Sandra set a thin blanket over Twilight’s sleeping body. The princess had worn herself out again, but this time she seemed to be able to cope with magic and only needed to rest. God knew what was actually happening to her. All Sandra could do was keep her well-rested and alive.
After tending her patient, she headed to the bridge, where Matt watched the frothy ocean between Walker and the Lemurian ship. “Captain, we’ve suffered no casualties during the battle, unless you count Twilight. I should go over there and offer medical assistance.”
He sighed. “Lieutenant, I will always count Twilight, even though she isn’t officially a member of the crew. As for helping the Lemurians, it sure wouldn’t hurt our resume, but I’m afraid we can’t until the sea calms.” He gestured to the voracious fish to prove his point. “After that, we’ll hope they understand and rig a bosun’s chair… no, that won’t work. Hopefully we can just use a boat.”
“So, nothing until day?”
“I’m afraid so. How’s Twilight?”
She leaned against the railing. “She’ll live. Her body can somehow endure much more extreme physical stress without receiving permanent damage than ours. It has to be the magic. If only she could slow down and teach me how to use it! But I digress. The bases of her wings had little tears in the feathery skin there, as if they almost ripped off--that must have been when she fell--but they’ll heal fine. She just needs a week or so.”
“That’s good. So, she’ll be able to make it across in the morning? I plan on heading over with a delegation of sorts.”
She shrugged. “Probably. Her arms and legs are fine, just a few singed hairs. They’re bound to be sore, though.”
Walker’s searchlights snapped on as dusk slipped to night, pointing to the Lemurian ship. The Lemurians were initially cautious about the unnatural illumination, but quickly recognized the gesture and took advantage of it. Meanwhile, some kind of furnace burned on and on, sending ash curling into the night sky.
Throughout the night, Walker stayed alongside the massive vessel, never letting the Lemurians think for a second that she would leave them to be alone in the world.
-------------------------
“Sir,” Larry Dowden said, “I should be the one to go across.”
“I know, Larry,” Matt replied, “but I’m the captain, so I can do what I want. You can meet the aliens next time. I promise.”
“What about Twilight? She’s wounded, and she’s not a sailor--this past week has been a little rough on her stomach.”
“She’s a dignitary for her own people, whoever they are. She has to represent them. Besides, we’ll have Lieutenant Tucker with us. If Twilight needs a doctor, she’s covered.”
“Aye, sir.”
Matt climbed into the larger launch. Instead risking a fall into the water as his party climbed down the rungs to the whaleboat, they could be in the launch when it was lowered into the water. That was a good thing, because a fall wasn’t just an embarrassment anymore--it was a death sentence. At least the water had resumed its deceptively calm appearance.
Sandra, Twilight, Gray, Bradford, Silva and a few of his goons, and Shinya followed him. Twilight wasn’t wearing the nurse’s uniform Sandra and Karen had given her, choosing instead to don a more comfortable T-shirt while a bandage kept her wings tied to her back. Shinya had his blue Japanese Navy uniform, and Matt decided against making everyone wear blues to keep them from resenting him even more.
Tony Scott was coxswain, and he was excellent even in the unfamiliar launch. As he stopped them from bumping the Lemurian ship by the narrowest margin. Twilight leaned into him, taking in the sea spray while he tried to remain aloof. Both looked up when a rope ladder rumbled down to them.
“Normally, it would be ladies first, but we don’t know what’s up there, so I’m first,” Matt said. “After me, it’s Gray and the security detail. Then you go as you see fit. Remember to behave yourselves.” He began climbing, clinging to the rungs like they were a lifeline. Reaching the deck, he jumped from the rail the ladder hung from and looked around. The Lemurians didn’t have a flag, but could they recognize what he meant? There weren’t any procedures for this kind of thing. Standing straight, he turned aft and snapped a sharp salute. Then he turned back and said, “Lieutenant Commander Matthew Reddy, United States Navy. I request permission to come aboard, sir.”
A Lemurian in purple robes, much taller than the others, blinked what had to be surprise. He was the target of Matt’s question, as he seemed important somehow. The ones around him had weapons, but none were brandished, and all were weary. That was a good sign.
