“You’re right about that. Hey! I…we are late for a debriefing with Captain Bradley, Gerard, Newton, and the others. C’mon,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her towards the door. They walked hand-in-hand through the Phoenix’s corridors until they reached the briefing room. Upon entering, they found the others already there and in full-discussion mode regarding the mission to the Proge computer core.
For the next hour, the group went over the events of the day’s mission, examining video playbacks of what they’d witnessed. At the end of the hour, Captain Bradley called for a 15-minute break, which everyone welcomed with enthusiasm.
Some hit the restrooms first, others grabbed refreshments, and some others did stretching exercises or walked up and down the corridors to encourage circulation in their legs. Finally, with the break almost over, everyone gravitated back to the briefing room and took their seats.
Once they were settled, Captain Bradley looked around the room before asking, “So, what’s our next move?”
Jarrod spoke up first, “Well, return to the core…ask more questions. We need to see if my father left a message regarding where he and his expedition were going next!” This was met with nods and sounds of agreements from the other present.
Lieutenant Clark Gerald spoke up, “I’d suggest we come up with a list of questions to pose to the computer. If we select the right questions, it could save us hours or even days in getting the answers we’re looking for!” He glanced around the briefing room and found everyone was in agreement.
The team spent the next hour suggesting then discussing various questions to ask the Proge computer. Finally, they came up with 15 questions they felt were the most important and another 12 that they would ask if they had sufficient time. Bradley thanked everyone for their hard work that day and announced they’d resume again at 0900 hours ship’s time in the morning.
Jarrod let Ellie guide him back to his quarters. He didn’t realize how tired he’d grown during the course of the meetings nor did he suspect that Ellie had slipped a timed-released sedative into the injections she’d given him. She knew him well enough to know that, even off duty, Jarrod’s mind would not let him rest. They were too close to finding out where to look for his father and the lost Proge homeworld. Jarrod wouldn’t be able to resist continuing his work on the mysteries of the Proge world and language and his missing father.
Ellie practically had to carry Jarrod the last couple of yards to their quarters. By the time they entered, his eyes were almost closed and his arm was heavy across her shoulders. She got him to one side of the bed and helped sit down. She unzipped and removed his tunic then allowed him to lean over and lay his upper body on the bed. Ellie lifted his legs and stretched them out on the bed then rolled him into the center of the bed. She unhitched his belt and unzipped his trousers before proceeding to remove his boots.
With the boots out of the way, Ellie gripped his trouser legs at his ankles and yanked hard. His trousers came off leaving him in his t-shirt, underwear, and socks. Ellie pulled a light blanket from the shelf of Jarrod’s closet and draped it over his sleeping form. Before leaving, she leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his lips. In his sleep, Jarrod returned the kiss for a second then began to snore softly. Ellie giggled, turned, and left the room.
Chapter 8
Ship's Log
TDFSV Phoenix
Earthdate: 25 December 2230
Captain McLelland Bradley, Commanding
Merry Christmas! Maybe Santa Claus will visit us and bring us the gift of the Proge language and the location of their homeworld. Then again, Jarrod and the science team have been doing a good job of it. We’d love to take today as a holiday but the Azairi threats doesn’t leave us much time. Every day counts! So it’ll be back to the computer core for us and see what we’ll discover today.
Hey Santa, if you’re out there, be sure to deliver the present I left behind for my wife!
Commander Jarrod Caulder was the first member of the team to reach the briefing room Christmas morning. Captain Mac Bradley arrived a moment later. The two officers exchanged Christmas greetings then set about fixing some coffee and grabbing breakfast meal packs.
They were almost finished with their meal packs and first cups of coffee when the others began to file in. Another round of season’s greetings ensued, then the newcomers grabbed something to eat and drink and sat down to enjoy their breakfasts. The air was filled with holiday cheer and polite conversation. No one seemed ready to start the day.
