Chapter Text
Alliance Vessel - Asgard
“Goddammit,” Trace moaned.
It was far too late to control the narrative. Thanks to Audra Dane, the public was not only aware of the happenings with the First Contact mission, but has turned the alien child into the face of the story. Her image had spread across the extranet and posted on all forms of media. Her little innocent wave was being replayed for other news outlets and being overly analyzed by conspiracy theorists and amateur xeno-antropologist trying to read meaning into it and spreading misinformation.
“You care to explain how I found out one of our own men exposed himself to alien pathogens against your orders through an independent news report and not in a report from my own officer?” The hologram of Admiral Tina Lawson glowered down at him.
The debriefing room had designed the holographic terminal to project images nearly twice the high of the caller. So he was looked up into the aged face of the Admiral. She was a handsome woman, having served the alliance for nearly thirty years and fought on the front lines of the Reaper War. Her bionic eye was tantamount to her sacrifice to drive the Reapers from Earth.
“Ma’am, that occurred on board the Tri’Sala, whose captain allowed journalists onto her ship to cover the First Contact encounter,” Trace said, maintaining a straight back stance before his commanding officer. “That never would have happened aboard my ship. I would have reported about Lieutenant Lance sooner, but I had soldiers in a potentially hostile environment.”
“At ease, captain,” Admiral Lawson said, raising a hand to temper his ire. “I just want you to be aware of what’s at stake since the little girl made her debut as Council’s Space’s newest sweetheart. Her little wave did more to ease people’s fears and win public support faster than the Council ever could with any publicity campaigns. Already there are donations for her care and schooling, people are posting well wishes in dedicated forums, and there’s even petitions from prospective parents wanting to adopt her! Our heads will roll if anything happens to her.”
“I’m sure Captain T’sera is aware of that too. She assures me she has the best doctor available for the refugees and will keep us updated.”
“Refugees? Do you agree with that term, captain?” the admiral asked.
“From the reports, I believe it’s safe to assume these survivors are refugees from their galaxy.” Trace said, rubbing his chin in thought. “They are neither military nor scientists and their ship appears to be a passenger or cargo ship. We don’t have a complete run down of the ship’s status, but our techs theorized something catastrophic happened that made the crew and passengers go into cryo sleep in hopes of surviving long enough until help arrived. But help never came.”
“I’m sure the techs will have a field day taking the ship apart,’ the admiral sighed.
“Yes ma’am. I’ve sent men over to aid in securing the ship in case there’s any more surprises. We can’t rule out the survivors being aggressive.”
“Keep me up to date, captain. Hopefully there won’t be any more unhappy surprises.”
Asari Republics Vessel Tri’Sala - Medical Bay
Tim Lance could hear the little girl crying from the exam room. He quickly removed his arm down to his combat undershirt and pants. He had told the persistent asari medics he should be present to keep her calm, but they wouldn’t listen to him because they only saw him as a human grunt.
Instead, they drove him into a side room to remove his armor for sterilization and assessment by another physician.
“Hold still,” the asari medic said, scanning him with the omni tool. “I need to take blood samples.”
“I need to get in there,” Tim said, trying to brush past her. “She’s upset.”
“She’s fine. She’s receiving the best care. . .”
“She doesn’t know that!” Tim said as he refrained from rudely pushing her aside. Asari could be touchy about mistreatment. “She’s just a baby who doesn’t understand what’s going on except her mother isn’t there and weird people are poking at her.”
“Lieutenant Lance, you have compromised your immune system with unknown pathogens,” the asari medical said scathingly. “We have to monitor you for any infections or contagions. . .”
“Then monitor me in there!” Tim said, losing his patience and moving past the asari.
Ignoring her protests, he hurried into the exam room to see the little girl sitting on an exam table, surrounded by monitors. The medics all wore their filtered masks to prevent contamination, hiding their faces. One of them tried to soothe her by patting her back, but the girl trembled. Then she saw Tim and held out her arms for him. He scooped her up despite their protests of interfering with a medical exam. Her face burrowed into his shoulder, sniffling, small wings quivering. He could feel her heart pounding through her thin ribs.
“Lieutenant, you need to put her down and step away. . .” a medic said.
“Christ, give her time to calm down,” Tim snapped. “Have any of you ever taken kids to a doctor? They get scared.”
“We know what we’re doing,” the medic said.
