Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“Can you raise Lieutenant Hawkes?” Devereux asked.

Elizabeth tapped out the command on her tablet. An acknowledgement signal flashed back almost instantly. “Yes, Captain,” she replied. “I him on comm.”

“Put him on the main speakers.”

Elizabeth entered the appropriate commands.

“Yes, Captain?” Hawkes’ voice sounded from around them. From the carefully paced cadence of his words, Elizabeth guessed that he was still running down the corridors toward the infirmary. “I have not yet reached the infirmary.”

“Where are—“

Devereux was interrupted by a crash of static across the speakers.

“Lieutenant Hawkes,” she called out. “Report!”

She was answered only by a wavering buzz of interference. Her eyes turned toward Elizabeth with a. intense and questioning gaze.

Elizabeth tapped the controls on her tablet and then repeated the same actions on the console in front of her. Both efforts yielded the same results: that is, none. She lowered her tablet in resigned frustration.

“His comm must be blocked by the interference.”

Devereux slapped her palm against the surface of her console. It did not sound to Elizabeth like it was hard enough to swing, but it was a clear sign of the Captain’s concern.

Elizabeth saw the Captain’s eyes glance toward the main hatch.

She wants to go down there, too. Heaven knows I do.

Elizabeth wondered whether she would be able to protest if the Captain attempted it. Enough of the ship’s senior officers were already unaccounted for without either them adding to that number.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Elizabeth listened to the garbled reports coming over the comm. Through the urgent shouts and sporadic sounds of blaster fire, she had lost track of which voice belonged to whom. She glanced toward the Tactical station, and then at the main hatch, envious that Hawkes had been allowed to witness the action for himself.

“Captain,” she called out as a status message blinked on her tablet. “The Engineering team reports that they’ve managed to get a signal from one of the aft security feeds.”

“Let’s see it,” Devereux ordered. “Put it on Screen One.”

The comparatively prosaic scene of the debris field dissolved away. A moment later, it was replaced by a gray-white wash of static.

“I don’t see anything,” Devereux said, peering hard at the monochromatic haze.

“It’s pretty weak, Captain,” Elizabeth admitted, feeling a sharp twinge of embarrassment. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her yet.

“See if you can clear it up.”

Elizabeth tapped out instructions to the Engineering team. “They’re working on it,” she told Devereux. “There’s a lot of damage to the conduits running through that bulkhead.” She paused, looking down at the updated status report. “Some of it might be interfering with the signal.”

Devereux frowned unhappily.

Portions of the image cleared for a moment. Elizabeth recognized two figures in Security uniforms. They both appeared to be very busy firing their weapons and defending themselves against . . . what? One of the men dove for cover and—

—the screen flared and then was once again filled with the flickering gray interference

“Can you get it back?”

Elizabeth was surprised by the anxiety in Devereux’s voice. “We’re trying,” she told the Captain. “But the line might have been overloaded.”

Devereux mumbled something under breath that might have been a curse. Elizabeth stared at her for a moment in surprise before looking back down at her tablet.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hope stared back at the Captain. The Captain’s face filled her vision with startling clarity. All else around it seemed distant and out of focus. She attempted to will her way back to full control over her senses, but the effort exhausted her.

I needed to help . . . to help heal the Chief Engineer.

She found herself unable to speak the words aloud. The Captain glared down at her, glancing away only for an instant to check the monitors.

“I don’t think she’s in any immediate danger,” the Lieutenant Ramsey said. “She’s weak, and needs to rest, but it doesn’t seem any more serious than that.”

“Are you sure?” the Captain asked. Hope could hear the deep concern in her voice.

The Lieutenant Ramsey checked the readouts again and frowned. “As sure as I can be,” she said. “At least the monitors don’t seem to be showing anything more than that.” The Lieutenant Ramsey turned back to face the Captain apologetically. “I didn’t exactly get trained in Aerian physiology.”

An understanding scowl crossed the Captain’s face. “Something I guess we’d better all correct sooner rather than later.”

