Elvians (The Silver Ships Book 18)

by S. H. Jucha

  “That’s risky,” Dafine pointed out.

  Vyztram riposted.

  “Set it up, Vyztram,” Dafine said. “We’ll stand ready for an update.”

  The AI connected to the Freedom and was received by Cordelia.

  Vyztram said,

  Tatia sent forcefully.

  Vyztram replied.

  Julien inquired.

  Vyztram said.

  Julien sent privately to Tatia, who agreed with him.

  Julien sent.

  When Vyztram closed the connection, the Freedom’s bridge audience stared at one another. Everyone was quiet, worrying about the four Omnians who were about to disappear inside an alien ship.

  Comfortably ensconced in his pilot seat, Franz waited for the Freedom’s approval to proceed or abandon the plan. As was usual for him, he was close to dozing off. Franz depended on the controller to inform him of any trouble.

  Julien contacted Alex, Z, and Miranda and informed them of Vyztram’s messages.

  Cordelia sent, having noted the admiral’s slow biorhythms. Rather than the sound of silver bells, she sent pealing laughter, imitating Renée’s melodic tones.

  Franz replied, coming fully alert.

  After Cordelia closed the link, she thought about Franz’s remark. The shift in laughter had been impromptu, and she examined the code that had driven the choice. It had been an emotional response to the heightened tensions of the Elvian encounter. The more she enjoyed the company of Omnian humans, the more she would regret their loss.

  Vyztram watched an Omnian fighter drop out of formation and circle under the Arcus. The male leader sat out there aboard a fighter, the AI thought, fascinated by a risk that no Elvian would take.

  Franz paused at the bay opening. The interior was dark, as befitted an area controlled by an AI.

  Franz sent.

  In turn, Alex had Z contact Vyztram and request the bay be lit.

  Franz sent to his passengers.

  Alex sent in reply.

  Franz grinned. he sent, and maneuvered the traveler into the bay, setting it down as requested.

  Vyztram immediately took note of the pilot’s orientation of the fighter. The AI wondered if the Omnians knew that a drone’s energy source could be released without the ship in flight. If the Omnians presumed that event, it underscored to Vyztram the battle experience possessed by the fleet leaders.

  After the bay sealed, Franz checked the pressure and atmosphere. he sent.

  Immediately, Miranda linked to the bio data readings of Alex’s implant to monitor his blood oxygen levels.

  Alex took long, steady breaths to saturate his body. Then he rose and entered the pilot’s cabin.

  “You don’t need to say it, Alex,” Franz interrupted. His usual generous smile was gone, replaced by a quiet sadness. “If I get a warning from you or the SADEs of a launch, or if this drone lights, I’ll destroy this one.”

  “You can’t let them out of this ship, Franz,” Alex reiterated, clapping a hand on his friend’s broad shoulder. “You and I know the danger they represent to our fleet.”

  “I know,” Franz said. “Why do you think I chose to be your pilot?”

  “I didn’t wonder,” Alex said. He paused, squeezed Franz’s shoulder, and left the cabin.

  As Alex walked the aisle, Z triggered the ramp to drop. Miranda preceded Alex down the ramp, and Z protected the rear.

  A shimmering field marked the bay’s exit.

  Z sent, noting the field.

  Before the Omnians could reach the exit, an Elvian stepped through the field into the bay. The alien halted and stared at the massive figures. Then galvanized into action, the Elvian delivered a greeting accompanied by a bow, which was annotated by a complex, convoluted flourishing of both arms and hands.

  Alex received a translation from Z.

  The Elvian had said, “This unworthy one greets three elites, who’ve deigned to land aboard the deck of the Arcus’s central core.”

  Alex’s face darkened, and he checked his temper, lest he consume too much oxygen. “No sentient is unworthy. Do not bow to us. As sentients, we’re equal. Am I understood?” he said, and Miranda translated for him.

  The Elvian’s eyes blinked several times. The hands twitched, as if the alien intended to sketch an apologetic bow. Then they froze at the Elvian’s sides.

  “How should I greet you —” the alien started, unable to add an honorific or name to the question.

  “I’m Alex Racine. This is Miranda, and this is Z.”

  “I’m called Trobath. I’m to be your guide Elite Alex Racine.”

  “Call me Alex.”

  Again, Trobath’s eyes blinked in consternation. “Please, Alex, this way,” she said, halting her hand in the middle of indicating the exit with an intricate wave.

  Alex raised a hand, requesting Trobath lead. Obviously, that was a novel thought to the Elvian, who took a moment to get her feet in motion.

