Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

All discussion fell away as Devereux entered. Pausing in the hatchway, she silently surveyed the table and those around it, seeing that the chair at the head of the table remained vacant. Although it was customary to reserve that seat for the ranking officer, she really did not care where she sat, just so long as she had a seat.

Ratko dropped into the seat next to the Chief, making more noise and fuss about it than was probably necessary. Making a show of getting comfortable, he turned to the Chief Engineer and greeted him in gravelly whisper that was easily overheard by everyone else at the table.

“Hey there, ol’ rust bucket,” he remarked with rough cordiality as he eyed the Chief’s numerous bruises. “I hear you tried to go ten rounds with that thing in the brig.” He snorted with mock derision. Devereux was convinced it was entirely false. “Told ya to stay away from that hooch from the still behind the plasma converters.”

Despite the urgency of other matters on her mind, Devereux found herself observing the Chief’s reaction. It would not be the first time that some clever and enterprising Engineering crew, usually with the assistance of someone from the Science staff, had constructed a still on board a ship. She was certain that the Chief had maintained one before the refit. It had been perhaps one of worst-kept secrets aboard their small vessel, but she had never pushed too hard to officially locate and confiscate it—much to her Tactical Officer’s displeasure. Since then, though, she had heard nothing. Nor had Hawkes brought to her anything more than vague, fleeting rumors (all of which had turned out to be just that) of the existence of a new one.

Something sparked in the Chief Engineer’s eyes, but then faded and fled. Nothing in his expression or posture revealed that Ratko had touched on the truth. Mostly, the Chief just looked tired.

Not surprising, Devereux thought. He should be recuperating in the infirmary.

She let the matter pass, understanding full well why he wanted to be present.

I’d probably do that same thing—being the Captain or not. Damn, she added with a guilty start, I need to check in on Hope.

Hawkes, to her surprise, seemed to be ignoring the exchange. His attention was apparently captured by something Elizabeth had said before she had entered the room. Whatever the exchange had been, it had clearly agitated her First Officer.

I guess we’ll find out . . .

Devereux eased into her seat, taking those few moments to regather and refocus her thoughts. She knew, without looking, that all eyes were on her, directly or not.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Boredom, he could see, would be a problem. Reliving his most exciting memories would be fine . . . for a time. After that, what else was there?

He felt odd sensations along his body now. His mind seemed less disconnected from them than before.

Not a plus, he decided, as his earlier numbness faded in spots, replaced by a collection of dull aches.

He became aware of light, but nothing that resembled a tunnel or, thank the Morris, something generated by fire and brimstone.

What does brimstone smell like anyway?

He sniffed experimentally, prepared to cough and retch. Instead, the odor was only mildly unpleasant—and all too familiar.

By the Morris, this is Hell. I’m going to be trapped for eternity in here with that damned alien doc!

His head thrashed back and forth—or at least he thought it did—as he tried to forcibly thrust the notion from his mind. His eyes snapped open. There, staring down at him, were a familiar pair of large, dark alien eyes.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Rusty was floating. His mind drifted free. His body remained locked within the embrace of gravity. It was a sensation that he recognized.

Pain meds. Strong ones.

Damn.

The Doc never would’ve . . .

Hope!

His distress cut through the medicated fog. He still felt strangely light. A moment later, one through which he fought to think clearly, he realized that it because nothing now pinned him against deck. In fact, the deck felt oddly soft beneath him.

The A-G’s out?

No. Bio-bed.

The infirmary? That seemed right. At least it’s not the morgue.

His thoughts became a jumbled, colliding set of a images: the sight of space through his helmet, landing on a large chunk of rock, wanting to kick Professor Jeffries out of orbit for being a nuisance, an angel . . .

An angel? By the Morris, maybe I am dead.

He pondered that for a moment, not liking how it felt.

Not much of an afterlife . . .

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“Commander?”

Elizabeth started, silently praying that it was not the first time that the Captain had addressed her.

I really need to stop doing that. Pay attention, Elizabeth!

“Yes, Captain?”

“Are the security cameras functioning down those corridors?”

Elizabeth tapped her tablet and checked, even though she was pretty certain of the answer. “Yes, Captain,” she reported. “Engineering says they’re operational.”

“Then why aren’t they on the main screen?”

Fortunately, Pyrafox reacted more quickly than Elizabeth did.

“On Screen Three, Captain,” the helmsman informed them. “It looks like they’re on Deck Four, Section Eight.”

“I can see that, Lieutenant,” Devereux remarked, her eyes pointed toward the status readouts on the bottom of the image.”

“Urm,” the helmsman said. Elizabeth saw him swallow back whatever else he had intended to say. “Yes, Captain,” was what he settled for.

Elizabeth watched as Hawkes, flanked by the two Security officers from the infirmary, led the winged alien toward the brig. Each intersection of corridors they passed also contained a additional guard posted in each direction it led. It became almost a rhythm as the small group moved along, making their way through one passage way and then another.

