Retread Shop 1: First Contact

by T. Jackson King

  Sargon was one of the last to arrive. His floater moved to a seating area set aside for sapients using mechanical transport. Next to him hulked several Thix-Thet tracglobes, four water-filled Sliss tanks suspended between fat rubber tires with matriarchs peering out of the transparent upper half of the tanks, and one Thoranian crystal globe. In front he saw several Strelka centipedes coiled up in floor-level basins, a score of Zik crustaceans standing in sand pits and a few Gosay resting on the bare rock of one seating area, their six legs partly folded underneath them. To either side, a dozen Arrik flyers, including T’Klick T’Klose, perched on low rock banisters risen from the chamber floor, while five Horem sat on cushions here and there among the other sapients. He noticed the chamber contained only senior crew and species leaders. Those gathered in the room today represented the current group of sapients who ran the Command Deck, Power, Fuel and Supplies, Library, Life Patterns, Liaison, Farms, Environmental Recovery, Fabrication, Trade, Research and Military Compound parts of Hekar. What was going on?

  “Attention, sapients,” said a multi-legged Strelka in the center of the room, who was partly coiled up on an elevated dais. “I am Transparent-Green-Song, Conflict Commander for the Military Compound. You have been ordered here for an emergency briefing. Attend.”

  Transparent-Green-Song lowered one flexarm to touch the controls of an Imager pedestal beside him.

  Above the Strelka there appeared a holographic image of the Humans’ home planet of Earth, a beautiful blue and white orb dominated by cloud banks, oceans and land masses.

  “Compact Mates, above me is the planet of the Human bipeds,” whispered Sargon’s translating comdisk. “It is a composite of images from space vehicles and orbital satellites.” Nearby, the Sliss seemed to plaster themselves to the clear dome of their wheeled water habitats as oceans appeared. “Nearly seventy percent of the planet’s surface area is a saline ocean with intervening large and small crustal plates projecting above the level of the oceans.” The Ziks ahead of him chitter-hummed their excitement. “Current planetary population is about seven billion bipeds. The planet’s atmosphere is primarily nitrogen, oxygen, argon, carbon dioxide and other gases in minute amounts. A strong magnetic field is present, the planet is tilted 23.5 degrees relative to their star’s plane of other orbital bodies and its orbital period about the star is only three percent less than that of a Horem or ship standard year.” Sargon wished Alis were here—these Humans were so Horem-like. “Overall, it’s an interesting life abode that is certainly worthy of Contact.” The Strelka paused, lifting upright from its coiled position to sway sideways in empathic reaction. “Unfortunately, the dominant sapient species is now engaged in a violent dispute that has caused me to declare a Level 5 Conflict alert and to seek your counsel.”

  A Level 5 alert! Incredible!

  What happened to the intervening Levels 3 and 4? He heard the buzz of multiple conversations about him as other Command personnel reacted to the news. The Arrik to either side looked . . . arrogant and excited, to judge from the cant of their leathery wings. What did they know? T’Klose turned one blue-green eye toward Sargon, reminding him of the flyer’s words at the Compact Council meeting.

  A Level 5 alert, he recalled, meant a species not only possessed weaponry capable of harming Hekar, but more importantly, the sociocultural analysts diagnosed a greater than fifty percent likelihood the species would attempt to damage Hekar. Which had to mean the Humans posed this threat? Only the Arrik Conflict had ever caused Hekar the AI to declare a Level 5 alert. He impatiently awaited the rest of the Strelka’s briefing.

