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Flight of the Mystere (Part IV & Conclusion)
🕑 Added 2021-07-22 16:00:06 +0000 UTCDeck 12, Aft Briefing Room-- One Hour Later
“The scanning team was unable to locate the alien in the biohazard filtration system. Another tear in the duct was detected just before the first filter junction,” Commander Cairn said, indicating the two-dimensional overlay projected on the bulkhead behind her. The areas where the alien had torn its way through the metal of the filter system were marked in red-- the medlab facility and the filter junction. There was no telling how long it had taken the alien to move that distance-- about ten meters-- and tear its way out, but from what Ranya had seen, it was probably already on its way to parts unknown before the first security team had reached its position.
“We have since maintained a Red-One alert, with security teams placed in all their normal positions, with instructions to monitor air ducts and other nonstandard passageways through the vessel,” the Commander added. Around the table, a few officers glanced at the air vent leading into the briefing room, embarrassing each other when they got caught doing it. A Commander that Ranya didn’t recognize, bearing the collar insignia of Engineering, looked curiously at Cairn’s display.
“How big is this thing?” he asked, “I know for a fact that the air ducts on Centrality ships are all designed to be too small for most people to crawl through,” he said, adding as if an afterthought, “it’s a security precaution.” Commander Cairn nodded.
“You are correct,” she confirmed, “this alien is about as big as a small dog. It is lizardlike in appearance and roughly hominid in shape. It is also very fast, and very strong, as evidenced by the damage done to the duct system in the biofacility,” she changed the image to a slow-motion recording of the medlab’s video monitors. From the moment the creature was confronted by the medical personnel, until its disappearance into the duct, the monitors displayed full well the creature and its capabilities.
“So. . . it’s an animal,” the Security section chief volunteered. Cairn looked at Doctor Azzan to supply the answer.
“As near as we can tell, it is of animal intelligence,” he said, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. “I could go into the biological or zoological theories I have developed. . .” The Intel chief raised his hand.
“That won’t be necessary,” he insisted, “But it does not know tactics, strategies, and there is no more reason to expect an attack on a munitions bay than any random storage hold, correct?”
“Probably true,” Azzan agreed, with the confirming nod of Lieutenant-Commander Jiad to his left. OverLieutenant Ranya Savan, seated to Azzan’s right, fidgeted minutely and wondered why she had to be in the room with the ship’s section chiefs, all of which were Lieutenant-Commanders and higher. Across the table, the Intel section second in command and Security chief grimaced and shared a look of irritation. Any normal intruder would target sensitive areas and ignore storage holds, and security personnel could group themselves accordingly. The random nature of the alien made their job much harder. The Intelligence officer sighed.
“People, for all we know, the damn thing is already hiding in someone’ toilet. Doctors, could either of you shed some light on the possible habits of this thing?” the Security chief said with an exasperated tone. Azzan indicated Jiad to take the question.
“Well,” Jiad said, leaning forward, “it has just hatched. It is hungry and will want to find a secure place to nest and feed. After that, it will begin to stake out a hunting territory.”
“How will it do that?” the Intelligence officer asked.
“It will find a prey track that is reliable, and then try to locate a nesting site close enough to be worth the trouble,” he explained, “a nest too close to a prey track scares away potential food. Too far and the creature will expend most of its energy just getting too and from the nest,” he sat back again, adding with a shrug, “this is a fairly simple way of putting it, and it is only conjecture. We do not know the nesting and hunting habits of the creature.”
“Or what its eating is,” added the Quartermaster Chief, a grey-furred wanni. “It may now as well be into the preserved food stores breaking,” he lamented, stroking his furry ears with worry. The Cybernetics Chief shot him a dirty look.
“Don’t be such a blunt instrument,” she growled, clicking her serrated teeth the way one would scold a child, “what do you think it eats with those teeth? Salads?” Azzan shut down the argument before it could go further.
“Lieutenant-Commander F’teen is partially correct. We don’t know what it eats, but Liutenant-Commander Th’khala is also right. It is clearly a carnivore. It eats meat, people, and animals that eat meat probably prefer to capture live prey rather than pick at carrion.” Heads nodded around the table.