Both tension and relief became palpable in the atmosphere on the bridge when they received the hatch that led to the brig. Hawkes entered his access code and then waited as two of the Security officers opened the hatch. One of them entered ahead of the rest of the group. The alien seemed to understand Hawkes’ gesture and moved through the hatchway.

The vantage point of the scene changed as the computer switched cameras. Elizabeth guessed that this was inside the brig’s antechamber, as she saw the alien enter, followed only a pace behind by Hawkes. With his weapon drawn and ready, the angle of the camera made him appear quite threatening.

The ship’s brig consisted of a single large chamber, It could be partitioned into three cells of roughly equal size, separated by mountable bulkheads manufactured from hull alloy. Unless the occupant was capable of punching through the ship’s hull, the cells were effectively impregnable. For reasons only Lieutenant Hawkes knew, he had ordered it configured for a single, wide cell.

The winged alien stepped inside, after hesitating for a moment, and then watched quiescently as the Security officer resealed the hatch. A guard took position outside the hatch, while another one assumed a station out in the antechamber. Hawkes conferred with the one in the outer chamber and then disappeared from view as he stepped back into the corridor.

“Well,” Devereux said. “That’s done.” She turned away from the screen and began to move toward the main hatchway. “I’ll be in the infirmary.”

“But, Captain,” Elizabeth called to her quietly. “The Lieutenant—”

“Have him meet me there, then.”

“Captain,” Elizabeth persisted, trying not to allow her uncertainty to show in her tone. “He said to wait until repairs have been completed.”

Devereux stared back at her. Elizabeth was relieved not to see any anger reflected in the Captain’s eyes. There was something else there, though, Elizabeth, but she could not quite put her finger on what it was.

Worry? Frustration?

“And are they?”

Elizabeth covered her startled surprise by checking her tablet.

“Not yet, Captain,” she reported. “The Engineering team reports that they need at least forty more minutes before the damage will be secured.”

“Fine,” Devereux replied.

Elizabeth thought she heard the Captain sigh with resignation, but then realized that Devereux had expressed it more by the change in her posture than through any audible sound. She watched as Devereux returned to the command deck, trying very hard to hide her smile.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“Captain!” Elizabeth called out, a bit louder than she had intended.

Devereux looked toward Elizabeth with a look of concern. “What is it, Commander?”

Elizabeth examined the message on her tablet one more, just to make sure she had understood it correctly the first three times she had read it.

“Commander?”

Elizabeth looked up, feeling a sharp twinge of guilt for not answering the Captain sooner.

“Security reports that Lieutenant Hawkes has the alien in custody and is proceeding to the brig.”

The Captain’s mouth formed a relieved smile.

“Did he have any trouble?”

Elizabeth stared down at her tablet uncertainly. “No, Captain,” she managed to say, with a lot less confidence than she would have liked. “It just got up and followed him.”

Devereux stared at her in wordless disbelief. After a moment, the Captain’s eyes narrowed slightly in warning.

“It’s not a joke, Captain,” Elizabeth protested a little too shrilly. “I swear!”

The Captain looked back at her. Devereux’s face seemed to struggle to find an appropriate expression for the situation. Elizabeth could understand the Captain’s disbelief. It was exactly the kind of tale that the Chief might tell.

But the Chief’s been smacked down in the infirmary, while I’m here—

“Very well, then,” Devereux finally agreed. “Clear everyone from all of the corridors between the infirmary and the brig.”

Elizabeth glanced down at her tablet. “The Lieutenant’s already done that,” she told Devereux. “Except for Security personnel.”

“I see,” Devereux responded evenly. “In that case,” she went on, “please tell the Lieutenant to report in once our ‘guest’ has been secured.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Devereux turned away before Elizabeth could tell whether the Captain was piqued or not. Without saying another word, Devereux headed back toward the command deck. Elizabeth watched the Captain go, wondering whether she or Hawkes had actually done something wrong.

She’s sure acting like it.

Elizabeth could not figure out, though, what it might have been. Lieutenant had followed the standard Security protocols for transporting a dangerous prisoner through sections of the ship. He had done so before Devereux had ordered him to, sure, but Elizabeth could not imagine that the Captain would have gone against regulations in this case—not after what happened in the infirmary.

And all I did was offer the report and pass on the orders.

Then what had supposedly upset the Captain?

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hope struggled back to awareness, fearful of what she might find there. It required far more effort than she had imagined it would. She clung to it fiercely, unwilling once again slip into unknowing darkness. What she found was not the fury and chaos that she dreaded, but nor was there peace. There was . . . confusion and . . . fear? No, she realized. It was something other than fear, but akin to it.

While she fought to maintain her tenuous hold on consciousness, other parts of her mind processed her surroundings. A faint, almost imperceptible warmth bathed her cells. She was on a diagnostic bed. Someone was running basic exploratory scans. Although could not see the readout displays, she was fairly certain what they might show. At minimum, she had suffered a badly fractured wrist and left leg. Her body revealed the location of numerous contusions along, but most had already begun to heal. There was no serious internal damage, although two of her organs had been badly bruised by external contact with falling debris.

