by S. H. Jucha
“And this would be true if neither fleet changed course,” Alex commented. After a moment to think, he said, “Maintain course, Cordelia, we’re sailing for the water world.”
-20-
Gotlians
The captain, Sa-Foosee, struggled out of his pool in response to his telemetry officer’s urgent call. He donned his suit, which enclosed his body from the neck down. It kept a layer of salt water around his body.
A small flat unit on the suit’s back served a dual purpose. It circulated the seawater within the suit, which a Gotlian’s spiracles took into the body for oxygen consumption. The second purpose was as a gas exchange unit. It pulled excess carbon dioxide out of the suit’s salt water and exchanged it with oxygen taken from the ship’s air.
As if Sa-Foosee’s personal musculature wasn’t enough, the suit added an extra dimension to his size and forced a waddling gait. Then again, this was what was necessary to maintain a presence out of the ocean, the Gotlians’ natural habitat.
“Show me,” Sa-Foosee insisted, when he reached the bridge. His multiple internal respiratory organs were laboring to feed his body more oxygen.
“A fleet of ships has transited outside the system,” the telemetry officer reported. “At their present velocity and considering our telemetry’s lag time, we estimate they’ve already attained the outer belt.”
“Do we have better resolution?” Sa-Foosee asked, staring at the collection of blobs on the monitor.
“No, Captain,” the officer replied, “our equipment hasn’t the capability.”
“Aging ships,” Sa-Foosee muttered and punctuated his disgust with a belch. “We traded precious resources for these relics. How many in the fleet?” he asked.
“Hard to tell, Captain,” the officer replied, his tentacles hanging limp in chagrin. “Either their ships have an extraordinary configuration or they’re traveling in threes. There is one distinct anomaly. A massive oval ship sails with the fleet.”
“Oval, did you say?” Sa-Foosee asked in alarm.
“Yes, Captain. Estimates are that it rivals the largest battleships of the elder races. Is it possible that this is the fleet we encountered before?” the officer asked.
Sa-Foosee hated the thought that he had to disturb Or-Deebaa, but necessity demanded it. He chose to personally wake the fleet commander rather than delegate the responsibility to an officer.
Responding to the urgent signaling at his door, Or-Deebaa rose from his pool, dressed in his suit, and opened the door.
“Unravel your tentacles, Sa-Foosee, and come in,” Or-Deebaa urged. “Then tell me what concerns you.”
“A fleet of ships has arrived, Or-Deebaa,” Sa-Foosee said in a rush. “Resolution is incomplete, but they’re estimated to be crossing the outer belt.”
“If they’re that far out, we’ve time to consider our options and maneuver. Why the agitation?” Or-Deebaa asked.
“Two factors, Or-Deebaa,” the captain replied. “You’ll recall the three ships that accompanied the Nua’ll sphere when it visited Gotl and deactivated Artifice’s codes?”
“Yes. They were the same as the ones we encountered here,” the fleet commander replied. “The ships belong to the humans.”
“They do,” Sa-Foosee agreed. “And recall that Artifice warned, before its fall, to report the sight of a huge ovoid ship surrounded by smooth-hulled warships.”
“Artifice was describing the human’s fleet,” Or-Deebaa reasoned. His facial tentacles curled and uncurled, accenting his understanding of the pieces of information. “I’m following you, Sa-Foosee. What of it?”
“They’re here, Or-Deebaa. The fleet that came here before was the humans, and they’re back,” Sa-Foosee declared.
The fleet commander was of a different mind about the circumstances than that of the captain. Nonetheless, he appreciated that their leader, Di-Orsoo, had completed his period of deep somnolence and was available to join them. The commander chose to wait until their leader rose, dressed, and dined. Or-Deebaa reasoned that Di-Orsoo would receive the word of the humans’ arrival much better with his belly full of sea dollies.
When Or-Deebaa was informed that a crew member had cleared away the leader’s feeding tank, he requested an audience.
“We have arrivals,” Or-Deebaa announced.
“Impossible,” Di-Orsoo shot back. “There hasn’t been time for our ship to reach Gotl and the transfer to begin, much less return.”
“I wasn’t referring to the arrival of our ship,” the fleet commander replied, his eyes blinking and his tentacles twisting. He’d started his report poorly. “It’s the humans’ fleet.”
“They’re that close,” Di-Orsoo said, echoing the captain’s alarm. He was assuming that the ships were near enough for their poor telemetry to positively identify the designs.
“No, Di-Orsoo, by our estimation, they’re near the outer planet’s orbit, but they have the signs … the huge ovoid ship surrounded by a fleet of identical, smaller warships.”
“Not battleships, not a federacy race,” Di-Orsoo reasoned. “According to the reports, you were unable to catch and eliminate one of the humans’ warships. Now their fleet returns,” he lamented.
“Do we flee?” the fleet commander asked. He hated his title. He knew he was poorly trained and possessed little time in position. In fact, he’d been impressed into the slot because the acquisition of the fleet had been his idea, and Di-Orsoo, one of Gotl’s three leaders, had backed him.
