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26

As the last patient was pulled up the air shaft, I collapsed into a heap between the stanchions Xeelix had muscled into place. For being so scrawny, he was remarkably strong.

“Tired?”

I pulled off my breathing mask to wipe the sweat away. My hands shook from the adrenaline letdown. “Exhausted.”

He handed me a bottle of electrolyte juice. “This will help.”

I downed it in one long pull. Whatever alien magic they brewed into that stuff, it was better than anything on Earth. The taste was nothing to write home about, but I could feel the goodies percolating through my body with each gulp.

He held out a hand and helped me to my feet. “Excellent work, Melanie. Once again, you comported yourself well under difficult circumstances.” He studied me with his almond eyes. “I believe this is indeed a calling for you.”

I slipped my helmet back in place and reached for the cable dangling out of the air shaft. “This line of work? It has to be. It’s all-consuming. You either live for the rush, or you eventually find something less demanding. On Earth, there’s plenty of jobs that will pay better.”

“Ah. Commerce, yes. Perhaps that is something else we could explore when time allows.”

I was reminded of my conversation with Chonk in the isolation ward. “Come to think of it, I—”

A handful of loose stones landed on our heads and around our feet. Our eyes met. “That’s not good.”

“It is not.” He hurried to get us both hooked up to the cable. “You must go first. I will be right behind you.”

As we got into position there was a dull rumble from overhead, followed by a sickening, earthy crack. The ceiling above began to crumble around the rim of the air shaft.

We unhooked and ran for the relative safety of the stanchions. Whatever was happening to the shaft, we weren’t going to get caught beneath it. In our scramble to get clear, I hooked my foot on a rock and fell flat on my face. Xeelix grabbed me beneath my armpits and dragged me the rest of the way. I was dimly aware of a shooting pain in my ankle.

Bjorn’s voice sounded in my headset, but it was drowned out by a thunderous cascade of falling rock as the shaft caved in on itself.

It was over in seconds, but to me the collapse seemed to happen in slow motion. A few bits of gravel bounced off the floor, followed by bigger stones, ending with a crash that filled the chamber with choking dust. I scrambled to get my rebreather back in place and blew the mask clear.

Our only illumination came from our helmet lamps, creating a small cocoon of light that shifted as we moved. I turned to stare at the dimly lit debris pile in disbelief. The air shaft above had closed up completely. A trickle of loose dirt from the ceiling was the only hint that something other than solid ground had once been there.

Bjorn’s voice sounded in our headsets, through the hundred or so feet of compressed dirt between us. I’d never heard him sound rattled before. “Xeelix! Melanie! Are you okay?”

Xeelix looked at me. I answered with a shaky thumbs-up, with way more confidence than I felt. “We are intact,” he said, “but we appear to be trapped. The braces likely prevented a complete collapse, and that is where we are situated now. What is your status?”

“The other response teams are transporting the patients to our trauma center. The air shaft began to collapse from below, creating a sinkhole up here. I am well, but need to extricate myself.”

“Do so with utmost urgency,” Xeelix cautioned him. “If the surface is unstable, conditions could become worse.”

Bjorn’s reply was terse. “Understood.” As in, you don’t have to tell me once. Welcome to EMS, buddy.

“What about the other Gliesans up there with you?”

“They dispersed almost immediately, converging on a nearby cave entrance. They appeared to be in a considerable hurry.”

Xeelix sagged against a stanchion and closed his eyes. Was that relief I saw? He checked his wrist monitor, then motioned for me to show him mine. “We each have two-point-four hours of breathable air. Let us hope that is sufficient.”

“Understand two-point-four,” Bjorn said. “I will communicate that to the Gliesans.”

“Thank you. Please keep us apprised of your progress.” Xeelix stood and stretched his elongated limbs. “We will be here for some time. It is critical that we conserve our breathing supply.” With one finger, he made a circling motion on his wrist monitor. “I am reducing mine to the minimum level. I suggest you do the same.”

