Termination Shock

by Gillian Andrews

  It had taken him some days to accept the position. It had been a straight choice between resignation from all his duties or acceptance of this quite undefined new role. He told me that, in the end, consideration for his family had persuaded him. He had twelve siblings. He thought that the loss of face if he had resigned would have damaged their futures. Another reason to doubt that Tyzar was quite as advanced socially as I had previously thought.

  I was glad he had decided to accept. I trusted him. Little by little, I had begun to see him as his own person. Our original antipathy had evaporated. Perhaps we could even become friends. One day. I was still watching him like a hawk.

  Anzany and Neema I found easier. It could be because I owed them my life. That did help to make them more agreeable, right from the start.

  Which left our Avarak lady and her newly-born son. Seyal was looking at me, rather than the new ship. Then she looked down at the bundle in her arms.

  “His future,” she told me. “He has no other.”

  I felt a shock of realization run through me. It was true. Seyal could not go back to the Avaraks. Her son Segaton would be rejected too. They really did have no future apart from us.

  I swallowed. So much change in so little time.

  She patted me on the upper arm. “Do not worry. We will be assets. You will be glad we are with you.”

  “I … I already am.”

  She seemed to shrink in size. “No. You are not. Not yet. But you will be.”

  She touched me again on the shoulder and then lifted her son up. “See? Your new home. Shiny. Perfect.”

  Segaton managed a gurgle, which she took to be consent, for she made her way on board with slow, measured steps.

  I saw that only the Supreme was left. I tried to beat a hasty retreat, but she was quicker than I was.

  “Do you not wish to hear of your destination? For your maiden voyage?”

  I gave a faint nod. It seemed only polite.

  “Since you will be traveling with a group of our engineers in any case, I thought I would come with you. I have some business with the Macers.”

  Now that did surprise me. The Macers are a semi-aquatic race of small but agile mammals. They live on the marine planet of Ulon Prime, in orbit around Ulon in the Great Shell. They eat only kelp which they dry on floating rafts on the interminable ocean.

  Ulon Prime is a strange planet. Its ocean is of an almost uniform depth of between six to twelve meters. The Macers are air breathers but possess sacks which inflate around their necks to enable them to stay submerged for up to an hour. They have six almost identically long limbs, tipped with skeletal webbed fingers opposed by long thumbs. Underwater, they move on all six limbs at once and their tails help with propulsion. They would be unable to stand on their back two limbs, which are far too long and thin for that.

  To our eyes they appear emaciated and ill. So I had been told. I had never seen one in the flesh. They are extremely delicate and find it hard to survive outside their salt water “cushion”. They never travel into space. However, in their own habitat I believe they can survive for over a hundred years.

  Moving rapidly on their spidery limbs, Macers are extremely bright and inquisitive. They have small intelligent heads with large curious eyes and a tiny nose. They have newt-like tails and the webbing between their digits enables them to move rapidly along the bottom of the seabed.

  Their own name for themselves in unpronounceable, but the first visitors who came to Ulon Prime saw them macerating the seaweed on their floating rafts and immediately christened them the Macers.

  Originally, the Macers felt very threatened by the alien species, though they tend to accept the Nepheals and the Tyzarans more than the others, as being more inherently pacific races.

  I stared. “You have a meeting with the Legacy?”

  She inclined her head, as she might have to a monkey who had just solved a particularly easy puzzle. “I have.”

  The Legacy is the Macer equivalent of government. Macers are loyal to a fault. There are no ‘bad’ Macers. They sacrifice themselves willingly for the greater good and perceive their own lives as merely being part of a chain of ancestors, linking to a social network. No Macer would dream of “shaming the Chain”, which is their biggest possible insult. The Chain is the personal link, vertical, from the past to the future, whereas the Legacy is the way all chains interweave horizontally into a civilization – each individual’s place in their current civilization.

  Macers are isolationist by nature, but have come to realize that the Macer Legacy must participate in the politics of the Shells in order to have a voice and avoid future danger. They do so most unwillingly but with stubbornness. It is almost impossible to change a Macer’s core values of fairness and decency, and they are valued for their ability to examine all options, from all sides.

  For this reason they are held in high esteem in the Major Shells as great moderators. I wondered just what it was that the Supreme needed to discuss with them. Interesting.

  “Well?” Oznard’s foot was almost tapping.

  We had to go somewhere on this shakedown voyage. Why not Ulon Prime? I had always wanted to meet the Macers. “Sure.” I gave a half bow to usher her before me. “After you.”

  She sniffed. I followed her on board with a grin. I wasn’t so keen to have the Supreme on board, but at least it wouldn’t be for long. Ulon Prime is around 500 light years away from Tyzar. If I had still been captaining Faraday, it would have taken over six months to get there. With the new ZEPH drive, which I had been told could cruise at around 8 light years per hour, it would take less than three days.

