Sleeper Ship

by Jim Rudnick

  Sounds in the Council Hall grew as more and more members were arriving and taking their seats at the table, their entourage arranged behind them. The single member present from Ttseen seated himself on his rear legs and sat up as tall as his five-foot height would allow him. McQueen liked them, looking so much like boxer dogs that he often toyed with the idea of throwing a stick to see if they'd fetch. Beside the Vice Chairman's seat was the member from Leudi's spot, and McQueen saw the blue-skinned alien had already seated himself and was uncoiling his neck-snake. He tucked the snake into the crook of his left arm on the table in front of him. The snake, of course, was still attached to the alien via the nerve port at the rear of the alien's left ear, but McQueen could see the snake preening itself as the alien slowly rubbed its belly. The symbiotic link between a Leudi and his snake went back to puberty, and these blue-skinned traders were renowned for their attachment to each other. Still made him shudder.

  The room still was abuzz when the Chairman strode in, his six arms holding bags, folders, and even a stack of books too. Being from Elbo, the home planet of the Alex’n hegemony, Chairman Gramsci came alone; he needed no help, he often said, to run the Confederacy so he carried everything himself. The rest of the Council rolled their eyes, or what passed for eyes, at the table when he said that, but McQueen had to agree that the Alex’n Chairman ran the Council as he saw fit.

  McQueen noticed that again the Chairman's belongings, now sitting on the table, slightly encroached on the space to his right-hand side, where the Vice Chairman was always seated. And as usual, the Sharia al Dotsa, the Caliph of Neria, pushed back the file folders and put his bag in between their table settings.

  McQueen smiled as he looked down at the desk in front of him and knew that the animosity between the Nerians and the Alex’n races was always just below the surface. The fact that the Alex’n realm held fifteen worlds as opposed to the nine in the Nerian caliphate meant that the second largest Vice Chairman would probably never ever attain the big chair. Neria lay near the middle of the RIM in an area that was maturely starred so the chances of growth were limited. Second best forever. He grinned again and then wiped it off. The gavel hit the table, and the Confederacy Council meeting was called to order.

  "Council, please come to order ... take your seats, please, and then let's turn to our only item on the Agenda. Staff, quiet, please," he added, and the two dozen or so aides, officers, and stewards all quieted instantly.

  "Point of order, Chairman," the Member from Faraway said as he rose on his feet, and the chair swayed behind him as his tail pushed it back on its casters. His short front arms held the Agenda, and he waved it at the Chairman for emphasis.

  "Present same, before I rule, but a reminder to the Member from Faraway, that in the past you have made some ... some inane requests for a ruling, so let's get to this, shall we?" he said.

  "Chairman Gramsci, it has come to our attention that the single item on today's Agenda has replaced our own item that was supposed to be handled at the next Council meeting we were told ... promised. And this is the next meeting, emergency meeting or not, and it is time to discuss the impact of the Leudi incursion on our trade routes," he said, and his tail half-flexed behind his back moving the chair slightly farther back.

  That brought a whole burst of conversation around the table, and some even voiced their opinions by yelling at the member from Faraway to sit down and be quiet. The Leudi sitting somewhat across the table held his neck snake that had raised its head and half its body into a striking post, trying to quiet the upset beast as it hissed at the Faraway member who snarled back.

  "I'm ruling, no discussion needed. Sir," the Chairman said as he pointed at the brown alien from Faraway, "this is not a regular meeting. That will happen in about four weeks and a bit, so you're only guilty of not understanding that this is an 'emergency' meeting due to current circumstances. At the next meeting, we will discuss the Faraway issue of the trade sanctions between you and Leudi. Not now. Would the Member from Leudi please quiet his symbiont—as I have ruled. Let us proceed," he finished off, turned to the Chief of Staff seated at the table that lay in the middle of the Council table, and nodded to her.