  “Two days ago,” continued Transparent-Green-Song, “on the Human time date of March 12, 2017, nuclear war erupted between the Human nation-Clans of Pakistan and India. Communication media carried by the worldwide Internet and broadcast around Earth report multiple nuclear bomb strikes by each nation-Clan against the other.” Sargon felt shock. His memory of the 2008 broadcast images had left him with the impression the nuclear-armed nation-Clans of humanity were either reducing their weapons stockpiles or were unlikely to use such bombs. Transparent’s white brain case leaned to one side so its sensor strip could perceive the holo. “The city of Mumbai in India was mostly destroyed by a 150 kiloton fission warhead delivered by Pakistan’s Shaheen-III missile. Additional Shaheen and Ghaznavi missile strikes hit the Indian cities of Jaipur, Srinagar, Bhopal and Allahabad. A missile warhead headed for New Delhi was destroyed by a Mirage jet that collided with the descending warhead. Jet airplane attacks on New Delhi were defeated by the Indian Air Force.” A color graphic appeared to one side of the holo that showed the South Asia part of Earth and the locations of the cities hit by nuclear bombs. “India replied in kind. Four Sagarika missiles launched by two Arihant ballistic missile submarines destroyed the south Pakistan cities of Karachi, Hyderabad, Sukkur and Omara. Six Dhanush ballistic missiles fired from three Shivalik class frigates hit Pakistan army bases inland from the ports. Explosive yield of the ten strikes is estimated at 150 kilotons per strike.” Transparent-Green-Song hummed low, a sad-sounding tone. “Worse was to come. India launched four Agni V missiles at Pakistan’s main cities. The capital of Islamabad was vaporized by a thermonuclear fusion warhead of one megaton yield. The cities of Lahore, Rawalpindi and Faisalabad were vaporized by tritium-boosted fission bombs of 250 kiloton yield. Indian Air Force planes dropped tactical nuclear bombs on every Pakistani air force and army base in the country.” The sites glowed like red cancers on the graphic image of South Asia. “Death tolls are in the millions. Pakistan no longer functions as a nation-Clan. India has proclaimed victory and says it will provide food and water to radiation refugees, even as it deals with its own fallout victims.”

  Sargon flared his headcrest. “What was the response of the other Human nuclear powers? The United States of America, China and Russia, which are close to or allied with India?”

  The Strelka hummed lightly. “Restraint and condemnation. Many nation-Clans have offered food, water, mobile hospitals and radiation treatment drugs.”

  A voice boomed from a nearby water tank. “Mother Esay of the Sliss seeks clarification. While these nuclear weapons explosions are dangerous to the Humans, they could not harm Hekar. What led to the Level 5 alert?”

  “Yes!” T’Klick T’Klose whistled ultrasonically. “Tell them about the giant weapon tested and deployed by the other nation-Clan! That is the reason for the Level 5 alert!”

  “Attend!” chittered Transparent-Green-Song. “This nuclear war episode caused the staff of the Military Compound to research the types of nuclear weapons possessed by the Human bipeds. Internet history reports, and a recent broadcast by the Communication Clan of CNN International, revealed the Humans exploded a 50 megaton, three-stage thermonuclear device on October 30, 1961, nearly 56 Earth years prior to this new warfare.” Deep shock filled Sargon. “Such a device produces a plasma fireball that measures one-twentieth the length of Hekar, or eight kilometers across to use the Human terminology. The vapor cloud produced by the device reached 64 kilometers high. The infrared heat pulse caused burns at 100 kilometers distance from the fireball. The acoustic shock wave damaged structures out to 900 kilometers. The seismic shock wave was felt in all parts of the Human world.” The Strelka’s rainbow-colored scales reflected the yellow-orange light of the chamber, making Sargon think briefly of the alien’s beauty. Transparent’s brain case inclined. “If such a device were delivered against the outer surface of Hekar it could crack open our starship, causing severe loss of life, loss of fuel and loss of atmosphere. The historical fact of this massive device was the cause of the Level 5 alert.”

  Maker of Eggs Looseen clacked her mouth palps. “But this ship has many defenses! Why does this Human device cause you such worry?”

  The Conflict Commander hummed low. “While we can defend against any vehicle carrying such a device using pressor beams, directed energy beams and lasers, our strike craft and our antimatter primaries, Hekar says it cannot guarantee that
such a device would never contact the ship.” Sargon bent his head, feeling depressed—what have I begun? “Therefore, we need to evaluate modes of approach to the system. Where should we orbit in the system? Should we arrive secretly or openly? And how can we make a First Contact with these sapients that also ensures the safety of Hekar from attack by Human subgroups?”

  “Why make Contact at all?” T’Klose yelled ultrasonically. “They’re insane and a threat to Hekar. Let us refuel from the system’s two gas giants and leave!”