“Perhaps I can help, Captain.”

All of the heads turned toward the Tactical Officer in surprise.

“In what way?” the Captain asked.

The Tactical Officer studied Hope for a moment before turning back to answer the Captain’s question.

“I have gathered a considerable amount of data on Aerian physiological weaknesses and limitations,” he explained. “For tactical purposes.”

A faint smile played along the Captain’s lips. “Of course you have,” she said.

“Ever since Hope’s groupies showed up, eh?” the Chief Engineer quipped from the other bed.

The Tactical Officer’s mouth opened, but the Captain rested a hand on his arm. “Let it go, Lieutenant.”

The Tactical Officer regarded the Captain for a moment before turning to look once again at the medical displays. “I’ll have the data sent to Lieutenant Ramsey.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” the Captain said with sincere smile and then looked back down at Hope.

Hope stared back. The Captain appeared to be less agitated now. Hope tried to rise, but the strength to do so eluded her.

I am weak.

The acknowledgment did not please her.

“You need to rest,” the Captain told her. “I think Lieutenant Ramsey can handle things for a few days.”

No! I must study the Other One!

The Captain seemed not to notice her distress.

“And I’ve got two Security officers here to make sure you do,” she said, laughing softly.

Hope did not find the statement amusing.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“How is she?” Devereux demanded.

“I . . . I don’t know yet,” Ramsey replied. The uncertainty in her voice was also reflected in her gestures. “I’m trying to remember how to re-calibrate this . . .”

Hope lay limply on the diagnostic bed. She pale complexion appeared waxen, her large eyes dull. Her thin, nearly lipless mouth hung open, but Hawkes could not tell whether or not she was breathing.

Something hummed and a familiar faint green glow emanated from the bed’s surface. Several of the monitors came to life. The readings they showed, particularly those related to heart rate and respiration looked nothing like what Hawkes expected to see for a human being. Whether they were correct, or even normal, for an Aerian, he did not know.

Ramsey adjusted something on the console and the audio indicators became less insistent. The colors on the real-time physiological charts settled into the customary spectrum.

“There,” Ramsey said, releasing a long breath. “That should do it.”

“How is she?” Devereux repeated.

Ramsey frowned and studied the displays. “According to this,” she said, “if I’m reading it right, she suffered a cerebral hypoperfusion episode.”

“Is that serious?”

Ramsey looked up, clearly trying hard not to smirk as she answered the Captain. “She fainted.”

Devereux stared back at Ramsey, clearly not amused. “Why?”

“For getting out of bed,” Ramsey replied, with only the faintest hint of reproach. “She was more banged up than the Chief was,” she explained. “She needed rest, and time to heal, but didn’t.”

An audible breath sounded from Hope. Her eyes quickly regained their normal bright sheen. The waxy texture was slower to leave the surface of her skin.

“She’s coming around,” Ramsey reported, somewhat needlessly, Hawkes thought.

“Hope?” Devereux asked, moving closer to the diagnostic bed.

“Captain.”

“What the hell did you think you were doing?”

Hope was uncharacteristically silent for a moment before she answered.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

He wondered, though, if she was conscious that she had done so.

She is both distracted and angry. Concern over the fate of the Doctor? The Chief Engineer?

Hawkes noted with silent approval as a Security officer fell into step behind as they passed a junction on the next deck down. He recognized Ensign Lenz by his distinctive, closely-cut hair style and stride. Although Hawkes was reasonably certain that he could defend the Captain alone, he felt reassured at having the support, should the alien manage to break loose again.

They reached the infirmary with exchanging a single word. Hawkes moved ahead to open the hatch for the Captain. Lenz moved in close behind Devereux. His hand, Hawkes noted approvingly, rested ready on his weapon.

Devereux strode in past him, barely acknowledging the Security officer, giving Hawkes further evidence that the Captain was distracted. She tended to be unfailingly polite to members of her crew, typically responding with a courteous word or gesture. Sykes and Tuggle straightened when they saw the Captain enter, but then their postures snapped into rigid attention upon seeing Hawkes with her. Hawkes appraised them critically, but said nothing as he tried to stay close to the Captain.

