by S A Pavli
“OK Alfred,” I said decisively. “About the shuttle problem. The choice is that we keep quite about the Raytheon class shuttle, claim that it is completely unfamiliar to us, and concentrate on showing that the attacking ship was not the Epsilon, leaving us and the Human race in the clear. Alternatively, we can admit that the attacking ship was human, but prove it was not us. This still leaves the human race implicated.”
“If you do not wish to reveal the Raytheon it is possible to carry out image enhancement without using the Raytheon specifications,” suggested Alfred.
“Do it Alfred.”
“Processing,” he replied. The shuttle image appeared on the screen and started to shimmer, firming up here and there and finally becoming sharp and focused.”
“Display Epsilon next to it,” I requested. I examined the two images carefully. There were obvious differences between the two, in size and shape. The two craft were clearly not the same.
“There you go Alfred. That is what we will do. Say nothing about the Raytheon class, show them these enhanced images and we are home and dry. Get them on line now and let’s do it.”
“Connecting,” responded Alfred. The control room of the alien ship appeared, showing a number of individuals active in the background. I turned on my Video cam and settled back in my chair. The image from the alien ship blanked out, and was replaced with a different room. In the foreground sat Manera and Smetronis again. Manera was looking excited and eager, Smetronis was looking stern and impassive.
“Hello Paul Constantine,” said Manera with an incline of her head. Her hair was combed differently today and she wore what looked like some very expensive jewellery in her hair and around her neck. She and Smetronis were dressed in beautifully embroidered robes, light and silky and cool. I felt tatty and basic in my one piece blue jumpsuit. Next time I’ll dress better I thought, before realising that I did not have anything better! The Scout Service had seemingly not considered appearance as an important factor in alien relationships.
“Good Morning,” I tried to appear affable and relaxed. “I hope you are both well.”
“Thank you, we are well,” responded Manera and the Smetronis nodded, his face fixed.
“We have carried out an examination of the images of the attacking aircraft, and Alfred has enhanced and processed the images to improve the clarity. The aircraft is not ours and it is not of a type which is used by Earth. Alfred will transmit to you the enhanced and processed images, and for comparison, a picture of our own shuttle, which is currently on the planet.”
I paused to allow Alfred to carry out the transmission. “I have no idea who would have used this aircraft to attack your base, or indeed why they would want to do this,” I added. I leant back, smugly pleased with my choice of words. All strictly true, I thought.
Smetronis leant forward and looked coldly out of the screen.
“You say this aircraft is not in use by Earth, has it ever been used by Earth, in the past?” My smugness evaporated and I struggled to contain my shock.
“I have no information on past models,” I managed to stammer. “But the attack on your base was recent, was it not?”
“Yes,” replied Smetronis. “Is it possible that some piratical members of your race have got hold of this old armed aircraft and decided to appropriate a Planet for themselves?”
“You are assuming this is an Earth made craft,” I pointed out. “There is no evidence for this. And if it was, we have no idea who was flying it. It could just as easily have been Hianja.”
“We have already said that Hianja would never attack Hianja,” exclaimed Smetronis angrily.
“With respect Smetronis, you accuse Humans of carrying out an armed attack, but deny that your own people could be responsible. I believe this is one sided logic.”
Smetronis started to say something and then stopped himself. Manera held up a hast hand .
“These accusations without proof serve no purpose,” she said, looking accusingly at Smetronis. “It is enough for now to see that the attacking ship was not yours. To prove that I hope you will display live pictures of your shuttle as evidence,” she said.
“Of course,” I said. “Once you have landed on Omorphia, you will see it.”
“Why not before,” exclaimed Smetronis.
“Smetronis,” I said carefully. “I am one individual, with a disabled starship and one shuttle. You have a large and no doubt armed starship and a number of aircraft, no doubt also armed. I cannot be sure of your intentions, although I believe them to be peaceful,” I added hastily. ‘It is not unreasonable for me to be cautious.”
There was another pause and Manera nodded. Smetronis scowled.
“It could be construed as guilt,” he said.
“You will have to wait and see,” I replied. We proceeded to spend the next two hours discussing and elaborating on the information we had both provided about our respective civilisations. It was an absorbing two hours and the sparkle in Manera’s face and eyes revealed her own excitement and fascination. Smetronis did not seem to be interested and left after fifteen minutes. I was not too distressed by his absence. I grew to respect Manera as our discussion progressed. She was incisive and sharp, and her memory photographic. I quizzed her on this.
“Manera, you have a remarkable memory for detail. Is this natural to all Hianja or are you exceptionally talented?”
“Sadly I am not exceptionally talented, not in this area anyway,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “All Hianja are genetically enhanced to improve memory and other cognitive functions.”
“To improve intelligence you mean?”
“No, we consider such manipulation as undesirable. Not just cheating, but taking away from the child its uniqueness. We have used genetic manipulation to ensure that no diseases or defects exist, and to enhance memory and language abilities to some extent. These are considered ‘neutral’ characteristics. They do not change the individual’s personality, but rather allow it full expression.”
