Space Scout

by S A Pavli

  “I am Krusniet Farsan the current chairman of the Prime Council,” his voice was gravely and worn, but strong, his pronunciation clear and concise. “We greet the citizens of Mesaroyat and bring them good wishes from their fellow citizens throughout the Federation of Hianja planets.” He gave a tight smile before continuing. “You all know why we are here. The contact with an alien race is one of huge significance for the future of our race. We are here to expedite that contact.” He paused and looked unblinkingly out of the screen, his face impassive. “There are those amongst us who would wish to prevent that contact because they believe it would not be in the interest of our species. They believe that this new species, the Human race, is an immature and violent species who represent a threat to the Hianja.” He paused and seemed to retreat within himself for a few moments, before continuing.

  “Let it not be said that your Prime Council did not take all opinions and viewpoints into account before making this momentous decision. We will therefore take the time to consider all aspects of this situation before deciding whether Contact will take place, and if so, under what conditions it will do so.”

  I felt my heart sink as I heard his words. It seemed that the Dissidents had won round one. They had persuaded the Council to re-consider the decision that contact should continue. I cringed at the thought that I, as the sole representative of the Human race, would somehow have to prove our suitability. I felt a surge of self pity at the thought, at the unfairness of it all. I am just a pilot and engineer I groaned to myself, I can’t do this. I can’t explain and apologise for the Human race’s bizarre excesses and eccentricities.

  Manera turned to me and the depression must have shown on my face. She came close and took my hand in hers. She was about to say something, but Chairman Krusniet had not finished.

  “However,” and he directed a stern and unblinking glare out of the screen. “The resort to military force by those who wish to prevent Contact is an act of criminal irresponsibility.” Things were looking up I thought. “We understand their desperation to prevent what they thought was a disastrous event from taking place, but if we have learnt one thing in our history, it is that violent means produce violent ends. Using violence to solve a problem is never justified, and I mean never. Only in self defence against violent attack are we allowed to use it, and then only the minimum necessary to repel that attack. Such is our philosophy, and has been for twenty thousand years, and that philosophy has kept the peace between us.” He paused again, looking down thoughtfully, before directing his stern gaze back to the screen again.

  “This will no doubt cause you all to wonder at the nature of the ships that we have arrived in. Some of you will have understood immediately that these ships are something out of the ordinary. They are indeed something exceptional. Let me tell you their history. Ten thousand years ago, the Hianja Federation was going through a period of instability. Some planets wanted greater autonomy, and local smaller ‘Federations’ of planets were forming, groups of three or five or ten planets that wanted greater autonomy in their affairs and considered Hianja Prime to be too distant and remote. Some of these planets were starting to revert to the old ways, arguing that self defence was necessary, that if one planet decided to re-arm, we would all be defenceless against them. Some also argued, perhaps more forcefully, that it was a big Galaxy and at some point we were bound to meet another alien species. Some form of self defence seemed prudent. But allowing all Hianja planet’s to develop and keep arms seemed dangerous and risky. A compromise was born.

  A group of our AI’s were entrusted with the task of setting up a huge military base on a remote and uninhabited planet. They appropriated the resources to build this base and to design and build the ships that you see. The whole enterprise was known to the Prime Council of the time, and with that knowledge came peace and security. But that knowledge was confined to them, and died with them. Only our AI’s knew of the existence of the military base and these ships, and they held and maintained that secret for the day when it needed to be used. For ten thousand years it has not been needed. Until today.” He paused again for a long period before continuing.

  “Today, we need this force because some amongst you have decided to build military weapons and to use them against their fellow Hianja. These individuals will be asked to account for their actions. I call upon them to immediately evacuate and surrender their ships. These ships will be disarmed and returned to their original use and their crews taken into custody. They have one hour to do this. If they do not conform immediately, the ships will be destroyed, whether or not they are occupied.”

  The silence in the room was palpable. I realised that I had been holding my breath during the last part of his address, and exhaled in relief. I was starting to feel better, recovering from my fit of self pity. I squeezed Manera’s slender hand and grinned encouragingly. She smiled in return.

  The tension in the room exploded with noise as everyone started talking at the same time. Malanisa, Fezram and Semeta got into a huddle, talking animatedly. Manera and I remained where we were, our eyes on the comms screen. The Council’s ships had taken their positions in orbit about Mesaroyat, in positions which ‘covered’ the dissidents ships. Their ‘fighter’ aircraft surrounded the dissidents ships threateningly. I could see no choice for the dissidents other than surrender, but I was about to be surprised. After ten minutes of conversation, it appeared that our captors had come to a decision. Malanisa looked incandescent with anger, but Fezram and Semeta looked pale and troubled. It was Fezram who approached the Comms Station to give a reply to the Council.

