The next day Tristan woke early. The sun streaming in through the partly closed curtains left bright patches on the opposite wall. He lay still, the faint whispering in his mind when Aesia was near, had stopped. So she must be working on her ship. He checked the wound in his side and it had almost completely healed.
He swung his legs round and stood up; the expected nausea did not happen. He rubbed the side of his forehead, noting that he hadn’t suffered any pain or headaches since she had arrived either. He took a few tentative steps before he had to grip a chair for support. He sighed; he needed some breakfast and a cup of tea. He released his grip on the chair and walked through. The kitchen was neat and tidy. He checked the cupboards and found everything in its place. “Well she has been busy!” He made himself a small bowl of cereals and sat down. After breakfast, he showered and changed.
He felt good; Aesia and her Med Kit had done an excellent job.
He sat for a while to rest before walking out of the house and up the hill. As he got closer the faint touch of Aesia’s thoughts grew stronger. The presence of the ship’s computer caused a different type of sensation, a feeling of latent power. He had learnt to block her small personal computer quite quickly. It had made conversation difficult as he could “hear” it translating for her. He knew what she would say before she said it, so her speech was like an echo of the machine.
He tried to sort and order the sensations pressing in on his consciousness. He found he could separate easily the cold emotionless machine from the faint flow and ebb of emotions coming from the busy alien. The few days spent recovering had not been wasted.
Aesia had a panel off the side of the ship just forward of the cockpit. There were some parts on the ground beside her. She seemed to be replacing faulty circuits.
Tristan sensed a change when she became aware of his approach. A momentary feeling of pleasure or satisfaction was quickly replaced by irritation. He wondered if his presence or the ship had caused it. He smiled.
“Hello. Are you busy?” He cursed himself for such a lame question.
Instead of the expected cutting reply to his stupid question she nodded. “Yes, I’m trying to fix the communicator. This thing will never fly again so my only hope is a rescue.”
He knew she was hiding something, an underlying current to her thoughts gave her away. He chose to ignore it for the moment, and maybe with a little more time and practice he could make more sense of what she was thinking.
“I’m going for a short walk to build up my strength, is there anything you need before I go?”
“No! No thank you.” She corrected herself. She turned back to the open panel, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.
Over the next week, they fell into a routine. Aesia worked on her craft, Tristan concentrated on regaining his strength, prepared the food, and replenishing the groceries by visiting the small local village shop. He thought it best to avoid a trip to the town for the present. He could also keep an eye on anyone walking up the track. The last thing he wanted was someone stumbling upon an alien working on her spaceship.
One morning Tristan had left for his usual walk. The day was fine, the sun warm on his back, and dappled sunlight seemed to dance through the gently rustling leaves. Everything was well with the world. He had noticed that her attitude towards him was improving. She had started to treat him more as an equal instead of something beneath contempt. Sometimes she could even be quite pleasant. He did however sense her becoming increasingly concerned that the repairs were not going well.
She had once broached the subject of having to stay here. Tristan had averted that decision for the present; he knew she could not hide indefinitely.
When Tristan returned he sensed something very wrong. Strong feelings of fear, hatred, and anger filled her mind. His chest tightened. Had someone walked by and seen her? Maybe the authorities had been tipped off and had come to arrest them both. He took tight control of his thoughts and with slow deliberation walked around his cottage. No official vehicles parked in his drive, so the source of Aesia's distress had to be something else, but what? Keeping low he crept up the slope. As he reached the brow of the rise, he dropped down and crept forward on his stomach so he could see her ship.
His breath caught in his throat. Aesia was on her knees with her hands behind her head. Standing over her a different alien, with a second standing by a craft much larger than her fighter. The newcomers were slightly reptilian, with a faint, green tinge to their skin. Ridges ran from front to back of their heads where hair would normally be. They both wore dark blue uniforms. The markings on their craft were not the same as on Aesia’s fighter.
The one standing over her held a gun close to her head. She had a spreading bruise on the side of her face and blood oozing from her mouth. He was going to shoot her! Tristan’s insides twisted up. That is not going to happen!
The other one lounged against an open door to their ship. It looked more like a shuttle or small scout ship rather than a fighter. He carried what looked like a rifle cradled loosely in his arms. From his obvious nonchalance, he thought there was nothing to threaten them here.
