SUMMER

The fruit cave is quiet as heck. I study one of the vines crawling up the high walls of the cave and examine one of the large, juicy pieces of fruit hanging ripe.

It’s so quiet I swear I can hear myself thinking. I can hear the water dripping from the leaves. This place is like a hothouse, with the artificial light so far up in the ceiling and a thermal vent somewhere far below. When the others in the tribe first told us that there was a warm cave near the Elders’ Ship that was full of lush greenery, I thought it sounded like a fantastic spot to visit. That’s why I was quick to volunteer to go fruit picking. Fruit plus warm? Right up this girl’s alley.

But I guess I expected birds chirping or jungle noises or something. Anything. Instead, it’s so quiet I can hear my own pulse as it beats in my ears.

Not that that's a good thing. I like noise. I like conversation.

And with Warrek? My only company here in the fruit cave? There’s neither noise nor conversation.

Part of it is the fact that it’s supposed to be several of us heading to this cave to harvest fruit for the entire tribe. Originally, it was going to be Harlow, Rukh, and their son Rukhar leading the way, along with Farli and Mardok, her husband. Mate. Whatever. They were supposed to bring the hunters—Taushen and Warrek—with me and Brooke. Plenty of people around. But then Harlow decided she was too tired and too pregnant to go on the walk and would rather work on the ancient ship. Can’t blame her for not wanting to hike while a million months pregnant. And because she bailed, Rukh and Rukhar stayed home, too. I’m fine with that, too, because Rukh’s not very chatty or friendly, and his kid is just like him. Then, because Harlow was staying, Mardok wanted to stay behind and work, too. They’re busy fussing with something in the old, decrepit ship’s controls and seem to be the only two that understand things. I offered to help, but after a few hours of cleaning grease off of parts for Harlow, I’ve made myself a bit more scarce.

So then Farli decided to stay with Mardok, and it was down to me and Brooke and Taushen and Warrek. Not my favorite, but fruit and a warm cave were still calling to me.

But then Brooke bailed. Said she had a headache. Then said it was cramps. Me, I think she’s down with a case of Bullshit-itis and just didn’t want to go. Of course, she bailed at the very last minute…which left me with two big strong guys and no buffer.

Some girls would love to be alone with two big hunky dudes all to themselves.

Me? It just makes me nervous, and when I get nervous, I ramble. And, boy, did I ramble on the way here. I have this horrible habit of filling dead air with random conversation. Is it too quiet? Allow me to tell you all about the time I shoved a marble up my nose when I was five. Or how when I first started college, my roommate had lice and I had to burn all of my bedclothes and most of my wardrobe after I found she was borrowing them. Got a spare moment? Allow me to fill your ears with the exciting stories of the last chess tournament I played in.

To say that I fail at small talk is like saying Superman dislikes kryptonite.

At any rate, after about a half-hour of me nattering on in the uncomfortable silence and discussing the optimal non-leather ponytail holders for us on the ice planet when we don’t have rubber bands, Taushen decided that he needed to go “scouting” and left.

That meant this trip was basically myself and Warrek.

Ah, Warrek. The person I am least like in the entire tribe. I’ve never met anyone so quiet. It’s like he’s got something against noise of any kind. He doesn't make a sound when he walks, always choosing his steps carefully. He doesn't bang baskets around or scrape at his weapons all day long like some of the other hunters. He's always so darn silent.

And talking? Out of the question. I think since we left on this stupid little trip, Warrek’s said three words to me. He pointed at the cave and said, “There it is.”

That’s the extent of conversation I’ve had in the last day.

I frown at the fruit nearest to my hand and decide to move on, heading for a larger one farther along on the ledge. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with that fruit, I guess. I’m just distracted by all this peace and quiet.

It sucks.

Warrek’s no help. I tried talking to him yesterday when we got here, but he just stares at me with those intense glowing eyes. Worse yet, sometimes he doesn’t even look at me. It’s like I’m not here, and it makes having a conversation pointless. I never thought I was much of a people person…but I’m definitely not a silence person.

Right now, I’m not even much of a fruit-picking person. I’m very much a let’s-just-get-this-over-with-and-go-home sort of person.