“I’m sure you’re the best medics, but you can’t treat her like an injured soldier you pulled off the field,” Tim said, trying to keep his temper in check, but the quivering child in his arms made his blood boiled. He imagined if one of his daughters had been given such treatment. “But she’s a little kid without her parent and has no fu - no idea of what’s happening and who you are. Give her a few minutes to calm down and you can scan her later. Isn’t her mother in critical condition? Shouldn’t you be over there saving her life!?”
“Stable condition. Mother will survive.” A new presence arrived, a Salarian wearing a sterile facemask. “Medics should prepare more exam rooms. More refugees will come.”
“But doctor. . .”
“Will monitor the child and Lieutenant Lance.” The salarian said, raising his omnitool. He typed a few buttons, and the lights dimmed. “Sound the alert if there’s any issues. Doubt there will be. Child is in good health, but stressed. Lance is correct in concern for her mental health.”
As the medics filed out, the salarian opened a cabinet and withdrew two water pouches. They were stocked with electrolytes and other hydrating properties. He handed them to Lance. “Levo-based DNA. Needs to hydrate. Will also calm her. Encourage her to sleep.”
“Alright,” Lance said. What the doctor said made sense. Snacks and drinks distracted children from stress and fears. He detached the straw from the side and poked it through the thin top. “Hey, sweetheart, here’s a drink. Do you want a drink?”
They must have similar drink pouches where she came from as she took the pouch and began drinking. She relaxed, clutching the pouch with both hands, and her eyes began to droop. Lance gently walked with her as he did when Leslie and Katherine were small and agitated.
The salarian continued scanning and reading results, sometimes mumbling to himself as if taking notes. “Parent and child both share insectoid features. But mammalian. Warm blooded. Mammary glands. Have antennae, but have olfactory function noses. Antennae serve another purpose? Curious, curious.”
Then as if remembering Tim’s presence, he said, “Temperature is normal. Issue with sinuses?”
“Now that you mention it,” Tim whispered. “My nose is starting to get stuffy.”
“Good. Body creating antibodies against new pathogens. Immune system stong, but boosters help. Will monitor in case of severe reactions.”
The Alien Ship
“If we tell them who I am - ” the woman said, her skirts swishing against her legs as she paused.
The larger man pulled her along. “Knowing who you are will entice them to kill you slowly. Maybe take some liberties with you before they do the deed. . .or after.”
“Do not say such disgusting things to me!” The woman snapped, yanking her hand free of his grip.
“Do you expect them to invite you to tea? To show you to a comfortable room with servants prepared to carry out your every whim? No, if they don’t kill you, they’ll ransom you, and only if that’s worth the trouble.”
“Oh, did you see where Raquell went? I know she had her daughter, but. . .”
“Stop worrying about your handmaid and focus. If we can get to communications we can use your ‘connections’ to get the Peacekeepers out here to save us.”
“Do not lecture me. I am well aware we need to reach communications. But we should have a backup plan in case they catch us beforehand.”
“I already have one,” the man said, seizing her wrist and pulling her along. “Just hope they don’t catch up to us before we hail for aid.”
***
“I’m reading their life signs heading that way,” Yargo said, reading the information from his omnitool. “There’s two, and the third is somewhere on the third level. Roberts, I’m sending you with Matthews and Yuri up to investigation. Keep communications open and approach with caution, but do not harm the refugee. And do not remove your helmets. That’s from the Captain himself..”
“Roger,” Roberts said and headed out, with Matthews and Yuri tailing behind him. Yargo was confident in his choice of Roberts as team leader as he had a talent for tracking those who would rather not be found.
Then he motioned for his people to follow him as they headed for where the techs believed the communications was located. It was safe to presume the refugees were going to hail for aid or attempt to discover what was happening if they had determined the situation themselves.
Taking point, Yuri led the team down several halls, checking each room for any unwarranted surprises. All rooms were empty, showing very little signs of activity or entry. They must be moving fast to get to communications, but soon Yargo’s sensors showed they were catching up.
“Keep weapons on stun, but do NOT shoot without my command,” Yargo warned. Command had made it clear that the refugees were not to be injured whatsoever. Like to stave off any political nightmare, it would bring the Alliance if they gunned down the refugees with the current crisis across the Council Space.
They came to a sealed door which didn’t respond to Yargo’s presence. It must have been manually locked. Well, knocking was the universal means of getting someone’s attention behind a door. He rapped his knuckles against the yellow metal.