  Transparent-Green-Song looked . . . bedraggled, if such a term could apply to a being without a face. One flexarm moved in a sign of negation.

  “Ruler T’Klick T’Klose, you are too hasty,” hummed the Strelka. “These Humans may improve. They may never seek to harm us. And we can orbit far out in their system, well away from the reach of their primitive spacecraft.”

  The single Thoranian globe spoke above the crowd of other voices. “Devices such as these, their number, many are?”

  “No!” Green-Song said swiftly. “Only a few exist. And they are quite bulky. The Humans have no spacecraft capable of putting such a device into orbit.”

  “Yet!” said T’Klose, flapping his wings and hopping up to the front of the room. “This event happened in Earth’s past time. The true time Earth year of the Humans is now 2033. What might they have achieved since this broadcast?”

  Sargon knew the Arrik had a point. While the first Detection signal date was 1994, the true time on Earth at Detection had been 2020 thanks to the 26 light years it had taken for those first broadcasts to reach Hekar. While 23 years had passed on Earth since Detection, only 10 years had passed on Hekar. And the ship was 10 light years closer to the yellow star. The Humans must have improved their spacecraft in the years since the 2017 broadcast that had so upset the Conflict Commander.

  “Who knows?” Transparent-Green-Song turned away from the Arrik ruler in favor of a question from a Zik Grade l Defender.

  “Honored Leader,” clacked the Zik. “It is obvious the irrationality index necessary for a Class 5 alert is met by the stupidity of these bipeds in their detonation of such a device. It could have cracked their planetary crust in weak tectonic zones.” Sargon knew that only too well—even on Horem they never used something of that strength for earth-moving projects. “However, what is the basis for enough consistent irrationality that the analysts fear an intentional attack on Hekar?”

  Green-Song crossed his flexarms. “Defender Zexeen, the basis is their recent record of bipedal subgroupings engaging in intentional acts of organized violence over the last one hundred ship years. The rate, intensity and size of these conflicts has increased through time.” Not good news—the curve should have been in the opposite direction. “Some subgroupings regularly commit actions that are contra-survival. They are quite willing to commit any violent act—even if it results in their personal death. The two towers attack was carried out by such a group, which called itself al-Qaeda, on behalf of a deity named Allah. Similar subgroups call themselves Boko Haram, Islamic State and al-Shabaab. They are non-rational but very dangerous.”

  A Gosay Life Patterns Commander bestirred herself, black eyes swiveling atop their support cones.

  “Honored One, I am Lady Sawseen. This data is confusing. Are these sapients made irrational by the unnaturally high density of population that cover the dry areas of the planet?”

  “Commander Sawseen,” said Green-Song, “it is true several Compact species such as your own are in symbiotic equilibrium with modest planetary populations in the hundreds of millions. But large aggregated populations of this size are known among the Strelka, the Horem, the Zik and the Sliss. Populations in the billions do not necessarily cause societal irrationality.” Sargon knew that, but he also knew overpopulation didn’t help any species. Green-Song swayed to the emotions running rampant through the conference chamber. “It appears the Human irrationality index derives from a primary evolutionary theme of violent territorial challenge-dominance-submission behavior impulses that act at both the individual and group levels.”

  The Arrik ruler had been trying to get Green-Song’s attention and now succeeded. “This is exactly what I warned of!” T’Klose whistled, wings flapping wildly. “These sapients are a threat to Hekar. They are a threat to all of us. Why Contact them?”

  Sargon couldn’t stand it any longer. He stood up.

  “Conflict Commander, I disagree with Sept Ruler T’Klose,” Sargon called from the back of the room. “Our purpose is Trade. Our purpose is Contact with new intelligences. Even when they are overly paranoid—as were you Arrik.”

  T’Klose spit his way, clawed hands clenching. Sargon knew the Arrik didn’t like being reminded of their own reaction to the Compact. Which might partly explain their sensitivity to another aggressive species—the tinge of xenophobia seemed to still lurk within the Arrik.

  “You! You are the one to blame for this disaster!” yelled T’Klose, turning to the audience of Ziks, Arriks, Horem and Gosay. “This Watch Commander turned the ship toward these insane bipeds. He put us all in danger and should be—”

  “Shut up!” Transparent-Green-Song hummed loudly.