I sigh and pick the mango-like pink thing off of a vine and stick it into my woven basket. I don't know how much fruit we’re supposed to be picking, so I just keep filling baskets of stuff that looks ripe. Warrek hasn’t corrected me on what I’m doing. Heaven forbid he say a word or two. Nope. He just hands me another basket and sends me on my way when I fill one. It makes me grumpy.

Words cost nothing. Why be so stingy with them?

It also makes me grumpy that Taushen abandoned us the moment we set off. As soon as he heard Brooke bailed out, he shut down and took off on his own. I realize Brooke is prettier and has bigger boobs than me, but damn. I like to think that I’m friendly enough that I’m not going to make hanging out with me that miserable.

Now I’m stuck with Tall, Blue and Silent in a cave that feels like a sauna, full of fruit that I’m picking instead of eating. On an ice planet in the middle of nowhere.

With zero conversation.

This must be what hell is like.

The sound of my own breathing—and the endless drip drip drip of condensation—gets to be too much. I grab the nearest fruit and look over at my only company.

“What do you suppose this tastes like?” I blurt out as I pull another one of the mango things off the vine. “Tomato? Apple? Pear? I guess you won’t know those because those are Earth fruits, but they’re kind of sweet and tasty. Well, not the tomato. I guess tomatoes are technically fruit, but they’re more acidic and tart and not eaten like fruit. We tend to slice them up and put them in sandwiches and make sauces out of them, which I suppose is kind of like fruit, too. If you think about it, tomato sauce is just like fruit jelly, but on pasta.”

Oh god, what the fuck am I even saying?

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Summer!

Warrek just makes a grunt to indicate he’s heard me, but doesn’t contribute to my inane conversation. Why would he? I sound like an idiot to my own ears. I’m just so tired of the silence, though. There’s nothing but the plop of dew falling from the leaves in here and the artificial lights flickering overhead. It’s pretty and covered in vines and reminds me of a bird sanctuary from a zoo back at home…minus the birds. I’d welcome birds, because then at least there’d be noise.

A breeze wouldn’t be out of place, either. Right now my skin feels hot and slick all over, like I’m taking a really long turn in a wet sauna after a workout. I thought it’d be nice after weeks on end of ice, ice, and more ice, but I forgot that I’d be wearing leather clothing…and that I’d be accompanied by male strangers.

Or, as it turns out, just one male stranger.

Oh god, I hope this isn’t some weird way to try and matchmake me and Warrek. Surely there can’t be two people less suited to being together than the two of us.

But I can’t ignore the idea once it pops in my head.

It’s no secret that the reason we were brought here to the ice planet—or as I like to call it, Human Popsicle Planet—because the single hunters of the tiny tribe were in need of girlfriends. Mates, they say, like that makes it sound better.

Thing is, they got the short end of the stick when it comes to me. I’m smart—book smart. I’m also a huge wimp, a worrywart, clumsy, unathletic, and I don’t know how to shut up. Which, I suppose, would be fantastic if one of the guys here was looking for a woman who’s completely useless and doesn’t know when to shut up. But they’re not. The few guys that are single are also rather un-chatty, and so I’m probably like nails on a chalkboard to them…not that they know what a chalkboard is.

And really, it’s not like I’m begging to be someone’s little wifey. The thought’s a little insulting.

Okay, it’s also a little flattering, too. The awkward chess-loving geek inside me is kind of secretly thrilled at the thought of being someone’s sexy, coveted mate. The women here are treated incredibly well by their mates. And they’re all ridiculously happy. It’s hard not to want that. And the guys are hot. Like seven-foot tall, muscular as all get out, flowing dark hair, every female’s fantasy kind of hot. However unpolitically correct it is, it’s flattering to think that someone might want me—geeky, verbal-vomit Summer Huang—as their one and only.

Of course, that’s not how it works, not really. Even if I found the guy of my dreams, he doesn’t get to pick me. The cootie—the symbiont implanted inside us—picks our mates out. Only Gail, who’s too old to have more children, seems to be able to pick the guy she wants.

Elly’s cootie found her a man right away. That leaves me and Brooke and Kate, and out of the single men? That leaves Warrek, Harrec, and Taushen.

Harrec’s obviously got a thing for Kate, so he’s out.

Taushen’s surly and unpleasant and is clearly not interested.

Warrek? He’s silent. Since I’m a yapper, also clearly not interested.