  “We have considered carefully the Council’s ultimatum,” he began. Barely fifteen minutes had passed so I was convinced that their answer would be in agreement with the ultimatum. I was shocked when he continued. “But we cannot accept.” There was a buzz of conversation in the room and Manera glanced quickly at me with shock on her face. “That is, we cannot accept the ultimatum in its entirety. We agree to give up and evacuate our ships and have them disarmed. We do this because clearly, they are no longer needed. Their purpose, was firstly to prevent the Earthman from returning home, and secondly to demonstrate the need for some protection against the alien threat that his people represent. The first purpose has been achieved. The second purpose is clearly much more effectively provided by the Council’s own fleet of ships. However, we do not accept that we are criminals and we resist being taken into custody to be tried for our so called crimes. What we did, we did for our species, to protect us from a perceived threat. That is not a crime. Through our actions, we have allowed a discussion to take place on the merits or otherwise of contact with Earth. This is a decision which could not just be left to the Council to make. All people have a right to know the nature of this Alien civilization and to make these choices. Some may wish to put off contact for a period of time. Some may wish to have only limited contact, and others no contact at all.

  Whatever the case, all should have the right to express their opinions. I ask you therefore to allow us to go free in order to represent our point of view and not prejudice the situation by branding us as criminals. Do this, and we will immediately hand over our ships to the Council. Thank you.” He finished with a nod of his head and the comms screen showing his image went blank.

  “Oh bugger!” I groaned. “Bloody stubborn bastards. Do they want to be martyrs?” That of course, I realised, was the crucial question. Were they ready to die for their cause, or were they calling the Council’s bluff? Would the Council go ahead and blow the ships up, with all the crew still in them? I doubted that the Hianja, with their aversion to violence, had the ‘bottle’ for such a cold bloodied act of murder. The dissidents were also betting that they could not do such a thing. I had the feeling that things were coming to a head.

  I looked around the large room carefully, taking in the guards, Hianja and robot, posted in strategic locations. The Dissident Guardians were deep in animated conversation and I caught the odd glance in our
direction. The Comms screen lit up with the lined face of Krusniet Farsan again. We were about to receive the Council’s reply to Fezram’s rebellious response.

  “This is addressed to the dissidents. Your demand that your actions be ignored is unacceptable. Whatever your intentions, that does not change the fact that your actions were violent and led to the deaths of a number of individuals. If you truly believe that you had no choice but to act the way you did, then that will be a major mitigating factor in your favour. You will be allowed to make your case with the Prime Council before answering to the Guardians of Mesaroyat for your actions. Your position is hopeless and I ask you to behave responsibly and put yourselves in the hands of Hianja justice. We must all answer to that whoever we are. I await your reply, your time is running out.” The Guardians image disappeared from the screen. Malanisa and her colleagues went into a huddle again and we waited for their reply. It took a little longer to arrive this time, and we were getting perilously close to the one hour deadline when Fezram stood up to reply.

  “Your insistence that we answer to criminal charges is still unacceptable to us. It pre-judges the issue and undermines our argument. We would remind you that we have the Earthman and scientist Manera on board. Any military action you take will put their lives at risk as well as ours,” Fezram continued. “I ask you to put off the question of our actions until we have resolved the question which we are all here to resolve. The issue of Contact with Earth. We will make an offer. Let us have discussions on this issue where we can present our case for delaying contact. If we can persuade a majority of the Council that Earth represents a threat , then we will be vindicated. If however, the Council dismisses our objections and rules that Contact will proceed without any conditions, then we will freely place ourselves in the hands of the Authorities. There is no need to force the issue at this point.” Fezram waved a hand to stop transmission and turned back to his colleagues. The strain was showing on all of their faces as they waited for the reply from the Council.

  Meanwhile, I was considering carefully the idea that I should intervene in the dispute. It seemed to me that Fezram’s suggestion was a reasonable one. If the Council decided against Contact, then the Dissidents would get off , if the Council decided for Contact, they would surrender. Of course there was still the small matter of kidnapping , military threats and illegal arms to be brushed under the carpet. I had no idea which way the Council would swing. I leaned over to Manera and whispered quietly in English.

  “Don’t know what’s going to happen , but I think we should be prepared.” We were sitting in a small alcove to one corner of the big room, looking at proceedings on a large Comms screen in the alcove. It was designed as a viewing area and had two rows of 5 seats bolted to the floor. “First sign of trouble, get down under the seats and hold on tight,” I said. It wasn’t much of a strategy, but it was the best I could come up with at the moment. The door to our right led to the corridor, and was guarded by a couple of individuals with stun weapons. Outside I was fairly sure the corridor was clear. Where could we go if we escaped after all? Other robots were between us and the leaders of the dissidents, who were clustered around the main comms facilities in the centre of the room. We had been kept away from the centre so that we could not overhear their discussions.

  The response to the dissidents offer was not long in coming. There was a series of mighty bangs and the deck of the ship leaped up to hit us in the face. I grabbed the leg of a chair with one hand and a handful of Manera’s waistcoat with the other and pulled us both to the floor. Under the seats I grabbed seat stanchions with both hands and held on tight while Manera did the same. The floor bucked and heaved alarmingly and the noise of tearing metal was mixed with the screams of people being hurled about the room. My head and body banged painfully against the metal of the underside of the seats but the seat legs and supports held and we hung on grimly as the ship lurched heavily to the sound of collapsing bulkheads.