I tapped at the “O2 Saturation” icon on my monitor and dialed it down until it flashed a warning. “I’m at eighty-eight percent. That’s as low as I dare go.” It was far from ideal, but as long as I wasn’t exerting myself it would be survivable. I slumped against the opposite stanchion and pulled off one of my boots with a wince. “I wrenched my ankle.”

Xeelix scooted over beside me to examine it under his headlamp. An ugly purple bruise was already starting to spread as he moved a transducer around my ankle. “You certainly did.” He fished in his bag for a splint and went to work setting it in place. “That will require some time to heal,” he said as he finished. “We have accelerants to knit broken bones together, but muscle and tendon damage cannot be repaired as quickly.” He was apologetic. “I’m afraid you will have to be on light duty for a time.”

That was the least of my worries. I’d deal with it when—if—we made it out of here. “What happens now?”

“We wait.” He splayed his hands out on the floor and closed his eyes, as if searching for something.

The ground was cold, a harbinger of the tomb I was afraid it might become. I didn’t know what Xeelix was expecting, but judging by his stoic demeanor it couldn’t be anything like what was rushing through my head: hundreds of light-years from home and left to a dark, choking subterranean death.

What in hell was I even doing here?

I felt Xeelix’s hand take mine. He exuded a contagious optimism, and thank goodness for that. Whatever he might have been feeling, it wasn’t resignation to a horrible fate.

“They are coming for us,” he said with a reassuring squeeze.

“How do you know that?”

He placed my hand on the rock floor. “I can sense them. You cannot?”

“I’m not telepathic.”

His slit mouth turned up in that almost-smile he sometimes used for my benefit. “You do not have to be. Quiet your mind. Listen with your fingertips.”

Sure. Use the force, Mel. But he had a point. It was deathly quiet, but for the metronomic hiss of our rebreathers. I turned mine off to listen. Xeelix did the same, again for my benefit. The chamber became utterly silent.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the feel of the rock beneath my fingers. There was an ever so slight, steady vibration, like something big was coming. I pulled off my helmet and pressed my ear to the ground. Now I could hear it: a churning, chattering symphony, like thousands of tiny shovels working in unison.

I sat up sharply, switched my rebreather back on, and sucked in my breath. “That’s them!” I twisted to face the chamber entrance behind us. “They’re digging us out!”

“They are. I do not know how much distance lies between us, but the fact that we can both hear them is encouraging.”

A troubling thought occurred to me. “Why didn’t they do that to begin with?” Not that it would’ve stopped us from coming down here in the first place.

Xeelix shrugged. “I am a physician, not an engineer. But it is reasonable to assume they feared doing so would risk further collapse.”

I leaned my head back against the stanchion. If it hadn’t been for those trusses, we’d have been crushed under a few hundred tons of dirt. “Good point.” I began impatiently tapping my good foot. “I presume they’re not as concerned now.”

“The Gliesans are quite industrious, and equally loyal. We aided their clan; they no doubt feel the need to respond in kind.”

“They freaked me out at first. I’m not fond of insects.”

“A surprising trait, considering how diminutive their relatives are on your world. It is interesting how evolutionary pathways can work. Their native environment favored insects over, say, mammals or reptiles.”

I looked up, casting my helmet light on what was left of the ceiling. “They weren’t anything like I expected. That’s impressive work up there. They did all of this themselves?”

Xeelix followed my gaze. “They did. Notice the carvings? Each tells a story.”

I strained my eyes; he was no doubt able to see much more in the dark than I could. The elegant curves flowed in a spiraling pattern, each one leading to the next. Glyphs were etched inside of them, all in different configurations. It was obvious now that this was their writing, but it was too far removed from anything remotely human for my visor to translate. “I can tell those are characters, but they’re all coming up as gibberish.”

“Quite so,” Xeelix agreed. “Their written language is rather opaque. My translator has never been able to adequately interpret it, despite our kind having a long history with theirs. Telepathy has likewise been difficult. It is easier to communicate with them face-to-face.”

