by Tori Harris
“All of my scans are coming up negative for non-native pathogens, Captain,” she reported. “I’ll let you know immediately if that changes.”
“Very good. Thank you, Doctor Chen.”
“I fully understand the need for decontamination procedures,” Rick said, “but I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about — either with or without your protective suits. Although I will tell you that the air in here can get a little stale after a few months without landing somewhere. That has nothing to do with me personally, of course,” he added with one of his squeaky laughs.
Within the confines of his EVA suit, Prescott wondered whether Rick was simply guessing what his team was likely discussing as they made their approach or if he actually had some means of hearing their encrypted comm transmissions without the use of visible equipment of any sort.
“Our decon process is largely automated, of course,” Rick continued, “but still quite similar to your own. Although I daresay we may have access to a few additional pieces of equipment Doctor Chen may find interesting. In fact, Doctor, one of the primary reasons we asked for you by name was so that you could validate the fact that we haven’t brought in any contaminants.”
“I am honored to be here, thank you,” she replied. “So far so good. No xeno-contamination detected. As I’m sure you’re aware, however, I cannot speak to your specific physiology just yet, so I can’t promise you that you’re not being exposed to something that might adversely affect your health.”
“Thank you, Doctor, but I’m not worried about that in the least. The other reason we asked for you is so that you could do some testing to confirm that we are, genetically speaking at least, who we say we are. I assume your protocols require some sort of bioscan and genetic sequencing, correct?”
“Indeed they do. To perform the most detailed analysis, I will need to take a blood sample from both of you. I can do some preliminary testing with the equipment I have with me, but Fleet Medical will perform a much more comprehensive analysis. Confirming that you are predominantly Homo sapiens and that we share a common ancestry is straightforward enough. Beyond that, we will be looking for parasitic agents and organisms like viruses and bacteria. All of the data regarding any foreign species or significant genetic differences we find gets cross-referenced with our genomic data. That should allow us to pinpoint any potential for cross-infection.”
“Excellent. I hope you’ll agree it’s very important for us to get all of that testing underway as quickly as possible.”
“I do,” she replied, finally reaching the top of the gangway and now towering over the one-and-a-half-meter-tall alien in her combat armor. “So if you’ll hold out your arm, I’ll go ahead and get a blood sample now.”
“Of course,” Rick replied, tilting his head to one side as he gazed up into the face shield of her helmet. “Are you sure you can draw blood in that … suit you’re wearing? It doesn’t look like the kind of thing you would typically wear while performing patient rounds.”
Chen smiled to herself as she removed a small medical device from one of the cargo pouches on the side of her suit. “Fortunately for you, we won’t be relying on my skills as a phlebotomist today. In fact, I’m actually going to let you collect the sample yourself. We generally refer to this little device as a ‘hemo lab,’ but that name doesn’t provide a very good description of everything it does. After drawing a small quantity of blood, it runs a battery of additional tests and even takes a small tissue sample. Don’t worry, though. Unless your pain tolerance is extremely low, you probably won’t even feel anything. All you have to do is hold the flat, metallic bottom of the device to your forearm right about there,” she said, touching his arm as carefully as possible. “Then just push the red button and hold it in place until it beeps. It generally takes about thirty seconds or so.”
“Uh, Rick,” Commander Logan spoke up after the test was underway, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to let that comment you made about keeping your options open go without asking the obvious question. You landed your ship inside one of our most heavily protected facilities — one that just happens to be located under a good kilometer or so of solid rock. Are you saying you had some sort of exit strategy in mind if things had not gone as you hoped?”
Rick looked up with an odd expression on his face, apparently grateful to have his attention shifted from Doctor Chen’s hemo lab, now emitting a series of unsettling puffing sounds as it worked to collect its samples. “Ah, well, as I said before, this ship — her name in English is Ethereal, by the way — is much more exploration vessel than warship, and our mission requires that we do everything we can to avoid confrontation. With all manner of Daylean vessels contracted to carry out missions across this galaxy, however, we do occasionally lose a few. I’m sure you are well aware that we’ve had a number of … incidents here on Earth over the years.”
“We’ve all heard the rumors, sure,” Logan replied cautiously, noting that his captain seemed to turn his head slightly in his direction at this, but transmitted nothing via his suit’s neural interface.
“It’s okay, Commander,” Rick said with an amused expression, “I understand this is not something you are at liberty to discuss with us. It’s a little odd, though, when you think about it, since we obviously already know about anything you may or may not have recovered that once belonged to us. In time, I’m sure we will work out all of the security-related details so that we can talk about such things more freely. In the meantime, I have no problem answering some of your questions. We obviously know far more about you than you do about us, after all.”
“So when you do lose ships, is it typically related to combat operations of some sort?” Logan pressed.