“Hello, this is Lieutenant Yargo from the Alliance,” he said. “We are not here to harm you, but to give aid.”
There was sudden movement on the other side and alien speech. He made out the voices; high feminine and deep masculine voices erupted into an argument. Growing up, Yargo had overheard his parents fighting to recognize a couple having a row. He could guess that one wanted to open the door, but the other insisted it remained shut.
“Did they patch through with an update for our translators?” Yargo whispered hopefully.
“It takes time to learn a new language, even for a linguistic VI,” a teammate replied. “I’m sure there’s an asari linguistic team working on it now.”
“Shit, we’ll do what we can.”
“Should we force the door open?”
“Not without good cause,” Yargo said.
***
“Ves, please, they don’t sound like the Glimordins,” she pleaded, her hands tugging at his shirt.
But he ignored her, searching behind the panels. There’s no way they would haven’t stored a weapon or a gun. This was Communications after all, the last line to aid during danger. They would want something to ward off intruders.
“You can take that chance if you want, but not at my risk,” he snapped as he pushed her aside.
“You dare!?” she growled, bristling in fury, wings nearly buzzing in agitation. “Have you forgotten who I am? I’ve given you far too much freedom with me.”
“Just shut up,” he said, tearing open a panel and finding what he sought, a gun. He grabbed and checked the power cells to find they were dead. Cursing he threw the useless weapon on the floor.
“Your insolence will not be forgotten,” she said, wings not buzzing in fury. “You will have to do a lot of grovelling to return to my good graces.”
Ves rounded on her, incensed by her ignorance. “When have I ever groveled to you!?”
“You are forgetting yourself, commoner,” she said, not backing down, despite him being much taller than her.
“I haven’t gotten anything,” Ves said steely. “You never let me forget my position . . .except in bed. Then you let me have all the positions.”
“Do not speak so crudely to me,” she said. “One word from me and you’ll be thrown into a darkest pit to die in your own filth.”
“Then go to the console and speak your ‘word’,” Ves said, pointing at the communication devices. “There’s no power to it, but give it a try. Or better yet, order it to start working. Maybe it’ll obey your mighty command.”
“Fine, I will,” she said. She stared at the console, her face twisting in confusion and irritation. “How does it work?”
Ves laughed. And that was enough to set her off.
“Do not laugh at me,” she shrieked. And began beating at his chest with both fists, promising him far worse when they returned home.
When he grabbed her wrists, she screamed in fury.
***
“Okay, they went from laughing to screaming,” Yargo said. “Let’s get in there.”
It took moments for an omnitool to slice through the doors. Yargo double checked his gun’s setting to stun and readied to be the first one to through the opening. As soon as the doors parted, he went inside and saw two figures tussling with each other. Their arrival interrupted the altercation, and they both stopped to stare at the Alliance Soldiers filing in, guns up in case their ire turned on them.
The juxtaposition between the two took him aback. The first individual was a tall spooky looking fucker with four bright red eyes, nearly foot long ears standing vertically from sleek black hair. He wore a purple top with tight black pants that revealed a slim but solid figure. Leather wings swept back from his shoulders. At the sight of them, he released the other’s wrists and raised his hands above his head in the universal sign of surrender. Yargo noticed the golden rings dotting his long fingers.
The other turned and glared at them with a look that could kill. Slender and petite with waist length black hair and veiny insectoid wings nearly vibrating. She carried a very human appearance with large purple eyes with pointed ears. She wore a silky dress of sheer layers of fabrics that whispered and brushed the floor as she moved.
Oh my God, we are bringing a chic version of Dracula and a fucking fairy.
Dracula knew the drill of being arrested and lowered himself onto his knees with hands behind his head. The fairy continued glaring, even bristling if they drew too close.
“Don’t worry. We’re taking you somewhere safe,” Yargo said, hoping linguistics would hurry with a translation update.
Dracula went along with them once he determined they weren’t there to harm them. However, the fairy refused to budge, her purple eyes flashing in fury when Yargo tried to coax her to come with them. Muttering something in their language, Dracula grabbed the fairy by the arm and pulled her along with them. The fairy swatted his hand away, but followed along unhappily.
Well, they look like the definition of a happy couple, Yargo thought bitterly as they took them to the Tri’Sela.
The Alliance Vessel Asgard
“We have two incoming to the Tri’sela. No injuries, but they aren’t happy. We really need linguistics to come through with translators.”
