by David Smith
"The other option we're exploring is whether we can scavenge parts and materials from the Tana vessel. The Tana are similar to us in most respects and their technology is a reasonable facsimile of ours too. Even if we can't adjust their power relays to fit, we may be able to recover some base material we can use to manufacture spares for our kit. Barring any major break-through in that respect, we’ve got another four days of work before we can move, and probably another couple of days work after that conducting useful repairs. We’re still no closer to sorting the transporters or the replicators, although the computer is actually much more stable now. Other than that, the ships a wreck and we’re wasting our time.”
“What state is the warp-drive in?” he asked hopefully.
“Poor. We’re nearly out of coolant, we’ve just appropriated the last of L’Amours raw dilithium, and the core casing is cracked. We've run a full micro-structure analysis of the casing and the repair we've made to it and it's not looking good. If we go above warp six, the pressure in the core will be too great for the repairs to hold, and we’ll either lose the core, or lose the coolant and then lose the core. Either way, Tiger goes bang.”
Dave slumped in his seat. “Thank you. Commander Mengele?”
“The crew are in good shape on the whole. The Captain and Commander Cassini are still sedated, but most of the minor injuries are healing. I’ve also noticed that several cases of borderline malnutrition have been stabilised by our discovery and consumption of stocks of tinned pork products in place of haggis. I would estimate these food stocks will last about a month if we ration them.”
“Lieutenant-Commander Grosvenor?”
“We’re making good progress now with the Sha T’Al. I think they’ve accepted that the import of aspirin was the act of an individual rather than the Federation as a whole, but that may just be pragmatism on their part. The central government of the Sha T’Al are still refusing to deal with them, so in essence they are now an independent state. From their perspective they have a choice of aligning themselves with the Federation or risk being subjugated by the Tana, so I suppose we’re just the lesser of two evils” she said, sounding slightly disappointed.
She appeared a little lost in that train of thought, but gathered herself and carried on: “Either way, they are starting to be more active in dealing with their issues: they’re working with Chief Belle and Chief Carstairs now to bombard the last section of the colony that’s still infected. Most importantly, though, they’ve managed to get an old freighter serviceable. It’s already on its way to the next colony with what medics, scientists and soldiers they can spare in order to offer assistance against the infected.”
She sighed “We’re not making such progress with the Tana. I can’t get my head around them, what we’ve got from the survivors is completely at odds with the way they present themselves politically. I’ve got Lieutenant Selassie working on it, just to see if I’m missing something cultural, or sociological or just plain mental. That’s all I can offer right now.”
“Can we get one of them to act as an intermediary so we could negotiate with their leaders?” asked Dave.
“No-one even seems to be willing to show enough authority to ask us to use the toilet, let alone act as a representative of the Empire. And I’m not kidding: the Security team has to look out for the ones who look like they’re going to pee themselves and ask them to go to the toilet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such timid individuals” she shrugged.
“I’ve been checking the linguistics feedback from the universal translator, and it seems the word it interprets as “Legate” or “Leader” is also the same word the Tana use for “psychopath” or “moron”: The only Tana who want to be in a command position are the complete nutters” Izzy concluded.
Dave thought about it. This meant they weren’t going to get much out of the eighty-six sheep they’d acquired.
On the positive side, they’d achieved miracles to get this far: They’d stopped the immediate Tana incursion, stabilised two out of the four Sha T’Al colonies they knew to be infected and even managed to strike up some sort of relationship with the Sha T’Al local government. However, in doing that, they’d pushed their luck to extremes. Perhaps it was time to cut and run before they found themselves in a no-win situation.