  It was exciting. It changed everything.

  We disengaged from the space station with great care. It would not do to ding the fuselage before we even had a maiden voyage in Nivala. Mel took her out, and she did it with milimetric precision, though her brow was all creased up with worry. Sammy had been coaching her in bridge navigation and was sitting beside her, looking proud. He winked at me, then put one hand over hers. She immediately looked five years younger.

  I was staring out of the forward viewport when something cannoned into me. I staggered and nearly fell, only managing to grab out at the pilot’s chair at the last minute.

  “Hey! What the fitz…?”

  “How could you!” Small hands began to pummel me. I found myself taking hold of Zenzie’s irate forearms to try to stop her attack. “You let that awful person come with us!”

  “Did I forget to tell you? Sorry. It must have slipped my mind.”

  She was now kicking at my legs, crest vertical, wrinkles flapping. “I hate you!”

  “It is only for the maiden voyage! Ow! Stop it, Zenzara, you are hurting me!”

  “You should have asked me first!”

  I gave her a bit of a shake. “Enough! Why should I ask you? Who is the captain of this ship?”

  Her eyes flashed. “Who is the Chyzar?”

  I chortled. It hadn’t taken her long to take advantage of her new status. “Typical female!”

  She kicked me even harder. I was forced to let go of her arms, and she resumed my battering.

  “I … am … the … Chyzar,” she puffed.

  “You … are … just … a little …. girl,” I responded, trying to avoid her flailing hands without damaging her. I couldn’t help teasing her, just a little bit.

  “Oh!” She actually managed to connect with my chin, which made me see stars for a moment. I started to laugh, which incensed her even further.

  “Stop laughing at me!”

  “Well, then, stop making a fool of yourself.”

  She fell back, eyes wide. “I’m not!”

  “Yes you are. In the first place, you are not the Chyzar yet, as far as I know. You can
’t communicate properly with the Chakrans. Secondly, even if you could, it wouldn’t make you the captain of this ship, so you still wouldn’t get to take the decisions. Thirdly, you are a pain in the butt.”

  She gasped. “I am not!”

  “Yes you are. Come back when you are old enough to make reasonable choices.”

  Her eyes now glittered. “I saved all of us on Raktor.”

  “You have been useful up to now. You didn’t throw tantrums before. Perhaps all this Chyzar business has gone to your head?”

  She went silent. Then, in a small voice, “I am sorry.”

  “So you should be.” I decided to take pity on her. “Look, Zenzie, I know that your life has changed. It must be very confusing. But it is true for the rest of us as well. None of us can go back to the lives we used to live, to the people we used to know. It is hard for all of us to adapt.”

  She blinked. She was still too young to put herself in the position of others. I could tell that she had not really considered this. “Oh.”

  “We are all stuck with each other because some cosmic joke threw us all together. We have to get along. And that means that we won’t always be doing what you want us to do. It is impossible. We don’t live in a bubble. We interact with other people. The Supreme Council has allowed us to take this ship as our own. I can’t refuse a small favor.”

  She hung her head. “I guess.”

  “Right.”

  She looked at my chin. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

  “Think nothing of it. But you could do with some combat practice. You are much better with your nivala and thoria.”

  “I know. Tyzaran children are taught how to use the nivala and the thoria from a very young age.”

  “Why?”

  She sighed. “Two hundred years ago the Avaraks invaded Tyzar. Hundreds of Tyzaran children were slaughtered because they had no way to defend themselves. Since then, all Tyzarans over the age of four are taught the art of the nivala and the thoria. From eight we are equipped with a small-bore ZR maser, known as a giantkiller.”

  “Did they win?”

  “Did who win?”

  “The Avaraks.”

  “Oh. No. They were defeated by the Supreme Council. That was when the first Raksora Accords were signed. Up until now, the Accords have never been broken again.”

  “Why didn’t they attack the adults too? Or did they?”

  She pulled a face. “They did, but the children were targeted because they are the future of the race.”

  “Interesting. But the Avaraks and the Tyzarans are on the same side now. Aren’t they?”

  She shrugged. “Who knows? It is your stupid Omnistate that started all this mess.”

  I held up both hands. “Hardly mine. They are Flatlanders. I’m a Spacelander.”

  “You are all of human origin. Aren’t you?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose we are. But you can’t compare!”

  “You all look the same to me.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. To be fair, we did all look alike. I had never thought of it from the alien point of view. “I suppose we do.”

  Denaraz stepped forward. “The Raksora Accords are broken, even though the Avaraks have not attacked us directly. There is a paragraph where they undertake not to bear arms against any of the Major Shell races.”

  “They were attacked first, I believe.”

  “Irrelevant. The letter of the Accords is broken.”