“They’re working on it, Yargo,” Captain Trace said, taking a reprieve in something going right in this incident.
That left one more life sign to find.
The alien child’s mother was in stable condition, her biology reacting well to medi-gel, but would take a while to recover. The large dark alien and the child were undergoing quarantine, their immune systems acclimatizing to new pathogens and allergens with the aid of medical technology. Soon the two new aliens will undergo the same treatment and maybe with enough people speaking, the linguistics team can finally cobble together a basic update to incorporate their new language.
Trace didn’t dare think the prophetic words. He never considered himself a superstitious man, but even he would be a fool to think nothing could go wrong now.
Then, sure enough, a voice came on the comms. “Sir! We were attacked! Something swooped down and carried off Yuri! We lost sight!”
“Dammit,” Trace muttered.
Asari Republics Vessel Tri’Sala - Medical Bay
Marty didn’t know what the blue women gave him, but he could feel it restoring his strength. Every minute, he felt better and stronger. They had him in what appeared to be a medical bay.
A blue woman in a mask checked his vitals and spoke to him in a kind manner, seemingly telling him he was doing alright.
“Thanks, uh, blue lady,” he murmured. “What about my daughter?”
She gave him a polite blank look and shook her head, indicating incomprehension. From behind her, another blue woman sat with a glowing computer she furiously tapped at each time he uttered a word. He didn’t understand what she was doing, as she never asked him questions. Maybe she was a recorder, but surely they had recording devices for that.
The blue medic gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder and left, leaving alone with the blue tech. Though difficult to judge their ages as they all looked alike, she had a youthful energy in her eyes as she looked up between her strange computer and him. It reminded him of when Liz had been a youth before she became radicalized by the Spirits.
“Hello?” The voice was feminine and monotone, but he understood.
“Hi, can you understand me now?” Marty asked, sitting up slightly.
Then the blue tech beamed at him and lowered her eyes to the computer again. It seemed she was working on a way to communicate with him, which he appreciated. The sooner they understand him, the sooner they can tell him where Liz is.
***
Once the doctor finished his scans, he deemed them healthy enough to wait out the immune acclimation in a sterilized room. It served as a dorm with a personal bathroom and dining area.
The little girl slept until she woke up and needed the toilet. She told him as such as she pressed both hands between her crotch and did a little bob he recognized when potty training his daughters. He quickly took her to the toilet, where she relieved herself with no issue. Once her biological need was met, she began exploring the room, peeking into drawers and crawling into empty cabinets to explore.
Tim watched her from the small table, letting her exercise and explore as he blew his nose. His sinuses were becoming congested, a sign his body was building antibodies against the alien pathogens from the ship. Well, a head cold was better than a full on virus.
Food had been provided for them both; rations for him and children’s fruit cups for her. The doctor stated her biology needed sugar and carbohydrates to function, so fruit was a safe bet. He tempted her with a fruit cup from Earth; one with blueberries and strawberries with some purple grapes. She eyed it curiously, poking at the red strawberries with a finger and after watching him eat a few, she nibbled one before popping it into her mouth. She devoured the cup hungrily while Tim watched.
His daughter, Leslie loved fruit cups, but Katrine had to be cajoled and rewarded for eating a few berries. She had been such a picky eater, still is in fact, except for asari food which she loved.
When she finished the fruit cup, she resumed exploring. Tim thought of how she needed toys or a picture book to occupy her time until they were given the all clear from the medic team. Thank God, he had taken off his helmet so he could be quarantined with her. He didn’t want to think how she’d take to having a masked medic being her caretaker.
She tugged at his knee, trying to pull herself, and he set her onto her lap. “What is it? Want another fruit cup?”
She blinked at him, antennae twitching in response. “Mimi.”
Was that a word or baby talk? It could be a word for mother. “Your mommy is going to be okay. We’ll see her soon.” Which he dearly hoped for, as this little girl needed her mother more than ever if they were refugees from another galaxy.
Other than peek-a-boo, there weren’t many games he could play with her. When her daughters were this age, he’d asked them to point at their nose, eyes, and ears, but he supposed he could use this as a means to teach her new words.
He pointed at his nose. “Nose. This is my nose.”
She blinked at him again. “‘Ose.”
Was she learning or repeating after him? “Yes, this is my nose.”
“N’ose.”
“Right, nose. Where’s your nose?”
