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Shipboard 9&10
Sykil sat in the infirmary; his forehead laid across RyanMateo’s lap. Sykil had been granted a miracle, receiving relatively minor injuries, and his human friend, the friend he’d mistreated so terribly, had paid the price for it.
Muscle torn away from the bone, or fibers severed, herniated stomach, among other sundry injuries. He had held the defective oxygen rack off Sykil, keeping it from crushing him for twenty minutes, before the after-action headcount had revealed their absence, and the effort had shattered him.
RyanMateo had been placed under anesthesia against the pain, and a human surgeon had been brought in to assist with the man’s treatment.
Now, Sykil waited for his friend, his savior, to wake up. He had been told it should be any time, but it seemed like an eternity already.
His guilt was overwhelming. After all, if he’d kept his mouth shut, none of this would be a problem. They wouldn’t have been alone in the gym, and help would have arrived sooner.
RyanMateo would have been spared this pain.
Sykil sighed, sitting up and rubbing his neck. Dwelling on his misery wasn’t helping RyanMateo, but it was hard not to do.
He stood, intending to fetch a glass of water to take his mind off things, but as he did, RyanMateo shifted in his sleep, moaning softly.
The Wixiks leapt to his side, fingers curled in the bedsheets, leaning over his human friend.
Slowly, over minutes the Human stirred, moaning and groaning before his eyes opened. “What hit me?”
“It’s not what hit you,” Sykil said, hesitantly reaching out to take his friend’s hand.
“Oh, yeah, fuck,” RyanMateo said, closing his eyes.
He shook his head and opened them again, meeting Sykil’s eyes. “You’re okay? Back on your feet?”
“Forget about me! You’re the one who was really hurt,” Sykil scolded.
“I’ll be fine,” RyanMateo insisted, “how long did they have me out?”
“A week, they didn’t want to proceed until a human specialist could be located,” Sykil said.
Ryan tried to sit up, grimaced, and dropped his head onto the pillow. “You know when I’ll be able to get up?”
“No,” Sykil admitted, flattening his ears in shame. “But the Doctor says you should make a full recovery.”
“That’s good to know,” RyanMateo croaked. “Could use some water.”
Sykil nodded, rushing off to fetch a glass. He was glad RyanMateo was awake and well enough to drink; working quickly, he filled a cup and returned to his friend, helping the man ease himself up into a sitting position and placed the cup to his lips, helping him drink.
RyanMateo sighed, and when he spoke, his voice was noticeably less rough. “Thanks, Sykil,” he said.
He nodded, putting the cup down and folding his hands in his lap, staring down at his intertwined digits. “Thank you,” he said, voice soft, “you saved my life.”
“It was nothing,” RyanMateo said, shaking his head.
“It was everything!” Sykil snapped. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here; you sacrificed for me, and I can’t do anything to thank you.”
RyanMateo didn’t answer for a long time, but finally, he heaved a heavy sigh. “I don’t want anything; I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said.
Sykil swallowed; RyanMateo’s feats of endurance and strength were impressive and more than a little frightening, but Sykil was beginning to understand his true strength.
“You said something the other day about the reason for your kindness,” the Wexiks said.
“What? Oh, you mean the religious angle?” He shrugged, “I dunno, just- a turn of phrase, I guess.”
“Uh, well, hell, my bible’s in English, but- sure, if you want,” the Human said.
Sykil nodded vigorously, eager to gain even an ounce of his friend’s courage. “Please,” he said, “I’d like to learn.”
“Okay, I uh, don’t quite know if I can help you today, things being how they are.”
“Don’t force yourself!” Sykil urged, “take as long as you need, by all means.”
RyanMateo smiled at him from the bed, and his cheer was infectious, inspiring Sykil’s ears to prick in happiness.
“Thanks, Sykil; I’m glad I have you in my corner,” RyanMateo said.
------
Nazarene sat in her office, filling out paperwork, her aides rushing about around her. Her least favorite duty, but an important one. She was, after all, in a position of command. The service demanded more from her than merely firing broadsides at pirates.
At the moment, she was preparing recommendations concerning something Hotchkiss had brought to her. Apparently, Tarrki wanted to station a Wexiks fleet in the system. Which was unacceptable, obviously.
Still, they couldn’t just reject the measure out of hand. They had to find a diplomatic way to break it to the little aliens, or so said the diplomat.
Telling the Wexkis to fuck off seemed the more expedient route, but perhaps that was why she was paid to blow things out of the void, and Hotchkiss was paid to negotiate with their new alien friends.
There was a knock, and Nazarene set her pen aside. She suspected she knew who it would be. “Enter!” she called.
The door opened, and Tarrki entered, a folder under his arm, bobbing his head respectfully. “Ma’am.”
“Tarrki,” she said, “Hotchkiss already told me, so you can save your time.”
The alien paused, tilted his head. “May we speak privately?”
She pursed her lips, shrugging. “Clear out,” she said, “give us some time.”
Her people set their work aside, shuffling out past the alien.
“Alright,” Nazarene said as the door closed behind them. “Let’s talk.”
Tarrki nodded, approaching her desk and placing his folder down, sliding it toward her. “You say you’ve heard from Hotchkiss, but that means you’ve only heard half my proposal.”
She looked at the offered file, raising an eyebrow. “Then you should take this to him.”
“No, I think I’d prefer to have this conversation with you; please, take a look,” Tarrki said.