“My translator eventually figured out their chirps and clicks. Maybe they prefer to keep some things to themselves?”

“An interesting observation. I have thought that myself.”

I took a deep breath. We were going to be here a while, so it was a good time to press him for some answers to my lingering questions. “There is something that’s been bothering me. When they learned where I’m from, I could tell they weren’t happy. Have they been to Earth before?” I wouldn’t come out and say it, but it was easy to see how a ship full of Gliesans could seriously freak out unsuspecting humans. It wouldn’t have ended well.

Xeelix looked away. “They have not. Though their clans have had interactions with a particular human.”

“Gideon.”

He turned back to me but said nothing for a moment. “Yes, Gideon. Their history with him is unfortunate. Tragic. He held to some rather primitive human notions of labor, which I’m afraid he used to exploit the Gliesans once he understood their potential.”

“He saw them as useful drones, didn’t he? Giant carpenter ants he could control.”

“An apt analogy. Recall that Gliesans are not capable of space travel on their own. They rely on others for transportation, which renders them helpless if they are removed from contact.”

It sounded like the bad old days of mining towns and owing everything to the company store. “That made it impossible to quit. To leave for something better.”

“Precisely. A Gliesan clan had contracted for one of his early construction projects, and they soon realized he considered them little more than indentured servants. Their legend tells that conditions were dreadful. Many of their clan perished.”

“Legend? How long has this Gideon character been here?” And how old was he? I wondered.

“Several decades, by our reckoning. Well over half a century by yours, though his tale seems to be laden with as much rumor as fact.” He subtly moved the subject back to the Gliesans. “You must understand ‘legend’ carries a different meaning for them. Recall that they have a collective consciousness. When the Union brought that particular clan back from isolation, their recent history became one with the rest of their race as they reintegrated. Their memories became part of a collective folklore.” He pointed to the ceiling and its intricate carvings. “The artwork you see depicts a continuous record of Gliesan history. They are constantly building new chambers as their legend grows.”

“It’s a library,” I realized, one where the books were part of the walls themselves. It was a sign of advanced intellect I’d never expected. “They may not be able to bind books or build semiconductors, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t thinking. They’re expressing it in a different way.” I waved a finger at the carvings. “Is this what got them into the Union?”

“Correct, and quite perceptive.” He studied me for a moment, which was a little uncomfortable. “Your veterinary training has benefited you, as I expected it might. Now, if I may ask: What led you to abandon your schooling? My understanding of human hierarchies would suggest a paramedic is considered a ‘lesser’ profession compared to physicians.”

I laughed. “Compared to MDs? Yeah, they’d tell you it is. Vets are a whole other career path. We don’t intermingle species.”

“You seem to be avoiding the question.”

I absentmindedly scratched at the ground. “I’m surprised you don’t already know. Haven’t you been reading my mind?”

“Not recently, out of respect for your privacy. Forgive me, but that trait is innate to our kind. It is like suppressing a reflex, which I have learned to do among certain beings. You are perhaps the most challenging.”

“Why is that?”

“I can sense that you harbor lingering emotional turmoil. Your outward self-control is admirable, considering the conflicting thoughts and desires which burden you.”

I snorted. “Maybe you should add ‘psychiatrist’ to your resume.”

“I am aware of that discipline in your culture. It seems unscientific. Subjective.”

“A lot of humans would agree with you.” I didn’t happen to be one of them; medicine wasn’t nearly as straightforward as people imagined it to be. I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. “Later. We have to conserve our oxygen.”

“Now you are most definitely avoiding the question.”

“You really want to know, don’t you?”

“It is purely from personal curiosity. It will not affect your standing in the Medical Corps.”

“It’s not something I like talking about,” I sighed. “But I think about it all the time. Barely a day goes by without it popping into my head.”

“Would you be agreeable to ‘thinking about it’ with me?”