  Trobath crossed the bay’s deck and passed through the shimmering energy field.

  Alex stopped at the field. he sent.

  Before Alex could move, Miranda slid past him and crossed the barrier. He watched a hand slide through the field, beckoning him with a finger.

  Alex followed Miranda. On the other side, he frowned at her, and the SADE waited.

  Miranda sent.

  Alex sent.

  Miranda sent. Laughter accompanied her sending. Then she turned and disappeared through the second field.

  Alex glanced at the side bulkhead within the airlock. The edge of a thick, metal door protruded slightly.

  Z commented, when he saw Alex glance at the door.

  When Alex and Z stepped through the second barrier, they joined Miranda and Trobath in a brightly lit corridor decorated with eye-catching murals.

  Z sarcastically commented.

  As Trobath led, she performed a strange maneuver. She walked backward to face the Omnians. Then she spun to deliver the expected Elvian greeting to a pair coming her way.

  The Elvians who Trobath faced stuttered to a stop and flattened against the bulkheads.

  Miranda sent.

  Trobath waited for her greeting to be re
turned, but the pair of Elvians stood frozen and staring at the Omnians.

  “Trobath,” Alex said, “let’s make this simple. Walk in front of us and face forward. For now, forget Elvian-to-Elvian courtesies. Otherwise, it’ll take forever to get to our meeting.”

  Trobath must have thought Alex’s comments were humorous. She rapidly and breathlessly inhaled and exhaled, as if she were struggling for air. Nonetheless, she accepted Alex’s idea. She faced forward and led down the corridor.

  Alex sent to the SADEs, sharing the images of the three Elvians they’d met.

  Each Elvian was about the same height, approximately a meter and a third. If he accepted their stature as the standard, Renée would be considered tall and robust. However, everything about each of them was different — face, hair, coloring, and clothing. There was absolutely no uniformity.

  Miranda sent.

  Alex inquired.

  Miranda replied.

  “Hmm,” Alex murmured.

  Z sent.

  Alex sent.

  Z pondered the concept that Alex had sent. SADEs, with their states of hyperactivity, would find the idea completely foreign.

  The corridor branched left and right, but Trobath stepped forward to pass through another field, and the Omnians followed. They were inside a space, bracketed on each end by a shimmering barrier.

  Trobath retracted a draping costume sleeve to reveal a slate. She touched several icons, covered the slate, and waited. After a few moments’ delay, a delicate note sounded from Trobath’s sleeve, and she stepped through the barrier.

  Z sent.

  Miranda added.

  Alex sent.

  On the other side of the field, the Omnians stepped into an enormous space filled with brightly decorated Elvians.

  Miranda commented.

  The Elvians would begin a greeting often twirling before continuing on their way. As they met another individual, the dance would be repeated.

  Z sent.

  “Alex, this way,” Trobath said, gaining the attentions of the Omnians who’d stood to watch the interplay among the Elvians.

  As the foursome crossed the open space, they disrupted the Elvians’ customary courtesies. Steps faltered, twirls failed, and feet ground to a halt, as Trobath and the Omnians walked through the Elvians.

  On the far side of what the Omnians considered a dance floor, they entered another field to pass into another corridor. The process repeated for more than a quarter hour.

  Soon after the Omnians entered the first lift, Alex had checked his link with the traveler. The link was gone. By the time they entered the second corridor, which had followed the crossing of the dance deck, the SADEs had lost their links with the traveler.

  Alex groused to the SADEs, as the walk continued.

  Miranda noted Alex’s oxygen levels were falling. She was prepared to halt the procession if the levels continued to drop.

  Z sent.

  Alex reasoned.

  Z returned.

  Alex replied.

  “Stop,” Miranda ordered Trobath, which brought Alex and Z to a halt. “Alex needs oxygen.”

  Trobath regarded Alex with concern, while she accessed her slate. The leader had placed a hand on Miranda’s shoulder to steady himself.

  Swiftly, a small bot exited a panel that had opened in the bulkhead. It raced down the corridor, halted beside Trobath, and, with a slender arm, extended an oxygen mask toward the Elvian.

  “Release,” Trobath directed the bot, as she grasped the mask. Then she offered it to Miranda.

  The SADE tested the airflow. It wasn’t pure oxygen, but it was more than sufficient for Alex’s needs. She turned slowly so as not to disturb Alex’s balance and offered him the mask.

  The bot followed the mask to prevent overextension of the line.

  The mask was designed to cover an Elvian’s nose and mouth. That it was made of a soft material enabled Alex to squeeze it over his nose, and he breathed deeply and gratefully.