“Sometimes, but not always. Here on Earth, your world’s Pelaran Guardian spacecraft has caused us a fair amount of trouble over the past several centuries. Since Pelara itself is another Daylean colony, we’re quite familiar with the Guardians’ capabilities. They are formidable warships in their own right and pose a significant challenge to our various scientific missions. As you know, even ships equipped with relatively unsophisticated weapons can be quite dangerous under the right circumstances.”
“That’s certainly true, but I would think after all this time, your ships would be sufficiently advanced to avoid … incidents.”
“Hah, you would think so, wouldn’t you? But the volume of space, the number of planets, and, therefore, the number of ships involved is vast. And let’s just say that the requirements for a shipowner to land themselves a contract to service far-flung Human colonies have not always been particularly stringent. There are also cases where a decision is made to purposely provide information in an effort to advance a colony’s technology. One of the most convenient methods of accomplishing this is to stage a crash.”
“But why would you need to —”
At that moment, Logan’s follow-up question was interrupted by a series of insistent beeps emanating from Doctor Chen’s sampling device. After handing it back to her with a sigh and an unmistakable look of relief registering on his face, Rick turned his attention back to Commander Logan.
“We should probably keep moving, but to answer your original question, I suspect you already know why we initially positioned the landing platform well above the level of the surrounding structure.”
“Not really, no. The only thing I could think of is that it had something to do with your gravitic system. Otherwise, the only time we’re generally concerned with what’s around the ship is when we’re preparing to engage the hyperdrive.”
“Interesting … us too,” Rick replied casually. “Now, if you’d all like to follow me, please.”
Earth, TFC Yucca Mountain Shipyard Facility
(Aboard the Grey ship Ethereal)
The door through which Captain Prescott’s team had entered the Grey spacecraft was apparently intended to provide the most direct external access to the ship’s bridge. After what still seemed like a long walk down a c
orridor reminiscent of those used to board commercial transport aircraft, they emerged into what appeared to be the same area they had previously seen when speaking to Rick via vidcon.
“I’m afraid Miguel is a bit preoccupied at the moment,” Rick said, gesturing to his partner still seated in the large chair on the far side of the room. “With only the two of us aboard, there are quite a number of … I suppose you could call them administrative duties requiring our attention throughout the day.”
“It looks like he’s just sitting there,” Reynolds observed. “How can you tell what he’s doing right now?”
“Yeah, I’m sure it looks a little strange, but I assure you he doesn’t mean to be rude. Even Miguel’s not that much of an introvert, although small talk is definitely not his strong suit. I guess the best way to answer your question, Commander, is that I can tell what he’s doing because I can hear him.”
“You mean … telepathically?”
“Oh hell no,” Rick laughed. “Practically every Human civilization prior to official first contact somehow manages to come up with that idea, though, so you’re in good company there. I’ll be the first to admit that I wish we could naturally do something like that. But here’s the thing, we have never encountered a single species with anything approaching the ability to communicate using only their thoughts. Now, there are some insectoid species like the Krayleck who would like everyone to think that they can. Typically, as is the case with the Krayleck, they’re just using some sort of high frequency vibrations — which is really nothing more than a type of speech when you think about it.”
“So what are you hearing then?”
“Hearing is probably the wrong word, but we have implants that allow us to exchange a variety of different types of data. The suits you’re wearing have a type of neural interface, right? What we have is analogous to that, so I’m sure you can imagine that after using them for your entire life, it gets a little difficult to draw the line between your own senses and what your brain perceives via the implants.”
Prescott took a moment to more thoroughly examine the bridge, remembering the importance of ensuring his EVA suit’s most sensitive, forward-facing sensors were given the opportunity to capture as much detail as possible. Other than the presence of the large chairs and the display screens he had noted earlier, nothing else in the room gave a strong impression that this room was the central command center for the entire ship.
“It’s a little different from your bridge, huh?” Rick asked, causing Prescott to jump involuntarily as a chill ran along the length of his spine. Do their implants also allow them to hear our thoughts as well? he wondered, turning to look directly into the alien’s eyes. As if on cue, Rick nodded up at him.
“You can, can’t you?” Prescott asked, incredulous.
“I can what?” Rick asked.
“Nothing. Sorry, just thinking out loud,” Prescott replied, unsure now whether the surreal nature of the experience might be causing his imagination to get the better of him.
“Captain, I’ve got preliminary environmental and bioscan results for you,” Doctor Chen announced. “The ship is clean … much cleaner than ours, in fact. No non-native — or native, for that matter — pathogens of any kind detected. Radiation levels are within normal limits, as are all of the atmospheric readings. As for our host here, I’m seeing no traces of viral or bacterial infections whatsoever. His immune system is probably an order of magnitude more robust than ours, so I would be surprised if he runs into anything in our environment that could cause him a problem.”
“So the suits are unnecessary?”
“We’ll get more detailed results from Fleet Medical later today, but I’d say we’re much less likely to be infected with something in here than we are outside.”
