The alien insect waved her antenna, her species version of a nod. “I have considered that.”
“That job is needed in a lot of places. But where we really need your help is in Pyrax,” the admiral said firmly.
“Pyrax?” The alien turned her full attention on him.
He nodded. “Yes. The medical staff there are trying to resurrect two species of sophonts before they slip into death and extinction again. One of them is the Ssislli. The other is the Malekian's.”
“Really?” The alien asked, clearly interested in the gargantuan project.
Irons nodded once more. “Yes. You could be a real asset to that effort. I understand there is a genealogist trying to help but she is largely self taught. That is the problem with many people here; they do not have a proper foundation of education and knowledge to work from. Especially in fields like yours.”
“I see,” the alien murmured. She clicked her mandibles together a few times.
“Consider it carefully please. You have a priceless base of experience and training. One that could be passed on at the Pyrax College as well. Or you're efforts could lead to restoring a species to full health.”
“Interesting,” she murmured. “I may become famous yet,” she said finally.
The admiral cocked his head at that admission and then shrugged. “With a little hard work yes. At the very least you will have the gratitude of an entire species if you are successful,” Irons said.
“If,” she mused. Her mandibles clicked a few times as she turned the idea over in her heart shaped head.
The admiral nodded soberly. “It is a hard challenge. I understand there is an extremely limited gene pool to go off of. One member of each species and what data the medical staff has in the college textbooks. Add the medical database files and you are still...”
“Trying to do the impossible. But if it can be imagined it can be done. I will consider your words carefully admiral,” The alien clicked and then bowed. Irons bowed back.
“Thank you,” he said bowing with his hand over his heart. “I've met some of your people in my travels. I'll have Sprite send you an e-mail with their locations and contact information.”
“Thank you, you are most kind,” the elderly alien said. She seemed to sigh. “I had wondered if my species had been snuffed out.”
The admiral shook his head. “No. But they are scattered. I believe someone with your skills could help prevent inbreeding and other problems as well.”
Her antenna bobbed up and down in unison. “Another wise idea.”
“I try,” Irons said with a smile. “Where there is life there is hope. Remember that,” he said.
“Indeed I will. Thank you admiral,” she said. Irons nodded and withdrew to leave her with her thoughts.
Irons looked at the growing class. Now that they had the worst of the systems under control he could dedicate more time to teaching. The teaching had become more formal since they now had better classrooms. Apparently that was getting around. More and more people were joining his impromptu classes. Some of the classes were standing room only.
The history professor, Kyle Tyler was getting into teaching as well, but in an informal setting. He usually peppered people with questions about life in this time period and then had to reciprocate in return. When that happened in one of the galley's he drew quite a crowd in very short order.
He'd been amused that the Kiev had a formal educational system in place. Amused and a little impressed. The Veraxin teacher was good, but she was overwhelmed and stuck to the basics. Reading, writing, and arithmetic. Other classes had been spotty; they had limited data on some subjects. Some things had to be learned on the job, hands on was still the best teacher, but they also tried to handle the boredom of transit by educating themselves as much as possible.
Most of the on the job training was handled in apprentice fashion. That meant the new recruits were hazed with odd jobs and gopher tasks while given the occasional explanation on how things worked... or didn't work. Usually each lecture was peppered with curse words from the teacher as they tried to fix something broken. Sometimes the student was thrown into the deep end, asked to handle an almost impossible task and allowed to sink or swim. When they failed, and most generally did they had to learn from their mistakes. Some lost confidence right away and quit, clearing a hole for someone else to fill.
There were groups who got together to watch old movies as well. Fan festivals. Hobbyists, and all sorts of activities to experience. He was glad that part of spacer tradition had been kept alive. It made his job a little easier.
“Admiral, about cetaceans... I was wondering why they make such good hyper navigators. I'd think that they wouldn't because they aren't natural tool users,” the chief asked.
He smiled a little. He had half the bridge crew on hand here including a few of the navigators. He was curious if she was doing this for real interest or to tweak someone's nose out of joint. Most likely tweaking Esmay.
“I've been asked that question before but let's get to the root of it. We, that is Terrans, Veraxins, and a handful of other common species are generalists. We can do many tasked, but not all of them, and not all as well as a specialist can.”
“Now a water born species has the gift for moving in three dimensions instinctively because of their biology. With cetaceans as you brought up it's an evolutionary adaptation to a water born environment. That translates over very well for hyper navigation,” he explained. Behind him the holo projector showed images of dolphins sporting in their natural environment. It pained him to know that they were gone. Such a terrible waste. Perhaps the geneticist could do something about that? Doubtful but he made a mental note to bring the subject up sometime if they crossed paths again.
“Um...”
“Okay, let's look at an example of their biology.” He held up his palm and then pointed to the holo projector beside him. After a moment the lights dimmed and a three dimensional object floated there. It looked like three interlocking tubes, one on each axis. Each was a different color.
“Now, this is the inner ear of Terrans. Each loop is an axis, X, Y, Z. Fluid movement in the ear tells hair thin sensors the position of the body. Some other species have this, but others have different systems.”