Tristan thought quickly; if he went back to the cottage and got her gun, it would be too late. What could he do? The alien could kill her at any moment. He could not sense their minds the same way he could sense hers, so he was at a loss for what to do, but he had to act quickly.
He racked his brain; she had disconnected her ship’s computer using its parts for the communicator, so no help there. Suddenly, he thought of her translator. She had it with her all the time. He felt for its presence; yes she had it with her! Holding his breath he sent a question to it, knowing it would translate what he instructed. Can you take the one standing over you if I distract them?
He noticed her stiffen, and he got a clear Yes from the translator.
Ignoring the gorse tearing at his exposed skin Tristan dragged himself forward as close as he dared without them noticing him.
He saw the alien with the gun pointing at Aesia, tense. He had run out of time. With a loud yell he jumped up and ran towards the one with the rifle as fast as he could, closing the distance with large strides, screaming at the top of his voice. He saw the alien fumble with his rifle and start to turn it towards him as if in slow motion. Tristan started to zigzag a little, but kept closing the distance, praying the alien was too startled to take proper aim. He hoped his shout, and sudden headlong rush, had distracted the one standing over Aesia sufficiently for her to take care of him.
The short distance seemed like a mile; he half expected to be shot before he reached his target. When he judged distance was close enough, he launched himself at the alien’s legs in a classic rugby tackle. The alien had been taken by surprise. Panicked by Tristan’s sudden appearance he had hesitated before raising his rifle. By the time he was ready to fire, Tristan had him.
He fired without taking any aim. Tristan ignored the searing pain and burning on the skin of his left shoulder. The alien, winded by Tristan’s tackle, lay gasping, and with a swift punch, Tristan knocked him out.
At Tristan’s yell, the alien standing over Aesia turned, the pistol wavered for a moment, and she lunged forward, twisted and pulled the feet from under him. His gun discharged harmlessly into the sky. With a swinging chop, she knocked the alien out while he was still off balance.
Aesia stood trying to control the trembling in her arms and legs. Tristan had saved her life for a second time; in Sicceian society she was now honour bound to this strange creature.
The way he had taken control of her translator troubled her; she did not know anyone who could do that. She bent and picked up the fallen pistol, turning it over in her hands. Maybe it would be safer to shoot him, now she had a means of escape? She glanced up. Tristan was watching her, a strange expression on his face. She hesitated then stuffed the pistol into her belt. He visibly relaxed, as if he had known what she was thinking.
Her stomach knotted, she had a deep-seated contempt of anyone who was not a member of her species, but she couldn’t kill him. She clenched her fists, commanding her trembling hands to be still, sighed then walked over to him.
Tristan broke the silence. “Who are they, and why did they want to kill you?”
The translator delivered the question as cold and emotionless but she was getting used to Tristan’s speech patterns, and this time she caught an undertone of suspicion and accusation.
“They are Mylians. The ones I was fleeing from when I crashed here.”
“You are at war with these beings?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s not important, we must leave now before more of them arrive.” Aesia glanced at the two prone Mylians. They were not dead, but it would be a while before they regained consciousness. She kicked the one lying by the open hatch.
Tristan stepped towards her. “Hey don’t!”
She shrugged. “They are nothing! Let me see your shoulder.”
Tristan turned. The rifle shot had just grazed his shoulder and burned his shirt. He winced as Aesia touched the wound with her fingers. The beam had seared the skin, sealing the wound.
“You were lucky, it will be sore for a couple of days but it is nothing serious.”
She turned and stepped through the large craft’s open door. “Come on, we must go now!”
They entered the craft, and Aesia went immediately to one of the two seats and sat down. She passed her hands over the controls; everything was in order and she could pilot the craft without trouble.
She looked over her shoulder, Tristan was standing at the entrance. She smiled. “You must sit and strap yourself in.”
Tristan shook his head. “No, I can’t leave just like that.”
Aesia swallowed, he had to come with her; she needed him for evidence. A planet this rich and diverse was unheard of. She knew she would have difficulty convincing her superiors about a new undiscovered species of strong, healthy, perfect slave stock. If she could not bring herself to shoot him, she would at least be able to use him.
She stood slowly, her mind racing; how could she get him to come? Things had happened far faster than she had expected. She was not ready… No he was not yet ready. She bit her lip for a moment then decided to gamble.
She walked towards Tristan, a tall, dark looming shape outlined by the sunlight streaming through the open hatch. She laid a hand on his arm gently and looked into his face, his strange eyes half-hidden in shadow.
