Birds of Prey - Hetero Edition

"So that means these guys, or rather gals, are all females?"

"It appears so," Evans replied.

"I suppose we must all look the same to them if they can't tell our males apart from our females."

"Well, we're a lot less sexually dimorphic than many species. We don't have any flamboyant crests, no antlers or peacock feathers, nothing to differentiate us if we're fully clothed. Perhaps that's a lesson for a different time, however. I'd rather keep my lab coat on today."

"So what do you think?" Jaeger asked, "are they ready to talk to the Captain yet?"

"I'd give them another day. This one, Maza, seems especially good at reproducing human speech. She's almost got it down. Make sure you keep her talking, give her lots of one-on-one practice."

"Will do," he said, patting his thigh to get the attention of the Valbarans. "Come on girls, let's give Doctor Evans some peace. No...put that back," he chided as one of the aliens lifted a microscope from the worktop. "Maza, what's this one called?"

"Coza'ma'lotl," she replied with a trill.

"Right, Coza then. Coza, come here."

The curious alien set the item down and trailed after him reluctantly as he led them out of Evans' office and into one of the Rorke's many winding corridors.

***

"So you're female?" Jaeger asked, Maza bobbing along beside him as they walked.

"You male?"

"Yeah, I'm male."

She looked him up and down, almost as if she didn't believe him.

"Earth'nay males fight?"

"Where I come from, everyone fights. Some are better suited to certain jobs than others, you'll probably find more male Marines than females, but we all do our part. What are your males like?"

"Small," she replied.

"Describe them to me, it's good practice."

She hesitated for a moment, thinking hard.

"Male has..."

"Plural," Jaeger added, "males have..."

"Males have beautiful feathers," she said, gesturing to her head and puffing up her crown of colorful plumes. They must be impressive indeed if she was suggesting that hers weren't beautiful in comparison. "Smaller, weaker, but pretty."

"And what about your homeworld? What's it like? Do you have jungles, forests, oceans?"

She cocked her head at him, and he gestured for her to pass him the phone, then he pulled up some vistas of Earth's different environments. There were mountains and rolling hills, verdant forests, and grassy savannas. He passed the device to her, and she examined it, stopping in the hallway as her friends crowded around to see. She swiped through the pictures, her eyes wide, chittering and whistling to her companions.

"Not so different," she finally said, "your world is beautiful. What is this?"

He leaned over to see what she was pointing at. It was a giraffe in one of the nature shots, the sun setting behind it on the Serengeti.

"That's an Earth animal," he explained, "it's called a giraffe."

"What's this?" another asked, and he recognized her as Ayau due to her tan scales.

"That's a Zebra."

"This, this!" another warbled as she pointed at a picture of an elephant. She had far darker scales than her companions, a deep shade of spinach green visible beneath the open visor on her helmet. She looked up at him eagerly as she waited for his reply.

"That's an elephant," he explained. "I don't believe we've been introduced, what's your name?"

"Xico'hte'otl," she announced as she patted herself on the chest, then she went back to staring at the pictures. The aliens were fascinated, and he wondered what kind of fauna might exist on Valbara.

"Come on," he said. "I'll take you to one of the ready rooms, and we can put on a nature documentary for you. You'll be able to see lots of Earth animals."

They seemed excited by the prospect, pausing for a moment to huddle together like football players before a game. They always seemed to do that whenever he suggested a new activity, it was like they wouldn't act unless each one of them was in agreement on exactly what they'd be doing. After a few moments, they formed an orderly line and began to follow him again as he set off down the narrow corridor.

"You said earlier that you wanted to get the Bugs off Valbara," he said. "Have they invaded? Did they attack you?"

Maza considered again, choosing her words carefully.

"Val'ba'ra'nay have two worlds, another star, Ker'gue'la. We make new life there, grow, spread for thirty rotations. Aliens appear, we meet Bugs. They are not friendly like Coalition."

"They kill Ker'gue'la'nay," the one called Coza added, "take world. Survivors flee to Val'ba'ra, return home. We convert carriers for defend, make new weapons, wait many rotations for Bugs to find us again. Now they come, but Coalition come too."

"Maybe this time will be different," Maza said with a flurry of yellow feathers.

"Maybe Earth'nay protect Val'bra'ra," Ayau said with another flash of colorful plumes.