  "Chairman, Council Members, be it resolved that the RIM boundary has been breached by an alien ship, carrying approximately 10,000 Sleepers. Their speed at present appears to be a maximum of only one-sixth light-speed, so their vector through our RIM space will take more than 240 years ..." A buzz of sudden conversation followed.

  The Chairman held up his hand, and the Chief of Staff quieted. He gave the Members about a minute and then nodded to her.

  "Chairman, the aliens have let us know that they wish to settle a world—and only a brand new world that is both habitable and has no sentient life. It is reported that they have been underway for over 1600-plus years, and at their vector, our Navy captains on the scene report that they will not find a suitable world, nor even come close to one. We have not relayed that information to them, but they have offered that if they do not find a suitable world, they will simply leave the galaxy and go on to the next one."

  This time the room exploded; some Members laughed right out loud, and the clicking of the DenKoss members couldn't be translated. Others were stunned and said nothing, but as McQueen discerned, the news was that, news. Not a single Member looked like they knew that beforehand, which was important to note as he looked around the circular table, and then he saw the Baroness.

  She was looking anything but nonplussed, toying with her stylus and doodling on her pad in front of her. Calm and cool—she knew, McQueen thought, her stepdaughter, the Lady St. August, must have passed that along.

  "And the Sleepers?" the Baroness's voice rose above the hubbub in the hall.

  The Chief of Staff looked at her Chairman and received the go-ahead.

  "Ma’am, the Sleepers are all children," he replied, which quieted the room instantly.

  To take a chance on cryonic sleep for centuries for an adult was a decision that couldn't be taken lightly. But to put children into stasis, children who were too young to even make such a decision, was beyond the pale. It was a decision that must have been made under only extraordinary circumstances—life or death or worse.

  The Master Adept from Eons leaned forward. She pulled back her cloaked hood and the room grew silent.

  "Council Members—all I can add at this time is that this alien race could be a major spark of change here on the RIM. We see little with this race, but the evidence is still being gathered," she added and then leaned back.

  The Baroness nodded, almost semi-bowed to the Eons member and then continued, and the Chairman allowed her to speak.

  "Most of you have met my stepdaughter, the Lady St. August, and she was near Novertag when the first contact with the aliens was made."

  She nodded to the Novertag Politico who sat only a few seats away from her own but wouldn't allow any interruption as he tried to get the Chairman's attention.

  "A large part of that first contact and then subsequent meetings between the capable Navy officers and my stepdaughter and the aliens have somehow made me, made the Barony, realize that we have such a world as they need—we have Throth."

  That mention brought a sudden chill to McQueen deep inside, but on the surface, he did think it a whale of an idea.

  "For those of you who may not know, a part of the Barony realm is the planet Throth, a fertile world, blue sun so it's warm, populated with no sentient life, but there are continents in the temperate zones that hold animal life and more."

  "You offering up Throth?" the Novertag Politico asked, his voice rising above the Baroness who stopped cold.

  "Yes, it is something we might well do. If the aliens need a home, we have one of the only suitable worlds in the RIM," she said.

  "But your Throth lies what, fifty light-years away? That would take what 300-plus years for the alien ship to reach that world ...and we have a closer alternative," he said as he nodded to one of his entourage b
ehind him. Quickly standing up and moving from seated Member to seated Member, he dropped off a sheaf of documents to each Member and then returned.

  As the Members leafed through the documents, the Chairman riffled through his copy and held up his hand.

  "This appears to be a request to this Council for the Secretariat of Novertag to take over the ownership of the aliens by moving them to what ... Yassuk I believe this empty sub-continent is called? Yes, Yassuk," he said as the Novertag Member nodded to him.

  "The alien ship lies barely more than a light-year off Novertag, so it will take few years only to re-direct them to our planet. We will take over all the costs and expenses for this so there would be no Council funding needed. We make this offer and would stand by it, on my duty and word as the Novertag Member," he said as he seated himself and then looked over at the Baroness. Everyone looked at the Baroness, McQueen observed, and the Chairman nodded to her. Seems the ball’s in her court, McQueen thought.

