“One more thing, however…”
“Yes?”
“The repository’s owners will not allow weapons inside their facility; you will have to leave your side arms in your vessel.”
“We understand,” Rantara said, nodding for Norris to return their pistols to the scout ship. Underhill, Nishikawa and White stood aside watching carefully, but the exchange in a tongue none of them had ever heard made a surreal moment all the more special.
Norris smiled at Rantara, speaking suddenly in crisp Khorran.
“Remember that poor customs guy from our first time here? You scared the shit out of him without lifting a finger.”
Rantara grinned and nodded, but White turned to Underhill in astonishment.
“This is insane!” she whispered. “Norris is fluent in the Lieutenant’s language?”
They went in silence, heads turning left and right to take in the strange and new, but Nishikawa smiled instead at the surprisingly familiar. A bank, it would seem, was still a bank, regardless of distance. They were surrounded by Porseth, Revallan, Khorran and Anashi, yet no one made any special notice. It was clear, even to strangers from Earth, no cultural, political or racial barriers stood in the way of commerce in Tevem.
At last, they turned down a wide corridor aglow from the light of ornate glass domes that revealed a piercing blue sky above. With Tindas and Hesset close behind, Qural reached them first. She nodded so that Rantara could make the introductions in Earth English.
“Ministers, this is Ambassador Qural Embree, representing the Anashi High Council, her military envoy, Hesset Alar, and Professor Ommit Tindas. Please speak freely; they can understand Earth English from language translation nodes implanted beneath the skin. In order to understand them, it will be necessary for you to receive similar devices; it will not be overly painful, but communication between all participants is essential. May we begin?”
Underhill frowned a bit, but Nishikawa nodded and said, “I wondered how that part would be handled. Yes, Lieutenant, we are ready.”
They were ushered inside an adjacent room where two Revallan medical technicians waited quietly beside a chair. Next to it, a rollaway table and strange instruments none of them could recognize, but Hesset saw more and she stared for a moment, taken at once to the beginning of her ordeal at Bera Nima’s in-processing facility. She remembered the fear and apprehension, but oddly, it was the antiseptic odor of a cleansing agent applied to disinfect the small wound that made her wince in recognition of a worse time in a horrible place.
Qural turned to Nishikawa, nodding for Rantara to translate once more.
“Madam Vice President, as the ranking member of the Terran delegation, perhaps you would prefer go first?”
Nishikawa nodded and sat down slowly; unsure, at first, but determined to show a face of commitment and bravery. As the technicians prepared their instruments, Rantara talked her through the procedure. A dull twinge as the numbing agent was applied and in moments, it was done. The technician smiled and motioned for Underhill and White to follow in turn until at last, they were ready. Each felt instinctively for the tiny bump behind an ear, surprised by the near effortless procedure. Qural waited a moment for the node to complete its scan and establish language centers.
“Madam Vice President, can you understand me now?”
Nishikawa smiled suddenly and said, “Yes, Ambassador; this is quite an amazing experience!”
Underhill grinned in spite of himself and asked, “When we’re finished, these people will remove them?”
“That is your decision, Minister Underhill; they are yours to keep or discard as you choose.”
He smiled at Nishikawa and said, “An intuitive, translation device from across the galaxy? I cannot imagine being stupid enough to have it removed.”
“Nor can I,” said White immediately, “and perhaps we may need them again one day if our new friends come to visit with us on Earth.”
“An excellent point, Minister,” Qural smiled and it was settled as she motioned for the technicians to hand over a care and treatment kit.
“The discomfort will subside quickly, but please remember to apply the disinfectant gel at prescribed intervals during your return journey to Earth; we don’t want any complications, do we?”
“We will,” Nishikawa replied, “and thank you, Ambassador; this is a truly wonderful gift.”
“Let us hope it is only the first of many, Madam Vice President,” Qural replied.
