The convoy ground to a halt at the crest of a low hill. Brian McKenzie spurred his tough little horse forward and caught up with his dad at the front of the line of ragged, mud caked trucks. “What’s wrong?”

His father nodded at a small clearing below. Brian’s eyes widened. An enormous metallic disc, the forward edge crumpled around a copse of blue-leaved whiptrees, filled the rocky meadow. Spindly forms lay around it, but he couldn’t tell if the creatures were alive or not. The horses stared wild-eyed and snorted at the wreckage.

“That’s a Korelai freighter,” Brian said, shocked to see one of the big starships so far from any town.

“Yeah, and it ain’t got the right to be here.” The convoy boss, a big, unpleasant man leaned out his truck window and spit. “Come on, McKenzie. Let’s get moving.”

“Not until I get a better look.” Tim McKenzie nudged his horse in the flank. Brian started to follow, but his father wheeled around. “Stay here.”

“But...”

“I said, stay here.” McKenzie spurred his rangy black gelding and hurried down the slope alone. Brian looked away, humiliated at having been left behind. At sixteen, he resembled his father, short and broad shouldered with red hair and a wide stubborn streak. But that, he thought sourly, was the only thing they had in common.

“Korelai.” The convoy boss spit again. “Tavus is our world. We colonized it, not them.”

Brian understood how the burly driver felt. He had been a baby when his family emigrated. Tavus was the only world he knew, the shadowed forests and waving blue plains, ice-capped mountains beneath a green-gold sky. Humans had colonized the planet. But the Korelai claimed Safa, the larger of Tavus’ two moons. And lately, they had begun to land without permission, setting up mines to strip as much ore as they could then jet away. Brian studied the damaged ship, but saw no mining equipment, no sign in fact of anything but an emergency landing. Already his father was galloping back to the convoy.

“It’s a crash, all right,” McKenzie pulled his horse up beside the truck. “Flight crew’s dead. So are most of the passengers. Go ahead and take the trucks on to Foley. I’ll take care of the survivors here.”

“Now wait one minute.” The convoy man scowled. “I hired you to guide us, not to babysit a bunch of squatters.”

McKenzie pointed at the set of ruts that led along the hillside. “See that road? You’ve got one day’s drive left to Foley’s Bridge. You can make it on your own.”

“I’ll dock your pay if you leave,” the convoy man shouted.

“Fine.” McKenzie rode off. This time, Brian didn’t wait, but caught up with him halfway to the wrecked craft.

“What happened here?” Brian asked.

His father twisted around, his face grave. “It’s a plague ship.”

Brian’s stomach coiled. Rumor had it, Safi was quarantined, the moon ‘under a black flag’ with the mysterious fever. Behind them the air shook with the rattle and clang of trucks as the convoy pulled away. For better or worse, they were on their own. A foul, putrid odor drifted around the ship. Alien bodies sprawled outside the broad hatchway, spidery arms and legs twisted, their enormous black eyes closed forever. A stick-figure stumbled down the ramp clutching a small bundle in its arms.

“What do you want?” The Korelai sputtered in trade-speak.

“We’re here to help,” his father said.

“Why?”

McKenzie didn’t answer. Instead he asked, “How many of you are left?”

The Korelai simply nodded at the bundle it held. McKenzie stepped off his horse, took the bundle from the creature, and to Brian’s surprise, passed it up to him. Too shocked to do anything else, he cradled the infant against his stomach. The tiny creature, no larger than one of the barn cats at home, squirmed a moment, then lay still. The older alien let itself be hoisted onto the black horse and sat quietly as Brian’s dad turned eastward.

***

Night fell as the time they made camp beside a narrow creek. Brian picketed the horses then gathered firewood. He dumped the armload of twisted branches upwind of the little blaze, careful not to step on the softly moaning Korelai. Nearby, the infant lay on his bedroll. Brian sank down next to it and gave it a sip of sugar-water from a drinking bulb. The little creature watched him with its large, glossy eyes. One of its tiny, three fingered hands reached up and touched his nose.

Behind him, a twig snapped. His father stepped out of the shadows, transmitter in hand.

“Could you punch through?” Brian asked hopefully.

“Yeah. I just got off the net with Doc Hamadi. She didn’t know much. Said this fever came in from one of their trading outposts.” McKenzie slumped down beside the fire. His face seemed wooden in the flickering light. “There’s a nano-vaccine for it, but none of our hospitals have any.”

Brian stiffened. “If we don’t have the vaccine ...”

“Then, we’ll have to get it from the Korelai. There’s a mining camp a days ride from here.”

Brian tossed a stick on the fire. Sparks leapt into the darkening sky. “Did Dr. Hamadi say if humans can catch this stuff?”

“She...” McKenzie hesitated. “She didn’t know. So far, we’re the only two people to have been in contact with it.”

***

Morning broke cold and damp, the sky neon green as the clouds caught the sunrise. The adult Korelai lay unmoving, its head lolled to the side. A crumpled sack was clutched in its fist. Brian stared at the body, repulsed. “What do we do now?”

“Keep moving.” McKenzie pried the bag out of the dead alien’s hand and shook it open. A few brass tokens, the Korelai version of money, spilled out. “Must have intended to use these to buy the vaccine.”

“Maybe,” Brian picked up the infant and gave it a few more sips of water. “Maybe this one doesn’t have the plague.”

“Do you want to take the chance that it doesn’t?”

Brian glanced at the tiny form cradled in his arms. He hated to admit it, but he was becoming attached to the skinny, silent infant. “Guess not.”