But all good things must end and when everyone had finished their breakfast, Bradley called the briefing to order. He gave a brief review of the previous day’s mission then outlined their mission for the day. Bradley looked over at Commander Ian Huntington-Smythe. “Ian, did your team double check the hover cars…particularly HC 2?”
“Aye, sir!” Huntington-Smythe replied. “The men and I have given both vehicles Class III inspections and servicing. We’ve run diagnostics on Hover Car 2 and pulled the panels on the left front drive unit. We’ve checked the unit over as well as we can short of pulling it from the car. It checked out, sir!”
“Very well,” said Bradley. “If we have any further problems with it, the survivors reserve the right to take it up with you and your team later. Their choice of weapons, you read me, commander?” asked Bradley with a little jovial menace in his voice.
“Of course, sir!” Huntington-Smythe responded, realizing that Bradley was both pulling his leg and warning him about the consequences of future problems with that particular hover car.
Bradley assigned the same teams as the day before then gave everyone a few minutes to take care of any other business before they gathered their gear and climbed aboard the hover cars. Ten minutes later, they were airborne!
This time they flew straight to the pyramid and landed on the same step they had the day before. They were able to open the passageway within minutes and proceeded into the pyramid. When they were within 100 feet of the computer cylinder, it activated, extending its consoles and activating its monitors. But even more surprising to them was seeing a Proge standing about 15 feet in front of the cylinder.
“Greetings, my children. Welcome to Progenitor World 1594, which is called Kulera,” said the Proge in its musical voice…in English! Jarrod, Mac, and the others stood slack jawed, in shock at what they were seeing and hearing. Finally, Colleen Newton raised her portable scanner to examine the Proge. She checked her readings twice before making her report.
“Sirs, it’s a projection...coming from the computer core!” Newton said continuing to check and recheck the readings from her scanner.
“Actually, in your own language, I am a holographic, audio/visual interface between you and this world’s master computer system,” replied the Proge. Jarrod noticed that the Proge projection was speaking to them as if they were children…in fact, it had called them “my children” when it first spoke.
Jarrod looked over to Bradley. The captain nodded, encouraging Jarrod to take the lead on this first contact. “Who are you?” Jarrod asked.
The Proge hologram turned slightly to face Jarrod and responded, “I am the avatar of the Kulera Central Computer Core. My appearance and voice are patterned after one of the Progenitor race’s primary scientists, Harlu Az.”
“How do you wish us to address you?” Jarrod asked next.
“You may address this avatar as Harlu Az,” the Proge…Progenitor, Jarrod corrected himself…replied.
“Why does your race call itself the Progenitors?” Jarrod asked, realizing as he did so that it was not one of the questions the team had come up with the night before.
“My race was called the Z’laan. We were the first race to colonize this arm of the J’ree Galaxy. As our race spread throughout this region of space, we seeded many worlds using our DNA as a template,” said the image of Harlu Az. “Humanoid life developed on many of those worlds, based on our Z’Laan DNA. As those races evolved, we allowed them their worlds, their time.
Over the millennia, our race ceased exploring and returned to our central core of worlds. We became lax, having no goals, and our civilization stagnated. One by one, our colony worlds became incommunicado as the populations there died out. We left behind our great technologies in hopes that our progeny races would one day come to the stars to find us.”
Jarrod and the others looked at each for a moment. Finally, Jarrod asked, “Did you explain this to the Terran team that came before us?”
“No,” answered the avatar of Harlu Az.
“Why not?” Jarrod asked.
The avatar looked apologetic and answered, “They did not ask. They sought only a manual interface with the Central Core. The one who deciphered the Z’laan language and text explained it to an underling who used the archaic manual input/output device. They did not speak to the Central Core. The information they sought was specific, the locations of our core worlds, specifically Z’la, our homeworld. Once the information was provided to them, they departed this facility and this world hastily.”