Jaeger's heart sank. So the Valbarans had been a multi-planet species at one point, for at least thirty years, or however long a Valbaran rotation was. They must have discovered superlight travel relatively recently, and they had done what every species who discovers it eventually does, expand their living space. Then one day the Bugs had arrived, their compound eyes fixed on the habitable planet, and they had driven the Valbarans from their colony. He had seen what happened to colonies that succumbed to the Betelgeusians, the insects had no qualms with genocide and war crimes, they saw the defenders as simple vermin to be eradicated by any means necessary. The survivors had fled back to their home system, and the Valbarans had geared up to defend it from what they probably assumed to be an imminent invasion by an organized force.

It seemed that they didn't yet know the true nature of the Bugs and how they propagated, what their goals were. It was a fact that the Coalition had only recently discovered themselves. There was no organized Bug armada, there was no communication between their hives. Once a new Queen was birthed on a Bug colony, she was compelled to build a small fleet, and then she had to leave in search of a new planet where she could found her own colony. It was likely that the fleet that was currently scouting the Oort cloud of HD-217107 had originated from the very same world that the Valbarans had surrendered years prior.

"We won't let them take Valbara," he said confidently, "the Rorke will stop them."

"Coalition fights Bugs," Maza replied, her feathers fluttering in shades of yellow and orange. She seemed hopeful, was that the emotion conveyed by her plumage?

"Rorke smash Bugs," Coza declared, her feathers standing up in shades of red and orange. "Railgun, big railgun, Beewolf!" The other aliens chirped in agreement, She certainly seemed to be the more aggressive of the bunch, she was a hair larger than the other members of her flock too. Maybe she was the muscle.

"Damn straight, that's our job," Jaeger said with a nod.

He wasn't sure that she fully understood, but she seemed happier now. It really had been a stroke of luck that they had happened upon each other when they had. If the UNN had chosen to patrol this sector of space a week earlier or later, they might not have crossed paths at all. The Rorke might have continued on, none the wiser of the mortal struggle that was about to ensue in the humble little star system. But now they had a chance to help these people, and that was what the job was all about when it came down to it. That was why everyone joined the UNN, even if that original intent often became lost in the realities of war. A technologically and militarily superior force had been dropped into the lap of the Valbarans at just the right moment, like the answer to a prayer.

CHAPTER 6: CALLSIGN

"The prosperity of the pride depends on a successful hunt," the narrator said as a lioness stalked through the brush, her straw-colored coat shining in the hot African sun. Her round ears pricked up, and the camera panned over to a warthog, the tusked animal raising its head from the ground to sniff at the air intently as clouds of flies swarmed around it. "She approaches, silent, waiting for the perfect moment to strike..."

There was a surge of drums as the lioness leapt from her hiding spot, the footage playing back in slow motion as she powered through the undergrowth towards her quarry. The warthog skidded as it took off, kicking up a cloud of dust as it fled from the charging predator. It was too late, however. The beast sank its claws into the warthog, dragging it to the dusty ground and biting at the back of the animal's vulnerable neck. Her companions joined her, the warthog struggling ardently as sounds of snarling and growling came through the speakers.

"It has been a while since their last kill," the narrator continued, "the hungry pride piles in to claim their share of the spoils."

One of the lionesses rose from the carcass as the camera zoomed in on her, her furry mouth stained red with blood. The Valbarans were transfixed, perhaps not understanding the subtleties of the narration, but reveling in the scenes of this alien planet and its magnificent species all the same. Jaeger was sat behind them, watching their reactions as much as the documentary, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as they stared at the wall-mounted monitor. Would the Rorke soon be orbiting their home planet? Would he be able to see Valbaran documentaries about their native life, if indeed they made such things?

He heard the whoosh of the automatic door opening behind him, turning to look over his shoulder. Scratcher was standing in the doorway, one arm in a sling.

"Thought I was gonna have to search the whole carrier for you," he laughed.

Jaeger rose to his feet and hurried over to his friend, trapping him in a bear hug, Scratcher wincing as he bumped into his arm.

"Sorry," Jaeger said, taking a step back and patting Scratcher on the shoulder. "I kept asking after you, but they wouldn't tell me shit. Glad to see you're still in one piece."