“You have to come with me, please. It will be difficult finding my people, and I cannot do it alone.”
She felt the muscles in his arm tense under her fingers. She held her breath, waiting, her hand lingering on his arm. She hoped the shadows hid her flush; her hand tingled at the touch. A detached part of her mind asked, what are you doing?
“What will happen to me when we find your people?”
“You will be rewarded for helping me and escorting me back home.” She twisted the truth a little, hoping he could not sense the deception.
Tristan stood looking down at her, and she tried not to show the tension in her face, and held her mind empty. Her churning emotions held against a barrier. After a moment, he nodded almost imperceptibly, and as if he were talking to himself he replied. “There is nothing for me here, and it would be an adventure of a lifetime.”
She squeezed his arm and a satisfied smile danced across her lips. “Thank you, we must leave quickly.”
“OK but we should at least grab some supplies and clothes?”
“Oh yes... Yes of course.”
They ran back to Tristan’s cottage. While Tristan grabbed a couple of changes of clothes and stuffed a couple of carrier bags full of food, Aesia threw her uniform over her shoulder and gathered the clothes he had brought her into her arms. She moved quickly, hurrying him along not giving him time to think and change his mind.
They ran back to the ship. A small cabin at the rear of the craft contained two bunk beds. Aesia ordered Tristan to throw everything in there for the moment and shut the door. She ran to the pilot’s chair. She waited while Tristan walked across to the empty seat at her side and clipped on the harness. Her hands moved swiftly and surely over the controls. The craft rose quickly, and they were soon in the darkness of space.
She carefully watched the sensors, hoping to avoid detection from whatever larger spacecraft there may be around. The small craft accelerated. There was nothing on the sensors. The scout ship was self contained and faster than light capable, so the main ship might be several light years away. Aesia sighed, flexing her shoulders letting the stress flow from her body. With a final sensor check she set the controls and checked the artificial gravity system before releasing her harness; time to explore the craft and take stock of what they had.
To the rear of the ship, behind the airlock hatch, was a small galley, behind that, a washroom. Opposite the galley a storage area full of ration packs.
“Can we eat that?” Tristan asked.
Aesia nodded. “Yes. So far, all the species we have discovered have the same biological make up with only minor differences.”
Tristan looked at her “Don’t you find that strange?”
“What?”
“That species evolving on different worlds through a different set of circumstances and chance events should be so similar.”
She shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it. I’m just a simple soldier.”
Tristan checked the number of packs. “It looks as though we could have about six weeks supply if we are careful. What about water and air?”
“The recycling systems are efficient on ships of this type, even if it was built by Mylians!”
“Well how long?”
“We should have enough for about three months, but I can check with the ships systems.”
She led Tristan back to the front of the ship and sat back in the pilot’s chair. He stood for a little while, watching the stars out of the view port.
“Why is there no telepathic interface to the computer like there is on your ship?”
“Because other than you, we are the only species that has that ability.”
Tristan nodded and turned back to the view port.
Over the next five days or so, Aesia taught Tristan her language. It was OK using the translator, but it was imprecise, and the computer sometimes got the translation wrong. Due to the telepathic connection, which seemed to strengthen between them as the days passed, she found that Tristan picked up the language quickly.
As the week wore on he became quite fluent and could hold a conversation with her. One evening she decided to tell him a little about the war her people were fighting.
The Mylians were one of the species her people had found during their exploration of nearby systems many years ago. They were little more than ignorant savages, but they made useful and obedient slaves.
Unfortunately, while the Sicceian military was distracted fighting another species they had discovered, the Mylian’s rebelled, and having stolen Sicceian technology they were proving difficult to subdue. But, it was only a matter of time. Once they were defeated, they would be punished for trying to break away from Sicceian dominance.
Tristan had questioned her when she had mentioned punishment, which had puzzled her. Surely, slaves should be punished for rebelling against their masters? Especially as the Sicceians were far superior to any other species yet discovered. She told him that families would be split up, most of the adult males killed and a forced breeding program on the remaining females to replace the missing males, a long term project.
Tristan glared at her, then sulked, and had not spoken with her since.
A couple of mornings later, as Aesia busied herself with a routine system check, Tristan walked past her to the galley. She sighed, he was nothing more than an ignorant savage himself. She should be indifferent but it troubled her that he had been shocked at what she had said.