The holo spun in place then a cross section was cut away. “Now inside each hoop is a fluid. When the body moves it moves. When it moves it stimulates nerves on the inside wall of the hoop. This is translated by the brain to tell it the orientation of the head and body.”
“Ah. Like a bubble in a level?” O'Mallory asked. He wondered where she had gotten that analogy. She didn't have a level in her tool kit. At least not that he knew of.
“Correct,” he said with a nod. He waited for the murmurs of amusement to die down.
“Now Terrestrial humans have larger inner ears. These allow us to move on land in three dimensions quickly. But terrestrial beings only deal with movement in two dimensions normally.” Beside him the holo projector showed a human falling flat on his face. The class snickered.
“Um...”
The holo changed back to the inner ear. “To compensate for this, when whales went back to the seas their inner ears shrank.” He used his fingers to shrink the holo. “Smaller and smaller so they wouldn't be disoriented by movement or position. This allowed them to adapt and overcome their environment.”
“Um... how does this relate to the...”
“I was getting to that. Since they aren't disoriented by moving in three dimensions they adapted well to moving in hyperspace with the right translation for their sensory nerves.”
“Like swimming in water?” she asked finally catching on.
“Right.”
“What about birds? They fly in three dimensions, I mean air. Why...”
He shook his head. “Birds can be good hyper pilots but are... well flighty,” he shrugged at O'Mallory's amused expression. “There are some sentient species who were fliers. But most lost the ability in trade for
better intelligence. Also birds are oriented differently than ocean dwellers. They expend energy but inevitably return to the land. Cetaceans continue swimming, shutting off half of their brains for sleep but continuing to function.”
She blinked in surprise. “Wow.” She shook her head. “Learn something new every day,” she murmured.
“Indeed,” he replied with a small nod.
“Are there any birds that can fly ships?” Esmay asked.
“The strider Pteradons,” Sprite said, interjecting herself. He looked at her holo image and nodded.
“Sprite is correct. Pteradons were or are a species that had flight with intelligence. They were however self evolving and giving up their flight status in favor of greater terrestrial abilities.”
A holo of a Pteredon appeared in the holo. They creature's arms were out. It had flaps of skin going from wrist to small arms connected to the hips. They formed glider wings. They had a short flat tail and quadruple jointed limbs.
It's neck was quite long, terminating in a massive head. The head had a massive scalloped sided beak, with jutting teeth. The back of the head had a crest that stuck out. It was covered in a fluffy down. The holo moved after a spin, coming to life to look at the viewer and then to preen itself.
“From the Galactic Encyclopedia,” Sprite said.
“The head looks too big for the body. Like it can't support that weight,” Esmay said.
The admiral shrugged. “You'd be surprised. Pteradons have a boron mesh like bone structure. Honeycombed. The bones in the skull have pockets for lighter than air gases. They can also inflate sacks on their legs and torso to help them gain lift.”
“Must be bad when they need to pass gas,” someone deadpanned.
Irons had to chuckle with the class over that. He nodded as the humor subsided. “It's an... interesting experience. They look like they have a Terran style tuxedo coat on from the rear. I actually commented about it one time in their hearing.”
“Oh?”
“The ambassador made a joke about it. He was amused by the comparison and had apparently heard it before.” He smirked. “That and being called air heads.”
“Ah.”
“So you've met what? Most of the sentient species of the Federation?” The chief asked sounding amused.
He laughed, shaking his head. “Not a chance. I've met quite a few I admit, but not all. Some were on interdicted status and some I avoided.”
“Interdicted?” a student asked. “Dare I ask?”
“Dare dare,” someone off to the left teased. One of the helmsman Irons thought. Blackhawk. The name floated above his head on the admiral's HUD.
“I think he just did so hush,” O'Mallory said, looking at them with a pointed behave look and then turning to Irons.
“Interdicted. When a species is sanctioned for crimes, it can be interdicted. It's the second most severe penalty the Federation government will do to a species,” the admiral explained, tucking his hands behind him, completely sober and serious.
“Um...”
“Let's take an example,” Sprite said and the projector changed to a bipedal mole like creature. It had a rat tail but had scales. Two arms, two legs, two eyes, a broad muzzle and head, very little sign of a neck, jowls, and a pot belly.
“Salamander,” Irons said nodding.
“Are they related to the Telerites?” Esmay asked. They looked similar from a distance.
“Only in being a nuisance sometimes,” Irons growled. He never did get along with Telerites. Most of the ones on the Kiev kept to themselves fortunately. All except the cargo master Blur.
“More troublesome than that admiral,” Sprite said. She turned to the class. “The Quapjl or Salamanders as they were more commonly known as are or were a species of religious fanatics. They were incredibly narcissistic. They clung to believing that they were the chosen species of their deity and therefore the rightful rulers of the universe.”
“Okay...”