  "What the Novertag offer seems to ignore is the simple fact that the aliens have been very, very forceful in their needs. They want their own world—not a little island in a southern sea, which is what this Yassuk is ... they want a whole world, and I doubt the Novertagians intend to emigrate to enable that. Remember, my stepdaughter was there, sitting at the first contact and then the subsequent meetings, and I know Admiral McQueen will confirm in his talks to his Navy personnel that they want a world of their own. And only I have that world ..." she said as she looked at the admiral.

  "Through the Chair," McQueen said, "I can confirm that as the Baroness has stated, the aliens want a brand new world with no sentient life to settle on. And while the Novertag offer is both fair and honestly a short-term answer, I'm positive that the aliens would refuse this offer. A sub-continent is not a world. It's that simple," he finished off and nodded to the Baroness.

  "And as far as that distance, I would suggest that if the council decides to entertain the Barony offer of Throth, then perhaps with the proper medical and health facilities sent down to the alien ship—and healthcare professionals, we could awake the Sleepers. Then we could move them in a destroyer or two in less than a couple of months to their new home." McQueen sat back in his chair and looked at the Baroness with a degree of humility.

  She nodded to him and then turned to the Chairman.

  "Might I suggest a short recess for any further sidebar discussions, and then I'd like to make a motion to offer up Throth to the aliens," the Baroness said, and all turned to the Chairman.

  He toyed with the Agenda in front of him and then spoke.

  "Just to be clear," he said, one hand reaching for the stylus while a couple of hands were leafing through a book and a fourth toyed with his lapel, "from what I gather, the Barony offer will be to fully give—donate—the planet Throth to the aliens for their settlement and eventual ownership—yet as a part of the Barony, I'd imagine?"

  Beside him the Sharia al Dotsa, the Caliph of Neria, the Vice Chairman of the Council, suddenly sat up, shook his head from side to side, and slapped the table in front of him.

  "Why this is ... this is unprecedented! This surely cannot be allowed—the forced bondage of the Barony to be applied to the alien world ... we cannot allow that ..." he said, realizing that his realm’s vice chairmanship was now in jeopardy.

  "Let's save that, shall we," the Chairman added "and we'll reconvene in say one hour ..." The gavel slapped the table in front of him.

  Hours later back at Navy Hall in his office, Admiral McQueen was paying homage to the Baroness on her maneuver at the recently finished Council meeting. He looked out the big wall of windows that faced the landing port and took inventory of the various RIM member ships still out there. The sphere ship of the Tillions was just lifting off, moving up under the low launch speed, while well above the Ttseens, rapier-like rockets were roaring now as it hit exit velocity. Over on the side, there seemed to be some supply vehicles still attending to the Alex’n cruiser, and the Novertag appeared to be buttoned up awaiting exit permissions.

  He turned back to the desk and sat thinking about the Barony offer and why all of a sudden the Baroness was showing a heart of gold in the offer of Throth to the aliens. He knew, as the rest of the Council knew, that as soon as she could proclaim the Throth world had become a Barony planet, she'd then request the Vice Chairman spot on the Council, but surely, there had to be more than that.

  Gotta EYES ONLY to Captain Scott, he thought, to see if he might have any insight into the goings on of either the Baroness or the Lady St. August.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lieutenant Sander turned and looked at the Ikarian with what could only be described as confusion, put his hand directly on the Sleeper tank, and said, "Pardon" one more time. What was it that the alien had said, he wondered as he tapped his PDA translator to verify it was working.

  Kikinamagan Nibin looked just as confused—flustered even, as the RIM officer who stood in front of her on Epsilon Row. She turned to re-check the settings on her row cart and then back to the Navy man whose head was cocked to one side.

  "I am—ah—sorry, Lieutenant, but what did you not understand from what I said the readings are showing?" she said and held out her PDA tablet for him to see.