A few, quick strides brought the Captain across the infirmary antechamber and to the recovery bays. Hope turned at her approach.

“He will recover.”

She stood beside the Chief Engineer’s bed. Hawkes could not immediately decide which of the two of them remained in worse condition. Bruises like smudges of ash marked the Aerian physician’s otherwise alabaster complexion. Her gait, although she moved very little, remained awkward and stiff. Hawkes suspected that she still suffered significant pain from those injuries, but her expression revealed nothing.

Devereux studied the Chief Engineer for a moment and then turned her gaze fiercely toward Hope. Hawkes could rarely recall seeing such hard rage reflected in the Captain’s eyes. The lines of her jaw ran tight with tension. She opened her mouth to speak, clearly planning to address the Medical Officer when the Chief Engineer interrupted her.

“Hey there, Cap’n.”

The Chief’s voice was weak, although it still managed to convey much of its customary exuberance. He remained on the bed, but raised himself cautiously onto his elbows to face them. Devereux held her hard glare on Hope for a moment longer and then turned toward the Chief Engineer, forcing her expression to soften.

“How are you feeling, Chief?”

The Chief Engineer flexed some muscles experimentally. He winced lightly a few times, but gave no indications of great pain.

“Hell,” he said, coughing lightly and clearing his throat. “I’ve been in worse bar fights.”

“I know you have.”

Devereux’s expression was dead-pan at first, then she chuckled and her posture relaxed, clearly relieved that the Chief Engineer seemed to have at least recovered what passed for his wit.

The Chief grinned back at her. It lasted almost a moment, though. His eyes widened and his head turned sharply.

“Doc!”

Hawkes turned in time to see Hope lose her balance, trying to clutch for purchase on the console as she fell toward the deck. Fortunately, Lenz reacted more quickly, catching the alien physician’s torso before her head hit the deck.

“Ramsey!” Devereux shouted to the physician’s assistant.

The young woman turned, her long dusky blonde ponytail whipping through the air. Her eyes widened with surprise.

“When did she—“ She stopped, seeing the Captain’s expression, and composed herself. “Bed Three,” she told Lenz, as the Security officer carefully lifted Hope from the deck.

Ramsey already had the bed’s systems online by the time Lenz reached it. Slowly, and with deliberate care, he lowered Hope onto the bed.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“Captain,” Hawkes called, interrupting her thoughts. “The infirmary reports that Chief Rayna has regained consciousness.”

Devereux turned toward the Tactical station with a frown. “What about Hope?”

“She is . . .” To Devereux’s surprise, the Tactical Officer hesitated, as if unable to make sense of the report he had received. “She is treating Chief Rayna.” His expression, Devereux noted, remained almost unreadable, but she was certain that she saw an undeniable glint of disbelief in her Tactical Officer’s eyes.

“Tell them I’m on my way.” She started to turn away, but caught a glimpse of Hawkes beginning to open his mouth. “Fine, Lieutenant,” she said, cutting off the protest that she was certain was coming. “You’re with me.”

She locked down her console and called toward the helmsman. “Lieutenant Pyrafox, you have the bridge.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Devereux headed for the main hatch, not at all surprised to find Hawkes already there.

#

As he escorted the Captain from the bridge, Hawkes continued to mentally assess the unusual status report that he had received. His Security officers assigned to the infirmary, Tuggle and Sykes, while hardly the most disciplined members of his Security force, were not known for submitting inaccurate reports. They might, on occasion, Hawkes considered wryly, resort to hyperbole, but never to outright misrepresentation of the facts.

The Doctor had suffered severe wounds, requiring treatment to heal several fractures. It was only through the unusually quick and protective actions of the Chief Engineer that she had not suffered graver injuries. He had, however, done so at great cost to his own safety.

His actions have gained the admiration of my Security force as well. And mine as well.