  In the confusion and alarm of trying to stay in one piece, a clear cold thought passed through my mind. The Council were prepared to call their bluff. They did have the bottle! It was a sobering and unexpected idea. I saw bodies hurtling up to the ceiling and then realised that there was now no ceiling. A huge black hole had opened and I was looking straight out into Space. The Artificial Gravity was off and bodies were hurtling out into Space. The rush of air was building up and I felt the first tug of vacuum.

  “Through the door Manera,” I shouted against the din, grabbing her and pointing at the door to our right. With the instincts of a spaceman I leapt for the door. There was now no up or down, and I hurtled straight at the door. To my surprise it slid open when I neared it and I continued through into the corridor. I hit the opposite corridor wall, absorbing the impact on my shoulder and grabbed a wall grip to kill my momentum. I turned just in time to avoid Manera who with feline agility turned in mid air and absorbed the impact with her legs, straightening and grabbing a wall grip with one smooth motion. The obliging door hissed shut behind us, sealing us from the vacuum on the other side.

  “Nice door, good door, well done,” I gasped and Manera looked at me as if I was insane.

  “If we were seconds later that nice door would have sealed us on the other side,” she said grimly. I knew she was right, if the door detected a vacuum on one side it would automatically seal itself shut. Anyone now behind the door would never get out. The corridor was empty, we were the only ones to have made it out of the goodbye dissidents I thought, you chose the wrong people to play around with. The short stretch of corridor we were in curved around the outside of the ship and seemed to be undamaged. I could see one door around the curve of the ship and that was safely closed. The ship had hermetically sealing doors every thirty metres or so, and obviously between all rooms. It looked like we were in a sealed area, but how long our air would hold out was anybodies guess. I doubted that the life support systems would still be working after the pounding the ship had taken.

  Just a few metres from us was a large picture window and I pushed off towards it. The star studded blackness of space seemed empty, the stars wheeling sickeningly as the ship tumbled erratically. I caught a glimpse of the planet wheeling by, and then a black delta shape, then another. The Council’s ships were there but how were we to contact them? Manera was next to me and we struggled to stabilise our bodies against the movement of the ship. Would they see us through the window I asked myself? It was our only hope because our personal communicators had been taken from us. We had no way of contacting anybody. Or did we?

  “Manera, they must have emergency comms panels in every sealed compartment?” I asked.

  “Yes of course,” she gasped, looking first one way and then the other down the corridor. “Down there,” she pointed to a cut-out in the smooth curve of the corridor, just ten metres from our position. She pushed off quickly and I followed her. The panel clicked open when she pressed a small stud and inside was a small screen and a number of labelled push buttons.

  “It is a standard emergency wall panel,” she said.

  “Nice emergency wall panel,” I said encouragingly.

  “Stop talking to the machinery,” she said, her fingers prodding buttons, “It does not care whether you like it or not.”

  “Being nice costs nothing,” I pointed out.

  “I am beginning to think that relations with the Human race may be a mistake,” she said through gritted teeth, as the screen lit up and writing scrolled across. I struggled to read the Hianja script.

  “What’s it say?” I said impatiently. She shushed me and in a clear voice spoke to the microphone next to the screen.

  “Code seven emergency, space rescue services.” There was a pause and the screen remained stubbornly blank. Just when she drew breath to try again, it flickered and the smooth round ‘face’ of a robot appeared.

  “Hello Semtrik Lode, what is your problem?” This was the first time I had heard the name of our ship mentioned. It appeared that it had autom
atically transmitted its identification code to the Emergency Services.

  “Our ship has been attacked and is spiralling out of control, maybe towards the planet’s surface. We are trapped inside with limited air supply. We must be rescued very quickly,” stated Manera clearly and succinctly. There was a long pause while the robot absorbed this information. I could almost hear its gears grinding. Eventually it spoke.

  “Your ship has been attacked?” it asked incredulously.

  “Yes, it has been heavily damaged and the life support systems are not working.”

  “Are you aware that there is a penalty for falsifying an accident report,” said the robot severely.

  “I am very aware of that,” snapped Manera, “And if you do not move your metal arse to get us help, I will have you demoted to cleaning the animal pens at Mentilak Zoo!”

  “That will be more interesting than this job,” retorted the stroppy robot. Manera growled in her throat and I thought she was going to physically rip the comms console out of the wall to get at the robot.

  “I am the Earthman Paul Constantine,” I said in a loud and authoritative voice. “This is no hoax. We need help very quickly.”

  “And I am the Emperor Dangdash Velopious the twelfth,” it retorted sarcastically. “The Earthman Paul Constantine,” it continued with disgust. “Everyone knows that the Earthman has been taken prisoner......,” It paused suddenly, frozen into immobility by a sudden realisation.

  “Arrghh!” it croaked, the first time I had ever heard what sounded like a robotic cry of terror. “I do believe you may be telling the truth. Putting you through,” It said hastily, and the screen cleared to be replaced by a young Hianja face.