She found the winged being who had spoken to her mind in distorted Aerian. It had, she was relieved to discover, submitted and remained quiescent, but mostly outwardly so. The confusion she sensed earlier came from the new being. Hope tried to sift through its projections, trying to learn the cause of its anxiety. Another being stood before it, making sounds that it could not understand. They sounded nothing like her own tongue. The being before it moved its limbs as it made its sounds, but the gestures held no meaning for her either.

Humor rippled through Hope’s being as she realized who stood before the winged creature. Filtering past the projected perceptions in her mind, she recognized Tactical Officer Hawkes. She read the message of his motions, understanding the confusion of the being. It had taken a long time living among Humans for her to grasp the meaning of many of their gestures. Even now, she found some of them incomprehensible, particularly those seemingly meant with humorous intent.

She refocused her thoughts on the being’s perceptions, concerned that her own had begun to drift. Her strength was waning and she did not know how much longer should could maintain a sensible consciousness.

<Go.>

Grayness formed like clouds on the edges of her awareness.

<Follow.>

Deep mist filled her inner vision.

<Obey.>

Darkness reclaimed her.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hawkes stared at the alien, refocusing his thoughts on what needed to be done: the alien must be placed in confinement before it can inflict any further damage on the ship or its crew.

The ship’s brig had been prepared. All that remained was getting the alien down to it.

Hawkes tapped his comm, doing his best to make it look like a casual, harmless gesture. “Assume your previous positions,” he told Sykes and Tuggle.

“But the Chief—“ Tuggle protested.

“He can be attended to once the situation is secure,” Hawkes responded coldly. “Resume your position.”

Whatever Tuggles muttered in response was too faint to be picked up clearly by his comm.

That’s probably just as well, Hawkes decided, as it would almost certainly have earned him a reprimand.

Hawkes looked up to see the two Security officers moving back to their original positions. Each one had a a clear lateral shot at the alien. He drew his own weapon and then looked down and studied the alien once more. He addressed it.

“You must come with us.”

The winged being lifted its head. The fury had faded from its eyes. Hawkes saw intelligence there, but could not gauge its depth. It was much like trying to read the ship’s doctor, but he had no doubt of her intelligence. This creature, though, might be no wiser than a dog, or as cunning and ruthless as any Star Blood.

Hawkes doubted that it understood him, reacting more to the fact that he had spoken than to any real comprehension of his words. It did not appear to be wounded, although it was possible that it had suffered injuries that were either internal or hidden by the being’s clothing. Hawkes knew that there were few things more dangerous than a wounded animal—except perhaps for one protecting its young.

His eyes darted momentarily toward Hope and then back at the alien.

Had it been trying to protect Hope? Could this thing be some kind of guardian or parent?

But Hope had not known what it was. It possessed clear Aerian characteristics, but Hope had failed to immediately identify it as such.

Or was that a ruse?

He had never known the Aerian physician to ever have been anything more than wholly truthful. Even, perhaps, a little too direct, he admitted, but it was a trait that he could both respect and admire.

“Come,” he told her alien, gesturing toward the hatchway with his weapon.

The being’s dark, pupil-less eyes turned in the direction he had pointed.

“Come,” he repeated.

The alien stared back at him. He could not read its expression, but he sensed confusion rather than defiance.

Maybe it’s young , , , ?

There was no way to know. Hope might be able to determine its age, Hawkes thought, but she was out of action for the moment.

He gestured toward the door once more. It looked toward the hatchway, its gaze lingering on it for a moment, before turning back to Hawkes.

Planning a means of escape?

Hawkes took one step back and waited. The alien regarded him steadily and Hawkes wondered what it might be thinking. He stepped backward once more, leaving the winged being a clear view and path to the hatchway. Its eyes turned toward the hatchway and then focused again on Hawkes. With the grace of an accomplished dancer, the alien began to rise.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hawkes studied the kneeling alien with suspicion. The cause of its sudden and unexpected surrender remained a mystery. While it was possible that it had done so upon realizing that it faced three obviously armed men, Hawkes doubted that was the true cause.

From what it did before, there’s a good chance it could have disarmed us all before we managed to do it any real harm.

Nonetheless, it had allowed Lieutenant Ramsey to proceed unharmed to assist the doctor. He had seen, though, the winged being’s struggle to remain in submission as Ramsey passed it. Whatever bond held, he suspected, was not wholly unbreakable.

He glanced for an instant toward the diagnostic bed where Ramsey was examining Hope. The lieutenant looked up and nodded to him, evidently signaling that she expected the wounded doctor to recover. Reassured, he turned his full attention to the alien before him.

He assessed their tactical status, trying to adapt his prepared scenarios to the current situation. The final outcome in a majority of them was the capture and containment of the alien. Many of these, however, also resulted in additional serious casualties and a considerable amount of additional damage to the ship. None had presumed a condition where the alien willingly surrendered prior to any kind of hostile engagement.

It doesn’t help that we can’t communicate with it.

It was unlikely, he thought, that any of their linguistic databases would contain a language that could both understand. Even gestures, he knew, could be problematic. Even some of the cultures on Earth assigned different meanings to the same common gestures. One society’s friendly greeting might be another’s profane scatological insult.