Gray hit the deck next, grabbing an enormous backstay for support. He looked at his hand, shocked, and looked up to Matt. Then he did what he heard the captain do, sticky tar flinging from his hand. Matt nodded, having already seen it.
The tall Lemurian in the robe pulled his hood down, grinning as best he could. Like cats, most of his expressions couldn’t be interpreted from face movements. But his tail swished back and forth like it had a mind of its own. He imitated Matt’s salute and held up his hand. Matt held out his own on impulse, and Gray chuckled.
“Permission granted, Skipper.”
The Lemurian crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Adar.”
Bradford pushed his way to the front of the party, exclaiming, “My word! Does he mean that he is Adar, or that’s his people?”
“Mr. Bradford, please, no more outbursts. They might be confused about who’s actually in charge, and that’s the last thing we need. It’ll confuse them, and I’m already confused more than anyone else here, maybe except Twilight.” He pointed to the tall Lemurian and asked, “Adar?”
He grinned wider, despite having a catlike face, and blinked twice. Then he held out his hands and bowed.
Matt clasped his hands to his chest. “Matthew Reddy.”
Adar tried to get the unusual pronunciation around his mouth. “Mat-yoo Riddy.”
“Close enough.” He named everyone else, but Twilight introduced herself before he could.
“Twilight Sparkle of Equestria,” she said, clasping her arms and bowing.
“Twil-lit Spakle.”
She smiled.
Matt pointed across the water to where Walker kept station. She really was a sight. Streaks of rust ran down her sides, and her recently patched wounds stuck out like sore thumbs under the fresh paint. The lizard firebomb had caused the paint just aft of her number to flake and bubble. But most important of all to Matt, the Stars and Stripes fluttered above the crew, displaying her colors for all to see from the aft mast.
“USS Walker,” he said.
“Waa-kur.” Adar tried to say the strange word, but his reverent tone radiated his people’s solemn, respectful view of the battered ship. He gestured for them to follow him as a path opened through the crowd of Lemurians to an opening in the large deckhouse behind him. Matt strode purposefully through it, turning around when Silva made a strangled, incredulous sound.
“What is it, Silva…?” He stopped. It was suddenly obvious that Adar was male. Every Lemurian was wearing a kilt--very practical, considering their tails--but their tops were covered only for warriors. At least the fur helped, but still… Matt cleared his mind. Not surprisingly, Silva had been the first to notice, but Twilight had wider eyes, and Sandra’s face was red-hot.
“My God,” Newman squeaked.
“Fascinating!” Bradford exclaimed.
“Is this normal?” Twilight asked.
“Not unusual for some people back home,” Sandra muttered in reply.
“Too ‘unusual’ for us,” Felts whispered. Sandra’s blushed deepened.
“Silence!” growled Gray. “keep your eyes up, and stop looking at their dames! You want them to eat you? They’re critters!”
“Not critters, Gray, and more than able to take offense, most likely,” Matt said. “Eyes and hands to yourselves--that’s an order, Silva!”
They entered the deckhouse, where a massive tree grew through the center of a room that took up the entire “ground” floor of the building. The ceiling was unexpectedly high, and ornate tapestries hung from the walls in a decorative fashion. Compared to the outside, the interior was opulent.
Matt focused on the tree itself for a moment. It reached up through the deck and past the ceiling, its thick brown trunk appearing to show great strength as if it held the shrouds above to the ship. Ten to fifteen feet above the deck, it split in branches that ended in greenish-gold leaves that resembled a palm. He only knew a few tree species, and this was not one of them. He turned to the tired, wounded Lemurian sitting on a simple stool nearby rather than one of the plush cushions scattered in groups around the room.
He sat still, but his tail swished back and forth like a calm cat’s. With reddish-brown fur and a slightly obese but strong build, he seemed like a being of power. Caretakers stood around him, but he didn’t seem like he needed help. His wounds were covered in a yellow, viscous fluid, and some looked like nasty slashes indeed. Despite Sandra’s need to help him, he didn’t look like he needed assistance; his dark eyes were clear and focused, devoid of distraction. Startling to Matt was the recognition that he was the one who’d waved the day before. He walked to the seated Lemurian and held up his hand, which was evidently a universal sign of greeting.