“And that is the problem,” Commander Cairn said, retaking the meeting’s momentum. “The alien most likely eats live meat. And the only live meat aboard this ship is the crew.”
“There’s the biosynth,” the Organics Chief protested. Jiad and Azzan both dismissed him.
“The biosynth is most likely not appetizing to a hunt-based organism,” Jiad insisted, “and it undoubtedly smells bad as well. I understand your affection for the organism that keeps us alive and you employed,” he said with some humor, which brought some smiles to the tense faces around the table, “but it would be akin to one of us looking for food in a new city by going directly to the sewers.” The Organics Chief sat back, clearly unrelieved. Attention returned to Commander Cairn.
“Still, the biosynth is being monitored,” she assured the Organics Chief, “and if it does go after the biosynth, then we can establish a feeding pattern and set up an ambush. So we are left with these questions-- where is its likely nesting point, and where is its likely food collection point?”
“Find the first one, and the second will be close by,” Science Officer Jiad pointed out, “more important, we need to narrow down its most likely nests. What kind of environment does it prefer? OverLieutenant Savan, you saw the creature’s first chosen nesting point.” All eyes turned to Ranya. She pursed her lips momentarily and leaned forward, trying to think about every minute detail of what she saw on the alien derelict. Her own helmet-recorded log was cued up on the monitor by Commander Cairn.
“Well, it was a large, dark hold,” she stated, “which we did not fully explore. There was a mist of some kind around the deck, and the whole area had a very organic appearance to it.” She watched, keeping her voice steady, as the logcorder replayed Lattimer’s entry into the open hatch, and his exploration of the hold. Just like she remembered, the image briefly switched to infrared, and back to normal. “The rest of the alien ship, while there was enough space, was also lighter, and we saw no sign of. . . nests, or eggs, anywhere else.”
“At no phase of the creature’s development have I noticed any organs that might be considered eyes in the optical sense of the term,” Azzan added. “It does not seem to rely on visual cues at all for navigation or hunting. It may be some sort of frequency-based navigation, or smell,” he looked over at the Intelligence and Engineering Chiefs. “Perhaps we could stylize some way to defeat these senses, or decoy them.”
“Possibly,” the Intelligence officer said, “but look at what we’re up against. It’s like a mean goddamn dog, for Thyssa’s sake. How dangerous is it going to be?” A comm interrupted before anyone could answer.
“Cairn here,” the Commander responded.
“Commander Cairn, is the Security Chief with you?” a young thenn’s voice answered.
“I’m here,” the Chief responded, “what is it?”
“This is Lieutenant Vi’khaji, covering section 10-deca,” she said, “I think we’ve found some evidence of the intruder.” The room tensed.
“Stay where you are, Lieutenant,” the Chief answered, looking at Commander Cairn, who nodded and motioned to the door. “We’re coming to meet you.” Cairn pointed towards Ranya.
“You too, Savan. Grab your weapon. The rest of you, return to your posts. Doctors Azzan, Jiad, go to the biolab and cut that spider open-- find us anything you can that can help us find its off switch.” The room boiled into action, and Savan slung her carbine, which she’d picked up from her Avenger on her way to the briefing, wishing she’d had the foresight to don her armor as well. Events had gone too fast since Lattimer’s death. Now, the corridors were clear of non-essential personnel. People with a need to move around went in teams, and everyone was armed. Security troops and hatch computers checked identification at every corner-- except for Commander Cairn, the Security Chief, and Ranya, who double-timed to the storage holds of section 10-dalet.
Approaching the lowermost sections, Ranya could see that whoever Lieutenant Vi’khaji was, she was thorough. Extra fire teams covered the area, cordoning off the entire level. Ranya could already hear what the rumor mill had begun circulating--
“--goddamn alien, three meters tall, tore people’s arms off up in medlab--”
“--moves like a snake, spits acid in your eyes and chokes you in its coils--”
“--parasites. Got in a crewman, controlling his brain. He’s stalkin’ around with a rifle--”
--and she found herself almost running into the back of the Security Chief, who had come to a halt by a small Tchienn woman with a rakishly spiked haircut, wearing the polished black armor of Ship’s Security.