Whatever grand social experiment we’re supposed to be contributing to is a big ol’ failure on my end. I should have known that even on a planet starving for women, I’d be passed over. Story of my life. No one wants an Asian chick with “personality.”

But Warrek still hasn’t answered me about how much fruit we need, and I feel frustration start to grow. We don’t want to pick too much…or too little. “How many more baskets do we need?” I pause in my plucking and turn around to face my silent companion. “Are we bringing less in since Taushen left? Or do we need to make up his slack and pick some extra? If we do, how are we going to carry it back? I mean, we could always jig a sled of some kind, but I thought this was going to be a quick excursion. I mean, not that quick since we stayed overnight and all, but you get the drift.”

Warrek looks up from his careful packing of the fruit and blinks at me with those bright blue glowing eyes. He’s unfathomable.

Annnnd he’s still silent. God.

“You know what? I’ll just go back to picking,” I tell him, mentally shooting darts at both his head and mine. Him for being mute, and me for babbling to fill the silence. I’ll learn to shut up, someday.

Actually, no, I probably won’t. I tend to speak before I think, and that hasn’t changed at all in my twenty-two years of life. I don’t imagine it’ll change anytime soon, either.

Part of me expects Warrek to smile like, “Oh, thank god, she’s finally shutting up.” Or to just remain completely blank, like a statue. Instead, he cocks his head, animal-like, and gets to his feet, a frown of concern on his face. 

“Uh oh, what's going on?” I ask, moving to his side. That’s not a good response. I hurry forward as much as I can on the slick stone. The fruit cave has a lot of narrow ledges that mean walking close together or worse, rubbing up against another person. I’m a small woman, but Warrek's definitely not on the petite side. He’s all muscle, like all of these hulking aliens, and he’s taking up a lot of room on the ledge. I resist the urge to grab at his belt to steady myself when it narrows, and instead hug the vines hanging nearby. “Is it Taushen? What do you hear?”

He puts a finger to his lips, indicating silence, and then heads out to the entrance. 

Some answer. Telling me to be quiet? Gee, thanks. Frustrated at that response, I set down my basket and follow behind him. Maybe someone else is showing up soon and I’ll have someone else to talk to. I wouldn’t even mind Gail and Vaza, though I’m not a big fan of Vaza. He’s kind of overbearing, but at least he’s sweet to Gail.

I follow a few steps behind Warrek, where he’s headed out into the open air, his dark hair fluttering behind him. As I step out onto the hidden ledge, tucked into the side of the cliff, arctic air immediately blasts my flushed face, making my damp hair ice up and my body shiver. I go from sweaty to freezing in a matter of seconds, and not even the thermoregulating cootie can keep up with that. I hug my arms to my chest and peer around Warrek’s broad back, trying to see what he’s looking at.

A moment later, it becomes obvious. A massive shadow moves slowly through the air, and as I gawk, I realize what it is. I can’t believe it.

It's a spaceship.

Not just any spaceship—I’m pretty sure it’s the one that bought our group of human slaves and dropped us here to live forever. I’m not an expert on spaceships, but I recognize the sleek length of it, as well as the black metal and the elegant wings that have an almost iridescent shimmer to them. I remember wondering how something so pretty and delicate could travel so far in space.

The ship glides down through the wintry valley and then settles down with a little wobble on the powdery snow. It’s landed off into the distance, near where the Elders’ Ship is parked, if I don’t miss my guess. From our high vantage point in the cliffs, we can see a long way off. While a lot of ice and mountains look the same, I suspect that’s the ship’s destination. Of course they’re going to land by the other ship again. I imagine that they think we’ll all be hanging out there.

They’re only half-wrong, of course. Our small group went to visit the Elders’ Ship, but the rest of the tribe is back in the village down in the canyon. It’s several days’ hike from here.

“It’s the Tranquil Lady,” I breathe, remembering the name of the spaceship. Holy cow. This is unexpected. I feel a little twinge of worry. They dropped us off here to “free” us as a debt to Bek, Elly’s mate. What if they’ve decided that human slaves are too valuable to send off to the ends of the galaxy and decided to retrieve us? I bite my lip at the thought and again have to resist the urge to clutch at Warrek’s belt to steady myself. However icy it is here, and however much I feel out of my depth amongst all these hardy, capable people, it’s better than being a slave.

