by S. H. Jucha
The same emotion was true for those on the Freedom’s bridge. Renée had taken Alex’s hand and gripped it firmly, when the traveler had eased from behind the stern and started up the starboard side. Her grip didn’t ease until the traveler crossed the bow.
The controller located the open bay, which Franz received in his helmet, and he eased his ship toward the beckoning opening. At the bay’s mouth, Franz signaled energy to the hull sensors, and the darkness was illuminated enough for the controller to display an empty bay.
Julien assisted Suntred with the donning of her Toralian environment suit.
After Franz touched down, he climbed into his suit.
Engineering had installed a portable airlock into Franz’s hatch opening. He triggered the hatch and used the airlock to exit the traveler.
As expected, Franz found the bay side of the airlock open. He examined the set of controls alongside the open hatch, sending the imagery to Julien and Z.
Franz had no idea how the SADE had determined that, but he dutifully pushed it. It took some effort to depress the plunger’s large mushroom head, which made Franz wonder what race had built the ship.
The bay doors slid toward each other. Then they stopped, with a narrow gap between the doors. Exasperated, Franz mashed the plunger again, but nothing happened.
Franz followed the instructions. The doors responded — opening, stopping, and finally closing tightly. The audio pickup of Franz’s suit relayed the rush of air into the bay. He waited at the airlock for Julien, Z, and Suntred to join him, knowing the SADEs wouldn’t descend until atmospheric conditions were met.
When the SADEs and Suntred joined Franz, Z examined the interior of the airlock, and sent,
The SADEs communicated on two comm protocols and in two languages so that everyone understood them at the same time.
The airlock operated smoothly. When the group entered the corridor, Z oriented toward the bow and led the way. Their target was the bridge. There was only one thing they wanted — a comm connection to the Gotlian leader.
Z tested the air and found it passable, if not a little foul. Nonetheless, Franz and Suntred opened their faceplates to conserve their air. The initial smells had them wrinkling their noses until they got used to it.
Z quickly mastered the hatch controls, but it took him some trial efforts to discover the lifts’ operating mechanisms.
Julien and Franz constructed images of the warship’s builders from the small details they collected and shared. They were tickled at their wildly different constructions.
“It’s the story of the blind Earthers and the elephant,” Julien said to Franz, which required the SADE to send an image of an elephant and tell the tale of three blind men who felt different parts of an elephant and made false assumptions about the animal from the part each felt.
Examining his own image and realizing the potential errors, Franz said, “So what part did I grab — the tail or the trunk?”
“Who’s to say that we aren’t both playing the role of the blind?” Julien replied, adding his laughter.
“At last,” Franz remarked, when they stepped onto the bridge.
The group stopped and gazed around at the consoles and equipment bays. The lighting was dim, emergency sources only.
“We should have Mickey date the metals,” Franz remarked. “We might have discovered an ancient relic.”
When Julien translated for Suntred, she whistled. It was a combination of humor and nervousness.
Z touched a panel. It didn’t activate. “No power,” he said. Julien, Franz, and he spread out to search the bridge for the power switches.
“Here,” Suntred said. She pointed to a section of the deck that was located in front of an equipment bay. “Gotlian symbols for power switches,” she added, touching her boot to several markings.
Z tried the hatch, but it was locked. He hooked his fingers into the grating on either side of the hatch and yanked. With a screech of metal, the hatch was torn from its hinges.
Suntred’s eyes popped open, and her mouthed formed a small “o.”
Inside a box, which was set in the deck, was a row of solid-looking handles, and Z turned every one of them. The consoles and the equipment bays lit.
“Next hurdle,” Franz remarked.
“Suntred, are any of these labels?” Z asked, pointing to the bottom of the panels.
Suntred walked along the console. Most of the glyphs were functionary, referring to various panel operations. They were too specific for her to discern the panels’ purposes.
“Read them,” suggested Julien, when he heard Suntred’s reply to Z.
Suntred walked to the first console position and read the glyphs that she could discern.
The SADEs halted her at the fourth panel, and Julien requested that she step aside.
Z worked through the menus, testing the panel’s operations. To Suntred, the SADE’s fingers moved so fast that they appeared a blur. She glanced at Franz and was surprised to see him leaning against the far end of the console, with his arms crossed and his eyes closed.
After a few minutes, Z announced, “Ready. We have audio pickup and response over the bridge system. The ship ID routine isn’t decipherable. Therefore, we’ll broadcast in the open.”
-21-
Helping Hands
“Speak, Gotlian leader,” the Gotlian fleet’s bridge crews heard, which caused consternation across the battleships. The request was poorly phrased, and the accent was terrible, but the intent of the message was undeniable.
The Gotlian leader, commander, and captain exchanged startled glances.
“Comms officer, can you pinpoint the origin?” Sa-Foosee asked.