After a few moments to adjust, it was time to demonstrate the Transceptor. Hesset led them from the room to a large conference chamber where three rows of seats were arrayed in semicircle tiers around a central dais, similar to a lecture hall in any Earth university. In less than an hour, it would be filled with representatives of the five participating civilizations. Behind the dais, the Transceptor waited where Haleth thumbed last minute adjustments into its control panel as White surveyed the empty seats.
“Are we the first?”
Qural shook her head and said, “Our governments maintain embassies on Sannaris, Minister; the other delegates arrived last night and we completed the demonstration before they retired to their quarters.”
Nishikawa joined them and said, “Perhaps we will be able to add our own consulate one day.”
“That is our hope as well, Madam Vice President,” Qural said. “And now, we would ask for your patience so that we can demonstrate this device. Haleth’s people first visited this part of the galaxy thousands of years ago; the Transceptor was one of the many technological wonders they brought with them. More importantly, he has been one of our most valued and trusted colleagues over the years.”
Underhill looked on in silent amazement, fascinated by yet another strange, alien being as the future of humanity opened wider. Qural moved them to where the Transceptor idled.
“Each of you will stand here, beneath the machine’s emitter. Haleth will instruct you, but there is little for you to do. Simply recall an ordinary memory from the last few days, but one that is shared by all; perhaps a conversation during your journey from Earth? The device will record the memory as it accesses the recall centers of your brain and replay it for you to ‘see’ in the present. You will recognize the images at once, and in doing so, give you confidence the Transceptor is both accurate and harmless. In a few hours, the presentation will begin and there will be no need to wonder if the Saroqui memories are genuine—it will become obvious to you.”
White’s expression made clear her worries.
“I’m not sure about this, Ambassador. I don’t wish to offend, but we know nothing of this machine or its possible dangers to human physiology, and…”
Rantara had shared White’s caution once before and she knew what to say.
“When I first saw the Transceptor, they wanted to connect Darrien to it and give him back his memories from seventeen years ago.”
“Yes, I remember that from your brief,” said White.
“I didn’t understand its purpose then, and I was just as skeptical. I was afraid they might use the machine to hurt him, but Haleth conducted a similar session with me so I would see Darrien’s memories for myself and it helped me overcome my hesitation.”
Norris moved close to the Transceptor.
“I stood here many times, Minister; there’s nothing to worry about. It’s a little weird, hanging in mid-air and watching somebody else’s memories, but you get used to it quickly. I can go first, if you wish, so you’ll see it’s harmless?”
Nishikawa moved closer, looking at the Transceptor’s odd, shimmering surface.
“Please understand, Mr. Norris, it’s not as if we don’t trust you, but when we return to Earth, the President will ask us if we could verify the machine’s authenticity. Without knowing with certainty the presentation we’re about to watch is genuine, it will be difficult to expect him to accept our report.”
“Give it a try; you’ll see for yourself.”
Nishikawa looked at White and
Underhill, asking silently through her expression if the prospect caused them enough worry to cancel. Underhill nodded slightly, and White only shrugged in resignation. Nishikawa turned to Haleth.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Please step onto the pedestal, Madam Vice President,” Haleth replied. “When the contact orbs extend, simply grasp them lightly and relax; the Transceptor will proceed without assistance. When it begins, you will hear a slight tone in your ears. Soon after, the energy field will lift you from the pedestal a few centimeters, but it will not cause any discomfort.”
Nishikawa followed the path Norris had taken so many times, tentative and cautious until the moment took her over. As it had always done, the Transceptor established the pathways and built its energy field for each of them in their turn. After twenty minutes, it was done.
“I’ve never experienced anything like that, not in my whole life,” said Nishikawa. “I apologize for our earlier hesitation, Ambassador, but we’re ready for the presentation now.”
Underhill and White seemed flustered, at first, but the novelty of the experience pulled reluctant smiles from their otherwise stern expressions despite their best efforts and Norris smiled at them with a reassuring nod of his head.