“Ok. We’re done here. There’s nothing more we can do to help the Sha T’Al and I think it would be unwise to wait around hoping we can make progress with the Tana we’ve got. We’ll set a course for Hole, report back to Command and hopefully be able to come back with meaningful reinforcements. Commander Mengele, get everyone back on-board. Lieutenant-Commander Grosvenor, ask the Sha T’Al if they’d care to send an ambassador to the Federation. And tell the Tana they’re going to act as a deputation from the Tana Empire to the Federation. Maybe someone in the Senate can work out how we get them to talk politics. Lieutenant-Commander Romanov, I want warp-drive in four days. Prioritise drive systems and the navigational deflector. Let’s go home.”
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Over the next few days, Dave took time out to meet the Sha T’Al and discuss the possibility of a diplomatic mission to the Federation. They were clearly reluctant, but eventually conceded the necessity of some kind of alliance to keep the wolf from the door. As Izzy had already pointed out, they were out on a limb. During their discussions, Dave realised that the aloofness the Sha T’Al had shown was not defensive posturing, but a genuine concern that their way of life might be corrupted by contact with humans.
The tall, elegant Sha T’Al were uniformly calm, serene and intelligent. Even the least and clumsiest of them was capable of breathtaking works of art and nowhere was this more apparent than in the mine workings of Jal Doran. Where Hole was thousands of kilometers of tunnels where ore had been extracted from rock, Jal Doran was thousands of kilometers of tunnels where ore had been replaced by art.
Unwilling to simply pillage the planet for the minerals they needed, the Sha T’Al worked in the spaces created to paint huge murals, or fashion fantastic sculptures or models of things past, present and future. The Sha T’Al had no concept of being a miner. Every Sha T’Al was an artist that expressed themselves in the medium they had to hand, and in the case of Jal Doran, they also happened to find useful minerals along the way. It was as inefficient and wasteful as it was breathtakingly beautiful. The Sha T’Al would abandon the richest of ore veins if they thought further excavation might jeopardise the work they’d already created. Every tunnel was a gallery of fine art, although none of the artists would gather status or wealth from their work. It was enough for them simply to create.
The tunnels at Hole were an exhibition of the Federation’s need for materials. The tunnels of Jal Doran were an exhibition of the very nature of the Sha T’Al race. They were the antithesis of the Tana: all imagination and art, no desire to expand, only to express themselves.
Travelling back to Tiger with Izzy and the small party of Sha T’Al who’d volunteered to go to the Federation, Dave desperately hoped that the Sha T’Al would become allies of the Federation. If not because of the efforts of his crew, or the protection they’d receive from the Federation, then because of what the Federation in general and humanity in particular, could learn from them.
Sat in the co-pilots seat, Dave almost laughed as he caught sight of the Tiger. In the harsh glare of the blue sun he could still make out her elegant lines, but the forward aspect of the ship was lost in shadows, or more accurately, covered in crispy-charcoal haggis. She looked half like a ship, and half like the final, lonely, over-cooked burger at a barbecue. Dave could understand now why Kennickie’s crew had taken so long to spot her: Charcoal was hard to see in any light. As they got closer, Dave could pick out livid gouges in the poor ship’s hull, carved by microwave lasers, and hastily patched with whatever came to hand.
Stavros docked the shuttle and Izzy took the Sha T’Al to their stateroom on Deck 4. Dave was about to return to the Bridge when he got a call from the brig.
“Hollins here. What’s up?”
He heard PO Sorenson reply “It’s Kennickie, sir. He’s managed to escape.”
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“WHAT??? How….. Damn!! Any ideas where he’s gone?”
“I don’t know sir, and I don’t understand. It appears that during the repairs the engineers are making someone pulled a power relay circuit without realising this would shut off the containment field in certain cells in the brig. Kennickie took his chance, hit Crewman Larkin over the head with a stool and made a run for it."
"That's the bit I don't understand" he continued "He’s got nowhere to go: We’ve got Fer-God-Sake covered, Hawking is unserviceable and 10% is still down on Jal Doran. His ship was destroyed and we've not seen any evidence of incoming traffic. There’s no other way off the ship.” said the perplexed Sorenson.
