Glyta had watched Hercule float in his pod for what felt like forever, though in fact it had been no more than ten minutes. She had finally shaken off her torpor, and realized to her chagrin that she had duties to attend to.

“Um…I should…I need to report in,” she said, to nobody in particular.

“Captain’s on her way down with Krator-Imperator Vidol,” Choni Kretus said. “Why don’t you wait over in the huddle room. Decanus Johkanan, can you wait here? The Imperator evidently wants to talk to you while I’m assessing her injuries.”

“Of course,” Nasti said. “Ms. Idisoko,” she added, rising and reaching out a hand, “we’ll probably be leaving once we rendezvous with the fleet, so if I don’t get the chance…thanks for coming to get us.”

Glyta grabbed Nasti’s wrist. “Thanks for getting us off of Hive Prime, ma’am.”

Nasti sighed. “I may have had the stick…but I think that honor goes to Mr. Desrochers.”

Glyta walked into the small huddle room, and sat in the chair, and stared. She was vaguely aware that her hands were shaking, and she heard, from what seemed a great distance, Captain Gwenn and Krator-Imperator Vidol arrive outside. She sat and shook and stared, until she suddenly leapt to her feet, to greet the woman who’d been standing in the doorway for a good minute.

“Captain on deck,” she said.

Lauryna took a few steps in and sealed the door. “As you were, Ms. Idisoko,” she said, gently.

Glyta dropped back into her seat, and shook her head, just a bit.

“I’m…I’m sorry, ma’am. I just….”

“Did you break down crying yet?” Lauryna asked.

“I…what?”

“First remote mission I was on went very bad. We inspected an Insectoid ship that was carrying Dunnermac roe. Ended up getting myself in way the frak over my head, and I got very lucky that it didn’t end up with someone on our side dead.”

“I studied that,” Glyta said robotically. “One of my professors at the Academy…he made the point that you used your knowledge of Insectoid languages skillfully, said that…it was why there were xenolinguists in the first place. Why we didn’t just use translators.”

Lauryna sighed. “That makes it sound like I had a brilliant plan, executed it precisely, got back to the Gyfjon, had a slug of kapskrasi and went to bed. I was damn near killed, Mija Haedta lost her arm, and if I’d been a bit slower, they’d have killed Izzy. As it was, I killed the frakker, and when I got back to the Gyfjon, while I was waiting for Captain Bass to debrief me…I broke down crying. Couldn’t hold it together. Remember apologizing to Aerti, and he told me about his first combat mission – and how he threw up after it was over.”

Lauryna knelt down in front of Glyta and put a hand on her shoulder. “Ms. Idisoko, nobody handles their first combat the way they do in teleplays. Nobody should. The good news is that it does get better. That’s also the bad news.”

“I…still, I….”

Lauryna gave Glyta enough time to be sure there was not a continuation of that sentence, and then continued. “I know we had a conversation just a couple days ago about your future on this ship, and I know that given how rough this mission was, you might be thinking about calling your mom and telling her to start meddling, but more. I also know that it is my hope that you will choose, as you did before, to continue to serve. I haven’t even received your briefing, but Krator-Imperator Vidol would probably give you the Imperii’s Award if it was hers to give. She said you took an emergency dose of cortexifan, then fired the Flypaper’s guns while the ship was burning?”

“That makes it…I didn’t really know what I was doing, ma’am. I just…I saw the Insectoid ships on the scopes, and with Crewmate Olthympo dead, and Mr. Larisin…oh, shaka. Ma’am, I should be reporting the Flypaper lost, I was…I suppose I was in command, technically, I haven’t…it’s….”

“You just did, Ms. Idisoko. I will note it in the log,” Lauryna said, with a gentle smile. “You properly recognized that the most important duty upon return was to make sure that Mr. Desrochers received immediate care, and you have reported to your commanding officer at your earliest convenience.”

“I just…feel like I should be handling this better,” Glyta said, with a nervous chuckle.

“You’re fresh out of the academy, you went on your first remote mission, lost the two senior officers on your strike team, kept fighting despite injury, went above and beyond the call of duty, and helped us save two officers and four civilians trapped behind enemy lines. I’d be very bad at my job if I overlooked that and focused on whether you were swaggering like Wyndiss Ro at the end of a novel. And between you and me, Ms. Idisoko…you feeling a bit lost right now? Given what you’ve been through, that’s the only sane response.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Glyta said. “I just…I did what I had to do.”