Jarrod and the others shared a chuckle at the old “didn’t ask” chestnut. “So, because I spoke my questions aloud as I typed them through your keyboard, you saw us as speaking to you?”
“Yes!” was the short answer.
“And because we asked questions more about the origins of your facility and world, you responded by creating an avatar to interact with us?” Colleen Newton asked.
“Yes!” was the answer once more.
Jarrod suddenly had a flash of intuition and asked, “You are more than just a massive computer bank, aren’t you? You’re sentient in your own right, aren’t you?”
The avatar nodded in a very human manner. “Yes!”
Jarrod put his right hand to his forehead as realization hit him. “And after all of these millennia without personal interaction…you’re lonely, aren’t you?”
The avatar nodded again and in a sad tone replied, “Yes…quite lonely.”
“But you could have spoken with the humans who came here before us,” Mac Bradley said.
“I was wary. The Central Core of each of our worlds is programmed to assist our progeny should they visit. I studied them when they came to this facility. But we are programmed to evaluate those who come to our worlds to see if they are worthy. I studied the queries made by those who proceeded you and the data they sought. I was not sure if they could be trusted,” Harlu Az answered. Jarrod realized he no longer thought of it as just a holographic avatar of a long dead Proge. We have to start thinking of them as the Z’laan, Jarrod reminded himself. Apparently, the Central Core had been programmed with the personality of the individual as well as its knowledge and appearance. “Eventually, I determined that I trusted them sufficiently to give them the answers they sought, if only just that and in the manner through which they requested that information. Then they departed abruptly before I could initiate further contact.”
“Which leads us to now,” replied Jarrod. “Well, as much as I’m in a hurry to gather the same data from you and chase after my father, I think we need to spend additional time with you here first. We have many questions we’d like to ask you, especially now that communication between us has been simplified!”
“Ask, my children, and I shall answer to the best of my programming!” answered Harlu Az almost gleefully. It seemed to the Terrans that the Z’laan Grey actually shifted in hue to a light blue grey. When asked about this, Harlu Az answered, “It was a function of our physical bodies to shift our bodily hues in reaction to our mood at the time. This shade is one of contentment. This holographic avatar is programmed to respond as a Z’Laan would, both physically and emotionally.”
Jarrod looked around the vast room. “What is it you seek, my child?” asked Harlu Az.
“Knowledge, assistance…to find out if you can help us stop an aggressive alien race called the Azairi from destroying our race and our worlds. We will gladly stay with you for awhile but would it be possible for us to sit down and get comfortable,” answered Jarrod. “My feet and back are beginning to hurt from standing for so long.”
“My apologies,” Harlu Az began. “It has been many millennia since I had guests and was unsure what form of rest devices you might find comfortable.”
Jarrod smiled at the Z’laan Grey. He lifted his comm unit and typed in a request for images of a variety of comfortable chairs. Finding one that he thought the others might like, he projected it into the air between them. “This is a type of furniture we call a chair. I’m adjusting the projection to give you some approximate dimensions.” The image changed size and Jarrod moved the image until the bottom of it touched the floor of the chamber. “The materials in this part and this part should be firm enough to support our weight but soft enough to provide comfort.”
“This can be accomplished,” said Harlu Az. The Z’Laan projection grew silent and still. The space above the floor next to the image began to shimmer. The shimmering effect moved upward leaving below it the partially complete parts of a chair matching the one in the image. A moment later, the shimmering effect stopped and a perfect facsimile of Jarrod’s projected chair stood next to it. “Is this unit, this chair, satisfactory?” Harlu Az asked.
Jarrod turned off his comm unit’s projector and stepped over to the recently manufactured chair. He reached out carefully with his right hand and touched the chair. It was indeed solid, made of a material with some give to it. Jarrod placed his equipment backpack on the floor, turned, and sat down slowly on the chair’s seat. It was lower than he anticipated and he fell backward onto it with a grunt. The cushions of the back and bottom were too soft and almost engulfed him.