“And if we flee, what then?” Di-Orsoo asked. “The world below us isn’t perfect, but it’s our only find. Our race can survive here despite the dangers.”
“But what if the humans have claimed this world?” Or-Deebaa asked.
“They haven’t settled it, but it’s obvious they were investigating it,” Di-Orsoo replied, “Perhaps they don’t need it. Recall that you noted that when the surface diver breached, it flew toward the fleet, as did its protector. Then they sailed away.”
“Much to my relief,” Or-Deebaa muttered.
Di-Orsoo ignored the commander’s comment. After recovering, he read the summations, and he nearly regurgitated a meal when he read the portion that detailed the arrival of the strange fleet.
Later, Di-Orsoo had reviewed the status of his fleet. Of the original number, two had been damaged by the humans’ warship. Fortunately, the crews were able to make repairs to one of them and return it to service. The other ship had suffered damage to the engine control room, and they hadn’t the equipment or the skills to repair it.
Di-Orsoo had ordered one ship to return to Gotl and start the migration. On its return, the battleship would be filled with citizens, mostly the technical types, and supplies. He’d been tempted to send several ships, but the encounter with alien warships had argued for caution.
“How soon before the humans are dangerous to us?” Di-Orsoo asked.
“We know the small warships use beam technology, and they must get relatively close,” Or-Deebaa replied. “But we know nothing of the large ship’s capabilities.”
“What we do know is that this was the race who eliminated the entity that ruled the federacy,” Di-Orsoo noted.
“Perhaps it’s not their weaponry that’s their premier asset,” the commander commented. “It might be that they’re experienced warriors.”
“And we’re not,” Di-Orsoo finished.
“If we could only communicate with them,” Or-Deebaa lamented.
“As if our useless comms could communicate with any other ships but the ones we sail,” Di-Orsoo said, his tentacles slapping against one another in frustration.
* * *
“The seven ships that the Guardian encountered are now six,” Tatia commented. “And one is stationed apart from the fleet. That one isn’t displaying engine heat on the thermal scans.”
“Adrianna’s single Trident was effective against a battleship fleet,” Reiko commented.
“Or this fleet is crewed by a race inexperienced in warship tactics,”
Alex interjected. He glanced to his left and eyed Suntred.
“You want Suntred to do what?” Sargut had replied in shock, when Alex suggested that she should accompany him.
“Sargut, you need to take responsibility for starting this,” Alex retorted.
“What did I do?” Sargut asked.
“You wanted to know if humans would claim the worlds between the wall and our colonies,” Alex replied.
“I did,” Sargut admitted.
“Well, the answer is no, but that response comes with a condition,” Alex replied. “We’re reserving the right to interview our neighbors.”
“And how are you applying that condition?” Sargut inquired.
“We’re interested in accepting peaceful neighbors,” Alex replied.
Sargut had issued a soft whistle, and then said, “That’s hardly an arguable request to make of them. Then this is your need for Suntred. She has a rudimentary command of the Gotlian language.”
“It is,” Alex agreed.
“Will you travel to the water world and then return to Talus?” Sargut asked.
“No, after the Gotlians, we’ll seek the Dutterites,” Alex replied.
It was obvious that Sargut was torn in deciding between releasing Suntred to help Alex and keeping her at Talus to protect her. He’d glanced at Suntred’s hopeful face and made his decision.
“When will we attempt to communicate with the Gotlians?” Suntred asked, staring into the holo-vid, which displayed the space around the water world.
“We don’t have any information on the Gotlians’ comm system,” Julien replied. “Our ships were never in contact with them.”
“Why not?” Suntred asked.
“They didn’t have the alien enthusiast with them,” Renée teased, linking an arm in Alex’s, and he kissed the top of her head.
“How will you discover how to call them?” Suntred pursued.
“That’s a good question,” Tatia admitted.
“We could provoke them into fleet communications,” Cordelia offered. “The provocation need only be minimal.”
“A single Trident,” Reiko suggested.
“Or a single traveler,” Alex countered. “They’ve already encountered a Trident, and it damaged their battleships. Whereas, they probably know nothing of a traveler’s capacity.”
“I suggest we launch a Trident that nears their fleet and then launch a traveler that completes the approach,” Tatia said.
“Do you want me aboard the traveler?” Suntred asked excitedly, which surprised the Omnians.
“That isn’t necessary, Alex, is it?” Renée asked with concern.
“What if we establish contact and the Gotlians wish to meet with us?” Suntred rejoined.
“Someone’s thinking,” Alex admitted.
“If that becomes the case, we need to be strategic about who’ll be aboard the traveler,” Julien said.
“It’s time to decide how close we want our fleet to approach the Gotlians,” Cordelia interjected. She shifted the holo-vid to display a wireframe model of the system. Then she highlighted the positions of the two fleets. The Omnian fleet had passed the second planet’s orbit, when counting from the periphery.
Alex examined the display. The water world was seventy degrees reverse spinward of their approach.
