Free Earth Song: Twilight Serenade by Mark Wandrey

was working better than she had dreamed possible.

 
     
    Chapter 9
     
    January 29th, 535 AE
    Unknown Space
     
    Aaron felt rather unwelcome. Sure Strike had made it glaringly obvious that the detour he’d been forced to take was all Aaron’s fault. The cruiser Octal 1 had docked with a transfer vehicle, an open hulled ship stuffed with all manner of equipment and possible salvage. Dozens of Squeen clung to netting in places, some obviously families, others on some unknown mission. At least a dozen other species were in evidence as well, of which he recognized half.
    A pair of armed and armored Squeen guards escorted him over along with Sure Strike. Once aboard, the guards stayed with Aaron while the captain met with the ship’s master. A while later, he came back scuttling along the myriad of handholds placed in every place imaginable.
    “I have diverted the ship’s master to take us to the command ship,” he told Aaron. “He is upset with you now as well as his paying trips will be delayed.”
    “Swell,” Aaron said and was immediately aware that every being in the cargo area was looking at him. A pair of the proud and easily annoyed Taccari watched him with apparent disdain, their huge avian eyes blinking and head crest feather standing erect. Their bright beaks looked formidable to the unarmed Aaron. The arachnid Capdep might or might not have been watching him with its six eyes, Aaron wasn’t sure. It clung to the web of cargo netting in zero gravity and seemed quite at home, possibly a member of the transfer vessels crew.
    The ship undocked from the cruiser and Aaron noted a slight acceleration. The ship was obviously a salvaged craft that once likely had had a very different life before being pressed into service as its new role. Everything about it cried out improvisation and adaptation. The life support in particular seemed to be struggling. His nose wrinkled of its own accord as the smell of multiple alien species in stale air assailed him.
    Luckily the trip was not a long one and the transfer vessel docked with another ship. A Squeen crewman bounded over and chattered to Sure Strike. “We have docked with the command ship.”
    “My thanks,” he replied.
    “You can thank me by getting this annoyance off my vessel.”
    There was no way to tell what ship of the dozens he’d seen that he was being taken aboard, but the corridors were wide and sweeping which to him suggested great size.
    The ship’s interior teemed with activity. Mostly Squeen scurried about on unknown tasks. Aaron did note a few other species, in particular a number of the earlier spotted Capdeps. He’d only seem images of them from other Chosen scouts over the years. Tenacious scavengers, they kept to themselves and had proven non-confrontational.
    The corridors were in gravity unlike the transfer ship and even the cruiser he’d spent so long aboard. It eased their movement through the ship until the guards escorted him to a large chamber. Inside were a dozen or more Squeen all surrounded by holographic displays they were interacting with. As Aaron entered, the Squeen in the center turned.
    “I remember you,” he spoke, the voice coming from Aaron’s translator.
    “And I remember you, Strong Arm.”
    The alien’s elongated ears twitched and he considered Aaron in his now very well worn jumpsuit. He gestured to Sure Strike who came and joined the other Squeen around their screen and was greeted warmly.
    “Your appearance on a Tanam ship has caused a great deal of consternation.”
    “There is a logical explanation for that,” Aaron replied.
    “Yes, Sure Strike tells us you claim to have been a hostage of the Tanam, taken on the Traga leasehold of Coorson several weeks ago.” Aaron nodded and said that was correct. “Yet you were found in a combat space suit free on the enemy ship and in good health.”
    “They were taking me for questioning at the time,” Aaron offered. “When the ship was severely damaged I knew my