  “Large body,” Trobath commented. Pointing a finger at Alex, she asked, “Human?”

  “Yes,” Miranda replied.

  Then Trobath indicated Miranda and Z. “Mobile AIs?” she inquired.

  “Yes. We’re called SADEs,” Miranda replied.

  “I’ve learned of you from Vyztram, who assigned me this duty,” Trobath said. Her pride in the appointment was indicated by a slight flourish of a single hand. “Are you better, Alex?” she inquired, when she saw him remove the mask.

  “Can the oxygen bottle be removed from the bot?” Z asked.

  “The process is self-contained. The bot concentrates the oxygen from our air and stores it,” Trobath explained.

  “How much of the oxygen supply has been consumed, and how quickly does it recharge?” Z inquired.

  Trobath consulted her slate. “Eighty-two percent remains. The bot will replace that in less than the time it took us to reach this point from the bay,” she replied.

  “Assign the bot to stay with Alex,” Miranda requested.

  “With regret, Miranda, I can’t,” Trobath replied. “The bot won’t track on Alex. It only recognizes Elvians.”

  “Then you must remain by Alex’s side until we leave the Arcus,” Miranda directed.

  “That would be my great pleasure,” Trobath replied, with an intricate wave of her arm.

  Z privately queried his partner.

  Miranda returned.

  Before the Omnians reached the meeting, Miranda stopped the group one more time for Alex to inhale the bot’s oxygen. She’d recorded his oxygen level fluctuations and defined the parameters she would allow.

  “How much farther, Trobath?” Z requested, after their second stop.

  “Soon,” Trobath replied, having no means of indicating time or distance.

  The group traversed another corridor, passing amazed Elvians, crossed another privacy barrier to enter an area full of monitors, panels, and workers.

  Pale, nearly featureless faces turned to regard Trobath and the Omnians. They had no ears, merely tympanums. There were no noses, merely nostril slits. The heads, including the eyebrows, were hairless. The skin was a light gray bordering on off-white. In contrast to the rest of the face, the eyes were large, colorful, shining, and expressive.

  The workers’ masks and costumes hung on the wall where the group had entered.

  Trobath led the Omnians through the core’s control hub toward the offices lining the far bulkhead.

  9: Core’s Reps

  During the second stop for oxygen, Trobath had quietly communicated their impending arrival to the core’s reps.

  Dafine had wished for a more imposing space in which to meet the Omnian leader, but it was decided the contact should be made in the privacy of his office. He stood in front of his operational panels and monitor displays, and Yemerth and Famgore bracketed him.

  Against
protocol, Trobath came through the privacy screen first, which confused the reps. They had practiced a similar greeting to enforce the concept that they worked together and were of the same minds when it came to this meeting’s purpose.

  Before the reps could gather themselves and start their complex courtesies, Trobath interrupted them. “No greetings,” she announced firmly.

  “Our leader isn’t fond of these displays,” Z said, which earned him a quick reprimand from his partner.

  “Are you Alex Racine?” Dafine asked, eyeing Z.

  “No,” Z replied. “I’m a SADE, as is Miranda. This is Alex. We translate for him.”

  “Welcome to Arcus, Alex,” Dafine said. He began to bow and sketch a greeting before he halted.

  “I appreciate that you wish to be polite and deliver your courtesies,” Alex said. “However, the present circumstances require immediate communications and actions. Time shouldn’t be wasted on evolved salutations.”

  “As you’re elite, we thought you would require them,” Yemerth said.

  “Alex doesn’t believe in elite categories. He says that, as sentients, we’re equal,” Trobath explained. Her short, slight stature straightened, and she stood a little prouder.

  A wry smile crossed Alex’s face. One convert, he thought. “I don’t wish to pry, but why do Elvians perform these elaborate greetings?” he asked.

  “Practice,” Famgore replied.

  “Explain,” Z requested.

  “The elites require greetings,” Famgore replied. “They’ll not accept services from core individuals who fail to perform them adequately.”

  Alex’s muscles tightened, but he managed to relax them just as quickly. He was incensed about the elites’ absurd requirements from their less fortunate citizens. Unfortunately, his emotional spike sent his oxygen levels plummeting.

  Having noticed the tension in Alex’s musculature, Trobath snatched the mask off the bot and offered it to Alex.

  Alex accepted the mask and smiled at Trobath.

  The Elvian’s slender hand expressed her appreciation.

  “Are you ill, Alex Racine?” Dafine asked with concern.