In an alcove off the central corridor, they waited while Revallan attendants flitted in and out with refreshments until the call to begin was sounded. As the other delegates filed slowly in, an attendant showed Nishikawa, Underhill and White to their assigned places. They felt exposed and more than a little nervous, waiting among aliens through obligatory introductions. Mostly, the gallery remained silent and Underhill wondered if their presence had not been announced beforehand.
Rantara went with Tindas to greet First-Designate Antella Tograz, second in succession to Premier Rillix and eldest sister of the famous general. Nearby, Hesset found Anashi Vice Chancellor Mael Albas. The tension had become noticeable and no one felt it more than Hesset; her duties as the Envoy from the diplomatic corps to Commodore Taraxis had made her a target in the eyes of the Khorran military who long regarded her as little more than a spy in expensive clothes. She felt them staring from behind, but Albas didn’t seem to notice. Qural waited until the last attendants withdrew, leaving only the delegations in the silent, dimmed amphitheater. At last, she called them to order.
“Welcome to our historic summit. I cannot express enough my gratitude to all of you who have journeyed far from your home worlds for this most crucial meeting.”
She looked across the gathered faces, calling out the names of the representative delegates and their attending subordinates, each of whom included the second highest ranking member of their respective governments. At last, she looked toward Nishikawa.
“I want also to direct your attention to our honored guests from Earth, the Terran delegation,” she said. “I am sure by now you have all been briefed about the humans, and some have worried over their sudden involvement, but here they are at last and their attendance is very much appreciated.”
She waited as nods of acknowledgement and a gentle murmur from the gallery welcomed the newcomers in its own way, delighted to find even the suspicious Khorran delegation joined in the process. When silence returned, Qural continued.
“The briefing documents each of you were provided describe the events that have led us to this moment, and among them, the efforts of a small group that has done more for our futures than any other. Three of them are with us today, and I want to recognize them publicly before this esteemed audience.”
She motioned for Rantara, Hesset and Norris to step forward as the gathering sounded out unique taps and clicks to show their respect. Gerald Underhill looked at once to Nishikawa, guessing correctly it was the equivalent of applause.
“We have assembled here,” Qural continued, “so that you might see and understand. You now know of the Namadi and the threat they pose to us all, but it goes without saying we cannot ask of you the grave and solemn commitment of your sons and daughters to a war without evidence and proof. As you know, the Khorran and Anashi governments have displayed great courage through a lasting cease-fire, pausing from our own unfortunate conflict to face and meet a threat far greater than we are to each other. That example has resonated among our Porseth and Revallan neighbors, and we are encouraged beyond measure by their participation.”
She moved from the dais and walked to the Transceptor.
“This device is the Transceptor outlined in your notes. It holds the memories of countless thousands who died, even as their civilizations were wiped from existence by the Namadi bombardment ships. A lost people we will never meet—the Saroqui—found the Transceptor a last, if profoundly sad place to rest. In a moment, you will disperse to adjacent rooms where extension interface units have been installed. Through them, each of you will connect with the Transceptor and see for yourselves what passed long ago. I ask and implore you to watch and listen to the voices now stilled and held only in the storage banks of an alien machine; they will speak far louder than I.”
With a nod, attendants returned to the chamber to guide each delegation into five separate rooms along the central corridor. Norris stayed with Nishikawa, White and Underhill, explaining the process, but mostly to ease their obvious hesitation and fear. Above each delegate’s reclining chair, an abbreviated emitter pulsed in sequences of aqua and purple as the connections to the Transceptor were made.
Anne White leaned from her receiving station and motioned for Norris.
“I know you became the transfer conduit for these memories on that barren planet, but did you see them the way we are about to?”
“Yes,” he said softly. “We’ve already seen what you will experience in a few minutes.”
“And?”
“You will never forget it, Minister—not for the rest of your life,” Norris replied.
When the requisite pathways had been established, a tone signaled to Haleth all the delegates were ready. The lighting was dimmed and attendants withdrew to stand along a wall, leaving only the representatives to watch as the images began to filter through.