I glance up at Warrek. “What is it doing here? I thought they weren’t coming back? Ever? Do you know anything about this?”

But Warrek stares at the ship, then shakes his head slowly.

At least it’s a response. Just…not a very reassuring one.

“Are they bringing more slaves?” I press. Maybe the people running the ship have decided to turn over a new leaf as good Samaritans and brought more humans to come hang out here? Even as the thought rolls through my head, though, I don’t buy it. They were kind of an unfriendly crew. I doubt they’d do anything that didn’t benefit them, and it was clear they didn’t like slaves—or humans. Why bring more? I keep watching Warrek, hoping he has answers.

He gazes down at the big, dark ship in the valley and then slowly shakes his head again. Then, miracle of miracles, he speaks. “I...do not think they should be here.”

Great. The only words he's said in two days are scary ones. I fight the gnawing fear in my stomach at the thought.

WARREK

The little human female’s distracting chatter has quieted. I do not know if I like that she’s gone silent or if it worries me. The endless stream of conversation she feels the need to expel like puffs of air has come to an end, and now I do not know what she is thinking. When her hand steals to my belt and she holds on to it, I feel a protective surge.

She is frightened.

As the only male here in the cave with her, it is my duty to reassure her. But unlike her, I cannot think of the right things to say. All the clever thoughts that move through my head in quiet moments are gone, and I can only stare blankly at the sky, then down at her. Suh-mer wants answers, and I have none. Nor am I good at reassuring a female. I have never had a mate, nor a pleasure-mate in my furs. I do not know how to rid her of the worry in her gaze. I know how to fish, how to hunt, how to skin. I do not know how to talk to a female.

But I must do something. So I place my hand atop her head, like I would a kit, and give her a pat. “All will be well.”

She reacts as if I have hissed at her, jerking back and slapping my hand away. “What the fuck? I’m not a child, thank you very much! Don’t give me one of your patronizing little pats on the head, you dweeb!”

I blink at her. I did not grasp half of what she just spat at me, but it is clear she is upset.

“Sheesh!” she exclaims, crossing her arms under her breasts, giving me another indignant look, and then storming down the path toward the valley. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t need you to answer me. You can sit here by yourself and be quiet. I’m going to go see what’s up.”

I watch her as she marches down the icy slope, back stiff. Even as I stare in surprise, I can see her dark, smooth hair icing over. It is hot inside the fruit cave, and damp, and she is going to be frosted over within a matter of moments. She will need warm furs to clothe herself in, and a weapon, just to be safe. As I watch her walk, she slides on the pathway, her shoes skidding.

And new boots, I think. And perhaps a walking stick.

I head back inside the cave and grab things quickly—my spear, several fur wraps, and the pack of supplies I always keep ready and at hand. I race down after Suh-mer, who is just now getting to the bottom of the cliff, and she gives a startled little scream when I appear at her side.

“Why are you so damn quiet? It’s not cool to sneak up on people, you know. In fact, it’s frowned upon in most cultures, but I guess that doesn’t matter to you, right? But god, you scared the life out of me.” She clutches at her chest, shaking her head. Her hair is now stiff with ice and looks frosty. “Not that I suppose you’re going to apologize, because that would involve opening your mouth and saying words, right? And heaven forbid you talk to someone like me. But I guess you think I have enough words for both of us, right?” She gives me an exasperated look.

Should I apologize? I did not mean to frighten her. But I also worry that talking about it will just encourage her to say more, when it is clear she is cold. Still, I should say something. I think, and the knot forms in my throat. My father would know what to say. He would laugh at my inability to speak to such a female…but he is gone these last few seasons.

So I say nothing, simply pull out one of the furs and wrap it around her shoulders. I will let my actions explain themselves.

Suh-mer looks startled as I do, and she starts to slap my hands away again when she realizes I am simply draping a cloak about her small human shoulders. “Thank you,” she manages. “I guess I should have thought about that when I left, but I’m not used to going from a warm place to a cold one. This entire planet feels like one big meat locker, and you forget that there can be warm places here, though I guess I shouldn’t, since it’s obvious that there’s a lot of geothermal activity, right? So it would stand to reason that the heat is going to vent somewhere.” She adjusts the furs around her shoulders and gives a little shiver. “But I guess I am rambling.”

Does she…want a response? “Yes,” I manage. That seems appropriate.

