Engineer Volker said, “The Stremlenie is changing direction, towards us. Calculating…”
Gonzalez said, “Doctor, go. Run. Captain Lewis, tell the shuttle to launch as soon as he’s aboard.”
Colonel Matthews said into his wrister, “Code one. Repeat, Code one.”
Noah Jenner said, “An attack? By whom? What is going on up there?”
Volker, his normal stoic demeanor finally giving way, said, “Why don’t they know? What the hell kind of equipment—”
Salah didn’t hear the rest. He was running through the common room toward the shuttle bay, stomach flopping with every step, forcing his mind to stay clear of the hundreds of questions pounding it like bombs.
Dr. Sherman, the geologist, was aboard the shuttle; so was Dr. Bentley, the economics guy. Owen strode through the door, half dragging Marianne Jenner, who carried a laptop.
“Captain Lewis said I’m needed on the bridge! My son—”
“Please be quiet, ma’am, and sit down. These orders supersede Captain Lewis’s. Brodie?”
“All but the other doctor.” Leo blanked on his name, but it didn’t matter. Owen said, “Kandiss, get him in one minute. If you can’t, run back here.”
“Yes, sir.”
The doctor raced through the shuttle bay door. Kandiss pushed him aboard and jumped in. Leo slammed shut the door as the shuttle bay opened to the stars. He fell into his seat just as the shuttle lurched forward. The bulkhead, down near the floor, said BOEING; the shuttle had not been part of the very minimal alien plans but, rather, something added with current American technology. The lurch felt like the Greyhound that had brought Leo to the recruiting station when he’d run away from home—
Why think about that Greyhound bus now?
Don’t think, either, of those behind on the Friendship: her crew, Captain Matthews, Miguel Flores, Ambassador Gonzalez. The Ranger unit’s mission was to protect the ambassador, but she had overridden that when this contingency plan was created. Matthews, when he’d explained the plan to the unit, had clearly not been happy about it. But Gonzalez’s authority came direct from the president, the commander-in-chief. Now this part of the unit’s primary mission had become to protect her representative, Wayne Henry, until either the shuttle passengers returned to the Friendship or Ambassador Gonzalez was ferried to the ground.
Had the ambassador known a Russian ship was coming? Or suspected it? Did she stay aboard because she was the only one with direct authority the Russkies might listen to? Or—
It didn’t matter. Leo’s job was to follow orders, not question them.
Outside the shuttle window, a blinding flash of light.
Someone screamed. Another flash of light. Leo couldn’t see what was happening. Did the shuttle have weapons? The Friendship must—
The shuttle abruptly turned, and Leo had a clear view. From one of the ships shot a beam of light, and the other one exploded in a sunburst. Which one?
The pilot, Ritter, said shakily, “Sir, the… the Friendship was fatally hit. No survivors possible.”
Owen said, “Continue planetside with all possible speed.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sir. Owen—Lieutenant Lamont—was CO now, of Ritter as well as the Army unit. They were all dead: Captain Lewis and his crew, Colonel Matthews and Miguel Flores, the ambassador, that physicist… all dead.
Don’t think about that now. Leo awaited Owen’s orders.
The pilot said, “Entering the atmosphere. We—”
The shuttle pitched and rocked—too much pitching. Ritter said, “We’ve taken a hit, sir.” Smoke seeped from the back of the shuttle into the cabin.
Salah didn’t know which of the women had screamed. Not Ranger Berman, surely, so it must have been Claire Patel or Marianne Jenner. Before he could see if either needed help, the shuttle was hit.
By what? Not the same beam—laser? alpha particles?—Salah was no physicist. But the shuttle didn’t explode as the Friendship had. It lurched, and something somewhere began to smoke. Salah pulled his filter mask from his pocket and put it on; everyone else fumbled with theirs. If the young pilot could get it to the ground…
Lieutenant Lamont was saying over and over, “This is the Friendship shuttle. We are making an emergency landing. Come in, Kindred…”
Salah unstrapped himself and lurched to the front of the craft. “I can say that in Kindred, Lieutenant, if you wish.”
Lamont said, “Go.”
Salah found the strange and difficult words, short syllables interspersed with clicks and rising inflections that could totally change the meaning. But languages came easily to him, and he’d studied Kindred every spare moment for six months. “Kal^mel¡ hibdel…”
No response.
He kept on, as the ground hurled skyward to meet them. Trees, buildings, fields… then rougher terrain as steep hills rose toward distant mountains.
“Kal^mel¡ hibdel…”
Crash. They were going to crash.
Leo twisted in his seat and yelled to the civilians to assume the safest crash position, demonstrating what it was. The doctor sat in the copilot’s seat, talking gibberish. Leo felt the engines turn off as Ritter took the shuttle into a long, controlled glide. Outside the window the ground rose. Where was Ritter going? There: a long, empty field at the base of a hill. Closer, closer…
The shuttle was hit again and black smoke filled the cabin.
They struck the ground hard enough to rattle Leo’s teeth. Then he was on his feet, yanking people out of their seats as Owen pulled open the door. Kandiss jumped down. Leo threw the passengers at Owen, who tossed them to Kandiss, never mind who was injured, just get them out…. Marianne Jenner, still clutching her laptop. The lab kid, Dr. Sherman, the two doctors—Dr. Patel would not let go of her big suitcase—Christ on a cracker! Leo threw it down beside her. Zoe was unstrapping the two people farthest back, why weren’t they unstrapping themselves, had the smoke overcome them…
Something from above hit the shuttle and it burst into flame. Leo jumped and rolled, instinct and training both taking over, a seamless whole. Owen landed to his right, and then Zoe on top of him. Her pants were on fire. He rolled her on the ground until it was out and then they were up, following Owen and Kandiss, who were dragging the civilians toward the hill.
No one else emerged from the burning shuttle. Not the pilot or Bentley or Henry.
Leo’s legs wobbled under him. Not injury, something else… gravity wasn’t right. He steadied himself.
Owen said, “Who is—” just as something happened that Leo had never seen, could not have imagined.
A beam of light swept across the sky, bright enough to show red against the pearly dawn. It swept from side to side before disappearing.
Then silence.
Someone quavered, “What was…”
“That was a weapon,” Owen said flatly. “The same one that destroyed the Friendship. Kindred is under attack from the Stremlenie.”
Dr. Sherman said, “But they must have counterweapons… an advanced civilization like this—”
No one answered him. Leo didn’t see any counterweapons. He didn’t even see any civilization. All he saw was a burning shuttle with nine survivors, marooned on an alien planet that either had not or could not come to their defense.
CHAPTER 4
Isabelle Rhinehart yawned, stretched, and rose from her sleeping mat. She folded it, put it away in the karthwood chest, and padded barefoot from her privacy room into the atrium of the house. No one was there; it was barely dawn. Isabelle made herself a cup of tea and, still in her night shift, opened the teardrop-shaped double door to the terrace beyond. Leaning on the railing, she sipped her tea and gazed at the valley brightening under the rising sun.