XEF

The scant wisps of high cloud offered no hope for relief from the rising sun. The dark red soil had barely finished radiating the heat it had collected the previous day when the first rays of the sun lit the sky.

“Listen up, the word of the day is hydrate.” Captain Inez Isobel filled her canteen from the creek, pushed the button on the side, and waited for the red light on the button to turn green. When it had, she took a swig of the tepid water. “Tastes like shit, but it’s better than dying out here. Speaking of dying out here, every hour we spend reduces the chances for rescue of the crew. Weather check, McCoy.”

“It’s going to be the hottest day yet. Yesterday was already 147 drin. Shit, I can’t do hotter.” Corporal Alex McCoy, barely 150 centimeters tall, turned grey eyes in a pale face rimmed with strawberry blond hair and beard to the tall, dun-skinned woman with dark brown eyes and matching hair buzzed to a few millimeters.

“Corporal.” Isobel said the word in Dulxanit.

“Aye, Captain. Apologies. I will endure, we will endure, the Xeno Expeditionary Forces will prevail,” he replied in the same language.

She shifted back to English. “McCoy, I know you like to show off your mastery of Dulxan weights and measures, but could you please use human equivalents when it’s just us humans.”

“Yes, ma’am. It was about 43 Celsius — that’s 110 Fahrenheit, Mary-Jane — yesterday, with humidity at 22 percent. It’ll be hotter today,” he said, “but it’s a dry heat?” he added with forced jocularity.

“I know Celsius, Private,” Recruit Mary-Jane Smith shot back.

“Why did you join the Dulxan XEF?” Isobel asked, pronouncing the acronym as “zef.”

McCoy sighed. “Same story as most of us, I guess. We’re not supposed to ask, so forgive me, Cap, if I don’t elaborate.”

Isobel crossed her arms. “I know you’re probably running from a jail sentence or something, what I meant is, why did you join XEF rather than, say, hiding away in any other system outside human space?”

“I—uh—didn’t have that option. It was either the Dulxan Xeno Expeditionary Force, or Dulxan prison, and I couldn’t do another stint.” He turned all his attention on his satellite relay that displayed the weather patterns in real time, along with an overlay of the search grids the team had already combed and those that were left.

Mouths began to open, only to be shut again, as the troops all had questions, but knew better than to ask them.

Sergeant Abel Mahmouddi unfolded his wiry, two-meter frame from where he’d sat. His ebon skin showed no sign of age, although his close-cropped, tightly curled black hair had spots of grey at the temples. “XEFs, fill your canteens and be ready to move out, three minutes. McCoy, keep your eyes on our satellite, Smith on point. Private Doe, what’s our comm situation?”

Private Jane Doe gave a thumbs-up. “We’re five-by-five with command, still no fix on the transponder.”

As they trekked kilometer after slow kilometer, the sun rose, a baleful orange that made their camouflage pattern look washed out and grey. McCoy stayed close to Isobel and Mahmouddi, marking each area they searched as they went.

“Hey, Sarge,” he said, “I saw how everyone looked when I said Dulxan prison.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Mahmouddi said. “You’d have to fuck up pretty major to end up in Dulxan prison. And did you imply that you’d already done a stint?”

“Tell you what, Sarge. You or Cap tell me why you’re here, and I’ll tell you my story.”

Isobel spoke up. “That’s easy. You’ve already noticed I’m not using one of the 'hundred names', but my real name. That’s because I’m not running away from anything.”

“Not hard to believe, Cap,” he said. “I can’t imagine you being in trouble with the law anywhere.”

“I was in the Marines,” she said, “for the black sky Navy. I joined for adventure and travel. Instead, I spent my time on stations and guarding Ambassadors. I joined XEF for the adventure. I saw more action my first year in than I did in the six I spent as a Marine.”

Mahmouddi laughed. “I’m using my real name, too, but not because I’m not running away. I can never return to human space. First-degree murder doesn’t have a statute of limitations. I knew what I was getting into and so did my daughter. Those bastards won’t hurt her — or anybody — ever again, though.”

“Shit. Well, I guess it’s my turn. I, um, had a fling with Eviets, a Dulxan girl—”

“Wait,” Isobel said, “a hairy, snaggletoothed, stubby-legged, Dulxan? Like, with the extra bits down there and all?”

 “Yeah, Cap. Just like that. She was so sweet, though. I couldn’t help but see past all that.”

Mahmouddi’s eyes narrowed. “Was she underage? Is that why?”

“No, no, she…uh…used me…as a money mule. I didn’t know. She’d ask me to do her a favor and hand me a stack of credits with a filled-out deposit slip. Lots of different banks, but I figured it was normal for an interstellar business consultant. She travelled a lot for business, made lots of money, but still found time to keep me happy.”

McCoy marked their location on his display and continued. “It’s just that her ‘consulting’ business was money laundering for pirates and drug cartels. They arrested me while I was making one of the deposits and locked me up. I told them everything I knew, but they didn’t believe me. Eviets was in the wind. They said not even a human would get suckered in by someone as ugly as her, and I was in on it and in it for the money.

