She was just about to have Ando automate the message when the speaker crackled and a man’s voice answered, sounding eerily close. “This is Corporal Iska. What is your current location, Navárez? Over.”

Surprise, relief, and a sense of mounting worry took hold of Kira. She hadn’t actually expected to hear from anyone. Now what? “I’m still in orbit. Over. Uh, where are you? Over.”

“Planetside, on Adra.”

Then a new voice sounded, a youngish woman: “Private Reisner reporting. Over.”

Another three followed, all men: “Specialist Orso, reporting.” “Ensign Yarrek.” “Petty Officer Samson.”

Last of all, a hard, tight-clenched voice that made Kira stiffen: “Major Tschetter.”

Six survivors in total, with the major being the highest ranking. After a few questions, it became clear that all six had landed on Adra, their escape pods scattered across the equatorial continent, where the survey HQ was located. The pods had attempted to land as close as possible to the base, but with their small thrusters, close had ended up being tens of kilometers away for the nearest pod and, in the case of Tschetter’s, over seven hundred klicks.

“Right, what’s the game plan, ma’am?” said Iska.

Tschetter was silent for a moment. Then: “Navárez, have you signaled the League?”

“Yup,” said Kira. “But it’s not going to reach them for over a decade.” And she explained about the FTL antenna and the commsat.

“Fug-nuggets,” Orso swore.

“Cut the chatter,” said Iska.

They could hear Tschetter take a breath, shift position in her escape pod. “Shit.” It was the first time Kira had heard her curse. “That changes things.”

“Yeah,” said Kira. “I checked the amount of food here on the Valkyrie. There’s not a whole lot.” She recited the numbers Ando had given her and then said, “How long until the UMC sends another ship to investigate?”

More sounds of movement from Tschetter. She seemed to be having difficulty finding a comfortable position. “Not soon enough. At least a month, maybe more.”

Kira dug her thumb into her palm. The situation kept getting worse.

Tschetter continued: “We can’t afford to wait. Our first priority has to be warning the League about these aliens.”

“The suit calls them graspers,” Kira offered.

“Is that so?” said Tschetter, her tone cutting. “Any other pertinent pieces of information you’d care to share with us, Ms. Navárez?”

“Just some weird dreams. I’ll write them down later.”

“You do that.… Again, we have to warn the League. That and the xeno you’re carrying, Navárez, are more important than any one of us. Therefore, I’m ordering you under special provision of the Stellar Security Act to take the Valkyrie and leave for Sixty-One Cygni right now, without delay.”

“Ma’am, no!” said Yarrek.

Iska growled. “Keep it down, Ensign.”

The thought of abandoning the survivors didn’t sit right with Kira. “Look, if I have to go to Cygni without cryo, I’ll do it, but I’m not going to just leave you guys.”

Tschetter snorted. “Very commendable of you, but we don’t have time to waste on you flying around Adrasteia picking us up. It would take half a day or more, and the graspers could be on us by then.”