That earned a look from Tim that she generously called surprised and not incredulous.
Yes, she knew that none of the larger non-humans could fit on the Quendala. That didn’t relieve them of their responsibility to help them. She didn’t say this. Tim could rightly point out that right now they couldn’t even save themselves.
Their contact with the shuttle at the moment was limited. They’d had contact long enough to be told that they were working on accessing the systems of the facility without getting Trac’s brain taken over. At least, that is how Lt. Dish had explained it.
A large canine, the leader of the pack, Riina decided, as she studied it, approached them. Its head was lowered enough to signal—she hoped—non-aggression. It stopped some feet away and extended a paw. It had the same kind of electronic device as the avian had worn.
“You know that thing is probably controlling it,” Tim muttered. He sighed and then went up to it, kneeling to examine it.
Riina saw a flash, like the one that had freed the avian, and the device dropped to the ground.
In short order, the whole pack came over to be freed and finally the other large avian.
What Riina noticed, or thought she noticed, was that they had humans, birds, and wolves who were all hungry and thirsty and in need of medical care. Even the animals had wounds.
And then, because things weren’t strange enough, a flyer came into view, its movements as jerky and uncoordinated as the first flyer that had brought the doughy alien to meet them.
“Oh, that can’t be…” she began.
But it was. Only this flyer was armed.
“Something is happening with the blockade,” Veirn said, breaking a long period of silence.
Kellen had used the time to—reluctantly—consume some real food. He’d felt emptiness gnawing at his ability to focus and had addressed the issue, even though each bite had been like eating dust.
This had necessitated leaving the bridge. Now he headed back at a run. He could almost hear his past captains admonishing him that captains didn’t run.
This one ran.
He skidded onto the bridge and grasped the back of his seat, trying to catch his breath and see what had changed. He hadn’t, he realized, asked if the change was for the better. Looking at the screens, he’d have been hard-pressed to choose between better or worse.
“They are moving,” he muttered. He came around and dropped into his chair, changing the settings on one screen to get a different view. “Their formation appears to be contracting.”
“The formation is descending into atmosphere.”
Kellen examined this information from as many sides as his tired brain could come up with. And ended up back at better or worse. Which was it?
“If they start attacking the surface…” he began.
“I will initiate contact with the shuttle,” Veirn said.
“We should close the distance,” Kellen said. “If the shuttle can evacuate…” Kellen knew he didn’t have to explain to the AI why closer was better.
“Yes, Captain,” Veirn said.
Kellen blinked. The AI hadn’t exactly been following protocol for some time now. He wondered what the change meant.
“Is it possible that the shuttle is damaged?” Kellen felt his insides tighten at this thought. They’d seen signs of it transiting from one location to another, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t taken damage. “We have another shuttle. I could…”
“It would be unwise for you to leave the ship, Captain,” Veirn said.
It hadn’t reminded him of regulations—though as one of his human friends had said once, when this far from normal, regulations were really just guidelines.
“I can deploy the shuttle to the surface.”
Veirn could also pilot this ship without its captain, Kellen wanted to point out. But there was something to be said for keeping the human factor in play when facing so much that was unknown. Of course, sending the shuttle away left them with only escape pods if something went very wrong. He suppressed a shudder at the thought. They were too close in size to the sleep pod he’d gone into so long ago.
“Do it,” Kellen said.