I nodded in approval. “That sounds very mature and sensible. Sometimes Science is like a table loaded with delicious food. It is too easy to eat too much and make ourselves sick.” She inclined her head in a gesture which I had come to recognise as showing agreement.
“I speak from experience,” I continued. “The Human race has been guilty of misusing Science and Technology.”
“So have the Hianja, in the distant past,” she said “But I am pleased to say that for many thousands of years we have been very careful to use technology wisely.”
“But, how do you prevent fanatics and extremists from getting their hands on technology and misusing it?” I asked.
“You cannot,” she replied. “The only answer is to ensure that there are no extremists or fanatics.”
“How is that possible?” I asked. “A race of totally like minded individuals is not possible, not without sacrificing individuality and freedom.”
“We have no fanatics or extremists that would use violence to achieve their aims.”
I looked at her with disbelief. “Do you use genetic engineering to achieve this?” I asked suspiciously.
“Certainly not,” she said emphatically. “Tampering with people’s minds in that way would be wrong. No Hianja would use violence against another.”
“Never?” I asked in disbelief. “Under no circumstances? It has never happened?” I insisted.
“Of course, during primitive times there was conflict,” she seemed to hesitate at this point, before continuing. “But for thousands of years now we have pursued a path of strict non violence in all aspects of our lives and relationships.”
I leant back in my chair. “That’s remarkable,” I murmured, almost to myself.
“Do I understand that it is not the case with Humans?” she asked. I tried to read her expression but failed. “That you do not have inhibitions to the use of violence?”
“Certainly we have inhibitions to the use of violence,” I protested. “A civilised
society cannot function otherwise.”
“But it was not always so?” she said insistently. I realised that I had already given the game away, and there was no point in lying.
“No,” I admitted. “It was not always so. Humans have been prone to violence in the past, at a personal and social level. But we have worked hard to control this, to make it unacceptable.” I realised I was almost pleading. There was a few moments quiet, and she looked impassively, and almost, I thought, accusingly, at me.
“But it still exists does it not?” she asked quietly. I felt as if I had been caught by my mother reading a Porno magazine in bed.
“Yes,” I said “Unlike you, we have not fully eradicated it. At an individual level humans may still react with anger and violence. There are also extremists and fanatics who resort to violence to achieve their aims. They are a tiny minority, but they do exist,” I admitted.
“So what Smetronis said, that a group of Human dissidents could have stolen or found the Scout ship with its armed shuttle and used it to attack our base, that is possible?”
“Yes, I have to admit that it is possible. But I think it very unlikely. They surely cannot believe that they can frighten off an Alien race with one ship? You have returned with a superior force and they would be foolish to confront you. So what was the point of the attack in the first place?” I protested.
She nodded. “It does not seem to make sense.”
I shrugged in dismissal. “Manera, this first contact is so important to our two races, that we should not let this bizarre incident affect us. We must trust each other. Do you agree?”.
“Yes I agree,” she said, inclining her head.
“I get the impression that Smetronis may no be so agreeable,” I said carefully. “Why is he so suspicious, is it his nature?” Her face was impassive as she replied.
“Smetronis is the representative of the Central Security Commission of his planet. It is his job to be suspicious,”
I nodded. “Fair enough. We will try to satisfy him as well.” I got the impression that Smetronis may well be listening in to our conversation. Better play it safe and diplomatic I thought.
When translating, Alfred mimicked the voice of the original speaker. When he was himself, he used his own distinctive English Butler’s voice. Thus when he translated Manera, I would hear Manera say her thing in her own language, and then magically, Manera’s voice would repeat it in English. He would have a great career on the stage as a ventriloquist I thought.
“I am happy to hear that . Now we must make preparations to enter orbit and arrange a landing. We will be in touch. It has been pleasant conversing with you,” she nodded, and the screen went blank.
I sat back and replayed the conversation over in my mind. Manera seemed to be sympathetic and positive, and clearly, as a scientist, hugely excited by the scientific possibilities of the situation. But what was this fixation with violence? They seemed to have a pathological hatred for it, which was very laudable of course but I had to wonder how that hatred had come about. My Aliens may look very human, but it was beginning to become apparent that appearances may be deceptive.
Chapter 9
The next day I was still trying to digest the information we had acquired. The previous evening they had arrived in orbit, and Alfred had sent close up images of their starship. Manera had revealed that this was a relatively small vessel, built for scientific missions. The largest passenger ships were ten times bigger, vast ships as big as ocean liners and carrying hundreds of people. But this was the morning when they were due to land on the planet and we were to meet face to face. I was excited and nervous, as well I should be. This was a truly momentous event and I intended to record every second via my trusty robots, if the Hianja did not object.
I was up early, before daylight and was ready for them by the time the sun was up. But they did not make contact until the sun was well and truly up and the heat had climbed to a sultry 35 degrees. Alfred’s message was short and to the point.
“A shuttle craft has exited from the starship and is on its way down. Expect them in a few minutes.”
“Alfred,” I protested “They can’t arrive from orbit in a few minutes.”
“I believe they can Paul. Remember, they have gravity control. They can kill their orbital velocity in a few minutes, and float down like a feather.”