It was quiet, at first, with only the warbling hum of the emitters to break the silence. Tindas and Qural wandered through all the viewing rooms, watching the process with the eyes of administrators; there could be no mistakes. Rantara joined Qural among the Anashi delegation when the first, subtle indicators began to appear. Suddenly, there were grunts and involuntary jerking of hands or feet as their bodies reacted in reflex to the images passing through their minds. But later, the first eerie moans told of the horrors each delegate could see and feel, watching inside the memories of the dead.
For two full hours, the scenes played out. Fleeting images of strange, alien people long-gone, watching transfixed as the first Namadi clouds appeared in their skies. Swarms of little ships, like so many insects, screamed across alien cities in their thousands until at last, the deafening explosions began. One after another pounded away, bringing confusion and terror as citizens scurried for cover, but the assault would not end as the destruction chased them from their hiding places, only to deliver them all into another hell of explosions, fire and death. Week after week, month after month and still the machines came on in waves. The delegations watched, looking backward in time as a once-thriving civilization was driven from existence by the deadly machines. Before their eyes, hundreds of thousands died in seconds, engulfed by searing firestorms that would claim entire regions. In the ceaseless terror, the delegates could hear and smell the carnage surrounding them as if they had lived in that horrifying time and place.
Hesset waited near the second Revallan delegate—a former Guards Select general who had been preceded by a reputation even Theriani would know and respect. As she looked on in helpless silence, tears streamed from the little man’s face and Hesset could barely contain her own. Qural steered her away for a moment and leaned close to whisper, “Haleth says the presentation will conclude shortly; we should collect Darrien and Onallin before the m
achine releases these people.”
“There are going to be questions, Ambassador.”
“I very much hope so, Hesset—it will tell us the Saroqui memories have done their job.”
Half an hour later, the delegates gathered slowly and without comment beneath the bank’s towering rotunda, but the mood had changed. Gone were the thinly veiled expressions of suspicion and distrust, particularly among the Anashi and Khorran delegations. Instead, there was only muted conversation as each recounted the horrors they had witnessed, compelled to so emotional a reaction that several walked quickly to find a private place where they could recover from the shock and sadness. As Qural hoped, the images had indeed left their mark. She waited with Mael Albas, her old friend and a favorite of the Chancellor himself.
“I do not know how to express in words the way this feels, Qural,” he said.
“It is a sobering experience, Mael, I know.”
He looked around the wide, circular space at the others.
“We have arranged conferences with our Khorran counterparts,” he whispered; “they wish to discuss this in a more private setting.”
“And from there?” Qural asked, although she knew what the answer would be.
“The Chancellor sent instructions for you to make arrangements so that he can speak with Premier Rillix directly.”
“Of course,” she replied. “I will contact the Khorran Ambassador immediately.”
Again, he looked at her, shocked and numb by the effect of the Saroqui memories, but there was nothing more to say.
“We will arrive on Fells Moll in three days’ time, but expect a communication from us before then.”
“I understand,” Qural replied. “Travel safely, Mael.”
Hesset motioned from a doorway for Qural, nodding in silence toward a corner where Rantara sat with Anne White, simply to reassure and give her a place to rest as they recovered. In the Minister’s eyes was a sadness that needed no words to convey. The alien machine had taken her across space and time, but she could not have foreseen such a thing barely a week before. A single vision from the presentation tormented her, persistent and unyielding on the fringes of her thoughts. Rantara waited patiently as the Minister described with a bleak expression one Saroqui child running across an empty street at the height of the Namadi assault. White’s voice wavered as she spoke of the toddler, crying out in a shriek that was painful to hear. The little girl’s clothing was engulfed in flames and she poured out an endless scream until she fell at last amid the ashes and rubble. There were countless more scenes just as ghastly and horrific, yet that particular sequence remained in White’s mind. In her despair, she wondered aloud if the memory would ever leave her as Rantara knelt and took White’s trembling hands.
Echoes of Esharam Page 31