Is it even intelligent? he wondered.

Something inside him assumed that it was, but they had not seen any definitive proof to support his opinion. Its reactions so far could have been wholly instinctive, but he doubted it.

What might it understand then?

“Lieutenant,” Tuggle’s voice whispered over his comm. “The Chief’s pretty banged up,” he reported, “but he’s alive.

“Acknowledged,” Hawkes responded in a hushed tone almost too quiet to hear.

“He’s buried under a bunch of stuff,” Tuggle continued.

Hawkes did not bother to hide his annoyance, although it only showed in his eyes and the lines of his jaw. The Chief could wait a little longer; he needed to deal with the alien.

“I can’t move it off him,” Tuggle went on. “Not without some help.”

“Acknowledged,” Hawkes repeated. “Stand by.”

‘Yes, sir,” came Tuggle’s sharp reply.

Hawkes stared at the alien, refocusing his thoughts on what needed to be done.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Not easy to do with the brig two decks down.

Devereux considered the situation further. The main hull of the ship was not large, but the distance between the infirmary and their brig provided plenty of distance for the alien to attempt to break free and wreak new havoc against her ship and crew. As bad as the casualties and damage was this time, she suspected that they could be much, much worse.

“Elizabeth,” she said without turning to her First Officer. “See if you can get a discrete audio feed to the infirmary. I want to know what’s going on.”

“Engineering’s working on it, Captain,” Elizabeth replied. “It’s . . .” she paused, sighing. “There’s a lot of damage down there. They’re doing the best they can.”

Devereux nodded her understanding. “I’m sure they are,” she replied with quiet reassurance, while silently scolding herself for allowing her impatience to show. She knew that her crew were doing the best they could.

She looked over toward her First Officer. Elizabeth stared with intense concern at the scream. Everything in the young woman’s body language screamed that she wanted to do something, to help in some active way. Devereux could understand, particularly under the circumstances. Their Chief Engineer was down, the damage to the ship was disrupting communications, and Elizabeth was one of their most experienced Engineering specialists.

I’d be down there myself, if I could.

Devereux studied the screen, considering it. No, I need her here. Letting her go down there might make her feel better, but it would just put another command officer in harm’s way.

In the infirmary, Ramsey worked efficiently. The physician’s assistant’s lack of frantic urgency reassured Devereux that Hope’s life was probably not in any immediate danger.

What about the Chief?

The Chief Engineer’s location was out of range of the security feed. Devereux could only hope that he was being tended to by one of the other Security officers. Something told her that he was not dead. There was a way that people reacted, even seasoned professionals, when a dead body was present. None of those present in the infirmary were exhibiting those behaviors, even given the distraction provided by the presence of the alien.

Her attention returned to Hawkes, watching as he continued to study the kneeling alien. Neither had changed position. Devereux wondered who would budge first. Her money was on Hawkes to win the contest of wills. After that, though . . .

What’s his next move?

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Devereux stared at the screen, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. More than anything, she wanted an audio feed from the infirmary so she could what was being said.

Activating it now, though, might startle the creature.

Hawkes stood before the kneeling alien, looking as uncertain as Devereux could ever remembering seeing him. Under other circumstances, she might have found the scenario more than just a little amusing. Right now, she was not entirely willing to believe that the winged alien might not still suddenly rise up and tear into her Tactical Officer.

Gathering his composure again quickly, Hawkes gestured subtly to someone out of the feed’s field. Devereux saw a head with a long ponytail dash past the feed pickup.

Ramsey.

The alien was visibly agitated as Ramsey dashed past it toward Hope. It remained where it was, though, kneeling before Hawkes with its head lowered. Devereux released a soft breath of relief as Ramsey safely reached Hope and Hawkes remained unharmed, She had been unaware that she had even been holding it in.

Ramsey performed a quick visible examination of Hope. When that was completed, she said something to Hawkes, to which he responded by signaling someone else out of range of the screen. One of the Security officers—Sykes, Devereux realized—appeared and moved cautiously toward Ramsey and Hope, while never taking his eyes away from the alien.

After receiving instructions from Ramsey, he helped her lift Hope, cradling her limp form carefully between them. The alien’s agitation increased. Hawkes’ hand moved closer to his weapon. Devereux swallowed hard, ready to send an armed assault team to the infirmary.

New life form or not, I need by ship and crew in one piece.

Ramsey and Sykes maneuvered Hope onto one of the diagnostic beds. At Ramsey’s gesture, Sykes moved quickly away, keeping as much distance between himself and the winged alien as possible. Ramsey activated the bed. Devereux saw its pale blue aura glow into life as it began its scans.

The alien seemed slightly less agitated now, she noticed, but was still far from calm. Devereux wondered just the extent of its patience was.

Whatever it is, Hawkes will find out an instant before we do. She studied the screen for a moment. He needs to get that thing contained again before we find out.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hawkes took another step toward the alien. Its posture stiffened. Hawkes spoke to it once more. He moved forward again. The alien rose slowly, unfurling its wings to their full span as it turned to face him. It barked some kind of challenge to Hawkes. He returned it calmly.