“No course change, Cordelia,” Alex ordered. “I don’t want to intimidate them. Cut the distance to the water world’s orbital track by another third and then bring us to a halt.”
“I’m the pilot,” Franz stated with determination. He glanced quickly at Reiko, but it wasn’t long enough to see her reaction before he looked at Alex for his approval. A nod confirmed his request.
“We’ll need a leader aboard,” Julien said. “That’s me.” Alex had to agree.
“And you’ll need security,” Z said.
“One, not two,” Alex replied, glancing between Z and Miranda.
“It’ll be me,” Z replied.
“That’s the team,” Alex replied.
Renée glanced toward Miranda. The SADE didn’t move her eyes, but Renée knew her sensors had recorded the moment. She was reminded of the discussion with Miranda the night before they left Toral. Miranda had stressed the desire of the SADEs to protect two individuals — Alex and herself. She wondered how Julien fit into the SADEs’ calculations.
There was time before the Trident separated from the fleet and made for the Gotlians’ fleet, and Alex took the opportunity to speak to Julien. They chose to retire to the city-ship’s observation deck at the top of the hub. The few individuals present excused themselves without being asked.
“You wish to discuss our good neighbor policy,” Julien surmised.
“Yes, and I’d be thrilled if you could tell me how we’re supposed to go about determining this for each race,” Alex replied, with a wry smile.
When Julien briefly projected his dunce hat, Alex quipped, “You’re going to make a great communicator.”
“What should be the root element of our discussion?” Julien asked. He knew if he could get Alex thinking about the most fundamental aspects of their contact, they could make progress.
“We need to offer each race, in this case the Gotlians, something they need in return for their good behavior toward us,” Alex replied. “At a minimum, we’ll want support for our ships and crews, if they enter this system.”
“This race would seem to be in need of protection,” Julien pointed out.
“True, but I think it would be better if we let them tell us what they need most,” Alex riposted. “But agreeing to protect them would be in our favor. Any race who threatened them would essentially be threatening space that’s close to us.”
A day later, the team boarded a Trident that exited the fleet formation and sailed toward the Gotlian fleet.
* * *
“Di-Orsoo, a warship approaches,” Or-Deebaa warned. “It’s one of the three-hulled types, as we fought before.”
The Gotlian leader dropped the squirming blemmie back into the feeding tank, with a sigh and a hearty belch. The pressure of the last few days hadn’t done his digestion any good.
Di-Orsoo joined Or-Deebaa, and they made their way to the bridge.
“Status of the human warship, Captain,” Or-Deebaa requested, when they gained the bridge.
“It’s taken up a fixed position a quarter of the way around the planet just above the upper atmosphere,” Sa-Foosee reported.
“They’re using their knowledge of the previous encounter,” Or-Deebaa commented. “They know we won’t dare injure this world.”
“You miss a critical point, Commander,” Di-Orsoo said. “A powerful fleet waits several planets outward. Yet, the leader sends a single ship our way.”
“Then there’s hope?” Sa-Foosee asked.
“It could be the humans don’t wish to annihilate us, Captain,” Di-Orsoo replied. “But that doesn’t mean they’ll allow us to occupy this system. It might be that they’re giving us an opportunity to depart unscathed.”
Di-Orsoo could hear the slapping of tentacles. The crew was upset by the conversation.
“Calm yourselves,” Di-Orsoo announced to the crew. “We take this encounter one step at a time.”
“Should we orient the fleet?” Or-Deebaa asked.
“Make no movements,” Di-Orsoo replied, “and maintain comm silence. We wait until we see what they do.”
Franz launched the traveler, circled the planet, and approached the Gotlian fleet, maintaining a respectable distance. Then he assumed a stationary position and waited — and waited and waited.
Reiko said in exasperation.
“Captain, the shuttle is moving away,” the Gotlian telemetry office announced. “It’s headed toward our abandoned ship.”
Di-Orsoo breathed a sigh of relief. He had no idea what was to come, but he was grateful the interminable wait was over.
“Why the abandoned ship?” Sa-Foosee mused. “They’d have no need of it.”
“Possibly they’re interested in parts and scrap metal,” Or-Deebaa replied.
Di-Orsoo was tempted to scoff at the exchange, but he remained silent. He needed his officers to feel free to volunteer their ideas.
“The shuttle is moving slowly from the stern along the port side,” the telemetry officer reported.
“Where was the captain’s exit bay?” Di-Orsoo asked.
The commander searched his memory. “Starboard side, near the bow,” he said.
“Then the shuttle will make entry there, where we can’t see,” Di-Orsoo replied, his disappointment evident in the movement of his tentacles.
“What can they be seeking, if not the ship itself?” Sa-Foosee asked rhetorically.
The Gotlian leader nodded appreciatively, which his officers didn’t see. The captain’s question was an example of the ones he needed to hear.
Franz crossed the bow and started down the starboard side of the battleship. He was breathing easier. No ports had opened, as he traversed the length of the ship. More important, no defensive fire had come his way.