"More or less," Scratcher replied, gesturing to his bandaged arm. "Caught it on the edge of the cockpit on my way out, turned the bones to powder. Luckily, it didn't breach the suit, or I'd have to get one of those prosthetic limbs that the station chief is so proud of. Looks like I'm gonna be grounded for a few weeks."

"You're in better shape than your Beewolf, let's put it that way."

"Did Boomer and Scorch make it out alright?"

Jaeger's face fell, and he slowly shook his head.

"Baker is fine, but...they never found Boomer. The rocks blocked his beacon, and that's if he survived his Beewolf breaking up."

"Fuck..."

"I wanted to go help look for him, but they wouldn't let me."

"Yeah, I heard that you've become the resident alien-sitter."

"Wasn't my idea, they just seem to like me, they won't leave me alone."

"So these guys were what you saw in the belt?" Scratcher asked, watching as the aliens left their seats and trotted over to him. "Curious little things..."

The Valbarans peered up at him, then Maza noticed his arm, pointing to it with her two-fingered hand.

"You injured?"

"They talk?" Scratcher asked, and Jaeger nodded. "Yeah, my arm was broken during the battle. Fucking Bugs totaled my Beewolf."

"You are Beewolf pilot?" Coza asked, her companions exchanging glances.

"Yeah, unfortunately, I checked out before you guys showed up."

To both their surprise, Maza and her friends extended the tentacle-like sheaths on their heads, the feathers puffing up into a display and turning a shade of blood red. They clasped their hands in front of them, the LCD panels on their forearms flooding the same shade of crimson. It was like some sort of salute or ritual. Scratcher shot Jaeger a questioning look, but he just shrugged. Realizing that they didn't understand, Coza elaborated as best she could.

"You shed blood in battle," she explained, "We give respect."

"Oh," Scratcher said, "okay then. Thanks."

The aliens collapsed their feathers back into their protective sheaths, watching the pair of humans as they interacted.

"So what are you doing with these guys?" Scratcher asked. "I'm surprised that the Captain is giving them the run of the ship."

"I'm supposed to be teaching them English, they're learning really quickly. A couple of days ago they couldn't speak a word, and now they're almost fluent."

"Is there going to be a service for Boomer? I know he's technically MIA, but he couldn't realistically survive for this length of time, assuming he lived through his ejection. His life support would have run out after about a day."

"I think they're still searching for him. Better wait a little longer and see if they can recover anything. I never liked the empty casket deal, it feels...weird, y'know?"

"Yeah. Fuck man, I feel like I was only talking to him yesterday. How about we go find Scorch and hit the bar? You're on alien duty, and I'm grounded, so we can blow some creds on booze and make fun of him for not being able to drink because he's on call. It's what Boomer would have wanted."

"Yeah, alright. I'll have to bring these guys along, but they were fighting with us, it feels appropriate. If they hadn't turned up when they did, you'd probably be drinking alone today."

"Any friends of Bullseye are friends of mine," Scratcher said, grinning at the aliens.

***

The bar was suitably dingy, it was a fairly small room in comparison to the galley or the mess hall, not much more than a dozen stools lined up in front of a crescent-shaped countertop. The Rorke had four bars spaced throughout the ship, and recreational drinking was tolerated under certain conditions, as the morale boost for crew members who might be stationed on the vessel for months at a time was significant. You had to be off call, meaning that you weren't on standby waiting to rush to your post if the shooting suddenly started, and you were limited to two alcoholic beverages per twenty-four hour period. If you got caught wandering the halls while over the limit, you'd get thrown into the brig until you sobered up, and you'd also get a dock to your pay for the rest of the voyage.

This one was vacant, probably because much of the crew was on duty due to the recent encounter with the Bugs in the belt. Rather than having a human bartender sitting behind the counter, these were staffed by robots. You entered your credit account number, selected the beverage that you wanted from a touch screen, and then a disembodied mechanical arm would mix it for you. It couldn't listen to your problems, but it was programmed to prevent you from getting wasted.

The three pilots sat at the bar while the aliens milled about nearby, observing as the humans started their strange ritual, tapping in their orders and then watching as the silver arm whirred to life. The bottles were inserted into recesses in the wall behind it, and it pulled them out with mechanical precision, mixing and shaking the drinks before placing them on the faux wood bar in front of the patrons.