Her strange, smooth human face scrunches up as if I have insulted her again. “I think I liked you better when you were silent,” she mutters to herself and turns her back. “Are you coming to say hello to the ship with me?”

I am not leaving her, that is for certain. Not when she is more helpless than many of the kits in the tribe when it comes to taking care of herself out in the wild. I watch as her boots slip on the ice again, and wordlessly offer her my spear as a walking stick.

“No, thank you,” she says. “I don’t want to hunt. I’m going to go visit the others. Visit,” she emphasizes, slowing the word down. Then she sighs. “I don’t know why I just did that. You’re not hard of hearing, you’re just ignoring me. Or being silent like Elly. Either way, it just means I’m going to keep rambling like a crazy person.” She shoots me another look, and this one is almost amused. “You’ve been warned.”

I…am not entirely certain of what she warns me of. Of her speaking? I like her voice, even if I do not know what to say to her. That is one reason why I listen so much when I am around her. It encourages her to say more, and I like hearing it. “Thank you,” I tell her.

That appears to be the wrong answer, as well. Suh-mer makes another frustrated noise and wraps the furs tighter around her, marching forward across the snow. I remain at her side, slowing my steps to match her smaller, angrier ones. Of all the new humans that have arrived, I understand Suh-mer the least. Shail is motherly and kind, like No-rah or old Sevvah. Buh-brukh is flirty and craves attention, like Asha. Kate reminds me of Leezh with her strength, but she is sweeter of personality, like Li-lah. Ell-ee is quiet and skittish, like a wild creature. I even understand that.

But Suh-mer? Her, I do not understand. She is almost as tiny as Shail, but she looks wildly different. Shail’s mane is bouncy and full of tight curls, and she keeps it cropped short to her head. Suh-mer has a thick, smooth mane like the sa-khui, dark black, but I brushed my fingers against it when I put the furs around her and found it was softer than a snow-cat’s fur. Already I itch to touch it again. The humans all have wildly different features, but Suh-mer has a hide that is more golden than the florid pink and white that most of the humans are, and too light to be the lovely brown of Tee-fah-ni and Shail. She has a pointy little chin and fascinating hooded eyes framed with dark, dark lashes. Out of all the humans, I find her appearance the most pleasing. It is not that I do not understand, though.

It is that she talks.

A lot.

As a hunter—and now as a teacher of hunters—I must by necessity be quiet. Even the most foolish of game animals will be chased off by lips that cannot stay together. Suh-mer does not understand this. She talks. And talks. And talks.

But the things she says are fascinating. It is as if her mind cannot stop on one subject, so she must discuss all of them.

I actually do not mind it. Most assume that my silence is because I do not wish for company and often leave me alone. Suh-mer seems to chatter on in the hopes that my silence will break and a dam of words will pour forth. So she continues to talk at me, and I listen in fascination. I do not wish to interrupt because I want to see where her mind is going.

Unfortunately, I think my listening has caused her to assume that I do not like her. Even now, she marches ahead of me with her back stiff and her shoulders straight, as if offended. I bite back the sigh rising in my throat—no doubt it will be offensive, too—and keep pace with her.

We are a long ways off from the ship itself—probably several hours’ walk, with Suh-mer’s much smaller strides, and there are many ridges to cross before we enter the valley proper. We are at the top of one crest when I decide I should tell her to pace herself. I try to think of the right thing to say when I notice that the ship in the distance moves, just a little.

Alert, I put a hand on Suh-mer’s shoulder.

“What is it?” She blinks up at me, trying to shrug off my grip. “If you think I can’t walk in this, you’re wrong. I mean, it’s not my favorite, but a little snow never killed anyone—”

I put a finger to my lips, indicating quiet, and then gesture at the ship off on the horizon. When she goes silent, I take a few steps forward, watching. We are fairly high up here and able to see for a long distance. Even so, I cannot make out the faces of those that descend the ramp of the ship. A small cluster of people have emerged from the Elders’ Cave, blue figures that move toward the ramp.

Someone comes down the ramp, and I see a flash of orange. Odd. I do not recall any of the strangers having orange hides. I thought they were blue like us.

An uneasy feeling uncurls in my gut. “Suh-mer, get behind me,” I murmur. I put a protective hand in front of her, holding her back before she can continue on the path that will lead her down the cliff and into the valley.