“Found a blood drag on the deck here, sir,” she said, casually indicating a spot on the floor that had been discolored by a crimson smear. Another black-armored crewman with medics’ tabs was finishing a field analysis.
“Human, sir. I’ll need a few segs in the database to confirm DNA identity,” he said, looking at the Chief. The burly human nodded.
“Do it,” he instructed, “and lets us know the hept you have something.” They looked around. The storage hold was jammed full of supplies, far beyond a normal voyage requirement. Their original mission would have carried them beyond any supply route and they were well-stocked. But the cramped confines now gave an intruder many places to hide. The crates in the hold reached almost to the overhead, and light was reduced substantially because of it. Added to that, some of the lights further back were not working-- the lights where the blood drag pointed towards. The Chief frowned.
“Yeah, about what I’d do, I guess,” he mumbled, then looked at Commander Cairn. “How sure are we that this damn thing isn’t intelligent?”
“We’re not,” she stated. She gazed around the hold as much as her vision would allow. “All the hatches sealed?” Lieutenant Vi’khaji grimaced, irritated that her professionalism had been questioned.
“I used the decompression procedures,” she replied flatly, “hatches, air, water, anything with access to this room is isolated and sealed. Only the hatch behind us was overridden, sir.” Cairn nodded her approval, which Vi’khaji missed. All the security personnel were facing down the rows of crates and cargo pallets, each lashed to the deck. Commander Cairn called in to Captain Vanson with an update, while the Security Chief coordinated with other security troops on the next two decks above and below. Soon, all three levels were locked down under decompression protocol. Ranya wondered if it was already too late.
“Who would be here and why?” she asked quietly to Lieutenant Vi’khaji. The Tchienn woman shifted her weight from one foot to another before replying.
“Couldn’t tell you. Depends-- if it was someone before the alert was sounded, could be just a regular supply worker. If it was someone after the alert. . . “ she trailed off. After the alert was sounded, everyone should have been accounted for. The
showed up, a frightened-looking DeckMaster at his side.
“Confirmed, sir,” he said to Vi’khaji, “between DNA and DeckMaster Fanlan here. He says that he hasn’t seen DeckHand Jen Connau since the alert sounded, and this blood sample matches her I.D.” Vi’khaji nodded acknowledgement.
“DeckMaster Fanlan, why would DeckHand Connau be here during an intruder alert?” she questioned without turning her eyes from the corridor she watched. Fanlan looked down the corridor as well, nervously chewing his lip and trying to ignore the blood smear.
“She was originally doing an inventory,” he replied, “the ‘bots came up with a discrepancy so she was supposed to do it manually, by serial-number check, and when the alert sounded, she said over the comm she was on her way out,” he looked at the blood smear, more visibly shaken now, “we didn’t hear from her again, about the time she should have arrived, the security troops showed up and had everyone stay in place.”
“Took her time getting out,” Vi’khaji observed drily.
“Like everyone else, she probably figured there was little danger with intruders coming to a hold,” Ranya reminded her. Ranya faced all the security troops clustered around the hatchway. “Listen up, people,” she demanded, “quit thinking of this thing as an enemy agent or spy. It is an animal of some sort-- pissed off, hungry, unpredictable, fast and strong. It is not thinking of tactics or boobytraps or covering fire. It’s more like wild game hunting. It won’t do anything reasonable or predictable,” she said, while some of the security personnel traded looks. The Security Chief re-entered the hatchway.
“Okay, teams on decks above and below have secured their areas. Everything is in decompression lockdown. Abovedecks teams found the entry hole-- it was using the air ducts again-- and as near as we can tell, it hasn’t left. It is somewhere in this hold,” he said, looking around. Other black-helmeted heads also gazed around, and Lieutenant Vi’khaji put her own helmet back on, leaving her visor open.