  T’Klose’s underthroat scales lost their bright yellow coloring, going pale. He turned away from his audience, his fury coming to rest on the Strelka Conflict Commander. All three blue-green eyes glittered dangerously.

  “How dare you—”

  “T’Klose, I am the Conflict Commander. Do you dispute this?” said Green-Song, now fully uncoiled and holding himself upright on his rear walkfeet.

  Sargon watched T’Klose. Would the Arrik mutiny? In the Military Compound?

  “You are,” T’Klose said finally, wings lowering from full spread. “Act like it. Lead! Protect us from these Humans!”

  “I will.” Green-Song turned away to address the entire chamber. “Colleagues, we need the benefit of our collective experiences. Go to your rest chambers. Recall your memories of conflict. Within your species or otherwise.” Meaning the Arrik Conflict, Sargon knew. “Record them on the Remembrance Net. Provide your analysis to Hekar of the Core. It will collate and suggest options to me. I will discuss the best options with the Compact Council. Dismissed!”

  Sargon sat back down and touched the control stud on his floaterseat. Feeling exhausted, his worries cycled again and again through his mind as it took him to pre-assigned visiting officer quarters for rest and memory recall.

  All the way back he thought of how wrong his decision had gone. All the way back he thought of Bethrin and his father Salex. What would they think? What would all Horem think?

  Whatever the outcome of the Council meeting to come, he knew he must return home. Home to the familiar green lichen, dirt and rocks of the high plateau. Home to his family. Home to the Clan. Home to Bethrin.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sargon relaxed naked in his home’s central bathing pool, arms resting against the upper rim of the wide, shallow pool, trying to let the warm water and scented floater-plants displace his depression.

  Looking out at the atrium’s warm red and brown sandstone walls, covered with climber vines and flowers, should have relaxed him. The familiar feel of home, of the Clan Hearth, of the place where three generations of Clan Arax had been born, lived and died, should have reassured him. Should have given him the mental peace of mind he needed to consider what next to do. Avoid Contact with the Humans? Take an aggressive approach as with the Arrik Contact? Or proceed with the normal, low-profile pattern that had worked so well in previous Contacts?

  “Husband?”

  Bethrin? He turned his head.

  She came to him from across the atrium garden, dressed simply in plain white toga and sandals, her short brown fur slightly tipped with age-blackening, eyes concerned, feathery headcrest rippling with caring.

  “Here, my love. Come join me.”

  Bethrin smiled with her headcrest, stopped beside the pool, dropped her toga and undergarments and joined him, nak
ed, warm and comforting. She leaned against him, head resting on his muscled shoulder.

  “Maran, Grethel, Peilan, Salex and Lorilen are also coming,” she said. “It’s time for a Conclave, husband. To discuss the Human news.”

  “I . . . don’t feel up to talking.”

  She bit his shoulder playfully. “Nonsense. It is exactly at such times the Clan must meet. And talk.”

  He hugged her close, smelling the flowery aroma of her scent. “You are too wise for me. What does Communications say?”

  She drew her knees up, water cascading off them, before stretching full out and floating in the pond, held in place only by his restraining arm. “They say T’Klose has called an emergency Council meeting. They say the Ziks and Sliss are with us, the Gosay, Thix-Thet and Thoranians are neutral. The Arrik, of course, are totally paranoid and oppose any Contact with the Humans.”

  He caressed her neck. “What about the Strelka? They should be with us.”

  Bethrin sighed, her four breasts falling slightly. “They should be. And may be. No word yet from Hive Master Swirling-Blue-Thoughts.”

  The sound of sandaled feet made Sargon look up.

  Grethel came first, her face alight with the pleasure of seeing him after many years absence. Beside her walked Lorilen, his father’s widowed sister, the seven-spoked neuron symbol of the Library prominent on Lorilen’s yellow toga, her fur heavily black-tipped with age, eyes somber. His mother Peilan and father Salex came together behind them, hand-in-hand, both looking quite aged. Both looking preoccupied. Both with black-tipped fur. He hated to see blackened fur—it reminded him too much of Alis’ recent death.