Challenge #02018-E194: After Math
And then she spoke.
She was xir’s friend, xir’s confidant, xir’s companion through thick and thin. She was the one xir trusted above anyone else.
But she is also dangerous, deadly, and vicious; a deathworlder before all else, a human at heart.
Xir will never forget those three words for as long as xir lives:“Actually, I can.” -- Anon Guest
[AN: I'm going to take your word on the conjugation of this pronoun, Nonny. I can only handle ze/hir with confidence]
Human Stiv winced at H'rithog's expression. "Don't give me that face. We have air and power to get us to the common shipping lanes. From there, we can contact all vessels in the area. They have their livesuits. They have their survival pods. They're in better shape than we are. If I tried to rescue more than our asses, we all die. It's cold math."
"I had thought your kind were empathetic."
"There's empathetic and there's knowing what the stakes are. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. Our long-range comms are out. So are theirs. We are everyone's best shot. You want to waste air arguing about this or do you want to actually fix the problem?"
Their way out gave some survivors enough of a gravity assist to reach bits of flotsam to cling to, or other survivors to comfort. As Human Stiv said, the comms were down. They couldn't even leave a message to let them know they planned to be back. H'rithog could only think of the fifty-eight they were leaving behind. Adrift. Alone. Thinking they were abandoned.
Human Stiv went EVA to use the comms drone to send out something they called an aypeebee in GalStand Simple. To all stations, all ships, all channels in the area. Explosive disaster. Fifty-eight known survivors. Situation desperate. All hands help. Save our souls.
A passing freighter scooped them up, and turned off course, emergency message on repeat, to see what they could do for the wreck of the Yargha. They had three microvessels known colloquially as Scootie Puffs and together with Human Stiv, at least managed to fling those floating in livesuits towards the freighter.
A merchant vessel arrived, with three docker tugs hitching a ride, and they cobbled together a kludge station out of the debris, some survival pods, and anything that looked like it could hold air. Someone, possibly Human Stiv, wrangled a molecular disposal unit into filling the space with atmosphere. One by one, survival pods were emptied. One by one, livesuits were opened inside relatively safe spaces. One by one, the total known survivors climbed. Seventy. One hundred and ten. Two hundred and fifty-seven.
Two hundred and fifty-eight, once someone's infant was born.
And then a UFTP survey vessel scooped them all into one of their massive drydock bays to sort the whole jumbled mess out at their leisure, and the survivor count topped out at three hundred and two.
H'rithog and Human Stiv as walking wounded were set aside in a comfort lounge until triage could see to them. Staring at each other and attempting to work each other out.
"You were cruel to be kind," said H'rithog. "I cannot contemplate such actions."
"Break a bone again to set it straight," said Human Stiv. Talking with her eyes closed. "Force a bent limb into a painful brace to set it straight. Cut out a tumour. Bully the infirm into getting stronger. Deathworlders do these things. Not always automatically, but... more often than not. Short term pain for long term benefit. We work this stuff out."
"You saved three hundred and two with this cruel kindness," said H'rithog. "You are still upset."
"You count the living. I'm counting the dead. Fifty-seven died in the initial impact. Forty died from shock before any of us could figure anything out. Fifteen died while I was saving your ass. Because you were closest and because we're friends."
"Those are understandable instincts."
"Twenty-five died while we were arguing about my plan."
Oh. "Those deaths were preventable. And I can only apologise. I impeded your efforts."
"Next time I say I can... let me."
H'rithog looked up the time stamps of the dead. There. People were dying as xir said the words, You can't just leave them like this!
There. People were dying when Human Stiv said, Actually, I can.
Seconds mattered. Minutes mattered. An argument could kill, out in the depths of space. And H'rithog remembered the cardinal rule. Never tell a Human what they can't do.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / LiaKoltyrina]
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