I stared at Xeelix for a long time, considering his offer. Here I was, trapped underground with this strange extraterrestrial. Only a few months ago this would’ve left me paralyzed with fear, but his gentle manner and deep wisdom had become so endearing it was hard to resist. I trusted him unquestioningly. And Bjorn. And Chonk. Hell, even the giant bugs who were right now working their asses off to get us out of here.

Why not? “You win. Just tell me what I have to do.”

He took my hand. “Not a thing. Relax and think of whatever you wish for me to know.”


“911, what is your emergency?”

“It’s my father, I think he’s having a heart attack!”

“Can you describe his symptoms?”

My hands were shaking uncontrollably. It was all I could do to hold the phone steady, and they wanted my assessment? “He lost his balance, couldn’t stay on his feet. Fell to the ground, clutching his chest. Said he couldn’t catch his breath.” I touched his face; it was cool and sweaty. “He’s clammy, turning pale!”

“Okay, we’re sending a squad right now. Do you know CPR?”

Did I know? Yes, yes I did! Lifeguard training, back in high school. Had it again in college; I was one of those nerdy dorm RAs and first aid was part of the job. “Yes,” I stammered, and tossed the phone to the ground. I knelt beside him and began compressions, counting out the beat to that stupid disco song while the dispatcher stayed on the line.

The worst part wasn’t that my Dad might die, it was that I could feel his ribs cracking under my hands, like I was making things worse. Our ribcages are there to protect our heart and lungs and don’t give way without a fight. Most people don’t realize how violent you have to be for CPR to do any good.

I shouted at the phone. “Where’s that ambulance?”

“It’s on the way. The Carthage unit is on another run. The next closest station is in Greenfield, fifteen miles from your location.”

Fifteen miles of winding country roads. It was hard to do the math in my head while counting out compressions. An ambulance would be hauling ass, but they could only go so fast. We’d be lucky to have them here inside of twenty minutes, and I was already getting tired.

My mind raced with all of the things I still wanted to say to him, all of the things we had left to do. Dad had been one of the top large animal vets in the state; even in retirement he couldn’t stay far away from the work he loved. We had more animals on our small farm now than ever before. Who was going to take care of them?

Of course I had planned on being here to help. He’d already taught me a lot during summer breaks, tending to our livestock and accompanying him on calls for the county ag extension. After graduation next year, he was finally going to fully retire and hand me the keys to the family business.

When the squad finally arrived, I collapsed against the stall next to him while the medics did their thing. My arms were numb and I was out of breath. I could only sit there and watch, barely comprehending what was happening in my exhaustion.

They slapped an oxygen mask on him, followed by a shot of epinephrine. One medic gave the injection while the other kept up the chest compressions. When Dad didn’t respond, they pulled out the defibrillator.

Charge. Clear. Shock.

More compressions.

Charge. Clear. Shock.

I have no idea how long it went on like that. One slipped a stretcher beneath him while the other kept pumping his chest. At that point they probably knew he was gone, but they weren’t giving up. I watched them load my Dad’s limp body into the back of their ambulance. They tore off down our drive in a cloud of dust.


The turnout for Dad’s funeral was massive. Every vet, farmer, rancher, and ag agent across three counties showed up. A parade of dual-wheel pickups and SUVs wound its way from our church to our home. Burying Dad in the backyard had been more complicated than expected, and it didn’t matter that Mom was already there. Zoning codes had apparently changed since we lost her several years before, and it took some special attention from an outraged state agriculture director to convince the local bureaucrats to look the other way.

There wasn’t much family at the service, which isn’t to say nobody cared. There just wasn’t much family left. My parents had been in their early forties when I came along as their only child. After years of not being able to have kids, you can imagine my arrival was something of a surprise. So no siblings, very few cousins, and even fewer aunts and uncles.

Of course, they were all helpful. Dad’s younger brother and his son stayed with me for several days, helping to get affairs in order. The house and land were paid for, and the livestock would be worth a lot at auction.

Still, there was no way I could take care of this place from school. And for that matter, I’d already missed two weeks of class. Catching up in time to finish the semester was going to be brutal, if it was even possible.