“Keje-Fris-Ar,” the Lemurian said, and bowed his head slightly. The others gathered around him followed his lead. “U-Amaki ay Mi-Anakka ay Salissa,” Adar added with respect.
“I guess he’s the big bull. The other one’s probably some kind of witch doctor or pope,” Gray muttered.
Matt almost laughed in spite of himself. “You want to get us killed, Boats? One more comment like that will do.”
“Begging your pardon, Skipper, but we could recite nursery rhymes and they wouldn’t know the difference.”
“But we would, and I don’t think they’d take it lightly if we all burst into laughter while they’re naming their gods or something.”
“Oh… oh! Got it, Skipper.”
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“They are quite ugly,” Jarrik-Fas commented. He was Keje’s kinsman and head of Salissa Home’s active Guard. As the two groups observed the other, he spoke quietly to Adar. “Almost no fur, pale and sickly skin.”
“They were quite beautiful driving the Grik away, were they not?” Adar asked.
“They were,” Jarrik conceded, “but we wouldn’t have wanted them to stay overlong if they acted hostile. Gri-kakka are welcome too, when they devour the Grik, but the same applies.”
“Yes, but the gri-kakka would have stayed regardless, hoping to devour us as well. If the Tail-less Ones wished, they could devour us with the power they possess, and they would have already done so. Yet they are peaceful now.”
“They give the Sign of the Empty Hand, yet they obviously carry swords on their belts, and the long tubes some carry on their backs are likely weapons of similar nature to the great ones aboard their ship. Their hands are not empty.”
Adar chose his next words carefully, knowing that Keje was listening to his two most trusted advisors. “Perhaps it is more figurative among their kind. Empty toward us but not all.”
“Or it could mean something else entirely,” Keje grumbled. “But the one who appears to be their leader has an empty hand. I must find a way to speak to him and convey our gratitude. Would you have gone aboard their ship unarmed, Jarrik?”
“No, lord, not that it would do anything in the face of their magic.”
“And what about the purple one?”
“She must be of an entirely different species that the Tail-less Ones,” Adar speculated. “She seems somewhat uncomfortable in the shape of the Tail-less Ones, and remember, she has wings. They appear to be bandaged for now, but they can span a great distance while she flies. And the Tail-less Ones looked shocked at her abilities, which must be magic to them!” Even as he spoke to Keje and Jarrik, he noticed that she was listening attentively to their conversation. “Do you think she can understand us?”
“Ask her,” Jarrik challenged. “I doubt her own magic is much more than the rest of the Tail-less Ones’.”
“Very well.” Adar turned to the purple-skinned one and kindly asked, “Can you understand me?”
She closed her eyes as violet swirls gathered around her hands. They were absorbed into her skin, while others circled her head. The other Tail-less Ones backed away, cautious, and Adar felt that they had a right to. Eventually, though, she opened her eyes again and smiled. “Now I do,” she replied in the Lemurian language. “I needed to hear your conversation so that my translation spell could work, but I understand you perfectly, Adar.”
Jarrik blinked. “Did that just happen?”
“I’m afraid so,” Keje said with awe. “I understood her perfectly. She had every word in the correct place, every phrase said like one of us.”
“Do the Scrolls mention a creature like her,” Jarrik asked.
“Not exactly, but they do speak of tail-less creatures from that departed to the East long ago.” He cleared his throat, still shaken by Twilight’s perfect speech. “Their vessels were like those of the Grik, and they had sails.” He took a deep breath, remembering the language of the Sacred Scrolls that only the Sky Priests bothered to learn. “And upon the longest of the long days, when the Sun Brother was large and close in the sky, they freed their great ship from the bottom of the sea and sailed into the East, into the emptiness of the Eastern Sea.” So rarely had he actually spoken the words despite knowing them by heart. He smiled. Not even the Purple One could best his memory and startle him, only make him uneasy.
Then he noticed that the Tail-less Ones had stopped speaking. The one with very little fur on his head had dropped his jaw. The one with black fur and a different face spoke to their leader, who nodded, wide-eyed.
“This said… speech… yours?” he asked in the language of the Scrolls themselves.
Keje, having heard the words enough to recognize them, lurched to his feet in shock as Adar hit the deck in a dead faint.