“Yes, yes, I’ll do it, you won’t regret it, I promise.”
Commander Paul chewed his lip assessingly. Suka didn’t realise until he spoke again that she had been clenching her fists so hard she had made half-moons in her palms.
“Right. Come on then. Let’s get saddled up and ready.”
Suka couldn’t resist a shining-eyed grin over at Callil on the way out of the bridge. She must be dying of jealousy! They had spent so many Association Times bemoaning the three-year rule. And now Paul—the ultimate Rule Freak—was breaking it. For her! It was unbelievable, but she wasn’t about to pinch herself. She was too excited for that.
“I’ve never been in here,” she chattered breathlessly as the Commander led her along the Prep Corridor to the Teleportation Suite.
“Of course not,” he said, with a sidelong smile at her visible giddiness. “You won’t need too much in the way of preparation. Aside from an oxygen patch, we don’t need special equipment for this environment. No masks or skin protection. They have a mild, Earth Sector III-like climate and it’s their equivalent of early autumn, so what we’re wearing now should be fine.”
“That’s good to know. I tried on a SkinShield once and it wasn’t a great look.”
Paul rolled his eyes. Suka wondered if he was regretting his impulse already and decided to hold back on the airy chit-chat.
“So the toxic cloud has dispersed then? Completely?”
“Yes, the final check didn’t pick anything up. You’ll like the Paladians. You’ll mourn their passing, I think. Incredible that such a cultured society should be wiped out by the intergalactic equivalent of those antisocial louts down the road. Makes you wonder about the future of the universe.”
“Yes,” said Suka soberly. “It does.”
They had reached the Teleportation Suite and Suka was being instructed to roll up her sleeve in readiness for the oxygen patch. The little round sticker was fixed to the crook of her elbow and she rolled her sleeve back down and watched Commander Paul as he raided various cupboards for measuring and information-gathering equipment. Once his small waist pack was full and secured to his belt, he gestured Suka forward, towards the Teleport Cubicle.
She experienced a nanosecond of hesitation. This thing was going to take her body apart, cell by cell, and reconstitute it on the planet’s surface. It was an intimidating thought. But it was that, or back to Sector III, to work in some sealed-up tax office forever more. Reconstitution it was.
Once inside the plexiglass booth, Suka was surprised when the remote and austere Commander Paul took hold of her hand and gripped it tight to his chest, as if to squeeze out every element of doubt or fear in her mind.
“The first time is daunting,” he said softly. “I remember it well. You’re safe with me, Ensign. Just shut your eyes and let it happen.”
She was shaking. She hadn’t even realised it, so full of trepidation and exultation had she been. Commander Paul’s comforting grip managed to send the right signals to her body, calming the worst of the shivers, bringing her into quiescence.
She let his warmth and stability flow into her through the pores of her skin, reassuring her until she was barely aware of anything else but the strength of his presence.
When the switch was flicked, she kept her eyes shut and clung on tight, feeling only a cramping disturbance in her stomach and groin area and a bit of pressure at the back of the neck before finding solid ground again, and different air in her lungs.
Her eyes flew open and she stared, laughing the slightly hysterical laugh of somebody who had just staggered off a particularly nauseating fairground ride.
“This is real!” she blurted between manic whoops.
“Calm down,” Paul advised her, holding her shoulders steady until she recovered her composure. “Take a deep breath. You’ll get used to it in time. Well, I hope so.”
“Sorry,” she said, subdued. “This isn’t very professional, is it?”
“Oh, all the ensigns do it,” Paul said with a smile, releasing her. “You should have seen Lieutenant Prentiss his first time. He threw up on my boots.”
Suka let a shout of laughter out. Lt Prentiss was an arrogant man who hated to show any sign of human vulnerability. “I can’t wait to tell Callil!” she crowed.
“Don’t!” said Paul firmly. “It’s our secret, Suka. It goes no further.”
She bit her lip, chastened, and took her first really comprehensive look around. The sky was almost like an Earth sky, except that it was overlaid with a sulphurous yellow tinge that bathed the landscape in a rather bleaching, unflattering light.
The ground they stood on was dry and patched with small areas of prickly scrub. Nothing of interest, except to their colleagues the space naturalists, but in the distance, about half a mile away, was a scene that both Suka and Paul thought very interesting indeed.
“Is that their capital city?”
“Sevarium,” confirmed Paul. “The walled city. I think you should see it. You would find it of particular interest.”
“Would I?” Suka frowned. “Why do you think that?”