“Not unless they’ve managed to fix the trans…….OH SHIT!! ……he doesn’t know the transporters are screwed! Meet me in the main transporter room!”
Two minutes later Dave arrived at the transporter room. A dazed Chief Carstairs was propped up against the console, blood running freely from a gash on the back of his skull “Sorry sir, he jumped me….” apologised the Chief.
“Not your fault, Andy, he was desperate…. Hollins to sick-bay….”
“Sick-bay, Chen here”
“Got a blunt force injury to Chief Carstairs. He needs medical attention now, main transporter room.”
“On our way, sir”
PO Sorenson arrived phaser in hand, just as Dave stood up and looked over the transporter console settings. “We’re too late, Sorenson, he’s gone for good.”
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Chief Belle had been on the surface waiting to offer assistance to the Sha T’Al in reclaiming the last area of Jal Doran from the infected.
At Dave’s instruction she took her security team into the danger zone as stealthily as they could, heading for the co-ordinates Kennickie had set for transport. They found a half dozen very drunk Sha T’Al gathered around a shrinking pile of haggis, singing loudly and badly.
Dave had sincerely hoped Kennickie would face trial either here in Sha T’Al space, or better still, back on Earth where Dave would be able watch justice be done.
Instead, justice was served in the form of a cold, offal based dish, with a bad reputation.
If Dave took any comfort from the episode it was only in the irony that in his demise, Kennickie went some way to curing a few of the Sha T'Al on whom he'd inflicted so much misery.
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Things were going well. Repairs were ahead of schedule, and the tests on the warp drive's damaged coolant systems had been far more successful than they could have hoped for. Romanov and Deng had somehow managed to salvage components from the damaged Tana vessel that had made it possible to fix numerous power relays, and they had hopes of getting some of Tigers numerous ancillary systems working. They also scavenged some stock metals from a workshop and made more comprehensive repairs to the damaged areas of the hull.
Dave returned to the Rec-Deck to see how the Tana were behaving, as he’d heard nothing in the time he’d been on Joran Dal. He half expected to see them all sat in exactly the same position, but when the compartment doors opened he was greeted by a bizarre scene.
The Rec-Deck had been converted into a cinema. A huge screen had been rigged at the forward end of the deck, and the dining chairs replaced with a variety of armchairs and settees clustered around it. There was a popcorn machine and ice-cream dispenser in one corner of the room and what appeared to be a hotdog stand in another.
The Tana were sat almost literally on the edge of their seats, more animated and tense than Dave would have thought possible as they watched….Home and Away???
Dave blinked and looked up at the screen. He was no expert on these matters, but there was no mistaking the soft Australian accents and 20th century clothing and settings. The security team was enjoying ice-cream and nachos at the rear of the space and at the front, ever the impresario, Chief Money stood smiling and chatting to the Tana as they availed themselves of the amenities: many of them were happily munching away on what appeared to be "haggis-dogs". Sighing, Dave realised he should have expected this: after all, he‘d left the Chief to his own devices for forty-eight hours.
“Hi Chief. What happened?” he asked as he approached him.
“Well sir, turns out that the Tana are here because they don’t like being at home. And how weird is this: they’ve got no TV on the home-world! They’ve never had the delights of soap opera or reality TV. Until now, that is. I’m proud to be the ambassador for the Federation introducing them to the arts and entertainment of humanity!”
“Chief, that’s a 20th century Australian soap. And I seem to recall that it was crap even by the low standards of the genre”
“Indeed, sir, but I’ve also introduced them to the classics: Coronation Street, Dallas, Baywatch….. they just can’t get enough of it!”
“Can’t we provide something a little more……err……good?”
The Chief sighed “To be truthful sir, we tried numerous documentary themes, a whole raft of film genres and even stuff like Shakespeare. But they really like soaps. And porn.”
“Porn?”