She stared. “Nose.”
“Right, what about your nose?” He gently touched her little nose. “What’s this?”
“Ana,” she said.
“Ana means nose?”
“Ana,” she said, antennae twitching slightly.
The door chimed, startling him. The little girl instantly slid off his lap and ran for the cabinet where she ducked inside, hiding. He watched her close the cabinet behind her. Was she playing a game or was she frightened?
He answered the door’s two-way camera. “Yes?”
Outside was an asari holding a box. “Hello, I’m Medical Officer Lena R’ala. How are you feeling?’
“Congested,” Tim replied. “And I think my throat is getting sore.”
“And the little girl?”
“She’s fine. She used the toilet and ate a fruit cup, which I’m assuming is a good sign if she has an appetite.”
“It is. I brought some clothes and toys for her.”
“How did you get those on a military vessel?”
“The clothes were manufactured by our armorer and the toys were donated by Alliance and Asari Republic forces who had keepsakes from home. They believe she needs them more than they.” Officer R’ala set the box into a receptacle which scanned the contents for any germs and deemed them clean with a green light before opening a compartment on Tim’s side of the door.
There were several blue rompers which appeared to be her size. An asari doll wearing a long dress, a small basketball, a ring with dangling bells, and a rubber duck.
“Thanks, she could use a change of clothes and she’ll like the toys.”
“Excellent. If you need anything for her at all, please don’t hesitate to call me.” She gave him a reassuring smile in the familiar friendly manner of asari when they are pleased to be of service.
“Is there an update about her mother?”
“So far her health has remained the same, but she’s in the best hands.”
“Nose?”
He looked down at the girl who had emerged from the cabinet and patted his knee. She stood on tiptoe to peer at the screen. He bent, picked her up with one arm so she could see R’ala. She looked at the screen and waved, which R’ala happily returned.
“Has she tried talking yet?”
“Some. But I can’t tell which are words or baby talk.”
“Nose,” the girl offered.
“But I did teach her how to say nose,” Tim added.
“I’ll let the doctor know she’s doing well for now,” R’ala said. “But he said she may come down with a fever within the next few hours. Please, let me know if that happens and we’ll see if she needs medicine.”
***
“They’re not going to kill us,” Iris said. She sat on the chair as if it were a throne and stared fiercely at the door. “They don’t know who I am.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ves said sourly from where he perched on the cot. “They’re not Imperials, they’re not Glimordins, nor any of the Neutrality races. Your status means nothing to them, whether they know it or not.”
They had been taken onboard a larger vessel. Only the Imperial Family could command such ships, so whoever these people were, they were powerful, and that made him nervous. If only they spoke the same language, then he could tell them of Iris’s importance and see what he could gain from it. But then, it’s best not to overplay your hand, especially if you don’t know whether the odds were in your favor or not.
So far, their benefit was these people don’t seem to wish them harm. The soldiers had been firm, but not rough with them. Guiding with their presence and hand motions without pointing their guns at them at all. And when they arrived at what appeared to be a medical bay, they were given exams.
Ves allowed the blue women to scan him with their advance machines and touch him with gloves hands, but Iris would have none of it. She bristled in fury at the soldiers and buzzed her wings when the blue women drew too close. Ves rolled all four of his eyes at her antics. Didn’t she realize they were at these people’s mercies?
But then again, Iris being seventh in line for the Crystal Throne meant she had never been at anyone’s mercy before.
It surprised him when she began pacing the floor, her skirts swishing as she walked. Her wings lay flat against her back and her arms crossed beneath her small breasts. He had never seen her like this before. She had always known what she wanted or, better yet, what to demand when she was agitated. Whether it was answers, actions to rectify the situation, or ordering punishment, she always knew what to do. Now, she had no idea, and it scared and angered her.
“Save your energy, love,” Ves muttered. “You’ll need it later.”
“But what do they intend to do with us?” Iris demanded.
“I don’t know, love,” Ves said, clenching his teeth as his pet name for her crawled out of his throat. “We’ll have to wait and find out.”
“I don’t like waiting,” Iris huffed.
“I know you don’t,” Ves said, maintaining a grasp on the last shreds of his patience. “But these people don’t seem to care about what you do or don’t like. So just sit tight and . . .”
“My nose is getting stuffy. I wished Raquell was here to bring me tea,” Iris said, rubbing her nose.