She frowned, pulling the file in front of her, opening it, and thumbing through the pages. Far from the detailed proposal she had expected, she instead found herself reading through an abridged history of Humanity.
Their triumphs, defeats, and their brutality, the unrest caused by first contact.
She slowly shook her head. “How did you get this?”
“Once upon a time,” the Wexiks said, “I held a position roughly analogous to yours. After our last conversation, I felt the need for more information. It’s not a mining outpost.”
She stood, turned, and went to her picture window, looking down upon China. “What do you want? How much have you told your people?”
“I haven’t reported my findings,” Tarrki said, “to anyone. As for what I want; I want close Human/Wexiks collaboration, my proposed fleet assignment-”
“Will do what military forces stationed in another nation’s sovereign territory always does. Make us a client state.”
“That,” Tarrki said carefully, “is the version of my proposal presented to JeremiahHotchkiss.”
“You didn’t give your best offer?” She didn’t turn, just watching China slowly pass her by.
“No, I want you to present it as your idea,” Tarrki said, joining her by the window.
“Why?”
“I want to inflame your people’s greed, and that won’t happen if the idea comes from me; they’ll smell a trap, even if it doesn’t exist.”
She licked her teeth, thinking. “Let’s hear it, then.”
“I propose a trade; we will station the second expeditionary fleet here, around Earth; you will station this ship above Cantray, our homeworld.”
Her eyes narrowed; she smelled a trap. “Your people would let us take their planet hostage?”
“Not as such,” Tarrki said, “we’re- trusting, and Cantray doesn’t truly understand the scale of human construction. They won’t know what they’ve agreed to until it’s too late.”
She frowned; that explained that, if she was willing to believe him, but something still wasn’t adding up. “Why would you offer this? You want to defect?”
“No!” he cried, shaking his head, “I told you, I want collaboration.”
“And you’re willing to give a lot to make it happen; why?”
The alien was silent, staring out at Earth.
“When I was in the navy,” he said at last, “our territorial space was invaded by an aggressive, insectoid, race we call the Chitri. They attacked relentlessly, mercilessly, without regard for the difference between soldier and civilian.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “It was a terrible war, and we never found out why they attacked, or even if they had a reason.”
“How did you get them to surrender?” Nazarene asked.
“We didn’t,” Tarrki said, “there was no armistice. We managed to decipher their language but never made contact. All attempts to communicate were ignored; they never so much as responded to our requests for negotiation. Then, one day, the attacks simply stopped; presumably, the Chitiri had exhausted themselves.”
“You want revenge?”
“No, I still have friends in the intelligence sector; the reports are the Chitiri are expanding in this direction, toward Earth and that their recent expansion has increased.”
“You think they know we’re here?” Nazarene asked.
“I hope not,” Tarrki murmured, “but I can’t rule it out; that’s why I want to position a force in this system.”
“And you’re willing to put this ship in yours to convince us?” she asked, cocking a brow at the little fox.
“I know, having read your history, you wouldn’t trust that sort of altruism, so I’ll just be honest. I think the Chitiri are building up for a new campaign against the Wexiks, I have for a long time, but the Senate won’t listen to me; they refuse to build up our forces.”
He turned to her, craning his neck to meet her eyes. “We need your help, and you need ours.”
Mutual need; could still be a lie, but it sounded more likely than pure largess. “I’ll think about it,” she said, turning back to the glass.
They stood in silence then, just watching Earth. Tarrki was the first to speak. “Why do they do such terrible things? Why does Humanity hate us?”
She glanced at him; he said it quietly enough that she wasn’t positive it had been directed at her. “They’re just afraid; fear makes people do irrational things.”
He sighed. “Like locking up an innocent man.”
She could tell by his tone that he had a lot of shame over what had happened to the lieutenant. “Do you see the gulf up near the north of the continent?”
He looked, nodded. “I think I see what you’re talking about.”
“My family used to live in that area.”
“Used to? Why did they leave?” Tarrki asked.
“A long time before I was born, that whole thing, more or less everything you can see from this angle, was one country.” It was close enough to true, even if it over-inflated things. “But for one reason or another, I don’t think anyone could tell you exactly why; it all fell apart, and the country started to war with itself.”
She paused, reaching up to finger the cross she wore around her neck. “My family is Christian, Catholic, have been for hundreds of years, since the first Jesuit missionaries. A long and proud tradition, it’s important in that part of the world, tradition, I mean.”
“The old government tolerated Christians, more or less, but the separatists didn’t like them, saw them as a foreign corruption. When my mother was a little girl, five or six, some men came to their home. Grandpa sent my mother and grandmother to hide and confronted them. And as my mama and grandma watched from some bushes, those men tied him to a stake and burned him alive.”
Tarrki didn’t respond, stunned or- well, he didn’t say anything. “They fled across the sea and ended up in the country where I was born and raised.”
“I’m sorry,” Tarrki said.
She shrugged. “It was a long time ago; I wasn’t even alive. There’s a problem with your plan.”
“...What’s that?”
“We can’t produce an FTL drive capable of moving this ship’s mass.”
“I can take care of that, provide a schematic,” Tarrki said, scratching his chin.
“How will I explain that?”
He shrugged, and Nazarene sighed, “I guess I’ll figure something out.”
“About our arrangement, regarding RyanMateo….”
“I should be the one to tell him,” she said, “technically, he’s mine.”
“Can you be away that long?”