“Yeah, hardcore Orioni stuff, the weirder the better. Although for the sake of decorum we limit screenings until 2200 ships time. Even then, a lot of them would rather watch Eastenders” he said scratching his head reflectively.
“So what’s the angle?”
“Sir, I realise we got off on the wrong foot, but that’s an unfair comment….” complained the Chief.
“SPILL IT! What’s the angle?” Dave repeated forcefully.
Doing his best to look abashed, Chief Money came clean.
“Actually sir, I traded the TV data-chips from my own stocks….” he paused to let that fact sink in “…for spare parts from their ship. That’s why the engineers have managed to get ahead of schedule.”
“So you’re doing this entirely altruistically….”
“SHHHH!!! Quiet!” said the Chief in a moment of panic. “Jeez, keep your voice down, if people hear things like that it’ll ruin me” he said, wide-eyed and earnest. “Suffice to say that these gestures of goodwill between newly-met cultures will stand me in good stead when trading begins in earnest” smiled the Chief.
“So this is a actually a promotional deal?”
“Well……um……. I suppose you could say that sir, yes” said the Chief with impressive sincerity.
“And they really like soaps??”
The Chief sighed “Bizarrely, yes. I tried other stuff, sir, honestly!! But they just love the crappiest, tackiest TV we have to offer. Soaps, reality TV, game shows…. They just lap it up. I suppose it’s because there is absolutely nothing like it on their home world, and it provides escapism.”
“Escapism?”
“Yeah, I got talking to the Science team and it seemed to us that the Tana want something to take their mind off their own personal situation. Escapism. They use soaps to view other people’s lives so they don’t have to think about their own. Their obvious dissatisfaction at home has had a devastating effect on their society. Our considered opinion…” said the Chief, sounding very proud of his involvement “….is that the Tana males invade other systems habitually, because they can’t stand being stuck at home with the wife and screaming kids.”
Dave opened his mouth to argue with the ridiculous idea, but it occurred to him that this actually explained a lot. Hell, a fair few of their own crew were probably doing exactly the same thing.
“So they aren’t here because they want, or need to be…..they’re here, so they don’t have to be at home??”
“In a nutshell sir, yes.”
“Christ. And I thought humans were weird!”
“Well, it’s all progress sir. Lieutenant-Commander Grosvenor is being briefed on this concept by the A&A team to help her formulate a diplomatic a
pproach to the Tana Emperor. That may be trickier than it sounds. The Emperor is obliged to stay at home, so he’s probably going to be a really grumpy old man.”
“Well…..what can I say Chief…. You’ve confounded my expectations…..”
Klaxons sounded and an automated alert barked out warnings “Red Alert!! Action Stations!”
Dave called the Bridge “Hollins here, what’s happening ASBeau?”
“It’s the Tana sir….they’ve sent reinforcements.”
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Dave strode onto the Bridge and assumed his position in the Captain’s chair “Tactical…. what have we got?”
ASBeau punched controls on his console and the main view-screen lit up with a three-dimensional image of the solar system. A tiny blue dot at one corner bore the tag “Tiger” and at the other end of the display, and ominously large number of red dots gathered as the Tana ships dropped out of warp space.
“They got the drop on us sir. We were on the wrong side of Joran Dal to spot the sub-space disturbances. Three scout vessels dropped out first sir, and have moved to flank positions around the arrival point. Six vessels, each approximately the same mass as Tiger came out of warp next, and then another two of the big battleships…..hold on…..damn! Another one!”
Dave looked at the worrying amount of red dots on the tactical display. He called engineering.
"Romanov. What's going on ExO?"
"We have company. Lots of company. And I suspect they haven't dropped in for tea and cakes. How's the warp drive looking?" asked Dave.
"It's......less than 100% operational," she replied cagily.
"Less than 100%? It's either working or it's not: which is it?" asked Dave trying to conceal a rising feeling of panic.
"Well if you're going to be pedantic it's not working. Happy now?" asked Romanov tetchily.