Of course I tried anyway, and fell flat on my ass. I’d missed too much, and despite my professor’s best efforts, my mind wasn’t ready to absorb the material. After bombing the midterms, I dropped out and told myself I’d start over after winter break.

That was my last day of veterinary school.


“You never went back. You chose a completely different path.”

I tore off my mask, angrily wiped at my eyes, and blew my nose on my sleeve. Pathetic. “What can I say? Lost my taste for veterinary work after that. When Dad needed me most, I was next to useless. They told me it was a ‘widow-maker’ heart attack, the kind that comes without warning. They’re hard to detect unless you’re actively screening for signs of arterial blockage.” Of course Dad had a family history of heart disease, but one of the realities of life in farm country is the quality of vets frequently outclasses the quality of small-town docs.

“Why not become a . . . what did you call it . . . MD? You seem to have the academic background.”

“Entirely different schooling. I’d have had to start over. Thing is, I didn’t want to. Waiting twenty minutes for an ambulance while my Dad slipped away? It was infuriating. We needed more good doctors, but we needed even more first responders. They’re the ones who make the difference when everything is going to shit in the middle of nowhere. After what happened, I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Do you feel like you have made a difference?”

Dropping my postgrad work for a community college EMS course had given me purpose, but it hadn’t been enough. Doing my part to beef up the firehouse roster was chump change, so I sold off a few acres—arable farmland can bring a lot of money—and made an anonymous donation to our county EMS. It was enough to buy three brand-new ambulances stocked to the brim with first-rate equipment. None of the medics I worked with suspected they were driving around in rigs that I’d paid for.

“Yeah. I did my part.”

“Then that is all any of us can do.”

Sitting with him in the dark, I pondered that. Too often, we never know what we’re capable of until we’re pushed. Tested.

“Am I a test case?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A test case. Trial run. Guinea pig. Is the Union using me as a proxy for the rest of the human race?”

Xeelix tilted his head. “Why do you ask?”

“Some things I’ve been piecing together ever since the Emissaries came for me. It sounded like the Union had been making advances toward us, then pulled back. From the first day of class, it was obvious to me that my skills aren’t as unique as they’d have me believe. Then Chonk filled in the rest while we were in isolation.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes. I thought he might. Unfortunate, but also unavoidable given your circumstances.”

“So I am a proxy. That accident I came on wasn’t an accident, was it?”

“That was in fact an accident you happened upon, though it did lead us to you. There are many things the Union looks for when assessing new worlds, and the needs of the Medical Corps are only one small part. It is something of a crucible: If individuals from a prospective race can demonstrate their ability to take on such a demanding role without fear or prejudice, it provides us with valuable insight into their kind’s overall potential.”

It was an epiphany. They’d seen the worst of us, but weren’t convinced we were a lost cause either. “This Gideon person left the Union with a bad taste. I’m here to prove we’re redeemable.”

“In a sense, yes. It does not all fall upon you, though it will inform how we proceed.” He paused, as if deciding how much to tell me. “There is great potential with your kind, and we are always cautious about establishing formal contact. It takes centuries of observation, of understanding the culture. Yours is complicated by the fact there are so many diverse cultures to contend with. If we initiate contact too soon, it can be devastating. But there are times when it becomes necessary to accelerate the process.”

I understood his point. It had happened time and again on Earth. “Why the hurry now? The Emissaries mentioned ‘threshold events.’ Are we about to kill ourselves off or something?”

“That is a risk, though there are other factors.” Xeelix took a deep breath. “Earth may be in danger.”

“What kind?”

“There is reason to suspect the beings our Thuban citizens have been defending against have become aware of your planet. This is partly our fault. As the Union expands its reach into other parts of the galaxy, it tends to attract the attention of bordering civilizations.”

“And the Union is trying to make it right.”

“Correct. Your civilization is close to being eligible for first contact, likely within this century. But we fear that may have to be accelerated. Without your knowing it, Earth is currently under Union protection. If we are to increase our presence, formal arrangements will need to be made.”