“Well, then” she said casually, “we better get busy.” She looked at Ranya, and her carbine. “You know what the damn thing looks like and acts like, right, sir?” Ranya felt nervous, looking down the corridor of crates.
“Yeah, well, it’s all on the video,” she said, pointing to the security girl’s visor, “didn’t you see it?”
“Yeah. Ugly mean dog,” she replied, “changes shape, too, doesn’t it? Look-- either you watch through my helmet cam or come along. Either way, anybody that can give me an extra bit of intel on this thing is welcome, okay, sir?” Before Ranya could answer, the Tchienn woman-- Ranya had not noticed before how small she was-- waved her team forward. Six troopers dislodged themselves from their firing positions behind crates and pallets, forming a line, their weapons alternating. Two other teams of troopers climbed onto the tops of the cases near the hatchway, setting up watch points overlooking the entire hold. Anything moving over the tops of the supplies would be seen immediately.
“Lieutenant Vi’khaji,” Ranya called over her commlink, “I’ll join you,” she said, checking the power cell on her weapon. Over two hundred rounds of energy waited in the magazine, and the security troopers had more. I sent Lattimer into the last cargo hold full of aliens, she reasoned, justifying her actions to herself. If she said such things aloud, it would be enough to pull her from the squad. She kept her face neutral and passed by the Security Chief and Commander Cairn, both of whom were watching her quietly as she went to stand just behind Vi’khaji. The Tchienn looked over her shoulder and nodded approval, then silently crept forward. The rest of the squad closed around them-- close enough to support one another, but spaced out enough not to be ambushed-- and again Ranya thought about reminding them that this was not an enemy thinking in terms of tactics. She dismissed it. Don’t try to untrain someone when their training is the most familiar territory they have, she reminded herself.
The corridors got progressively darker, and Ranya again wished she had armor, or at least a helmet. Too late now, she decided, stealing a glance behind her. The open part of the hold was already far behind them.
“Got some movement,” someone said over the squad frequency. Ranya gripped her weapon tighter, a heavy nervousness beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. Lieutenant Vi’khaji did not slow, but acknowledged the report silently and adjusted her own sensor to align on the movement.
“Stay sharp,” she reminded her squad, “there’s only one of them, right, sir?” Ranya nodded, then remembered that only a couple of the troops could see her gesture.
“Yeah,” she replied, looking around. Was that a noise?
“Sir!” someone called, and both Vi’khaji and Ranya turned to look at where one of the black-armored crewers pointed. A junction in the crates was all they saw. “Sorry-- it was movement. Visual, shadow of something,” the crewer said. Vi’khaji nodded and easily switched her route towards the direction indicated by the security trooper.
“How big is this damn thing supposed to be?” someone asked. Ranya thought back to what she saw in the medlab.
“About the size of a small dog,” she replied.
“So it can attack a person, kill her, and drag her off in, what, ten hepts?” another voice asked. Ranya looked at the deck as they reached the junction, where a small spot of gel-like substance sat.
“It’s a strong dog,” Ranya said absently, looking at Vi’khaji, who also saw the substance. She produced an evidence bag and put some of the substance in it. Their eyes met. “Marking territory?” Ranya asked innocently. Vi’khaji wrinkled her nose as she put the bag in the pocket of her armor.
“Don’t be disgusting,” she said, and waved the squad on. “It’s around here somewhere, so keep your eyes open.”
“Somebody got some biscuits?” another trooper joked. Vi’khaji looked back at her squad.
“We’ll have more fun after its head is stuffed and mounted on the wall in the lounge,” she said, reprimanding by hint.
“Big movement!” someone cut in, it sounded like the same voice from earlier. “Forward, starboard.” Everyone took up ready positions.
“How big?” Vi’khaji askd.
“Bigger n’ a dog,” the voice came back.
“What does that mean--”
“Fire team! Movement overhead, repeat--” Ranya didn’t hear the rest of the message. A sharp sound like a cracking whip went off right next to her. The trooper to her left looked stunned.
