at Prudence, and flashed a pained smile.
“No thanks, I’ll wait for the big guy. Looks like a smoother ride.”
The girls giggled.
“Thank God you’re here,” said one of the girls. Tall and willowy, with long blond hair and an incongruous tan.
Prudence pointed at the man’s leg. “What happened?”
He looked up at her in mild surprise. “A building fell on me. Why, what did you think? A skiing accident?”
Prudence had still been thinking of giant spiders.
“Did you see anything?”
“No,” the other girl said. “We woke up in the middle of the night when the station blew up. We ran to the basement, because it was the only thing not on fire. When we got here, Fletcher noticed Dr. Sanders and Dr. Williams were missing, so he went back up for them.” She was shorter, plumper, and much more composed than the other girl.
“Did you find Williams?” Prudence was surprised at her own hardness, but the presence of the alien ship made every fact matter.
“Not until two days later,” Fletcher said. “The radar array was directly above his quarters. The bomb took out the main support column … Well, anyway, we were stripping the meshing from the dishes to make blankets. After the first few layers, we found him.”
“That’s how Fletcher got hurt.” The blonde again. “Trying to reach Dr. Williams.”
“I went down after him, but something shifted. Then the building … well, you know that part.” Fletcher grinned, telling his story of danger and sacrifice winsomely.
The blond girl filled in the heroic details. “Fletcher had to climb out all by himself. With a broken leg. We couldn’t even find a rope to help him. Daphene and I couldn’t do anything but watch.” Her eyes were very earnest. The shorter girl nodded in agreement.
Fletcher ignored them, his eyes focused on Prudence. “But now the beautiful Captain Falling is here to rescue us. It was quite a morale boost to hear your voice on the radio, Captain.”
Handsome and cheeky. No doubt he found her exotic, a change of pace from his college-age harem. Although they probably weren’t that much younger than she was. But they had lived sheltered lives. They were still soft and dewy. Unscuffed, like new shoes.
Well, until now.
“Are you aware of how bad it is out there?” she asked. Not because she wanted to deflate them. But she was already hiding the truth for Jorgun. That was all the lying she could bear.
Fletcher winced. “Nobody came looking for us. So we figured it can’t be good.”
“What about Klakroon? Is it okay? That’s where my parents live. We tried to reach it on the radio but the satellite link was down. It’s just a little village…” The blond girl was trying not to whimper.
Daphene, the smart one, didn’t ask.
Prudence sighed, more for their benefit than for hers. She was beyond emotion, but they still needed it. “The whole planet looks like this.” She waved her hand at the wreckage. “I’m sorry.”
“Who?” Fletcher, steely-eyed. The men always wanted to know who. The women sometimes asked why, but the men always wanted a name. A target to strike back at.
“Nobody knows,” Prudence said, and winced. For almost two days she had been saying that, but this was the first time it had been a lie.
Sounds from the entranceway. Kyle and Jorgun were returning. Too late Prudence remembered her strict instructions to Melvin. But the two men were alone, their passengers safely onboard. She could always rely on Melvin to screw up a direct order.
They came into the little room and distributed the blankets. Fletcher tried to turn his down, but Kyle insisted.
“You’ve been lucky so far. But if your system takes too much stress, that leg could get infected. It’s a short trip. There are enough blankets to go around. The girls will be fine.”
The girls were collecting something—data pods. The plastic bulbs were spilling over the ground like jellybeans.
“For crying out loud, Brenna—don’t lose that one.” Fletcher pointed at a bright blue pod rolling across the ground. “That’s the latest data.” Glancing at Prudence, still trying to impress her, he explained. “Cosmological telemetrics for the last few weeks. Probably the same boring star-stuff we’ve been collecting for years, but who knows? It might have a clue about what happened. We haven’t been able to analyze it yet.” Then Jorgun lifted him, cradling him gently, and Fletcher turned into the scared young kid he really was, forgetting about everything else.
Prudence understood. Being carried by Jorgun was psychologically debilitating. It made you feel like a baby again.
“Let me help,” Kyle said, bending down to chase after the little rolling pods. Prudence tucked the blanket around Fletcher, getting him ready for the blast of cold.
But she saw.
Out of the corner of her eye. Not the switch, exactly, but the too-casual fluidity of Kyle’s hands. He helped Brenna wrap the pods up in a fold of blanket and squeeze it tight. The bulge was safely sealed for the trip through the snow.
Yet Prudence knew if she opened it now, the bright blue pod would be missing.
SIX
Separations
Kyle already knew what was on the data pod he’d swiped. Trouble.
Either it showed something about the aliens, which meant that their human allies would stop at nothing to get it away from Fletcher, or it didn’t, which meant the kid would be wasting people’s time. And Kyle didn’t think anybody was going to be in a forgiving mood for a while.
So really, he was doing the kid a favor. Not that Fletcher would see it that way. Kids his age never did. Certainly Kyle hadn’t. His father had tried to guide him past the rocks a dozen times, given him sage advice on when to shut up, salute, and look the other way. He’d always ignored it, done things the right way, the direct way. He’d worn the resulting scars like a badge of honor.
Until one day he’d seen the light. Not the light at the end of the tunnel, but the other one, the bad one. The one you were supposed to go toward. The one that came after your life flashed before your eyes.
It had started as a simple traffic stop. Being assigned to traffic duty was already punishment, for having pointed out a senior officer’s inability to add two columns of numbers and get the same answer. The officer had been collecting unearned overtime for twenty years; the resulting financial penalty had bankrupted the man and cost him his house. That it was the kind of house a working cop shouldn’t have been able to afford didn’t really spare Kyle any unpopularity. Everybody likes a straight shooter, from afar. That doesn’t mean you want to work with one.
So Kyle was driving an unmarked ground car, alone, writing people tickets for driving too fast. For being too eager to get home to their families, or out to nightclubs, or any of the thousand places that people want to get to in a hurry. But he really was a straight shooter, all the way down. He didn’t take his humiliation out on the public. Most of them appreciated that, after they cooled off a bit.
This one was different. From the start he knew it would be bad. It was one of those ridiculously expensive sports models, making an illegal turn. Kyle flashed his lights, sent the cut-out signal from his car to the other one, causing its engine to cycle down to a whisper and forcing the driver to pull off the road. Walked up to the window, expecting some stuffed-shirt executive or underdressed socialite, and wondered how much they were going to yell at him.
But the driver was calm and polite. As befitted a man of his station—Veram Dejae, the mayor of Altair’s largest city.