As tempting as it was to immediately remove his suit’s bulky helmet, Prescott knew that one of the primary reasons Admiral Sexton agreed to their use was to take advantage of the detailed reconnaissance information their multitude of sensors would provide.
“Alright, I’m as anxious to get these suits off as the rest of you, but since we can’t very well carry them back to the ship, we might as well leave them on until we’ve finished our visit. Rick, I’m sure we’ll manage to wear something a little more comfortable the next time we meet.”
“Hey, you can’t be too careful, right?” the Grey replied absently.
“One more thing, Captain,” Chen continued, “preliminary genetic testing confirms what Rick told us earlier. Although he’s got tweaks coded in from a wide variety of other organisms, he’s otherwise as Human as we are.”
“Well there you go,” Prescott said. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to congratulate you or feel sorry for you, based on that result.”
“Trust me, Captain Prescott, there are a great many sentient species out there that I would definitely not want to be related to. Some are smarter than us, some are stronger than us, and some smell so foul that you can’t stand to be in the same room with them. On the whole, however, we Humans have a pretty good combination of traits … traits that tend to keep us alive when other species fall by the wayside.”
While Rick was speaking, a series of thuds could be heard from some not too distant section of the ship. Prescott paused momentarily to listen, but the sounds did not repeat.
“Hmm,” Rick prompted. “We’ll see that the doctor gets an additional blood sample from Miguel before you leave. But for now, I think it’s best we move along. It sounds like our other guest may be getting a little impatient to see you.” Without waiting for a response, he set off at a brisk pace in the direction of another door located on the opposite side of the bridge.
“Guest or prisoner?” Logan asked via his neural interface, the text immediately appearing within the field of view of the other three officers.
“Keep in mind that all forms of comm, including our neural interfaces, are likely compromised,” Prescott replied in the same fashion. “Use caution when transmitting.”
If indeed Rick had heard Logan’s comment, he showed no outward signs of having been troubled by it in the least. After leaving the bridge, the group continued down a hallway very similar to the one through which they had entered the ship. Upon reaching the end of the corridor, two flights of stairs separated by a single landing took them down into what was presumably the top floor of the ship’s much larger primary hull.
“Other than the bridge, is anything else located in the topmost section of the ship?” Prescott asked. “It seems like we passed through a large volume of space, but I didn’t notice any additional compartments — or at least no doors that I could see.”
“Just as it is with your ships, our designers make every effort to protect vital systems and crew spaces as much as possible. While our shields and armored hull are generally sufficient for the task, our ships have traditionally carried their water stores in the area surrounding the bridge. In the unlikely event we lose our shield systems, the large volume of water does a surprisingly good job of protecting the bridge from small impacts, radiation, and even weapons fire to some degree.”
“Some of our older interplanetary vessels used water for that purpose as well, but don’t you end up carrying quite a bit more than you need?”
“Generally, yes, but on long-duration missions, there are times when usable water gets surprisingly difficult to find. On occasion, we even use it as a commodity to barter for supplies we require, so overall it turns out to be a pretty good use of space.”
Rick was now leading them down a well-lit hallway with doors lining the length of both sides, much like the crew quarters sections of Fleet vessels. As they approached the halfway point, the sounds they heard from the bridge — which was apparently now directly overhead — began again in earnest. All four Terrans immediately recognized the sound of someone pounding furiously on the door of one of the rooms ahead on the left. This time, however, the impacts were commingled with an ominous, low-frequency rumbling sound that, while impossible to
identify from the hallway, still caused the hairs on the backs of their necks to stand on end.
“What the hell do you have in there,” Reynolds asked.
“I’ve been asking myself that same question since he came aboard,” Rick answered. “In the days and months ahead, you will need friends you can trust. In a nutshell, that’s why he’s here, but as you can tell, he’s very upset, so it’s entirely possible I’ve made an error in judgment by bringing him along.”
“Oh, God,” Prescott said under his breath as a vague spark of suspicion rapidly kindled into the bright flame of realization. Setting aside the notion that his hunch might somehow represent the impossible, his mind jumped ahead, already running through the implications that would naturally follow if he turned out to be right. “Open the door, Rick.”
“Armored suits or not, all of you should take a few steps back,” Rick said, already entering commands on a keypad to the left of the door. “Listen up in there, I have some friends of yours out here who would like to see you. For your safety and theirs, please stand clear of the door and you will not be harmed,” he announced, while at the same time retrieving what could only be a handheld weapon of some sort from the side pocket of his coveralls.
Before Prescott even had time to react, Rick executed a final keystroke, rapidly opening the door to the room. Although all four members of the team had heeded his advice and moved back into the corridor, the opening was still wide enough to allow each a glimpse of the large, clearly enraged, and potentially deadly creature inside.
From his vantage point a few meters behind the Grey, Prescott instantly recognized to his horror that his intuition had been correct. “Dammit, Rick, what have you done?” he muttered, shouldering his way past the Grey on his way into the room.