“What was--” she asked, then saw the rust-colored spike being withdrawn from the man’s chest. “--Holy shit!” she spun to level her weapon to the crates overhead, snapping off a burst from the weapon. Shadows moved.
“Fuck!” someone screamed, then, “Crannel! Behind you!” Armored bodies wheeled around and released a barrage of energy fire, which crackled past a trooper being dragged to the deck by something. It was big and ugly, about the size of a person and with a massively elongated head. The trooper-- Crannel-- was on his back, panic firing into the mass of the creature.
“Lookout! Acid!” Ranya yelled, suddenly remembering the effects of the creature’s blood. Energy bolts tore craters into the being’s flesh and acid was flash fried into a sickly-smelling vapor. Gobbets of acid spewed forth from the alien and coated the security trooper on the floor. The alien lost its grip on the man who crawled, screaming, away from it. Another trooper grabbed him and began peeling away at the armor, his own gloves beginning to dissolve as well. Ranya aimed burst after burst into the creature as it screamed a sound she would have nightmares of for the rest of her life. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared, with a pool of acidic blood busily eating its way through the deck. Vi’khaji called for medical support for her crewers-- and for reinforcements. A hole was forming in the deck easily big enough for a person to fall through. “Engineering!” Ranya hollered into the comm, “massive deck breach in section 10-deca!”
Ranya and Vi’khaji held defensive positions with the remaining troopers while medics and more riflemen scurried to meet them. The wounded crewer was taken out, his body being doused with an industrial acid neutralizer. Eight more security crewers reported to Vi’khaji’s command, another twelve were approaching as well, escorting the patching team from Engineering. Two more crews were already mobilized for the decks below. The sizzling acid blood trail on the deck was easy for them to follow.
“Great,” Ranya said, “now it is a hungry, angry, wounded animal.” Vi’khaji grunted but said nothing, moving forward into the point position. Ranya watched, impassively, as the diminutive Tchienn woman loaded the grenade launcher slung under her rifle.
“Weapons to max intensity,” she ordered, and the squad moved out. They quickly closed the distance to what had to be the creature’s chosen nesting site. It was an isolated corner of the hold, wedged in behind two massive stacks of crates. The walls were partially covered with some sort of slimy paste, hardening to form an organic look to the area.
“We caught him trying to make the place more homey,” Vi’khaji muttered, staring at the odd lumps and forms, so unnatural in the cargo hold full of hard angles. One of the lumps was looking back at her. “What the--? Goddamnit!” she hissed, her voice sending chills down Ranya’s spine.
“What is. . ? Oh, shit. . .” the bomber commander suddenly locked her gaze in the same direction as the Tchienn's impassionate visor. There, glued to the wall, was the form of DeckHand Jen Connau, her arms and legs and part of her lower torso moulded into a sort of cocoon. She was pale, and her eyes were open, her face staring in slack, disbelieving horror towards the opening the officers had emerged from. Ranya stepped forward, but stopped. Vi’khaji’s hand went up, motioning her to stay out of the clearing claimed by the creature. “She couldn’t still be. . ?” Ranya asked hesitantly. Vikhaji’s helmet nodded very slightly. Ranya looked again, to see a streak of lazy tears winding down the girl’s cheeks. Ranya felt herself go cold. “Medteam,” she rasped into the mike, “be ready but hold position. Area is not secure.”
“Where the fuck is it?” Vi’khaji breathed. Ranya scanned all around, above, and down
the adjacent corridors. The other troops fanned out and did the same in small groups, keeping a watch in all directions.
“Wherever it is, it’s not making any moves,” someone answered her over the Security frequency. Vi’khaji acknowledged the reports from each team, as well as the patch team and their security escort. Nothing was moving.
“Let’s get her out of here,” Vi’khaji decided, calling in the medteam. She informed Doctor Azzan of an approaching casualty. He looked through the helmet video and consulted with Lieutenant-Commander Jiad.
“Lieutenant Savan,” he called over the Medical frequency, “in your direct experience with the creature’s habits, does this seem to be another larva situation?”
“I’d bet on it,” she replied. Azzan was silent for a moment.