Elizabeth watched the scene with silent admiration.

You’d think he faced down pissed-off aliens every day.

The alien’s taloned feet moved, scratching at the deck in tight, seemingly random patterns. Elizabeth recalling seeing that kind of behavior before: in birds protecting their nests and young from possible predators. It remained in place, though, apparently unwilling to leave Hope unprotected. Fixing its fiery eyes on Hawkes, it issued another challenge. This time, he did not immediately return it.

What is he doing?

Elizabeth glanced over at Devereux. The Captain’s attention was fixed on the scene playing out on the screen before them. Pyrafox was watching just as intently. Elizabeth noticed that his jaw was drawn back, exposing the points of his rear teeth.

Was he growling?

Her attention returned to the screen. Hawkes was motioning toward Hope. The alien watched him warily, clearly displeased with the focus of the Tactical Officer’s interest. Hawkes took a half-step forward, more of a gesture than an actual movement, but it was enough.

Screeching, the alien spread its wings wide and lunged at Hawkes. His weapon was out and up faster than Elizabeth could see. The alien ignored it, advancing on Hawkes with slow, deliberate steps. The Tactical Officer held his ground.

The alien paused for a moment, giving quick study to the creature before it that did not seem to have sense enough to flee. It appeared to reach a decision quickly, though, and surged forward.

Elizabeth gasped, and then watched in amazement as the creature suddenly staggered backward. As far as she could tell, Hawkes had not fired his weapon.

The other guards?

The alien shook off the effects of the unseen blast and glared challengingly at Hawkes. Hawkes raised his weapon, but more as a symbol than an actual threat, as he did not appear to take careful aim. The alien approached him again, although much more cautiously this time. When it reached the point where it had been stunned before, it slowed, but did not quite stop. Hawkes’ weapon steadied; his meaning was clear.

Eyeing Hawkes defiantly, the alien moved toward him. An instant later, it retreated, shaking its head. It continued backward until it once again stood next to Hope. Once there, its wings lowered, but it maintained its defensive posture. Hawkes spoke to it again and then gestured to someone out of the visible area of the feed.

One of the guards?

Hawkes said something to whoever it was again, more insistently this time. Then, to Elizabeth’s astonishment, he knelt before the winged being.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Elizabeth watched as Lieutenant Hawkes approached the winged creature. Beside her, she heard the Captain take a deep breath, hold it. Hawkes continued to move slowly, his hands open and empty, but Elizabeth noticed that they never strayed too far from his weapon.

The winged alien continued to kneel before Hope. The tableau seemed almost surreal.

If she hadn’t torn the infirmary apart, along with the Chief and Hope, it might even be humorous. What is it with Hope anyway?

The crew’s experience with the Aerian Star Bloods told her how seriously they revered Hope and others of her kind. This being obviously felt the same way.

She must be Aerian too! But she’s not any type we’ve ever seen . . .

Subtle shifts in its posture told Elizabeth that the creature was aware of Hawkes’ presence. It did not rise, though, or even turn its head to observe his approach.

Sudden movement stirred the image on one corner of the screen. Elizabeth suspected that it was the result of movements from one of the Security officers. The angle of the feed prevented Elizabeth from seeing them, but she caught the occasional glimpse of what she thought might be an arm, leg, or head.

Hawkes continued to move in closer. He was, Elizabeth thought, still out of range of the being’s wings or talons.

But what about its energy weapon?

From what Elizabeth could tell, the alien being held nothing in its hands.

She must have dropped it when she picked up Hope?

Hawkes seemed to be saying something, but the resolution of the image was so poor that Elizabeth could not even begin to make out what words his lips and mouth might be forming. He paused now, clearly addressing the alien.

He thinks it will understand Fleet Standard?

Although she would not be terribly surprised to find out that she was wrong, Elizabeth did not believe that Hawkes spoke Aerian. She knew of almost no humans who could. Even the Captain, despite her apparently close relationship with Hope, and mysterious assignment last year on the Aerian homeworld, seemed to know no more than a dozen or so words and, according to comments made by Hope, pronounced none of them well.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Rusty could find no part of his body that did not hurt. When he attempted to move, he immediately regretted it. Pain speared through his left leg. For an instant, his awareness became astonishingly acute, increasing his perception of the pain nearly beyond his limits to endure it. Mercifully, the sensation faded just as quickly, leaving his mind floating in a thick haze.

Through the drifting mist, he could see a winged figure.

An angel. No . . . an alien angel.

No . . . not mist. Glass.

At least he thought it was. He looked through it as if observing an exhibit at a zoo.

Its wings unfurled wide and then . . .

The Doc!

His arms were empty now. They ached and he tried to move them. The gestures they made were weak and feeble. Bits of . . . something scattered off of them. He tried to move his legs, but some kind of weight pinned them in place. Trying again, he felt shards of debris grind beneath his body.

He became aware of wetness spattered along several parts of his body.

Blood?

Those sections ached no more than any of the others, but he knew that was hardly a reliable indication of the severe nature of an injury. Something moved across the mist. It began to clear, revealing figures in olive-tan uniforms.