“That you did,” Lauryna said. “But that’s more than most are capable of. Never forget that. Now, check in with Dr. Kretus – I want you to get a quick check for any residual effect from the cotexifan. Once you’re cleared, go back to your quarters, get out of that flight suit, shower, and take a nap. Then report to the bridge in ten hours, Commander Riases will formally debrief you.”

“Aye, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” Glyta got up, slightly less stiffly, and said, “You did say this gets better?”

“It does,” Lauryna said. “Well, parts of it do. Getting through the battle and settling back down afterward? That does. Losing your fellow crewmates…that doesn’t.”

“I…I don’t think I’d want it to,” Glyta said.

“No,” Lauryna said. “You don’t.”

* * *

“I will apologize on behalf of Capt. Gwenn, Ambassador, she will try to greet you before you depart, and I know she hopes that you don’t see it as a slight.”

“Not at all, not at all,” Srassuna Ssutassa said, with the s-sounds slightly quavering. “It occurs to me that she is quite busy enough getting us to safety. Indeed, I appreciate her delegating another officer of comparable rank, Capt. Ibanez. You must be busy as well.”

Izzy smiled. “The acolytes are home – well, most of them. That’s my responsibility, so I have a moment or two. Besides, the captain would never want you to receive anything other than our best hospitality. Had we known you were coming, I would be in dress uniform.”

“You gave the lives of four of your crew, perhaps five,” the Ambassador said. “No uniform or high protocol is more of an honor than that. I take it you have been serving with Capt. Gwenn for some time?”

Izzy grinned. “With the exception of one long break, yes.”

“I didn’t think that humans had been in the fleet long enough to reach your rank. Are you Avalonian?”

Izzy blinked, then chuckled. “You know, I thought these holos were good.”

“They’re excellent. But our vision goes further into the infrared than yours, and I can see the emissions are slightly off. Not that you built them to fool Tusola, and even still, it’s quite convincing.”

“We weren’t trying to fool you. I just….”

“You wished to be judged on your merits…and you wished for me not to think that you were someone’s pet, pressed into service. I would not have thought so even before I met your pilots or saw Mr. Desrocher’s bravery. But it does make this walk a bit more convenient for both of us.”

“True,” Izzy said. “And for the record, I’m not from Avalon, I’m from Earth.”

“Oh really? Were you in the Empire before first contact?”

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “Twenty-some years before.”

“So you had to live as a pet.”

“No,” Izzy said. “I had Lauryna – Capt. Gwenn – looking out for me. No matter what some people thought, she never though of me as a pet. And that made all the difference.”

“I see. Your story must be fascinating, Capt. Ibanez,” the Ambassador said, as they reached his guest room. “Should we have time someday, I should like to hear it.”

“I’d like that,” Izzy said. “I believe, if I remember right, that the Tusola bow in greeting and farewell?”

“Yes,” Srassuna said, bowing to Izzy, as she bowed back. “And don’t worry, I know you will have a security officer in the corridor. I will not go wandering between now and departure.”

Izzy grinned. “Ambassador, I like you. And as soon as we get the go-ahead, I’ll have comms connect you with the Sodality embassy in Tuaut.”

“Quite kind,” Srassuna said. “Good day, Capt. Ibanez.”

“Ssssusspttek, Ambassador,” Izzy replied. The ambassador opened his mouth slightly, in a sign of surprise.

“That is excellent Tusolan, captain. I did not know you spoke it.”

“Tallot stalle, enough to get by if I need it. My partner is a xenolinguist, and I’ve been with her 25 Imperial years, I was bound to pick up something at some point.”

“True. And who is your partner? Another human?”

It was Izzy’s turn to grin. “My partner is Capt. Gwenn, Ambassador.”

The Ambassador bowed again. “As the Srarra says, ‘Ssalu’o ssaptta.’ One’s partner is an extension of oneself, and vice versa. By sending you, Capt. Gwenn sends herself. But then, I suspect you both knew that.”

“I know you see it that way,” Izzy said, “but that is not our way, exactly…and we wish to be accommodating to the highest standards of all our peoples. I did not wish to stand for Lauryna when our protocol would have Lauryna stand for herself, and Lauryna would not wish me to.”