“Don’t bring her here,” he said. “Medbay will send you all the equipment we can, but do not take her out of the area that has been isolated. We don’t want two of these things running around, okay?” Ranya acknowledged, frowning. Best to keep both creatures locked up in here with us, she said in her mind. But it’s the right call, and by Thyssa, I’d give the same damn order. She traded looks with the emotionless helmet mask of Vi’khaji as they moved forward. Connau’s eyes drifted in and out of focus and Ranya remembered something Azzan said about blood toxins.
“Relax,” Ranya said in a voice she hoped sounded soothing rather than shaky. Connau seemed only barely aware that anyone was nearby. From somewhere in her throat she made a weak croaking sound which Ranya couldn’t understand.
“Movement!” someone shouted over the Security freq. Ranya put her back to the wall and Vi’khaji did the same, the security team scanning the corridors and crate tops for any sign of the thing.
“Movement towards the nest,” another voice confirmed.
“Security team, target top,” the overwatch said on the comm. A few bolts of energy hissed by overhead, exploding uselessly against a far bulkhead.
“All teams, converge on my position,” Vi’khaji insisted. A curse crackled over the frequency but there was no firing. “Team leaders! Head count!” One by one, teams reported in that they were all accounted for. “Overwatch, target position?”
“Negative, seg,” came the reply, “It’s dropped out of sight.” Vi’khaji looked around, as most of the team leaders, now visible in the nearest junctions of the corridors, reoriented weapons down the corridors themselves. For a tense moment everyone waited. Ranya reached for her bayonet and ignited the thin, blue laser blade, adding a surreal glow to the dim light of the creature’s nest. She reached for the glue that stuck Connau’s arm to the bulkhead and began to cut the young woman away.
A shadow covered the nest and something landed with a heavy thud on the deck next to her. Screams and shouts coursed through Ranya’s earpiece as she turned, as if in slow motion, to see the hideous alien standing over her, dark and terrifying. Frozen in fear, she watched in horrified fascination as the creature’s mouth opened and a smaller set of jaws began to come out, reaching for her. I wonder what Doctor Azzan would think of that, she thought somewhere in the detached, disbelieving part of her mind.
A flash of light blinded her, and familiar sounds and smells intruded their way back into her reality. Next to her, Lieutenant Vi’khaji pumped blaster fire into the creature’s flank, which disintegrated before the energy weapon’s unleashed power. Shrieking, the creature turned towards Vi’khaji and the protruding set of jaws lashed towards her, almost piercing her armor. The creature, its jaws now stuck in the armor plate, began to pull the petite Tchienn towards itself. Ranya, bayonet in hand, lurched forward and with a quick slice severed the jaws from the alien. Vi’khaji fell back, the smoking stump still stuck to her armor, and narrowly missed being splashed with acid from the gaping wounds that had been torn in the being’s side and mouth.
The alien shrieked and tossed its head, acid spray coating the walls where Ranya and Vi’khaji had been standing, dousing the remains of Jen Connau. Ranya dove for cover in a nearby corridor, Vi’khaji did the same on the opposite side of the nest. Behind the creature, a crewman was stabbed through the gut with the thing’s spiked tail, and four other security crewers had tried to hold him down and release him. The alien’s tail sawed through the man and began lashing the room indiscriminately. Crewers backed away, firing into the mass of the thing, which crumpled to the deck in a pool of acid.
“Grenade!” came a high-pitched order through the Security comm. An oddly muffled thump sounded from across the room, and a tell-tale curlicue of smoke arced the two meter distance from Vi’khaji’s weapon towards the still-struggling thing on the floor. Everyone was already scrambling behind cover when the detonation tore a head-sized gap in the alien’s body, and all was silent, except for the fizzing and popping of the blood as it ate its way through the deck. Ranya sat up and looked at the corpse as it slumped through to the floor below, where it lay, unmoving.
“Engineering team to section 10-deca,” she called dispassionately through the Maintenance frequency, “we need to patch some holes.”
Deck 12, Aft Briefing Room, that night.
