The final lines of the report contained a personal note from the sergeant who steered that squad. He offered a thank you for allowing Liam’s transfer into the team. That should have made Mike happy.
It didn’t.
* * *
Wednesday’s daily report was interesting.
Exploration by the liquid teams had uncovered migration paths of the Targolt by the number of “sailors” discovered on local shores. Beached, they are casualties of Targolt migration. It wasn’t an unknown event. Even baby birds fall out of nests. The line of tiny blue “sailors” on the shores was clear evidence of Targolt advancement. Some of the things escaped death-by-beaching, but there was no doubt others survived the migratory effort and species expansion.
Oceanic creep besieged the low-lying archipelago with devastating high tides. Current strategy to save the land base was to plan and implement “lily pads” to protect and reinforce available land for the populace.
An interesting idea, Mike thought. He envisioned a future tourism boom from possible Urilqii-engineered hotels, especially if they happened to remain submerged beyond the Targolt assault.
Even he might be interested in booking a room if that was the case.
In more interesting news from that theater, Steve and Jace had, indeed, bonded, as had other members of the E’ssennet liquid team. They were invited to join with other cabal’s bonding ceremony at the end of this week.
Steve requested permission to remain until that ceremony concluded so his cabal members could partake. Command had signed off on that, which pushed back Steve’s return date to this base.
The entirety of the E’ssennet cabal still on base focused on the upcoming ceremony among their ranks as well. The building and assembly of the ritual platform came with hoots of delight and boundless enthusiasm and delight. Everyone smiled and there was a bounce to their steps.
Except in Mike’s. He ignored the construction with studied determination.
In other news, Liam’s contribution to the tanker team was proving both extensive and valuable. He knew, he saw, he breathed the earth beneath their feet, as did the other selected human volunteers. His recommended adjustment to the tunneling tanks solved cultural concerns for both the humans and Urilqii. Sergeant Dylan expressed enjoyment felt by the entire team. Liam’s bright presence and sunny personality was a great fit.
Mike lost his appetite.
* * *
The next daily report arrived late, and he soon realized why.
Steve and his liquid teams had located the boundary of the newest Targolt activity. Yes, the dead zone was expanding and at an unwelcome rate. Considering that and the fact the mother ship daily got closer, in the liquid teams planned for contact, even as they prepared for the evening’s bonding ceremony and festival.
Mike reached to offer a ::Good job!:: message, but discovered that his pod-kin’s mind was shuttered. He remembered that area of the globe was a day earlier. Steve must have already concluded his ritual and was deep in the bliss of the consummation.
The privacy lock and tardy report were now explained.
Activities within the tankers had produced much information.
Liam had schooled the Urilqii on three-dimensional thinking as it related to the soil. Oddly enough, the tank teams needed to go nose first either up, down, or sideways. Strange, yes, but it didn’t seem to tactically interfere with the activities of the team. In fact, that oddity put the Urilqii off balance in many ways.
Mike found himself smiling again. If it confounded his people, then it was sure to frustrate the free-floating enemy.
There was another note from Sergeant Dylan. Liam was an asset, and the team looked forward to a long and exciting interaction with Mr. Sinclair. He’d been promoted to squad leader.
A closer interaction could only bring rich rewards.
Mike surged out of his seat. That fucker’s after my guy! But he caught himself. Liam wasn’t his guy. He’d made sure of that .
Frustration and temper boiled through him. He fisted his hands and tried for control…and lost. He stormed outside his office and tossed his data unit onto the ground, then stomped the shit out of it.
Killing the messenger, sure, and it didn’t offer any consolation.
He stopped when his foot protested, only to realize his temper hadn’t abated. So he gathered up the remnants of the unit and limped his way past the nearly complete festival platform and slammed into the armory.
He requested and received a weapon. It felt good in his hands, especially as it jumped and bucked when he emptied three magazines into the hapless data unit he’d tossed down range.
Finally, he was cool enough to stop. The amusement of the armory personnel, witnessing what amounted to a monumental temper tantrum was unavoidable.
Fuck ’em. Mike returned the weapon, stomped to the quartermaster’s office, requisitioned another data unit, and headed back to his office. He took his seat again.
So Liam was connecting with another Urilqii? What had Mike expected? Wasn’t that what he wanted? Wasn’t that to be celebrated?
He would get through this.
* * *
Mike spent Friday afternoon in his office, buried in his work and ignoring the sound of the festivities outside. The laughing, the singing, the summer-sweet feeling of excitement and anticipation danced on the edge of his awareness.
He shoved it all aside and told himself he was neither jealous of, nor bitter about, the mental rapture that flowed from the newly connected couples moving through the ritual. Still, it sapped and soured his calm.
His commander’s mind slammed into his. ::Fall in. Stat.:: The order jerked Mike from his thoughts and pushed him to his feet. He was on his way to the door, his work disregarded behind him on his desk, before he had a chance to think twice. A reality crashed over him.
The commander had pushed him!
How often did that happen? It didn’t. Not once a guy had graduated from basic training.
Astonished, he asked, ::You pushed me?::
There was no remorse, only determination.
::Get out here. To the platform Now.::
Both the unusual act of the push as well as the pressure in the commander’s mental tone coaxed Mike to pick up the pace. He