“Lieutenant,” one of them spoke in a low whisper. It took Rusty a moment to recognize that it was not addressing him.

“I can see the Chief,” it went on. “He’s trapped under a storage locker and some other stuff. I can’t tell if he’s okay. Should I—”

“Maintain your position,” another voice said. Rusty was certain that he recognized it, but the name of the person to whom it belonged did not come to him.

“It will be safer retrieve him after the threat from the alien has been neutralized.”

Neutralized? Did that mean . . . killed?

Rusty wanted to—tried to—call out.

No! Don’t!

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Full consciousness continued to elude Hope. She had the sensation of movement, then the feeling of an unyielding surface—the deck?—beneath her. So softly did she come to rest upon it that she wondered whether ship’s artificial gravity system had failed.

Shadows passed before her, evading recognition. Pain remained at a distance, as much a result of conscious effort as her disassociated mental state. A faint voice seemed to still speak to her, but the meaning of the words darted away before she could comprehend them. The waves of anger and danger she had felt had passed, replaced now by a feeling of . . . what? Hope found that she had nothing to compare it to. The closest equivalent was those she felt for the Captain. But this was different from those—similar, but different.

A wave of not-quite-rage swelled within in her. Other shadows, other colors, moved across her vision.

Protect.

The thought was clear, piercing sharply through her muddled thoughts, although the sound of the word possessed an odd quality.

Defend.

The shadows moved and the anger within her rose like a flame being fanned by a hard breeze.

No!

Hope struggled to shout it aloud, still not entirely certain that she was truly aware.

The fire behind the anger subsided, but was not completely extinguished. Hope suspected that it would take little for it to flare to full strength again.

Protect. Defend.

The voice repeated the words. It stated them firmly, without the full force of barely contained fury behind them.

Yes.

Hope answered the voice, hoping that, by agreement, she might calm of the anger that lay just behind them.

A rising buzz of warning rose within her mind now. The shadows before her moved with preternatural slowness. The haze grew thick across her thoughts once more.

Protect!

Defend!

Each word was a scream within her mind this time.

Protect!

Defend!

The shout drowned out the rest of her thoughts. A shriek of rage flooded her mind, filling it with a fiery glow.

It ceased abruptly, cut off in mid-cry. Darkness swirled around Hope, seized her, and captured her once more.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Hawkes studied the kneeling winged being. It had remained quiescent ever retrieving the ship’s physician from the wreckage that it had caused.

That, however, could change again quickly.

He looked toward the damaged bulkheads. Tuggle and Sykes, while battered, seemed still fit for duty. They murmured in loud tones and broad gestures with the two Security officers who assisted them.

No doubt recounting the more dramatic moments from their encounter with the alien.

Hawkes considered the situation, mentally building a tactical plan for surrounding and capturing the alien. The sound of hurrying footsteps divided his attention. Before he identified the cadence of the footfalls, he grew concerned that the Captain or First Officer might have failed to heed his advice and had come anyway. The flash of a sandy blonde ponytail convinced him that was not the case.

Lieutenant Ramsey came to a stop beside him, her soft green eyes aimed ahead in the direction that he had been looking.

“Hope,” she gasped upon seeing the scene, her voice a soft, hoarse whisper. She began to move forward.

“Stop.”

Hawkes’ voice stopped her, but only for a moment. Her concern for the ship’s physician overrode the Tactical Officer’s command. His hand gripped her arm when she tried to lunge forward again.

Ramsey’s head whipped around, staring at Hawkes’ face and then down at his hand.

Her eyes came back up to his face when he did not release her immediately. Without saying a word, he looked toward the far bulkhead and nodded slightly. With a puzzled frown, Ramsey turned in the direction of his gaze. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the ruined hatchway and damaged bulkhead. She slowly turned back to Hawkes.

Hawkes nodded. Ramsey swallowed hard.

“Remain here,” Hawkes told her.

Ramsey crouched down beside him, siddling back until her back rested against the bulkhead behind him.

Hawkes tapped his comm. It might make no more difference than shouting his orders across the chamber, but it was at least worth an attempt to keep the instructions to his officers covert.

“Ensign, crewman,” he addressed them in a low voice. “Are you able to function effectively?”

Murmurs that he could not at first understand came over his comm before Tuggle spoke out more clearly.

“Yeah, Lieutenant,” he said. “We can help you take the bitch down if that’s what you mean.”

Hawkes’ eyebrow rose slightly with displeasure.

I apparently need to refresh his memory on proper on-duty vocabulary . . . again.

“Adjust your sonic emitters for a high power setting. Use a wide beam setting so that we can better contain her movements, if necessary.”

Another jumble of murmurs sounded over the comm.

“Is there a problem complying with my orders, Ensign?”

There was a brief pause before Tuggle answered him. “It’s just that our ear guards are over there, sir.”

Hawkes glanced up to see where Tuggle had indicated. Although he could not spot the items, Hawkes assumed that they were buried among the debris on the port side bulkhead.

He glanced toward the still-kneeling alien, growing increasingly concerned that they were running out of time.