“Well, the last time we saw her, she was running away with her daughter when they boarded the ship.” Ves recalled seeing the frightened Sylph fleeing with her child in terror. “Probably dead.”
“Do not say that so casually,” Iris said, eyes flashing in fury. “I do not wish any harm for her or young Ana.”
“Again, love, it doesn’t matter what you want anymore,” Ves muttered, knowing he was speaking to a wall. Having spent her life having her needs and desires met would always have a difficult time grasping that she couldn’t get what she wanted when she wanted it.
Alliance Vessel - Asgard
“Well, we knew something like this was bound to happen.”
Most of the alien ship had been explored and mapped out to fit the schematics, but still they haven’t found Private Yuri or the last survivor. While politically paramount, they retrieve the survivor alive and unharmed, Trace would be damned if he sacrificed a soldier to do it. And why haven’t the damn linguistics team finally updated their translators so they could talk to the survivors?
He suggested gassing the ship with an air sedative. It was soundly shut down by the asari who demanded this crisis was resolved diplomatically. How can it be diplomatic when one of his soldiers was kidnapped, with no idea of her condition!?
Then a voice crackled across through an open comms channel. “Sir? This is Private Yuri reporting.”
“Holy shit,” Trace hissed. “Private, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Yuri whispered. “I’m bruised up a bit, but still in one piece. She took my gun and tied me to a bed in a dorm. I’m alone right now, but she’ll be back any second.”
“And she left you with your comms?” Trace asked.
“She took my helmet. She probably thinks all our comms are in our headgear.”
“Are you able to communicate with her?”
“Not much. Just shoves me around and jabs me with the gun.”
If the alien is keeping Yuri alive, then this has become a hostage situation. And one they cannot negotiate with until the goddamn linguistics team comes through.
“Sir, we have a hail from the Tri’Sala,” an officer announced. “It’s from a linguistics specialist.”
“Thank God, put it through. Yuri, sit tight. We are working to get you out of there soldier. Stay on the line and update us of any changes.”
“Yes sir.”
Trace switched to a different comms channel, praying for good news. “This is Captain Trace of the Asgard speaking.”
“This is Min F’osha.” The asari sounded young with a girlish voice. I’m with linguistics and we have a basic outline of their language. Very basic, but should help bridge communications soon.”
“We need that translation fast. We have a potential hostage situation on our hands,” Trace said.
“Right, well,” F’osha hesitated, but pushed on. “One of the aliens keeps talking about someone. A. . .a girl child. I think he means his daughter, but not the little girl in quarantine. We showed him an image of her and he didn’t react.”
“Sir,” one of the officers spoke up from their terminal. “We managed to snag an image of Yuri’s assailant from her omnitool. It’s not clear, but we can see some details.”
“Display it on the screen,” Trace ordered.
A bright light behind the subject distorted the face, but brought out the outline of large wings and a horned head. The subject stood in the doorway, a clawed hand grasping the edge of the door as it exited. However, Trace could make out a feminine physique in the figure. Wait, the alien on the Tri’Sala was concerned about a daughter.
“F’osha, we’re sending an image to you now. Show it to your alien friend and tell me if he recognizes it.”
“Yes, captain. One moment.”
A few moments later, F’osha came back on the line. “Captain, he not only recognized it, but he is getting out of bed and . . .oh dear. I think he’s . . .yes, he’s leaving the medical bay and wants to return to the alien ship for his daughter.”
***
The blue women chirped at him like angry birds when he rose from the bed. Their hand waving and placing themselves between him and the door told him they wanted him to return to the bed. He gently moved around them, careful not to bump them, but they made it difficult.
“Please, I have to go. No, thank you, I will not lay down. I have to go to my daughter.”
The only one not trying to hinder him was the young blue girl who showed him the image of Liz. She eagerly spoke to someone through the glowing tool along her wrist and typed away at the small keyboard floating before her. Then she stepped forward, and the tool began speaking to him.
“Girl-child. Harm. Soldier. Yes? No?” it said in a broken speech pattern.
“No! Wait, what soldier!?” Marty turned to the blue girl’s machine. The blue women seemed to think he had given up and were attempting to coax him to lie down, but he wouldn’t move despite their tender touches and words.
The machine spoke to the blue girl, and she created a reply. “Girl-child. Took/Stole. Soldier. Harm? Yes/No?”
