Chapter 11
If it hadn’t been for the two moons, the darkness would have been eerily intense, though Miles’ night vision was slowly returning after the brilliant flashes from what he presumed were weapons.
“What just happened?” Lira asked, her voice a whisper, as if the aliens might overhear them.
“I think it was an EM pulse,” he whispered back. Okay, he was a bit freaked out, too. “Harold?”
Had the EM pulse taken the robot down with the rest of the electronics? It was starting to seep into his consciousness just how very hosed they were. If their comms were down, their flyers most likely were, too.
They’d brought emergency supplies in their flyer, but how hard would it be to access the interior with the electronics out?
And—bigger question—now that the aliens had put out the lights, what did they intend to do with their advantage?
“I am in the process of rebooting my systems,” Harold said, its voice back to its most robotic yet.
“How bad were you hit?” Miles asked. He hadn’t been sure the robot could answer him, and it wasn’t over the comms. Somehow, in the scramble for cover, it had landed next to him. Or had joined him? And where was Lira’s father?
“I experienced some disruptions before I deployed counter measures.”
Miles hadn’t known there were counter measures for an EM pulse. He resisted the urge to find out more. They had larger problems to resolve.
Problem one. Depending on how badly their communications were damaged, he had no way to get in contact with the Quendala.
Problem two. They were a considerable distance from Lira’s house, and their flyers were most likely out of commission.
Problem three. Their emergency supplies were inside the flyers and possibly inaccessible, though if Harold was able to recover it was possible it could break into their flyer.
Problem four. If the planet was experiencing an alien invasion, he only had an electronic—and probably disabled—ray gun to defend them with.
And what was that thing that had seemed to suck the Vorthari right out of the ground? It hadn’t been a gentle extraction either.
That didn’t seem like a hostile act. But the EM pulse? That did seem hostile. Unless it had to do with the Vorthari? Were they somehow affected by electronic signals?
He didn’t know what the nanites had done to neutralize the Vorthari they’d encountered at the southern pole.
There was, he admitted rather ruefully, a lot he didn’t know. And it wasn’t all just because he was a geologist and far out of his scientific lane.
“What do we do now?” Lira’s voice had a tremble to it.
She’d had to process a lot since her first contact with Miles and Harold. He’d gone in knowing the planet was inhabited by—to him—aliens, and he couldn’t say he was loving everything that had happened.
Except for meeting her. He turned and their gazes met. Okay, worth it. But still stressful.
“So,” Lira’s father’s voice came from the other side of Lira, “these aren’t your people?”
There was, Miles noted, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
“Totally not my people,” Miles said. “In any way, shape or form, not my people.”
Slowly more shapes appeared out of the darkness. Miles risked his flashlight on its lowest beam. Thank heavens it was an old fashioned, non-electronic version that he carried as a matter-of-course.
With some unease, Miles realized that some of the shapes had deployed their weapons.
The one Lira had called Drun was central to the weapons carrier group.
He was going to make a wild guess that these weapons weren’t electronic and still working.
Oh good, jumpy, scared, and possibly trigger-happy inhabitants. His favorite thing.
“This is your people’s peaceful arrival?” The scorn in the voice was unsettling.
At least he was looking at Harold. But he noticed people were starting to eye him with suspicion. Apparently yelling at them to take cover was now going to be considered a hostile act.
“These are not my people,” Harold said. “That was not the ship we were expecting.”
“We?” Drun said, his gaze shifting toward Miles. “You are with him, aren’t you?”
It would be challenging to do an autopsy on him in the current circumstances, so he nodded.
“But Harold is correct, these are not our people. No way our people would have fired on us.” Had they fired on us? On the planet? It felt more like they’d sucked up the Vorthari. That didn’t seem hostile.
None of the weapons wavered. It was possible they were experiencing trust issues. He certainly felt a disconnect between what he’d expected and what they’d just experienced.
Another figure approached Drun.
“Our vehicles have been disabled.”
Miles was pretty sure that was Pollin.
“The entity deployed an electro-magnetic pulse,” Harold said. “Electronics may reboot. Or not.”
There was an unhappy murmur from the group around them.
“Maybe don’t be so blunt with the bad news delivery,” Miles murmured to Harold. Louder he added, “Let’s let Harold here take a look at our vehicles. He might be able to help.”
Before Harold could dispute this, Miles gave him a very pointed look.
“You can examine them, can’t you, Harold?”
There was a pause, then Harold said, “Very well.”
Even with the robotic tone, Miles heard the lack of encouragement.
“You will wait here,” Drun said. “Watch him.” A pause and then in a hardened tone, “Watch them.”
“Drun?” Lira’s father sounded outraged.
Miles could have told him that the proper response might be an “et tu, Brute.” Or at least their version of it.