“What? What do you mean?” But she doesn’t push forward. She just looks up at me.

I cannot explain. Right now I am too busy watching what is unfolding in the valley, where the other ship has arrived in front of the Elders’ Cave. Something is wrong. It feels…off. I was not here the last time that the ship arrived, so perhaps I am mistaken, but even from this vantage point, I do not like the stance of those that come down the ramp. It reminds me of…predators, and how they slink when they are waiting to pounce.

But perhaps Suh-mer’s vulnerable presence has me thinking too protectively. She is not mate, she is not kit, but she is a female and vulnerable. I feel the urge to protect her. I step in front of her, shielding her smaller body with mine. Just in case.

“Warrek,” she says with an annoyed sound in her voice. Her hand moves to my side, as if she can push me out of the way. “I can’t see, you big doof. Why….” Her voice dies. “What are they doing?”

My throat goes dry as one of the newcomers from the ship raises something to his shoulder. As I watch, the others that have rushed out to greet him scatter. Something flashes, and one of the blue figures that had come out to greet him drops to the ground.

Suh-mer gasps. “They shot him! Who—who was that?” Her hand grips at my leathers. “Warrek, what’s going on?”

I do not have these answers. I desperately wish I did. I watch in horror as another comes down the ramp of the ship, and yet another blue figure—one of our people—is felled. The others are scattering, only to fall to the ground as well.

Suh-mer makes a sound of horror and buries her face against my side. “I can’t watch.”

I know the feeling. I wish I could turn away. I do not, though. I must watch and learn everything I can of what is unfolding below. I wrap my arms around Suh-mer and put a hand to her mane, holding her close to comfort her. I can feel her body shake with silent weeping, but there are no tears left inside me.

I am empty inside as I watch my people slaughtered below. I count, instead. Three blue forms are on the ground. No, now four. A fifth one stands in front of the scattered females, and I see a flash of bright pink mane. That must be Buh-brukh standing behind him. They pause for a long moment, and I wait for them to be slaughtered, a cold pit in my stomach.

But they are not. The newcomers wave their long, pointed shoulder spears that shoot light, and then the small group goes up the ramp, disappearing into the ship. One of the others splits off and heads into the Elders’ Cave and a moment later appears with Har-loh, who is heavily pregnant, and her small son. They guide them toward the ramp, but she falls to the ground next to one of the blue figures.

Rukh, then.

The captors make her get up and half-drag her into the ship. As I watch, another pair emerge—that makes four that I have seen, total—and drag the bodies of the fallen up the ramp. As they do, one suddenly jumps to life and begins attacking, and they shoot the light at him again until he slumps to the ground once more.

Not dead, then. My heart thuds heavily in my chest. Not dead.

“Captives,” I murmur, and stroke Suh-mer’s soft, soft mane as she weeps against my chest.

“W-what?” She looks up, lovely eyes wet with tears.

“They have taken them captive,” I tell her. “They made the sa-khui drop to the ground, and when they began to drag them inside, one woke up and fought until they used the lights on him again.”

“Used the lights…?” Her brow furrows. “Oh, you mean their guns. It flashes light.”

I nod slowly. “I do not think they are dead. They gathered the females and brought them into the ship.”

She sucks in a breath. “They’re enslaving them. But why would the crew of the Tranquil Lady do that?”

I shake my head. “I do not think they were sa-khui peoples. Their skin was orange.”

“Then something happened to the old crew,” Suh-mer says, worry on her face. “They were blue like you, and they definitely said they weren’t coming back.”

“Somehow, hunters have taken their ship and followed their star-trail back here to us.”

“They’re not hunters. They’re slavers,” she says bitterly. After a moment, she reaches out and slaps at my chest with both hands, ineffectively.

I stare at her in surprise as she does—is she meant to be hurting me? I am twice her size and her slaps are no more than playful taps against my skin. “What are you doing?”

“Motherfucker, you haven’t said a word in days and now you choose to be chatty? I’m pissed at you!”

I frown down at her. I know from the one Leezh that “fucker” means something about mating, and in an unpleasant way. But why would my mother be brought in? “My mother is long dead. I do not see why—”

“Argh!” She throws her hands up in the air. “Why am I stuck with the most impossible alien ever? Forget all that, Warrek. Just tell me what we’re going to do to rescue the others!”