“It's... okay; Terrans and other species go through this stage too. A form of xeno-narcassism. In fact Terrans clung to it for nearly a century after achieving space flight. But as we grow, we grow out of it. It is part of a species growth to adult status,” the admiral explained patiently.
“Okay...”
“The salamanders would proselytize their religion where ever they went, sending missionaries. Most were incredibly annoying. They abused the First amendment shamelessly,” Sprite said in disgust. She hated spammers.
“Um...”
“The right to worship as you pleased. The freedom of religion clause. The problem was their freedom to express their religion ended when it was forcibly inflicted on another person without their consent. Which after a while when the Salamanders realized they weren't getting many converts they started to do.”
“Um...”
The admiral's jaw set grimly. “In other words, they brainwashed people. Some were willing, they were poor and would wander into a mission and for aid would convert over to the religion, giving themselves to a higher purpose in exchange for food and shelter. For those into it, that's not a bad thing. The problem was they started using it to perform terrorist acts.”
“How... Why would anyone allow this?” Esmay asked in disbelief.
“The government is or should I say was slow to act and required proof. Also the Salamanders were members of the predator union, a faction of the government formed by species that were predators. The union covered for them for a while,” Sprite replied with a disgusted sniff.
“Over time though the IG office started to get complaints. more than they could hide. It became a mess,” the admiral added.
“A few scandals were also in the media. Like Mr. Dorsey who turned over his entire shipping company and fortune over to the Salamanders,” Sprite growled. “And the AI.”
“Right,” Irons said, turning from her holo to the group. “AI were being attacked and some were reporting attempts to suborn them. The attacks were traced to supporters of the Salamanders.”
“The clincher though was when they got in on that species the 84572 frogs and forcibly converted them to their religion.”
“Brainwashing.” Irons nodded as he looked at the class with hard eyes. more than one student sobered and sat up straight. “They tore a ripe species, one on the cusp of space flight and force fed them their view on the universe. They tied the poor sods up in knots, damaging them mentally and physically. Destroying their economy and entire world view.”
“They also went a little too far with the subliminal messages and that attack on a school,” Sprite added.
The admiral nodded grimly, eyes flashing. “Right. The IG's office was finally given its head and they did a full investigation. AI tore into the electronic records. Ships were stopped and inspected. What they found were people being forcibly enslaved and it all ran back to the Salamander government.”
“Which they tried to deny of course,” Sprite said amused. “They attempted to say it was made up but recordings were brought forth during their congressional trial. They were found guilty by a near unanimous vote.”
“What happened to them?” The chief asked.
“They were interdicted for a millennia. Since they had mortgaged a great deal it was crippling. They were given a year for all of their people to return to their home world and two largest colonies. Their space systems were sold off to pay reparations, their fleets were sold off, and their planets were stripped of any technological device. A lot of people and corporations who held their mortgages were hammered by the deal. They were stripped to bedrock. No factories, no power plants, nothing above nineteenth century tech.”
“Ouch, now that's got to hurt,” O'Mallory said.
“Right. Once the deadline expired they were forcibly kept there. No space travel, no contact with the outside universe. The navy had monitoring satellites and a patrol to check on them.”
“Which is where you come into this story,” Sprite said amused.
�
�What about you?” O'Mallory asked, turning to the AI and then to the admiral.
“Oh this was before my time. Way before,” Sprite said smiling. O'Mallory turned to Irons once more.
“I was a jig. I... I was on Barracuda, a light cruiser assigned to the patrol. Captain Kelsie of the Seahorse was relieved when we showed up,” he said.
“What happened?”
“We were told to go in a pattern. One to another in a circuit patrol. Captain Zephram nodded politely then after Seahorse had jumped out he set up his own random pattern,” he said then smiled evilly.
“Caught someone?” Blackhawk asked amused.
“On the third jump. Smugglers. They had diddled the watcher sats so they could come and go when Seahorse wasn't around. They knew her routine cold, right down to the tick. I don't know what they were trying to accomplish but they were caught and I was sent over to her as prize crew to return the ship to base.” He shrugged. “And that ended my close call with the Salamanders.” He didn't bother mentioning that he'd had a stiff return voyage. The crew had mutinied half way back to base. They had known the penalty for breaking interdiction and hadn't wanted to face trial. Half of them hadn't survived to get to base.
Esmay moaned, laying against her folded arms. “My head hurts. We went from biology to...”
“I know I know,” Irons laughed, hands up. “That's how things run sometimes. Let's take a break folks and get some chow.”
The admiral smiled to the class. Things were going about where he expected. He'd picked up their discussion right after dinner. He'd subtly guided the discussion to the military. He wanted to lay a seed there in their minds and had carefully prepared for this moment. They had been talking about the military for some time now. Time to do some planting he thought. “Equality of opportunity not equality of outcome. Anyone of any gender can apply to enter the fleet military. But, they have to meet the minimum basic standards for their species to get in to boot camp and then go through training. There is no guarantee they will pass.”
“I take it some don't have the mental or physical ability?” O'Mallory asked.
Ghost Station (The Wandering Engineer) Page 33