“I recommend, then,” he said, “that you make your best efforts not to aim your weapons in your own direction.”

The sounds that followed Hawkes was certain was each of the Security officers expressing their displeasure with his advice. What they said aloud, however, was, “Yes, sir.”

A few moments passed, and then Tuggle reported, “We’re ready, sir.”

“Very good,” Hawkes acknowledged. “Stand by.”

Hawkes checked the charge in his weapon, rose, and began to approach the alien.

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“One moment, Captain,” Hawkes said, surprising Devereux with his request to delay his answer. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he had done that he was first assigned to her ship.

Several seconds of silence passed, punctuated with indecipherable murmurs and the faint clicking of what might have been equipment.

“Captain,” Hawkes voice came again, startling her slightly. “Switch the feed to one of your screens to secure Security link Beta-Seven-Three.”

Devereux frowned and then nodded toward Elizabeth. Her First Officer tapped out the commands on her tablet, bit nervously at her lower lip, and then tried to enter the commands on the auxiliary station.

“Captain?” She appeared both startled and concerned by what she found.

Devereux stepped forward, and then relaxed when she saw the security prompt.

Oops, I must never have given her a set of command override codes.

Devereux entered her command access code and then gave Elizabeth a encouraging wink. “Just our Tactical Officer being his usual cautious self.”

Elizabeth did not seem completely reassured.

“Let’s see now,” Devereux said, and turned toward the main bridge displays.

The star field it currently displayed dissolved, replaced by a splotchy gray image. It resolved slowly, lacking fine detail, but Devereux recognized the chamber that led to the infirmary’s recovery bay.

“What is—?”

“The Lieutenant managed to get one his remote security monitors online,” Devereux explained. “Barely,” she added, “by the looks of it.”

Although the details were unclear, Devereux could see the damage wreaked on two of the bulkheads.

Looks like someone drove a shuttle through there . . .

The image flickered and she found it difficult to discern the debris from the transmission artifacts.

There’s secured storage. And . . .

Her thoughts trailed off in surprise as the image sharpened and she clearly saw Hope sprawled limply on the deck. She opened her mouth, but stopped at the sight of the shadowy shape less than a meter away from Hope’s unconscious form. The surge of fear she felt for Hope dissipated as her mind and memory put the pieces together.

It’s kneeling . . . just like the Star Bloods did.

She peered closer, hoping to see more detail, but failed to accomplish much than to get a closer look at the signal artifacts. Taking a step back, she considered the scene for a moment. The alien had not moved since the security link had been established.

“At least she’s not tearing the place apart any more,” she murmured.

“It looks like she already did,” Elizabeth whispered in response.

Devereux gave a quick, small smile. She turned back toward the main screens.

“Lieutenant,” she said. “Restrain the alien and prepare to return it to isolation. I recommend using the brig until we have a better idea on how to keep it contained.”

“My thinking exactly, Captain.”

“I’m glad we agree,” Devereux said, chuckling softly. “I’m on my way there. I want to—”

“Captain,” Hawkes’ voice interrupted her. “I recommend that you do not arrive in the area until we have secured necessary repairs.”

At the edge of her peripheral vision, Devereux saw Elizabeth struggle to suppress a giggle. She almost smiled, but then grew more serious.

“Are you worried about a hull breach?”

“No, Captain,” Hawkes reported. “But there is a considerable amount of damage to several of the internal bulkheads.”

“I can see that,” Devereux remarked dryly.

“And a large quantity of medical supplies have also been compromised, Hawkes went on. “I recommend that you not expose yourself to them until we can assess the danger potential.”

Devereux mouth formed a tight-lipped frown. “All right,” she conceded unhappily. “Keep me posted.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

“Well done, Lieutenant,” Devereux told him, sharing a quick smile of satisfaction with her. Her expression than went grim. “Are there any casualties?”

“Several,” Hawkes replied. “Including the Doctor and the Chief Engineer.”

For an instant, Devereux’s expression betrayed her shocked concern. It was gone a moment later, but Elizabeth realized that she had seen it mostly in the Captain’s eyes.

“Have Lieutenant Ramsey report to the infirmary, on the double,” she told Elizabeth.

It took Elizabeth a moment to recover, hoping that she did so before the Captain noticed. “Yes, Captain,” she replied and tapped out the necessary orders.

“How did you finally manage to subdue the alien?”

There was a brief pause before Hawkes responses. “I cannot take credit for the accomplishment, Captain,” he finally said. “Nor can any members of my Security team, although they did make several noteworthy attempts.”

“Who did it then?”

Elizabeth could see Captain Devereux sorting through the possibilities in her mind.

The Chief? Did he somehow manage to control the alien before he got knocked out?

“The Doctor.”

Elizabeth watched the Captain’s eyebrows suddenly rise.

“But I thought she—“

“She is unconscious and requires immediate treatment, as does Chief Rayna.”

Devereux still seemed to be trying to sort through the missing details of Hawkes’ report even as she turned to Elizabeth.

“Okay, Lieutenant,” Devereux said, taking a long breath. “We still don’t have any reliable visual feeds in that section. I really want you to tell me what’s going on.”