“Come on. We’ve got a long ways to go.”

They piled rocks over the dead Korelai, then saddled the horses. Brian swung up onto the mare’s back and leaned down to take the baby from his father. McKenzie’s hands shook so badly he nearly dropped the little bundle.

The lump in Brian’s stomach turned to stone. “Are you okay?”

“Just cold, that’s all. Let’s go.” The trail led away from the creek into the steepening hills. Bunches of scorpion grass clattered in the wind as they pushed higher. Everywhere, jagged outcrops of obsidian gleamed in the sunlight. All morning, the infant moved less and less. More worrisome, Brian heard his father cough so violently he nearly fell out of the saddle.

“Dad?”

“I’m fine.” McKenzie waved him ahead.

Brian said nothing. There had been enough arguments already. He paused at the top of a narrow pass. On the other side lay a wide bowl, an ancient caldera left behind when the volcano collapsed. A flash of metal on the far side of the crater caught his eye. He took out his binoculars and focused them on a jagged scar cut into the mountain. Strange machines scurried back and forth between the pit and a waiting starship.

“There’s the mine.” Brian’s grip tightened protectively around the sleeping infant while he waited for his father to reply. When he didn’t, he pulled his horse around. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” McKenzie’s face was gray, his forehead beaded with sweat. His horse twisted away from the wind, and, off-balance, he toppled to the hard ground. Brian jumped down and rushed toward him, but his father shook his head. “Stay back... don’t get near me.”

Brian ignored him. Carefully, he lay the infant in the shade of a large boulder, then hurried to his father and pressed a canteen into his hand. McKenzie managed a few weak sips. Brian eased him next to the boulder, then hobbled the black horse and unsaddled him. From the saddle bag he took out the bag of Korelai money.

“What are you doing?” McKenzie slurred.

“You can’t ride. Not like this.” Brian propped the saddle blanket behind him, made certain the canteen was within reach, then picked up the child. The baby squirmed into the crook of his arm as he swung onto his own horse.

McKenzie tried to rise. “You can’t go alone.”

“If I don’t, who will?” Brian turned the mare toward the crater. She balked, reluctant to leave. He dug his heels into her ribs, and started down the steep trail. Behind him, he heard his father’s voice.

“Brian? Be careful.”

“I will.” Brian’s vision wavered, tears threatening to spill out. Before he could change his mind, he gave the mare another kick and rode off.

***

Heat. Dust. Thirst. Scorched rock and horse sweat. Brian pushed the mare as hard as he dared, the crater floor a jumbled, ragged maze of broken stone. The sun climbed to zenith and hung relentlessly in the pale green sky. Hot as the day was, Brian shivered. He felt light-headed and sick to his stomach as he clutched the baby tighter against him.

“Is this how it starts?” he rasped, barely recognizing his own voice. A heaviness settled over him. So tired. So very tired. Brian let the mare drift to a stop at the foot of a steep rise. Maybe he should lay down, just for a little while ...

“No!” Brian shook himself awake. The baby stirred, but made no sound. Thoughts of his father drove him on. Too many things he wanted to say, but somehow never could. Now, he might never get the chance. He urged the tired mare a little faster. “C’mon, girl. Just a little farther.”

Dust swirled past, bitter on his tongue as they broke over the ridge. The grind of machinery caught his ear and through the gritty cloud he saw the mine. A Korelai rushed out, waving its thin arms.

“Go away.”

“No.” Brian tried to ride past, but the alien blocked his path. Angry, he nodded at the baby in his lap. “I have one of your children. He’s sick and needs medicine.

“Go away,” the Korelai repeated. More miners approached. They ringed him, an unblinking wall of glossy black eyes.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Brian shouted, his throat raw. “This baby needs vaccine!”

Another Korelai stepped through the mob, his stride slow and confident. The alien reached up to take the child, but Brian shook his head.

“Not until I see the vaccine.”

The Korelai drew back, startled by the reaction, then nodded. “Yes,” it said in clumsy trade-speak. “We give the baby fever-cure.” From a pouch around it’s neck it drew out a flat green tablet and pushed it into the infant’s narrow mouth. The baby squirmed, but relaxed as the tablet dissolved. “It will be all right now. You give to me, then you go.”

“Not yet.” Brian’s hand shook as he fumbled for the bag of coins. “I need two more doses. I have money.”

“None to spare.” Again, the alien reached for the child, and again, Brian pulled back.

“I said, I need two more doses.”

Time hung, no sound but the distant machinery. Brian had never heard a Korelai laugh before, and the sound made the hair on his neck rise. To his relief, the Korelai fished out two more tablets and traded them for the sack of coins. Brian hesitated, then popped one of them in his mouth. A faint, salty flavor spread over his tongue. Within seconds he began to feel stronger. He tucked the other tablet in his pocket, then gathered up the reins.

“You should rest,” the alien advised.

“I will. Right after I get this where it needs to go.” Brian patted the vaccine in his pocket. Gently, he lifted the baby from his lap, kissed it on the forehead, then handed it down to the waiting Korelai. Without another word, he turned the mare and started back. He had a long ways to go.

But, he knew, he would get there all the same.

The End

Justin Stanchfield's work has appeared in dozens of magazines including Boys' Life, Cricket and Cicada. He lives with his wife and kids on a Montana cattle ranch a stone's throw from the Continental Divide surrounded by cows, horses, dogs and a pair of wandering llamas.

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