Writing in Public: Story #4, Chapter 22

[image error]CHAPTER 22

Graul paced in front of the plot table on the bridge, his steps impatient, while he gulped down caffeine and wondered if he could just apply it directly to his bloodstream.

Lieutenant Parker watched him, uncertain of the skipper’s mood.

It was oh-four fifteen, and the computer had already started the subtle shift in lighting towards dawn.  An image of the planet floated above the table, harsh in the red night lights.  A yellow dot marked where the landing party was.

And it was slowly moving away from Kangjun.

Marotta strode in with short quick steps.  Her uniform was rumpled; she’d thrown on yesterday’s uniform.  “Got it!”

Graul lit up.  “The research?”

“Yes.  Your gut was right.”  She stepped in at the table and called it up from the computer.  The image of the planet disappeared and was replaced with a text view on the desktop. .

Graul and Parker gathered around Marotta.

“Let’s have it,” Graul said.

“It was a hundred years ago, so I think the 49ers forgot that records even existed,” Marotta said.  “They were written by one of the leaders, who quite boastful of his cleverness.  The two aliens were similar, but the other ones had a verbal language and no taste tenacles.  We’re still working on the translation, but we think the problem was some kind of political dispute.  But the 49ers wiped out the other aliens.  Quite systematically and in a very military way.”

“What’d they do?” Parker asked.

Marotta straightened up, her face grim.  “They picked them off, one by one.  Apparently, when they have a ‘conversation’ with you, they mark you.  Much like a dog peeing on a fire hydrant.  After that, they can find you.”

That explained why 49ers had gotten so angry when Hope had refused to allow them to taste her.

Graul was pretty sure Mel had let them taste her.

“Damn it,” Graul said.  “I wish Mel had gotten this translated before she went down to the planet.  I wish we had before we sent the landing party.”

“Is that a standard procedure for Alien Affairs, sir?” Parker asked.

“No,” Graul said.  “They only go back twenty years.  Even we don’t often check much more than what’s currently going on.”

“It also isn’t normally needed,” Marotta said.

“How long before the landing party can get off the planet?” Parker asked.

Graul folded his arms across his chest, the uniform pulling at his shoulders.  “They have to clean the site.  We can’t leave any equipment or notes back.  That’s going to take some time.”

That had become standard procedure in GALCOM after an emergency evacuation.  The group had left behind notes and logs, which the planet had used politically to attack GALCOM.  There hadn’t been anything untoward in the notes, but the government had put such a negative spin on it that it poisoned future relations.

“May I make a recommendation, sir?” Marotta said.  “Let’s send the stand-by teams now.  If we don’t need them, we’ll just bring them back.  If we do, they’re already on their way.”

It was not an answer Graul wanted.  But it was the best he was going to get right now.

Filed under: Writing in Public Tagged: GALCOM Universe