“The embryo that was forming in the body of DeckHand Jen Connau was effectively destroyed when her body was corroded by the alien’s acidic blood,” Doctor Azzan stated with clinical detachment. “Other crewmembers, living and dead, that had physical contact with the creature did not show any signs that they were in any way infected with similar embryos,” he added, finally closing the lid of relief on those present. “In all,” he continued gravely, “four crewmembers were lost to this being, and half a dozen more suffered various injuries, mostly from the acidic effects of its blood. The worst injuries were sustained by Security trooper Crannel, who is in serious yet stable condition, and we are awaiting cloned limb and organ replacements to be finished forming before we will be able to upgrade his status.” Around the table, most of the section chiefs present nodded with satisfaction, even those who had no idea who Crannel was. Azzan sat down, and the Engineering Chief gave his own briefing, summing up the status of the repairs on the affected decks, which would be completed within two days’ time. Again, satisfied nods bobbed around the table. Finally, Commander Cairn stood to face them all.
“Our board of inquiry will continue,” she stated plainly, which drew some stern looks, “but I must admit it is primarily a formality at this point. Since the arrival of the alien life form, I feel that the teams from Medical staff, Security, and Engineering performed their jobs with professionalism. Our mission was expected to carry us to a distant galaxy, with unknown alien dangers to be expected, and that is where I must question the judgment of personnel with Flight Group,” she said with a nod towards Lieutenant-Commander Jiad, who seemed
on the verge of a protest. “OverLieutenant Ranya Savan and her crew were told to scout for alien signals, and alert us to the presence of any such signals found. She did her mission as prescribed, and it was under the orders of the bridge that she followed up on those signals, in accordance to our contact protocols. The fact that we seem to have ended up in a distant corner of a completely different galaxy in no way negates the validity of our mission or our protocols.” Jiad and Azzan exchanged glances, as did the Flight Chief and Ranya’s own Raptor Group Commander.
“Still,” Cairn insisted, “there remains the fact that she allowed for Lieutenant Lattimer to enter the alien cargo hold alone, endangering his life and in turn exposing the Mystere and its crew to danger,” she gazed evenly at the collected assembly, “which in turn resulted in the four deaths and multiple injuries mentioned. Comments?” Jiad practically leaped from his seat.
“I object,” he emphasized, “The officer volunteered to go down first, and assumed the risks of doing so. He was armed and prepared, and I feel that sending another crewer into that situation would only have resulted in two people infected with these alien. . . larvae.” Doctor Azzan raised a hand, which Cairn acknowledged without a word.
“I concur with the Science Chief Jiad’s assessment. The team on site, as we ourselves saw in the video monitors, barely had time to pull out the wounded man and the retrieval team. They would not have been able to recover two bodies, plus the team, before being overrun by the alien spiders,” he added, “Lieutenant Savan limited the risks as much as she could while carrying out her mission.” There were mutterings of agreement at this.
“That is the responsibility of any field leader,” the Security Chief added, “these aliens are unlike anything we’ve encountered before. With only our previous experience to go on, there was no reason to believe that extra precautions were necessary,” he looked around the table, meeting each set of eyes at a glance, and silently received affirmation. Cairn nodded.
“Most of this crew is made up of veterans, and other volunteers,” she stated, “People who know the risks and are willing to accept them. My job is to trust their judgment and back them up when necessary. So. I ask you now-- is there anyone here that feels a need to make a formal statement regarding the actions of OverLieutenant Ranya Savan and her actions and decisions in the last twenty-five hours?” Cairn met everyone’s look for a second, before straightening herself to attention. There was silence all around the table.
“Very well,” she said, “case closed and logged. If there is nothing else, I suggest we all return to our duties and seek out our next crisis.” The section chiefs stood and filed out of the room, muffled conversation breaking out and blooming as the various officers made their way out into the corridors, leaving only Commander Mita Cairn remaining in the room. She looked at the filename of the saved log for a second before brushing the situation from her mind and returning to the bridge.
(...End)
Comments
John Bandow
A great story, sir.