  "No, no ... sorry," Bram said, "it's not what you said about the readings. It's what you um ... implied when you answered my question about how many Sleeper tanks fail," he answered. And as he did that, he rapped the red tank beneath his hand making it softly echo like a half-full jar of Garnuthian figs, hollow yet not so much.

  The Ikarian said, "Oh, yes ... as I said, there have been only nine failures in our 1600-plus years of our voyage. Nine," she repeated and stared back at him.

  "No ... damn," he said, "not the number—but as I remember it, you said that the tanks themselves were doing so much better than what you—or rather the original crew, had expected. What numbers were they told? And you said that you really weren't surprised at the numbers ..."

  "Sorry," Nibin said, and turned away from the tank to grab her row cart in both hands after tossing the PDA tablet on top.

  "I must have misspoken, or your translator may have not understood what I meant," she said and motioned for Bram to step aside so she could move to the next Sleeper tank down the row. At this end of the Epsilon Row, they were close to the stairs up from the atrium that held the six rows of Sleeper tanks, and Bram looked up at the stairwell. Up above he could see his captain peering at the rows that moved back down this central core of the Keshowse, stretching almost forever, holding the Sleepers who waited for awakening and rebirth.

  Bram moved around Nibin, strode past the remaining dozens of Sleeper tanks, and began to climb the staircase, up and up and up until he reached the side of his captain, Nibin noticed.

  What she didn't observe, as she turned back to the care of the next Sleeper tank, was that in moments the two above her were in deep conversation. And she also missed that ten minutes later, the two on the stairs climbed them to the top and exited to the Administration offices up at the top of the stairwell.

  "Do we knock, Sir?" Bram said as they stopped at the door.

  "Yes, allow me," Tanner said, and he rapped on the door.

  "You're positive on this, Bram?" he said.

  "I did not mishear, and from how she handled my drilling down on her mistake, I believe we're onto something here, Sir," Bram said as he held out his open hands palm up.

  "But a reminder, Sir ... these aliens I cannot read at all ... they are far outside of my meager Adept powers. At least so far ... but I know when someone is skirting a topic, as she did all of a sudden."

  Moments later, the door slid open and they faced the Sachem Ahanu.

  "Could we have a few minutes?" Tanner said, and his PDA translated same in sync, and the alien nodded and moved to one side as he swept his arm across the now open doorway. They moved into the half-round anteroom, and in doing so, they saw that they were alone. The cubicles with their chairs and consoles on t
heir desks were all empty, and the silence was enveloping.

  Alone but on point, Tanner thought, and he turned to face the alien.

  "Sachem, we have learned that when the Keshowse left your world a millennia and a half ago, that you were told then, that the failure rate of the Sleeper tanks would be nominal, but more—much more than you have indicated to us has occurred."

  The alien stared at them but said nothing.

  "Further," Tanner went on, "the failure rate appears to be so much smaller than what was to be expected, we wondered if you can tell us how that might occur?" He stood at ease, but he was careful not to show any kind of body language other than asking a question. No crossed arms, no arched eyebrows, nothing at all but a question is what he reminded himself and he waited.

  The alien stared back. He did not move nor speak. He simply stared at the two Navy officers for what stretched into one minute, then another, and another, and another.

  His face seemed to slowly harden. Steel-like, Tanner thought, as the alien's brain worked overtime to think, to plan, and perhaps even to attempt to lie. What he said next would tell Tanner and the rest of the RIM much.

  Sachem Ahanu turned to show the Ikarian sign of respect to the sigil of the Feathered Serpent that was draped above their heads on the large painted banner.

  "With the greatest of honor, I will tell you what we left out of our story, the history of the Ikarian people that we told you previously when we first met. What we left out, what our Shaman Nadie was not to say at that first meeting, is that the comet that hit our world and killed more than seventy-five percent of our population caused many more problems. The comet changed our climate and made the planet so infertile for a generation, but that was not the worst part of that comet impact," the alien said, his voice quiet but firm.