Free The Xenocide Mission by Ben Jeapes Page B

them; the living and the dead.’
    ‘The bodies as well?’ said Oomoing.
    ‘Naturally. They’ll want to consume their dead.’ Barabadar sounded surprised that Oomoing could think otherwise, and Oomoing refrained from pointing out that the customs of the extraterrestrials might be different. Indeed, consuming was part of Sharing and Sharing was an integral part of Kin biology, so why should extraterrestrials have the same features? For that matter, why should they have such a thing as the Rituals of Combat, which had surely arisen to meet the specific circumstances of life on Homeworld? But all that would be more evolutionist claptrap to the Marshal of Space.
    ‘They still might kill us all,’ Oomoing said instead.
    ‘They might try, and if they try, we’ll resist. I’m ordering all my people here to make Sharings to send back to Homeworld by message capsule. I expect you’ll want to do likewise. And here comes Third Son, good. Make what observations you can of this vessel because it will be your last chance.’
    Joel couldn’t believe it. It had occurred to him that now might be a good time to try and make a break for the lifeboat bay, and he was so determined to get as close as they possibly could before making a move that it took a moment to sink in: they were heading there anyway. And then they were in, at the inner end of the rock-hewn chamber, and the smooth matte hull of the lifeboat was stretching away into the distance. A crowd of XCs still stood around.
    Joel groaned and looked wistfully at the lifeboat’s airlock. It was only a matter of yards away, but still somewhere he could never get with all these XCs about. As far as he could tell, the lifeboat was fully charged and untampered with, though an XC was clambering about the hull with what looked like some kind of recording equipment, maybe taking pictures. From the markings on the suit, Joel thought he recognized the large female that had supervised his brief moment of freedom, but he had other things on his mind and he turned his gaze back to the lifeboat. Just a few elementary commands were needed to make it whisk them away from here for ever.
    A smaller XC, another one which Joel thought he recognized, came up to him and Joel almost yelped when he saw his aide in its hand. Then the suited figure held it out to him. Joel’s mind seemed to detach from his body and it was as if a stranger watched him reach out and take it. No fuss, no XCs going for their guns. This was all official, kosher, above board. The XC ostentatiously let go of it once Joel had a firm grip; yes, it really was his to keep. Then the XC jetted over to the lifeboat to help the one with the camera.
    ‘Thank you,’ Joel said. He keyed in the command for a general self-diagnostic. The display lit up:
A-OK
.
    Did XCs know these things could communicate? Well, he would have to find out. He changed functions and again keyed:
Open channel to Boon
Round
.
    Channel open, cue BR
, said the display. So Joel keyed:
Tx BR: Do you read me?
    A pause, then:
Rx BR: Yes.
    Boon Round’s suit radio was also out but the Rustie was wearing his translator unit; which, like an aide, doubled as a communicator.
    More letters appeared on the display as Boon Round asked a question.
Rx BR: What are we doing here?
    Tx BR: Don’t know
, Joel replied.
    Rx BR: Do they intend to let us on board?
    Tx BR: Search me
.
    Rx BR: For what?
    Joel glared at the latest message, then quickly looked up; how were the XCs reacting to all this longhand chit-chat? Still happy?
    Still happy. The XCs were looking at him closely but they had made no effort to interfere. Yet they must have realized what was happening. Didn’t they mind that their two captives were standing here, next to a fully functioning lifeboat . . .
    It sunk in suddenly and took Joel’s breath away. Were the XCs actually letting them go?
    Boon Round was on again.
Rx BR: Can you interface
your aide with the lifeboat systems?
    ‘I don’t think we’ll need