She bit her lower lip and turned back to her task, noting a minor fluctuation on one of the engines. She queried it, and the system reported the thrust was within normal tolerance. She stood and made her way back to the galley. Tristan had just washed a cup so she stood to one side to let him out first.
The ship suddenly lurched, just as he was opposite her. She lost her balance and pitched forward. Tristan caught her and held her momentarily. Her body tingled where he touched her. She looked into his eyes. Her heart missed a beat, and a burning sensation started at the nape of her neck and quickly reached her cheeks. She balled her fists angrily. Her body had betrayed her. To her consternation, he smiled.
She pushed away from him and stepped back. Her chest tightened. She wanted to punch, kick, scratch, and gouge him. Clenching her fists tighter she swung at him. He caught her fist in his hand, his smile broadening. She wanted to wipe the smile away, and with her other hand she tried to scratch him with her fingernails, to gouge his cheek. He grabbed her other wrist, and she struggled, trying to pull away, but his grip held her like iron.
Tears of frustration stung her eyes as she tried to free her arms. “I hate you, I hate you, loathsome creature!” She tried to kick, but he sidestepped easily.
She wrenched her arms, struggling to be free from his vice like grip. It overbalanced him and they fell together onto the deck. He had fallen on top of her; she twisted to get free from him. He ended up pinning her arms to the floor, kneeling over her. She stopped struggling and looked up at him. His strange eyes held hers. Aesia swallowed, her throat dry, and she turned her face away and pushed against him with all her strength, but he held her fast. She suddenly relaxed.
“Please get off me, Tristan.”
“As long as you calm down! Take a swing at me again and I will lock you in the bunk room.”
She shook her head. Some of her hair caught in the floor plates making her wince. “I won’t.”
He cautiously let go of her wrists and stood up. She slowly sat up, making no further attempt to attack him. He held out his hand to help her up. She ignored it, stood and smoothed her hair with her hands to cover her confusion. She turned, walked into the bunkroom, and shut the door.
Aesia sat down on one of the bunks and put her head in her hands. She was shaking, her heart was racing, and so she took a few deep breaths to try to calm herself. She shook her head. There is no way this is going to happen! She spoke out loud, “I am a Sicceian warrior, and I must act as such, act as I have been trained to do.” She had managed to hold her barrier, divert what she felt to anger, but it had become difficult ... so difficult.
I hope we find a fleet soon, too much longer and I will fail. She took another deep breath and exhaled, slowly regaining control.
She had just gathered herself together and calmed her churning emotions when the ship lurched again. She gripped the edge of the bunk to steady herself. “What?”
Aesia stood, opened the door and ran to the pilot’s seat. The ship shuddered again. Lights started to flash on the console; something was wrong. Tristan ran to the seat next to Aesia and strapped himself in as he had noticed she had done when the indicators started flashing an angry red. Aesia turned to Tristan and the blood drained from her face, pulsing red lights reflecting on the white of her hair.
“It seems we have suffered engine failure for some reason. I knew we were taking a risk using this inferior Mylian rubbish!”
“What can we do?” Tristan asked.
“Nothing while we’re in space, we have to find somewhere to land so we can repair the problem.”
She searched the local systems with the ship’s sensors. Her training had taken over, her movements swift and sure. She found a system within easy reach with an uninhabited planet that she quickly identified. It had a Sicceian navigation beacon on the surface. If she could get to the beacon, she could quickly set it for sending a distress signal. She adjusted their course. Even with the crippled engine, they would make planet fall in less than five hours.
Aesia had to fight the bucking ship all the way, so when they reached the planet she was almost at the end of her tether. The useless alien next to her was no help as he was incapable of flying the ship to give her some relief. They entered the planet’s atmosphere. She tried to head towards the beacon, but with the failed engine, the ship became almost impossible to control once she started the decent. The thickening atmosphere screeched across the hull. After a while; they found themselves flying over a thick forest. Rain lashed at the ship and obscured the front ports.
She tried in vain to kill their forward speed; they were still travelling too fast when they hit the first trees. The treetops, instead of causing too much damage to the craft, helped to reduce its speed. By the time they were among the lower branches, the speed was sufficiently reduced to prevent total destruction. The craft pitched and bucked. One side hit a substantial trunk, and they spun round, the rear of the craft dug into the ground. It pitched end over end a few times before coming to rest against the trunk of another large tree. Her last thought before everything went blank was at last I can rest.