Lizzie took someone!? Gods above! She would be the death of him. “No! Well, maybe yes? Let me talk to her. I’ll tell her to stop!”
A blue woman with a stony face blocked the doorway with her body. He tried to ‘politely’ brush past her, but she planted herself in his way. With no choice, he gently picked her up with hands under her armpits, and set her aside, then scooted out the door despite her chirping protests.
And they were following him, with the young blue girl on his heels with her glowing computer. “You. Help? Soldier? Yes/No?”
“Yes!’ Marty snapped. The halls were so confusing and he couldn’t remember which way they had brought him. Being lost wasted precious time to get to Lizzie.
Then a soldier appeared wearing grey full body armor. The shape differed from the ones who brought him inside, the waist narrower and chest more of a barrel shape. The helmet sloped backwards to form a sort of fin. The soldier motioned Marty along, but made a stopping motion at the blue girl.
They had several exchanges that became heated, and Marty grunted in annoyance. Time wasted while they debated whether or not the girl could come with him. Finally, an accord was reached, and the soldier motioned for the both of them to follow.
“I/Me/This One come. Help. Speak.”
“Alright, but you’re not very good at it,” Marty grumbled unhappily.
“Thanks/Gratitude/Appreciation.”
Alliance Vessel - The Asgard
“The father is en route to the dock where the crew has a shuttle waiting to take him to alien ship,” an officer reported.
“Good. Tell Yuri help is on the way and not to take any drastic action unless necessary.”
Though Trace wanted to protect his soldier, he knew hurting the alien kidnapper would be bad for publicity. He could only hope the father could reason with the daughter and bring the hostage situation to a peaceful close.
“This might be helpful, sir,” another officer said. “They’ve powered the alien ship to get an intercom system working. We could link it to the shuttle and the father could begin speaking to his daughter, telling her to release the hostage before he arrives.”
Trace considered this. “Do it. But I want to make sure of what the father will say before we give him access.”
After a brief scan of F’osha’s dossier, she was only a new recruit at a Xeno-Biology laboratory specializing in xeno-linguistic music. So he had a young songwriter as his only means of communication until the damn VI-linguists come through.
What if the father was as brutal as the daughter? True, if someone told Trace his daughter was involved in a hostage situation, he’d go right away, but these were aliens from an unknown culture and morals. What if the bastard encouraged his daughter to end Yuri?
Shuttle
The blue girl was speaking to someone through her glowing computer. Marty paid her little attention, watching the Halaway drawing larger as the small ship carried them close to it.
The Halaway was a nobleman’s pleasure ship, the best they could find when the Glimordins attacked the station. He remembered his daughter pulling him behind her, ignoring all boarding vessels until she came to the one she knew the protectorate would ensure safety.
She bullied their way onto the ship, shoving aside people and towing him behind her until they got to the cryo pods and pushed him into one.
“I’ll be right beside you, Dad,” she promised as the units powered on, injecting chemicals and meds to draw them into the deep, dark sleep. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“But she wasn’t there ,” Marty muttered to himself.
His words drew the attention of the pilot, two soldiers, and the blue girl, but he stayed silent, praying to the gods his daughter would be safe. And he could talk her out of whatever foolishness she had gotten herself into.
The blue girl touched his arm, drawing his attention to her. She held up her talking computer and, as a grizzled voice spoke, it translated. “You. Help. Soldier? Stop. Daughter?”
The translation was better, he noticed. And he nodded. “Yes, I’ll try to help, but I want assurances she won’t be in trouble or arrested for this.”
The computer translated his words. After a few moments, likely for the owner of the grizzled voice to hear his translated response, the reply came. “Yes. Soldier unharmed. Daughter no trouble.”
“Good,” Marty said stiffly.
After more words were exchanged between grizzled voice and the soldiers, the pilot motioned at Marty and pointed at a panel of glowing controls.
The blue girl’s translator said, “Speak. Ship. Daughter. Hear.”
Did she mean they patched into the Halaway’s speaker system? Well, if Liz was still on the ship, then she would hear him. He leaned forward and said, “Liz, this is Dad. The people here say you got one of theirs, a soldier. Listen to me. I’m fine. They didn’t capture me, they took me to a medical bay to recover from cryo. You need to let their soldier go before this gets really bad. And they say so long as the soldier is unharmed, you won’t be in any trouble. I’m on my way to the Hallaway now, so you can see for yourself that i”m alright. Just let the soldier go, Liz, please.”