Jaeger and Scratcher sipped at their mixed drinks, trying to make their small allowance of alcohol last, while Baker could only drink soda. They reminisced about Boomer, and about their time at the flight academy, sharing humorous stories about his exploits.

"Did he really smash all the windows?" Baker asked.

"He did," Scratcher laughed. "He flew over the town at about two thousand feet, but he was going hypersonic, Mach five in atmosphere. The sonic boom smashed a bunch of windows and set off car alarms for miles. It's a miracle he didn't get kicked out of the Navy. He was cleaning toilets after that stunt for months."

"Might'a been better for him if he had," Baker mumbled, taking a swig from his glass of soda.

"Nah," Jaeger said, "he loved it out here. He loved flying. If you built a time machine and went back to the day that he joined up, and then told him his fate, I think he'd still sign his name on that form regardless. The same could happen to any one of us, but we're not going to quit, are we?"

"Here here," his friends chorused, taking a drink. The Valbarans had been sitting patiently, but now Maza sidled up to Jaeger, tugging at his clothes to get his attention.

"What is this ritual?" she asked, her voice low. She was being respectful, she knew that something of significance was happening, but not exactly what.

"We're mourning a friend," he explained as he looked down at her from atop his bar stool, "he was lost in the battle."

"Ah. This is...Earth'nay funeral?"

"Not quite, we're just getting together to remember him. There will be a funeral later."

"Do we intrude?" she asked, her fleshy pigtails twitching as if she wanted to puff up her feathers but was restraining herself.

"No, no. You guys fought with us, you're welcome here."

"What was his name?" she asked.

"Boomer"

The Valbarans clasped their hands together again, putting on another display of red feathers and flashing LCD panels.

"What are they doing?" Baker whispered.

"Saluting Boomer," Scratcher explained, "it's a thing they do."

"I'd buy them a drink, but for all I know, the alcohol could melt them or make them explode," Baker added.

The humans took another drink, and then the aliens stowed their feathers, Jaeger and Maza sharing a lingering glance. He felt a new appreciation for her, seeing her in a different light. She was no longer a strange and sometimes silly alien that climbed on tables and mimicked pop songs, she was an emotional creature, she understood both his loss and his pride on some level. A Krell would fight viciously to protect its friends, and it would mourn their loss, but would it truly understand the significance of toasting to their memory? A Borealan would seek to avenge its pack mates through any means necessary, but honor and vengeance were moral absolutes in their culture, they were expected to mourn in specific ways. This little alien understood him, however. She knew what was going through his mind, he could feel it in the way that she was looking at him.

"A toast to our new allies," Jaeger said, elbowing Baker who was sitting beside him. "To the Valbarans, without whom we might have ended up as Bug chow."

"To the Valbarans," they echoed, taking a drink.

"You know," Scratcher said, leaning around Baker to address the aliens directly. "UNN pilots get a callsign, like a nickname. You guys are all pilots, right? If you're going to fly with us, then you need a callsign. Tradition dictates that we pick one for you."

Maza cocked her head at Jaeger, but he just grinned at her.

"Me first," Baker said, clearing his throat and waving his finger between the five aliens. He selected Ayau, narrowing his eyes at her as she glanced to her fellows nervously. "What's this one called?"

"That one's name is Ayau," Jaeger said.

"You, your callsign will be...Velocity."

"What? That's terrible," Scratcher complained.

"It's a play on words!" Baker protested. "Velocity 'cos they're going fast, and it's also like velociraptor. What, didn't you like dinosaurs as a kid?"

"No, I was more into not being a fucking dork. Me next," Scratcher said, singling out another of the aliens. He selected Coza, the alien standing defiantly with her hands on her wide hips. "Your callsign will be...Eagle Eye. I hear those lasers you Valbarans use are pinpoint accurate."

"Let me do another," Baker said as he once again singled out one of the five aliens. "That one, what's her name?"

"I don't know what that one is called," Jaeger admitted, turning to the little alien. "Can you tell us your name?"

This one seemed a little timider than the rest, almost as if she didn't want to draw attention to herself. When Jaeger spoke to her, she shuffled backwards a little, like she was trying to fade into her flock and avoid scrutiny.