Hawkes glanced at the Captain, but she seemed intent on her own thoughts. Despite the demonstrated destructive abilities of their captive, he noted that she had chosen not to arm herself. He, of course, had retained his sidearm since the alien being had first been brought on board.

She must feel that my team and I are capable of protecting her.

He was surprised by the small swell of pride that accompanied that thought.

I’m just performing my duty, he reminded himself. As per Fleet regulations.

For a moment, he considered reminding the Captain of the ones applicable to this situation, but decided against doing so.

She is as cognizant of the regulations as I am, he reasoned. She has made a choice to disregard them.

Hawkes noted with silent approval as a Security fell into step behind as they passed a junction on the next deck down. Although he was reasonably certain that he could defend the Captain, should the alien break loose again, he felt reassured at having the support.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Devereux studied the survey reports again. So far, neither the analyses from the exobiologists or the metallurgical studies had revealed any clear answers as to the origin or species responsible for the debris discovered in the field. For the most part, the composition of the asteroid fragments had been found to be unremarkable. The majority of them, particularly as one moved further out from the locus of the original disturbance, contained elements that could be found widely throughout known space.

Her eyes flicked toward the helm as Pyrafox made an adjustment on his console, firing the maneuvering jets to adjust or hold their position. Newton’s laws being what they were, even the ship remained stationary, the fragments around them continued to move, however slowly. Occasional course corrections would be needed to avoid collisions with some of the larger chunks.

“Lieutenant,” Devereux said in a musing tone, moving to address Gho at the Science station. “I assume that debris field is still drifting?”

The young Science officer looked startled by the question. “Yes, Captain,” she replied and then consulted her console. “I think astro—“

“Can we trace its course back to its point of origin?”

Gho blinked as she processed the Captain’s question. “We should be able to,” she answered with some confidence. “I’ll need to—“

“Good,” Devereux agreed. “Work with the Lieutenant, if you need to,” she said, nodding toward the helm station.

“Yes, Captain,” Gho replied. Devereux saw the Science officer swallow hard. “I’ll get right on it.”

Devereux glanced toward the helm station as she moved away. He did not appear to be aware of her gaze, but his ears were perked up at attention.

We’re going to need to get used to this, she reflected.

Devereux sensed the Science officer’s conflicting desires for the helmsman and wondered which drove the young woman more: curiosity, revulsion, or guilt over feeling emotions that contradicted her spiritual beliefs.

There’s tens of thousands of them, she reminded herself. A lot of them serving in the Fleet.

The Star Force, she knew, was one of the few places where the products of Earth’s of extreme genetic engineering program felt reasonably at home. Mingled among the handful of alien races that humans had encountered so far, they appeared somewhat less remarkable and noteworthy. As far as she could tell, Pyrafox had never allowed his genetic heritage to slow him down. If anything, he was one of the few of his kind who seemed to embrace it without slipping onto the side of radicalism.

Devereux had never carried any particular prejudice against them. She could recall, though, as a young girl, her surprise and then intense curiosity at seeing one a local marketplace. That one had been an unusually rare blend of genes, giving the woman feathers, yet the facial features that seemed to be more amphibious in nature. The result had been, at least to her, surprisingly aesthetically intriguing.

Yes, Devereux reassured herself. I would let my sister marry one—if I had a sister. For herself, Devereux had never found herself emotionally drawn toward any of them, although she had encountered plenty during her days at the Academy and in the service of the Fleet. She much preferred, in general, the company of human males.

Although that doesn’t quite explain your reaction to the Heftaur ambassador, does it, Christine?

It was more with fondness than discomfort that she recalled her brief encounter with Tarkanan, the Heftaur liaison, during their unexpected mission to ferry a group of alien ambassadors to a rendezvous with another vessel heading toward a diplomatic enclave on Sagan One.

Besides, she told herself. That was different. He was an alien, not a . . . well . . .

She stopped herself right there, recognizing that if she could not convince herself, then there was no way that she might convince someone else.