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Full awareness eluded Rusty. His head ached, from his brain outward in all directions. His skull felt several too small.

Must have been some party . . .

He became aware that he ached all over. His entire body was a dull, steady throb of pain.

Musta been quite a night. Hard drinking and a tussle.

After spending several seconds, trying to move, he surrendered when no part of his body seemed willing to answer his call. He had suffered more hangovers in his life than he cared to count. This felt nothing like any of those. The bruises, though, those felt familiar.

I wonder what kind of shape the other guy—guys?—are in.

He mentally sank back and waited for his mind to try to reorder itself.

It had not been a bar, he remembered now. He was on board a ship. He had been on his way . . . where? To see a short little alien chick about . . . what?

He remembered now a prescient flash of an explosion of some kind, pushing her aside as . . . what?

Confusing glimpses of wings and flying bits of . . . what danced across his thoughts. He had become one of those flying bits, he remembered now, slamming hard into something. After that, things fell on him as he shielded . . . who? the alien? with his body. There was a lot of shouting, but he did not think any of it came from him.

He had tried to rise, to crawl, but had been trapped by . . . something. With effort, he had tried to turn. His head rocked from the impact of something new.

And there he was here.

Heroic Measures (continued)

He pondered this for only a moment before he became aware of a smell. The odor was tantalizing familiar in a vague sort of way. It was also, he decided, wrong for where he expected to be.

Where am I?

He analyzed the scent some more, but was able to only eliminate possibilities, not reach any actual conclusions.

It’s not . . . it smells kind of like . . .

Vague memories danced across his awareness. It took him a moment, but then recognized their theme: examination rooms, the nurse’s office at school . . .

Where am I? he asked himself again. A hospital?

It did not smell like home, even after his mother had given it one of her more thorough cleanings.

A hospital. He took a moment to try to come to terms with that. What the hell happened?

He fought to remember again.

Wind. Rain. Running. Thunder. Clara.

She had touched him . . . there.

No, that was before.

The wind.

A shape blew away on the wind. What was it?

Her sweater.

He had chased it across the field.

Rain. Thunder.

Clara. Under the tree.

Light flared, searing across his memory. Walter gasped, choking for breath. He thought he should be spasming, but his body remained oddly still.

Odd sounds buzzed around him, forming no patterns that he could understand. Shadows darted across his vision. He tried to breathe, wanting to scream out for help.

A sharp pain penetrated his awareness. It came from somewhere in the region of his left forearm, but it was gone before he realized that it was there. He tried to follow it, hoping he might be able to . . .

His thoughts began to swim. What little clarity he had managed to reclaim began to wash away. The colors before him faded to faint hues, and then to gray. He tried to hold onto them, but failed. His awareness dissolved, but not before he managed one last thought.

What happened to the sweater?

Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

The thought only slightly eased her desire to dash from the bridge.

A loud surge of static burst from the main speakers. Elizabeth tried to discern words through it and saw Devereux also listening with furrowed intensity.

“Hawkes?” Devereux turned to Elizabeth inquisitively.

Elizabeth fought back the urge to shrug. She glanced down at the console, hoping for an answer. The Lieutenant’s locator beacon had stopped transmitting. Or rather, she realized, it was probably now as blocked from the interference as the others were.

Words and voices popped tantalizingly through the harsh waves of interference. Elizabeth tried to tease meaning out of them, but almost every sentence her mind assembled for her seemed ridiculous.

Iron teapot over bulkhead nacelle?

“Turn it down,” Devereux conceded irritably.

The Captain turned and paced the narrow space between the command deck and secondary stations. She was clearly deep in thought; Elizabeth wished she had some advice to offer her.

Send another Security team down there?

No, she decided. It’s probably crowded enough down there. The last thing they need is more people in the crossfire.

An EVA approach was out of the question, she knew. The infirmary was safely nestled within the interior of the ship. There was no way to reach it directly from the outside of the ship, except through a complex series of passageways and conduits. It had been deliberately re-designed to be a completely isolated system, if necessary.

Devereux stopped. Something in her expression told Elizabeth that she had made a decision. The Captain began to open her mouth to announce it, but was interrupted by Hawke’s voice, sharp and clear over the background interference.

“Lieutenant Hawkes to the bridge,” he reported. “The situation has been contained.”

Elizabeth felt her muscles relax with relief. She saw the Captain’s posture ease as well.

“Captain,” Hawkes’ voice continued. “I recommend that you do not arrive in the area until we have secured necessary repairs.”

Elizabeth almost giggled aloud at the Captain’s expression and then watched it grew more serious.

“Any chance of a hull breach?”

“None, Captain,” Hawkes reported. “But there is considerable damage to several of the bulkheads. A large quantity of medical supplies have also been compromised.”

Devereux mouth formed a tight-lipped frown. “All right,” she said. “Keep me posted.”

“Yes, Captain.”

There was a subtle shift in the background of the comm channel that told Elizabeth that Hawkes had ended contact.

“Well, Commander,” Devereux said, turning to Elizabeth with a tense smile. “I guess we wait.”