“I’m here so they can decide if we’re worth the risk.”

“In so many words, yes. I am sorry, Melanie. We felt it best if you were protected from that knowledge, as it could affect your performance.”

“I’m a woman who worked in a male-dominated profession. I’m used to having to prove myself. And being here was my choice.” Maybe it was a bit too cavalier considering the stakes, but what else could I say? I massaged my tender ankle. “Besides, this is going to limit me more than anything else. I’m going to lose a lot of training time.”

Xeelix leaned back against the support beam. “I believe you have satisfied your training regimen. And now, the best use of our time is to rest. We have talked enough. We must conserve our oxygen while the Gliesans do their part.”


Xeelix had been right, of course. Jabbering away in the dark was the single worst thing we could have been doing, so I laid back against the floor and promptly fell asleep. Between the letdown after a complicated rescue and reliving the single worst day of my life, it was easy to let the exhaustion overtake me.

I awoke with a start at the rumble of another rockfall. I shot upright. The rest of the chamber was caving in . . . 

No. There was light, way more than our headlamps could produce. The chamber was filled again with bioluminescent glow. The Gliesans had broken through!

Xeelix was talking to me, but I couldn’t make it out. It sounded like “hurry.” Yes. Hurry. Get the hell out of here.

I was scrambling for my go bag when I felt a sharp pressure around my calves, and looked down to see two Gliesans with their mandibles locked onto my legs. My dormant, fearful monkey brain took over for a split second: This is how it ends. Eaten by giant bugs. I might have peed myself.

I clawed at the ground, but they were too strong. They were pulling me out of the chamber on my back, into a tunnel filled with a glowing, teeming mass of insectoids, piled one atop the other all the way to the ceiling.

I heard Xeelix’s voice in my head. Remain calm, Melanie. Do not be afraid.

Calm? I was being dragged through a tunnel full of creatures out of a nightmare. “What are they doing?”

Pulling us clear. Trust them.

Right. Trust. I took a deep breath. It was hard to read intent from a disquieting mass of insects, but it looked like the ones surrounding us were working. Straining. “They’re holding the tunnel up for us!”

Yes. They can get us through much faster than we can ourselves.

He wasn’t kidding. The two dragging me were moving with purpose, their ten legs scrabbling against the stone beneath us. Xeelix was a few feet ahead, being pulled the same way. His arms were crossed on his chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I heaved out a sigh and followed his lead. The Gliesans ’ grip was firm, a little uncomfortable, but I could sense they weren’t taking any chances. Now I was more afraid the passageway they’d carved out might not hold. How strong were a few thousand of them against tons of dirt?

We emerged into another, larger chamber. As soon as we were free, the lead Gliesans began frantically clicking their mandibles. That must have been the signal for the others, because soon after the tunnel entrance exploded with more Gliesans, scrambling to get out of there. It took less than a minute for them to empty the tunnel, finding safe space wherever they could. That included climbing the walls of their subterranean dome, which was a little freaky.

There was a deep rumble behind us as the makeshift tunnel began to collapse on itself. Soon, all that was left of it was a pile of rubble and a cloud of dust.

One of the Gliesans approached, mandibles clicking and forelegs dancing on the floor. “You are well? Uninjured?”

He was checking up on me. I did a double-take and patted myself down, wiping away the dirt. “I’m good. I mean, yes. A little shaken. Thank you.”

He silently held up a foreleg. Was he trying to shake my hand?

Xeelix inclined his head at me. Yes, that is precisely what he is doing. Remember, you are not the first human they have encountered.

I bent down and took the offered cuticle. “Thank you.”

The Gliesan knelt forward and dipped his eyestalks in what approximated a bow. “We likewise thank you. You placed your life at risk for our kind. That is rare. We are in your debt.”

“Please, that’s not necessary. It’s quite all right. I was only doing my job.”

“You have a good job, then. We need more humans like you.”

I turned to Xeelix in wonder. He answered me with a curt nod. I believe you made the right choice, Melanie.

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Framed