  That was just a smidge unfair. The Terrans had started all this by attempting to annex the whole of the Local Shell. But it was true that the Avaraks had been the first to take up arms. Against poor old Commorancy. It seemed a shame to burn two hundred years of peace because of Omnistate greed. I realized that I had been viewing all this with tunnel vision, too. It was not merely our own lives that had been affected. The Major Shells would probably never be the same again. It was a chilling realization. You always assume that the status quo will last, until it doesn’t. Then it is too late to change anything.

  I turned to Denaraz. “Does that mean that there will be war between the Avaraks and the Tyzarans?”

  “Not if I can help it.” We both swiveled round. Oznard had come onto the bridge. She came to a stop behind us. “Ty Zylarian, please refrain from behaving like a Vaer. You are old enough to know better! And please at least try to control that crest of yours a little more.”

  Zenzie shuffled quickly to the bridge bulkhead and attempted to make herself smaller. She and the Supreme were not exactly soul mates. The Tyzaran girl shot me an accusing look, which I ignored.

  I met Oznard’s gaze. “You are attempting to prevent a war between the Avaraks and the Tyzarans?”

  “Of course.”

  “You are not worried about the Terran Omnistate? They were the cause of all this.”

  “The Omnistate live in a different Shell. The Avaraks and the Tyzarans share the Bifold Shell. Rhyveka and Tyzar are only a hundred light years apart. Our first priority must be the situation between the Avaraks and ourselves. The rapid expansion of the dissident Enclave on Tyzar itself comes second. The Omnistate is isolating itself. It can be dealt with later.”

  “Even if it develops ZEPH drive?”

  “Local perturbations must take precedence over interstellar ones.”

  “I see. Does our journey have something to do with that?”

  She nodded. “It might.”

  I couldn’t see what good the planet-bound Macers could do, but it looked as if this side journey was going to be more interesting than it had seemed. I brightened. Taking a new ship into the Great Shell, where Ulon was situated, was anything but boring. The Vaers inhabited the Great Shell too, so we would have to keep our eyes peeled for any of the Nova Vaers. I had already lost Faraday to them. I wasn’t about to lose Nivala.

  We dropped into a geostationary orbit around Ulon Prime three days and five hours later. There had been one or two teething problems with the new ZEPH drives, but the Tyzaran engineers had been able to correct them easily. Sammy had been monitoring their work, as had Didjal. Didjal had told me that it felt reasonably competent to take over the maintenance and upkeep of the drives. The Enif seemed to be a fan of the new system.

  “It is simple but elegant. Although some intense fluctuations in the local zero point energy seems inevitable. We have no idea how that may affect surrounding spacetime.” Didjal’s antennae rippled, making it look even more concerned.

  Sammy shook his head. “Dunno. Can’t see it would make much difference to anything, really.”

  The Enif clicked in a disapproving sort of way. “It could. I can’t find any signs that the Tyzarans have tried to evaluate the effect of such fluctuations on the environment. On Enifa, that would have been a prerequisite.”

  “And you feel there may be severe contamination?” I asked.

  “Not at the moment. The Tyzarans do seem to have kept such effects to a minimum, by fitting inhibitors to all exhaust systems. However, I am doubtful that the Terrans would do the same. I have looked into their history, and they do not have a happy background as far as pollution is concerned.”

  That was true. “Can you do anything further to the Nivala to improve that problem?”

  The Enif stopped to think. “I could probably try to add an inverter which would take at least part of that additional zero point energy and convert it back down into something less toxic.”

  “Why don’t you try that, then, Didjal? Anything we can do to keep emissions down has to be good, right?”

  “I will start work on it straight away. However, you should know that it is a large project.”

  “How is Eshaan getting on?”

  “My faliif is adapting to the Nivala. Even so, the loss of ou
r life’s work has been very hard to take. Eshaan is still struggling.”

  “I saw a new painting, though. That will be saved?”

  “It was forwarded to Enifa, yes. It is a small beginning. To replace the lost is impossible. We can only hope to produce exceptional quality in the small quantity that will be possible in our allotted time.”

  “Yet the art is not destroyed. In some place, maybe on Vaer Nova, it still exists.”

  Didjal curved inwards on itself. “They have the patterns. And the Vaers are not spiritual creatures. Art on their walls is a travesty. Their eyes dishonor the work, detract from it. I would rather it be burnt and turned to ashes. If it were found again, that would be its fate.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Even if you got it back it would still be destroyed? I hadn’t realized that.”

  “We believe that all art gives but also takes from the observer. Who sees it becomes a part of its story. That is why we choose very carefully who may own such a picture, and for how long. Cruel eyes alter art, distort its perspectives, warp its message. Such art cannot be allowed to carry the name of its creators; it has been defiled.”

  I bent my head. “I hadn’t realized that the theft of your life’s work was so definitive. Forgive me.”

  “Although our work will now be small in volume, it is possible that being surrounded by such unusual events will heighten our perception. Eshaan is working hard to live up to such friends.”