“That was the first term, for seven mita — about 2 years — and then they caught her, and she dumped it all on me. I knew I was fucked when I recognized the judge at the second trial as one of her regular customers. Now she’s free and I’m here.”

Mahmouddi chuckled. “You were with a Dulxan woman — an ugly one at that. Who was top?”

McCoy shook his head and sighed. “See, this is why I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re saying she was,” Mahmouddi said. “I see.”

“Would it matter what I said?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” Isobel answered, “as I couldn’t care less. I’m more concerned with our mission. But your history with a snaggletoothed fur-dwarf is safe with me.”

“For future reference, you might just claim the money laundering and skip the rest of the story,” Mahmouddi said.

A sharp whistle from Doe caught their attention. “I’ve got a transponder signal, but it’s weak. North-by-Northeast, probably ten or so kilometers.”

“Round ’em up for a pause,” Isobel said to Mahmouddi.

“Aye, Captain.” He raised his open hand over his head and circled it, giving the signal to assemble. Once the entire squadron was there, he said, “Drink up. We’ve got a signal and we’re diverting off the search grid. Ten minutes.”

“McCoy,” Isobel said, “weather report.”

“It’s currently 39 Celsius, and we’re expecting a high of 47,” he said. “For Mary-Jane that’s—”

“102 now, high of 117-sh” she said.

“Close enough. Humidity is dropping as the temperature rises, but we can expect 19 percent.”

“I said, drink up!” Mahmouddi yelled. “We’re going to push on through the heat before it cooks our Dulxan friends. Let’s remind ’em why they have an all-human unit in the XEF!” He switched to Dulxanit and called, “I will endure.”

The squadron answered back in Dulxanit with, “We will endure, the Xeno Expeditionary Forces will prevail.”

The squadron covered the distance in just under two hours. The Dulxan light freighter was wedged against the side of a cliff, the landing gear sheared off in the dense soil, the emergency ablative heat shield all but gone from the high-speed entry to the thick atmosphere.

There were no tree-like plants here to hide the ship. Isobel looked at the open plain and the clear sky above. “McCoy, why didn’t the satellite pick this up?”

McCoy showed her the view from the satellite. “Something in the rocks here is messing with the imaging. It’s all just a blur.”

“Doe, call command with our location. Tell them to send extraction and a medical team at once,” she yelled.

“Trying, Cap, but I can’t reach command. Something’s messing with the signal.”

Mahmouddi and the others were looking for a way into the ship, but the main door was wedged against the mountainside. Smith clambered up the rock face to get on top of the ship. “There’s an access here on top!” she called out.

Isobel looked at the Mahmouddi. “Sergeant, take two more and get into that ship. Be ready with medical requirements. And get me some comms.”

“Aye, Captain.” He turned to Doe. “Do you think you could get through from up there?” he asked, pointing at the top of the cliff.

“Maybe, probably. We didn’t bring any climbing gear, though.”

Smith had already clambered down. “I’ve done years of free climbing,” she said. “Give me the radio, and I’ll try to call from up top.”

Mahmouddi nodded. “Make it happen, Recruit. Doe, hand over the comms to Smith and come with me. Corporal Jones, you’re with me, too.”

Two of the squadron ran up to him.

“Shit, sorry, I forgot you got promoted last week. Corporal John Jones, you’re with me and Doe, Corporal Sally Jones, stay with the rest of the squadron and set up a protective perimeter. Corporal McCoy, keep an eye on the display for anything that might be coming our way.”

“Aye, Sergeant,” they responded in Dulxanit.

While Mahmouddi led his team into the ship, and Smith climbed the cliff face, McCoy kept watch on the satellite display. “Ma’am,” he asked, “what do you think a Dulxan freighter is doing all the way out here in Thaazi space?”

“I’m sure it’s above my paygrade,” she said, “not to mention yours.”

“Is this planet even inhabited?” he asked.

“Don’t know. It’s not on the public charts, but obviously the Dulxan know it’s here, and I would guess the Thaazi do too.”

Smith waved from the top of the cliff and gave a thumbs-up. Doe popped her head up from the ship and made the hand signal for medevac, followed by a raised hand with four fingers. Smith copied the movements and held a fist in front of her face to say she was relaying the info on comms.

“Here comes the parade,” McCoy said, pointing at his display. Two ships were marked in green on the satellite image, heading toward them.

“Give them a landing marker,” Isobel said. She whistled loud enough for Smith to hear from the top of the cliff and gave the signal to assemble.

When the ships landed, Dulxans in bulky environmental suits to keep them cool rushed out to the freighter. They cut through the side and carried the four injured and overheated crew out of the ship. The XEF squadron loaded onto the second ship as the last of the suited-up Dulxans left the freighter. The air in the extraction ship was a pleasant 19 degrees Celsius.

No sooner had they closed up the ship than the freighter exploded. McCoy showed Isobel and Mahmouddi his display. Where the image had been blurred and glitched, it was now clear.

She nodded. “It wasn’t the rocks.”

“And that was no freighter,” Mahmouddi said.

“Who cares?” McCoy asked. “I’m just going to enjoy this cool air for a while.”

He wasn’t alone. The XEF squadron fell silent as fatigue and the relief from the heat overtook them.