The Ambassador bowed again. “Capt. Ibanez, I like you too. Please, tell your crew, and especially those from your Acolytes…I am truly grateful. If you will permit me to quote the Srarra one more time, ‘Ssapttusu tkunku tssokneno ssapttalla saro ssllalle’u.’”

“’A person must be as good as those to whom they owe a debt,’” Izzy replied. “Wise words. May we all live up to them.”

“I can see that you already do, Capt. Ibanez. I can see that you already do.”

* * *

Nothing.

That was the first thing Hercule was aware of – nothing at all.

No sound. No light. Not the sensation of standing or sitting or laying down.

He tried to move, reach out in the darkness, but he could not feel his hands or feet.

He tried to activate his gool but found he couldn’t talk. His mouth seemed full of something, and simultaneously numb. Indeed, though he felt his body, he felt it distantly, like the whole damn thing was numb.

He couldn’t feel much of anything – no, wait…he felt…dizzy. Dizzy, like he was tumbling.

Had he survived? Or had he died?

He had vague memories of the moments after the flash, horrible moments of incredible pain, and then…he must have blacked out. Or had he died? Was he dead? Was he in Hell? Or waiting his chance at Heaven? Or was this all there was – eternal blackness, eternal nothingess, just him and his thoughts, forever?

If that was it, he couldn’t imagine that Hell could be worse. He didn’t believe in an afterlife, but eternal torture at least was…something.

This was nothing.

This was the worst thing he could imagine.

M. Desrochers.

He paused in his panic, as he heard a voice. No…heard was not the right verb. It was as if the voice had been inserted into his consciousness. But it was not his voice, and it was not his mind that commanded it.

This will be confusing, the voice-that-was-not-a-voice said. You are safe. You are aboard the Bass. You are in sickbay. This is Dr. Kretus. I am communicating with you using your translator. If you want to respond, think about subvocalizing the words you would use. You do not have to say them – just think about saying them.

Hercule tried to take a deep breath, and found even that eluded him. He concentrated, hoping he was not already losing his mind.

“Did everyone make it back to the ship?”

Yes. Thanks to you. Embassy-guard died of his wounds, but he at least died here. Everyone else on the shuttle and with the Acolytes made it back. We are traveling to rendezvous with Gama fleet.

“If you’re patching through to my translator…I didn’t survive by much, did I?”

I will not lie to you, M. Desrochers. Your injuries are catastrophic. You probably feel mostly numb right now. You are on…a great many pain-blockers. While you are alive…you will not have an easy path to recovery. We are already coordinating with the JTSF and the Imperial Military on your recovery plan.

“I was blinded, wasn’t I? And deafened.”

You were. You lost over 95 percent of your skin. You will need a lung transplant, they were flash-heated. And your limbs and…some other extremities were charred away. You are lucky; you survived by about a minute, give or take.

Hercule laughed at that – well, tried to – and suddenly spasmed, as the pain of the motion broke through the analgesics, a searing pain that covered his entire being, beyond anything he could imagine.

When he finally recovered, he thought, “I do not know, doctor, if I would call that luck.”

I understand. Especially right now, you are probably worried about what your future holds. And I don’t blame you. You do have a future, though, M. Desrochers, and medicine can do a great deal. Palsa Temis is alive and thriving, and his injuries were more severe in some ways than yours. Capt. Carey was burned severely at Tau Ceti, and he is fully recovered. It will take time, M. Desrochers, and it will not be easy. But we will do everything we can to put you right. It is the least we can do. You saved seven people with your actions.

Hercule wanted to weep, but he had a feeling that would only hurt. He wanted to tell them to kill him, put him out of his misery now, but that seemed ungrateful. After all, he had to have been pulled out. They went in after him, they tried to save him. They should have let him die, but how can you tell someone that?

He was without arms and legs, without eyes and ears, without even his manhood. He was a freak. And maybe they could rebuild him into something resembling a human someday. Maybe. But medicine has limits, and he knew he would not be the person he was.

Do you want to see anyone?

Hercule thought bitterly that he couldn’t even if he wanted to. But he didn’t. Instead, he replied, “I don’t know if anyone would want to see me, in the state I must be in. I don’t know if anyone ever will. So no. Not right now. No.”

There was a long pause, before the voice returned. I understand. I am going to give you some medicine to help you rest. We will wake you in about sixteen hours, when we reach the fleet.

Hercule said nothing. He just waited for the medicine to knock him out again, so that he could for a brief while forget that he had survived, and found himself in hell.