“Yes, Captain, it’s the broadcast ID of our abandoned ship,” the officer reported.
“Open the audio pickup,” Di-Orsoo ordered. At the comms officer’s cue, the leader asked, “Are you human?”
Suntred glanced toward Julien for instructions on how to proceed. He whispered, “Please engage the Gotlians in conversation,” and she nodded her understanding.
“I Toralian,” Suntred countered.
“Negative,” Di-Orsoo replied, choosing to keep his phrasing simple. “Not Toralian ships.”
“Human ships,” Suntred replied. “I guest.”
“Humans speak Gotlian?” Di-Orsoo asked.
“Negative,” Suntred replied.
Di-Orsoo shook his head in exasperation, and his tentacles whipped left and right. It had been a slim hope of his that the humans would want to talk. He was convinced that with their technological prowess they would find a means of communicating with his ships. His wish had been granted, except for one minor point. The translator was barely conversant in his language.
Be patient and take it slow, Di-Orsoo mentally cautioned. This is the only opportunity you might get.
Suntred and Di-Orsoo’s conversation tiptoed around each other. They found common ground in discussing events surrounding Artifice’s demise. However, the exchange stumbled when Suntred mentioned the sisters, but she used the Gotlian word for siblings.
“Humans gave siblings to Toralians?” Di-Orsoo asked.
“Affirmative,” Suntred replied.
There were several other mistranslations in the course of the discussion, but the two individuals persevered — one because she was required and the other because he was desperate.
What did help was the longer the conversation went on, the more of Suntred’s training returned to her. As a young trainee, her s
pecialty had been the study of the languages of lesser races. That education had led to the offer of a position on Fleet Commander Tsunamis’s staff. He’d been impressed with her intelligence, and within three annuals, he promoted her to fleet liaison.
It also made it easier for Di-Orsoo. He dropped the truncated language and spoke fluent Gotlian.
The Gotlian leader’s use of complete syntax and grammar allowed the SADEs to compile a richer language database more quickly.
“I might be able to speak this language,” Alex said hopefully. His staff dubiously eyed him. The alien who was speaking continually uttered glottal stops and other odd sounds from deep in his throat. Most of those around Alex wondered why he would want to try.
When Di-Orsoo thought he’d spent enough time establishing a rapport with the translator, he switched to the questions that he’d been anxious to ask.
“Is the human leader listening to our conversation?” Di-Orsoo asked.
Julien signaled to Suntred to desist, and he said, “You may speak to me. My name is Julien, and our leader, Alex Racine, will continue to hear the conversation.”
Or-Deebaa and Sa-Foosee shared a surprised glance. The alien spoke Gotlian with the same intonation and speech pattern as their leader.
“I’m Leader Di-Orsoo, one of the three leaders of the Gotlian race.”
“You’ve left federacy space, Leader Di-Orsoo,” Julien said, relaying Alex’s opening statement.
“It was necessary,” Di-Orsoo explained.
“We understand your imperative,” Julien said. “How did you know about this planet?”
“It was a trade,” Di-Orsoo replied.
“More detail is required,” Julien pursued.
“The Nua’ll approached us,” Di-Orsoo said. “The collective knew of our dire circumstances, and they offered us information about this water world in exchange for a supply of liquid salts.”
“Artifice supplies everything the Nua’ll require. Why would the collective go to you?” Julien asked.
“The collective said they were being disciplined by the entity,” Di-Orsoo replied. “The Nua’ll was indomitable, while it inhabited Artifice’s great spheres. Then a sphere was destroyed. Little data was available about the destruction, and the entity was unsatisfied with the lack of details. It applied discipline, which was a diminishment of supplies.”
“Was this a recent event?” Julien asked.
“Negative. It was many, many cycles ago,” Di-Orsoo replied.
Reiko riposted.
When the Gotlian leader heard Julien’s question, he struggled to phrase an answer. His race was critically in need of the water world below. Yet, they didn’t have the resources to claim it and hold it against interlopers.
“These ships and one other like them are the entire transports we possess,” Di-Orsoo replied. His tentacles twisted, announcing his anxiety. He hated exposing their weakness to the humans, but at the moment, he couldn’t think of anything else. He hoped for their mercy.
“Where is the missing ship?” Julien asked.
“It was sent to our home world,” Di-Orsoo replied.
“Why?” Julien pursued.
“For the transfer of our race and supplies,” Di-Orsoo replied.
“And one battleship can manage this?” Julien inquired.
“Negative,” Di-Orsoo replied. “The transfer will continue long after I’ve passed. We’ve extensive preparations to make before this planet is habitable, and there are many to transfer.”
“Underwater domes?” Julien asked. This was his question.
“Yes, to protect us from the entities that roam this planet’s waters,” Di-Orsoo replied. “They’ve already claimed the lives of eleven of us.”
