"
Jerry handed him a canteen; Ray took a sip, then returned it.
Shortly, the troops around him shuffled into a roughly straight line, spaced so there was about six feet between each person, and Ray gestured them forward, cautiously stepping over the now-ground-up pavement and soil towards the silent alien ship.
/\/\/\/\
Nox's eyes flew open as he came to with a start. Breathing heavily, he at first struggled against whatever was holding him into a chair, and then collapsed back into it, memories flooding him: the ship failing – the nav officer just managing to pull the nose up before power died completely – bellowing orders to strap in and brace for collision – fear rising within him as the ground of the unfamiliar planet below swelled up under the ship – the shattering impact nearly throwing him out of his chair even with the straps – being struck on the head with something small and heavy – darkness after that.
Now that he thought about it and rubbed his head, it must have been a safety helmet regulations said were supposed to be worn for exactly this kind of situation. Even though he sat on a chair on a deck that seemed tilted slightly to one side, Nox laughed briefly at the absurdity of defending himself before a Board of Inquiry on Atria and having to explain how he, the Iksen, sustained injuries from his own safety gear!
He took a deep breath and refocused on the task at hand. He looked around as he carefully unbuckled the straps, noticing that all the panels on the ship were dead. The only light shone through the shattered overhead and front windows, revealing a world whose sun was already about to set.
Night-time, thought Nox, would not be an ideal situation for us.
Yes, Atrians could use their own tattoo-markings as a source of light, but that wasn't foolproof.
Nothing for it, he thought. He gingerly rose from his chair, testing his footing on the deck. Aside from a throbbing in his head, he seemed to be physically all right. He called, "Is anyone awake?"
As if that were a signal, other Atrians on the bridge began stirring to life. "If you're injured, call out! Anyone who is able-bodied, we need to get as many people to the Common Hall as possible. And try to get flashlights, if you can find any."
The Common Hall was a large room in the ship reserved for rare occasions, like dinaskyu, when the entire Atrian population of the ship would continue the ancient ceremonies and rituals of their homeworld. On this occasion, it would serve as the central impromptu meeting point for as many survivors of the crash as possible. From there, Nox and the Hwatab would decide what to do next.
/\/\/\/\
Ray Whitehill and the bulk of the town's lawkeeping forces had mutually halted about two hundred feet away from the ship. The Coleman lamp, now at Ray's feet, threw out a feeble light that illuminated the ground nearby. A night critter of some kind skittered off into the growing darkness.
Unease grew within him the longer he waited. His throat grew a bit parched, and he shifted his grip on his gun, wishing he'd thought to bring a water bottle or canteen. He murmured to his right, "Jerry, got some more water?"
He could see Jerry reach out, and he took the canteen again. "Thanks!" he loudly whispered as he quickly took a swig, then handed it back. There; now he could think a little more clearly. He tried to hear any faint noises from within the ship that now loomed over him, more menacing than any building Ray had ever been near.
Another voice to his left said, "Maybe nobody's in that damn thing." He readjusted his grip on his gun and shifted on the toes of his feet, then took a step forward.
Ray, forgetting himself, barked, "Stop!" His voice rang out through the still air, and he hissed to the startled man, "Step back, mister!"
The man in question jumped back to his original spot, nervously licking his lips as he darted glances around to see what danger Ray sensed.
For Ray's part, he was extremely thankful for all his caution, and the other troops taking it seriously, because just after he'd hissed his order, a deep metallic scraping could be heard from the ship. Ray shuffled his feet and stared intently, his eyes by now making out a rectangular door opening on the side of the ship.
Author Notes:
Welcome to my crossover fic! A word about the ship crash-landing. In the TV series nobody mentions the landing killing anyone; initial scenes from the pilot show a relatively deserted area. The main change I've made (aside from rather arbitrarily picking the crash site to be "east" of town) is to envision a kind of dead-stick airplane landing rather than a nose-dive into the ground.
I want to thank my very helpful betas and idea-bouncer-offers: For Revolution, IronAmerica! For Star-Crossed, justvisiting80! I also want to thank my horse expert, Ayala Atreides here on ff.n :)