While his friends chuckled at his mildly humorous mishap, Jarrod cleared his throat and said calmly, “This is very close, Harlu Az. Perhaps if the seat and back were firmed up slightly and the top of the seat a little higher it would be more comfortable for me.” Before he could climb out of the chair, it started to morph beneath him. The materials in the seat and back became firmer and the seat itself rose approximately three inches. “There!” Jarrod said. “This is very nice! Thank you!”
Harlu Az nodded and grew still once more. Five more chairs began to grow upward from the floor next to Jarrod’s friends. Once the chairs stopped shimmering, the others removed their packs and sat down. Jarrod and the two scientists thought the security guards looked silly sitting in their chairs with their plasma rifles laying across their laps, but to each their own.
“Please join us and get comfortable, Harlu Az,” suggested Jarrod. The holographic image of Harlu Az changed to one of the Z’laan Grey sitting upon a low, saddle-like seat.
Jarrod paused for a moment. What a first contact screw up! he thought before speaking once more. “Please forgive us, Harlu Az. We failed to introduce ourselves after you introduced yourself. This is Captain McLellan Bradley,” he said pointing to his commanding officer, “commander of the Terran Scout Vessel Phoenix. I am Commander Jarrod Caulder. And these are Lieuntenants Ken Girard, and Colleen Newton, Sept Ronni, and Gary Petersen. We hope our faux paus did not insult you or your culture.”
“My child Jarrod Caulder, no insult is taken where none is given,” responded the Z’Laan avatar. “We shall discuss it no more. If we may return to our prior conversation, how may I be of service to you?”
Jarrod and his friends relaxed. The next few hours sped by quickly as they spoke with the avatar of a long dead race. Bradley checked in regularly with Huntington-Smythe back aboard the Phoenix to reassure the crew that they were safe. Newton and Girard made regular data and video dumps back to Phoenix, which had the scientists aboard the scout vessel buzzing! Finally, Jarrod told Harlu Az that the Terrans would return to their vessel for the evening.
The avatar grew silent and its color shifted again to a pale grey. When Harlu Az spoke, it simply said, “Very well, my children. Will I see you on the morrow?” Jarrod thought he detected a note of rejection…perhaps even fear! Of course! He’s afraid of being left alone again! he r
ealized. The Z’Laan programmers had captured the emotional essence of the original Harlu Az.
“Yes, Harlu Az, we’ll return in the morning! And, with the captain’s permission, we shall return with enough supplies and equipment to remain with you for a few more days,” Jarrod said softly. “But soon we must follow the other Terrans who visited your world. Our homeworld, Earth, has been captured by the Azairi. They have conquered their way across a wide swath of this arm of the galaxy. Many of our colony worlds and the worlds of our allies have also fallen to them. We seek the knowledge your race once used to protect your vast empire from aggressors in order to protect our own worlds. Those who visited you before we came were led by my father, Professor Hollis Caulder, who has studied the Z’Laan all of his life. I’m afraid that in his haste to find the Z’laan homeworld, he bypassed a wonderful opportunity to speak with and learn from you!”
“Ah, that would explain the 73 individual biometric, behavioral, vocal, and inflective patterns I identified between you and he,” replied Harlu Az. “I believe I would have found such a dialogue between your father and myself to be satisfying and beneficial to us both. Perhaps another time? Meanwhile, I shall look forward to your return tomorrow. May fortune smile upon you until then!” With that, the holographic image of the Z’laan Grey and his strange seat vanished.
Jarrod, Bradley, and their team gathered their gear and made their way back to the two hover cars. Jarrod and the two scientists spent the trip back to the Phoenix sending in their records of their meeting with Harlu Az as well as their records of their thoughts about the meeting. By the time they reached their ship, everyone was hungry and tired. Still, they had to finish a quick debriefing with the other senior officers and scientists aboard the scout vessel and grab a quick meal before turning in.
Camadin Station Two - Last Stand Page 12