“Very poetic Alfred,” I grumbled. “I am ready for them.” I wondered out into the bright sunshine
“How should I meet them?” I thought; with a smile and a bow, or straight faced and solemn? This had never been done before and there were no precedents. “Dr Livingstone I presume?” I muttered frowning thoughtfully. Alfred’s voice broke my reverie.
“The shuttle should be within sight very soon Paul.” I strained my eyes into the bright blue sky, shading them with one hand against the glare. It appeared as a dot, very high up, and expanded very rapidly. They were falling quickly, but as they came closer, they slowed rapidly until they were hovering a couple of hundred feet up. A few final positional adjustments and then the shuttle descended vertically, settling as gently as a feather on the dusty soil. Not a puff of dust was raised.
“Impressive stuff this gravity control,” I muttered to myself. I walked a little further towards the ship, stopping a hundred feet away. It was substantially bigger than the Epsilon, built like a bumble bee, dumpy and business like. It was clearly not designed for high speeds within the atmosphere, but with Gravity control they did not need it. The craft could rise vertically up out of the atmosphere and then, once in space, accelerate to any speed, then descend vertically down to its destination. Quiet, efficient and comfortable. But it was clearly not a military craft. I could see no guns or rockets, or other signs of armaments.
A large hatch opened on the side, unfurling to the ground to provide a ramp. I walked slowly forward, my heart thudding, butterflies busy in my innards and my knees shaking. I felt like a schoolboy on his first date. I cleared my throat a few times and made some experimental noises. It would not do for my first words to come out as a croak. A figure appeared in the hatch and then three more followed. They descended quickly and took up positions to either side of the hatch. They appeared to be carrying weapons, short stocky rifles at the ready.
“That’s a bit unnecessary. Against one unarmed man,” I scowled in irritation. A further figure appeared in the hatch and, after pausing a few seconds to look around, made its way down the ramp. I recognised Manera, but there was no sign of Smetronis. I walked forward slowly, and so did she, flanked by her armed escorts. We both stopped about ten feet apart and just looked at each other saying nothing. She was dressed in a sumptuous two piece outfit, comfortable loose beige trousers, ornately embroidered and a baggy sleeved beige and gold blouse, again elaborately embroidered, with a high collar, tight around her slim waist, but full in the arms. A flashing diamond encrusted head band held back her thick black mane. She looked like an exotic eastern princess. I was of course wearing my best silver and blue Exploration Service uniform, shoes polished and gleaming, with my dark blue beret carefully placed in a jaunty angle. I had shaved off my beard, and trimmed my hair, but I still felt like the plumber who had come to clean the drains.
“Alfred, are you with me?” I muttered, Soto voce.
“Yes Paul, I am in contact and able to translate,” came the reply. I cleared my throat and stepped forward.
“Hello Manera, it is a great pleasure to meet you,” I said, loudly.
She replied in a musical warm contralto, and Alfred’s voice whispered the translation in my ear.
“Hello Paul, I am also very pleased to meet you at last,” she said. “What does your race normally do on first acquaintance?”
“It varies,” I said. “Some races would bow, others would shake hands, and others would embrace. How about the Hianja?”
“We would normally touch shoulders with both hands,” she replied.
“That seems very agreeable,” I replied. A small perking of t
he lips indicated that she was smiling and she moved towards me until she was only two feet away. Close up, she was even more impressive. The quality and cut of her clothes, the texture of her skin, the glossy and sumptuous fall of her hair over her pale forehead and the sheer impact of the big azure eyes was awesome. Looking at her in person I could see more clearly the differences between her and the Human physiognomy. What I had taken to be faint eyebrows was actually the ‘V’ shaped bone structure of her forehead. She was as tall as me but the proportions of her body were different. Her upper body was small in proportion to her lower, and her head looked too big for her body. Her lower half looked stocky and powerful and she moved with an easy grace. Manera’s eyes were examining me closely. She came close and raised both arms, placing her hands gently on my shoulders. We were about the same height, so this caused her no strain, but it brought her very close to me. She dropped her arms and I copied the gesture, placing my hands gently on her shoulders. I was aware of the swell of her breasts (there seemed to be two!) and her shoulders were square but narrow.
Her face was longer than a human face, the forehead high the eyes huge and set wide apart. The nose was long and Grecian, the cheekbones high and the mouth broad with full lips and a firm lower jaw. By human standards it was not a beautiful face, it looked alien, the proportions not quite right but it was not an ugly face. The lips were full and expressive and the eyes were stunningly beautiful. Her lower body was more amply proportioned than her upper, her legs looked long and powerful.
I released her shoulders and dropped my arms. In unison we both took a step back.
“Paul Constantine,” said Manera formally. “On behalf of all Hianja, let me say how excited we are by this first contact. We have waited twenty thousand years to find another intelligent species in the Galaxy, and this is a momentous event. I hope my people and yours will build a great friendship, based on mutual respect and understanding.”
I could listen to her musical voice all day I thought. I wonder if all Hianja are so charming I asked myself. Then I remembered the grumpy Smetronis and answered my own question.