“Can your race survive here?” Julien asked, relaying Renée’s question.
“Yes, in time, but we expect to lose many of our strongest swimmers, who’ll construct the initial domes,” Di-Orsoo explained. “Their exposure will likely mean their deaths.”
Or-Deebaa whispered to Di-Orsoo, who grunted in agreement.
“My fleet commander would like to know if this system rests within human space,” Di-Orsoo inquired.
Di-Orsoo’s elongated heart clenched and released on hearing Julien’s statement, and Or-Deebaa and Sa-Foosee’s tentacles fairly danced at the announcement.
“Your concerns are important to us,” Di-Orsoo said, in his most diplomatic manner. Unfortunately, the Gotlian leader sounded to human ears as if he was burping and belching his words.
“We don’t claim this world and the many others in this region of space,” Julien said. “But we don’t want to have to fight a race, in the future, when they attempt to take our worlds.”
“In the entire history of our race, we’ve never fought another until we came here,” Di-Orsoo replied. “We’re peaceful entities. We cultivate our waters, ensuring they provide for us for the foreseeable generations.”
“What will you do with the battleships, when the transfer of your race is complete?” Julien asked.
“They’ll sit in space, and we hope never to need them,” Di-Orsoo replied, “although my captain intimates that parts from them could be useful in the construction of landing pads and water skiffs.”
The Gotlians waited for the next question, but the comm was quiet, and the silence stretched on.
“We will think on what was said,” Julien finally relayed to the Gotlians. Z closed the broadcast, but not before he noted the comm code of the leader’s ship.
“The broadcast has concluded, Captain,” the Gotlian comms officer reported.
“Our fleet bridge crews have heard the humans’ side of this conversation … their questions and comments,” the commander noted.
“That’s enough to give them hope,” Di-Orsoo replied.
“The next call will be different,” Sa-Foosee said. When the leader and commander eyed him, he added, “Consider the events. The humans arrive, approach us to speak, and we fail to contact them. They determine we’ve a deserted ship and gain access to it. Our bridge was powered down, but they activated it. Our panels aren’t identified, but they located our comms. We didn’t provide instructions for comms operation, but they learned it.”
“And they used a Toralian to speak to us until they learned our language,” Or-Deebaa finished. “Your analysis is penetrating, Sa-Foosee. I expect your projection will be proven correct.”
“What is there to think about, Alex?” Tatia inquired.
“There isn’t in regard to whether we let the Gotlians stay or not,” Alex replied.
“The Gotlians’ plans for transfer to this planet appear tenuous, at best,” Renée noted. “Using one aging battleship to relocate their entire race and the needed supplies isn’t sound.”
“The question becomes how we can best help them without sacrificing our limited resources and time,” Alex said.
Julien signaled Cordelia, and his voice was added to the conversation via the bridge audio system.
“Preassembly of some dome portions aboard a city-ship and dropping them via cargo travelers would facilitate the Gotlians’ construction,” Cordelia added.
“But we can’t wait around for their battleship’s return,” Reiko objected.
While Alex and company debated their options, Julien and Z wondered about the abandoned battleship’s operational status, and the foursome decided to investigate.
As the group worked from bow to stern, Suntred commented, “This ship is ancient. It should have been scrapped.”
“The entire fleet was probably retired,” Julien surmised. “When the opportunity with the Gotlians presented itself, I would suspect the ships received minimal servicing to appear spaceworthy.”
“Certainly enough so they’d perform adequately in a demonstration and, later, for crew orientation,” Z added.
“In that case, it’s a wonder the missiles didn’t explode on launch,” Suntred commented. She was angry that a lesser race had been taken advantage of by others.
“This is as far as we go,” Z said, holding up a hand. He faced a hatch with an inset. “Lovely view of the stars,” he commented sarcastically, peering through the stained and scarred viewplate.
Julien took a turn, recording the scene in the broad engineering space and transmitting it.
When Suntred peered through the viewplate, she said. “Beyond the hatch isn’t the engines’ space. This is the convertor room. The empty space, at the far end of the room, is where equipment was destroyed. The machines that regulated the engines and auxiliary equipment were in this room.”
“If the engines aren’t damaged, then it’s possible we could build something to operate in place of what’s been lost,” Franz proposed.
“If you aim to make this ship spaceworthy, you’ll have your hands full,” Suntred commented, turning from the viewplate and gazing at the Omnians.
As the foursome made their way back to the traveler, Franz said, “Telemetry identified these ships as identical hulls, with minimal antenna and sensor differences. That means the interior of these ships will be in a similar state of maintenance.”
Franz’s remarks caused the group to make a short sweep of the other decks, concentrating on the mechanical areas, which Suntred was able to locate. Their estimations of the ship’s condition went downhill the more they investigated.
