The Accidental Explorer

by George Deeb

  “This is VERY good!” he said out load, and then turned to Munen. “May I have some to take back with me?”

  “Yes. The Commander has already made up a list of things he thought you would like to try. Our cook will gather together a package for you. Your Commander is a thorough man. I have grown to like him in the time we have spent together.”

  Farber-Chatwell looked at Travellor, who was going around the room checking that everyone tried the coffee.

  “He's a good man.” said Farber-Chatwell as he watched him. “I was supposed to lead the Trailblazer mission myself,” he said leaning closer to Munen, “but an accident made that impossible. There were three men I considered suitable to lead this mission in my place. I chose him because he had a history of handling unexpected situations. Of course, at the time, I had no idea of how unexpected everything would turn out.”

  “My people like him.” replied Munen. “Our people get along well together. I believe they share something in common. They find themselves under very challenging conditions. Trailblazer came to establish a community in a hostile environment, risking their lives to do so. My crew is stuck in the same environment with a crippled ship, unable to know when or if they will ever make the trip back home. That is why they work so well together.”

  “Still,” said Farber-Chatwell, “you could easily take your shuttles to Earth if all else failed.”

  “No.” said Munen with a sad expression on his face. “That was never an option, until Trailblazer showed up. Our laws forbid contact with any peoples that have not first invited us to do so. The IGT strictly defines this. To violate the law under any but uncontrolled circumstances would mean financial ruin or imprisonment – or both. There is no – wiggle room? I believe that is what your people call it. It was only when your team made contact with you and then invited me to speak to you that it became legal for me to do so. For a while I was worried that was not going to happen. I could not legally allow them to use our equipment to do it. When we located your radios and found both units had been destroyed, we were very depressed. That was when I realized how much alike the two crews were. Your team immediately came up with a plan to make what was available perform the job required. My crew is often in situations like that, and they respond in the same way.”

  “And if your situation became dire? A matter of your crews survival. Would you still not have gone to Earth on your own?”

  “If the lives of my people were in jeopardy,” Munen said with a wry smile, “I would have arranged for them to go to your planet in a manner that would make me the only one who had broken the law.”

  Their conversation continued haltingly, as each man thought about what the other had said. One thing they could understand was expression and tone of voice of the other person. Farber-Chatwell asked if he could have a copy of the IGT laws, but was not surprised when Munen told him it was already one of the items Travellor had requested for his gift package.

  “There is also an introductory file called IGT Esploreesum, that Travellor said would be very useful. He calls it 'IGT For Dummies'. He has spent many hours studying it. We have translated everything and stored it in a format your computers can use. There are some words and phrases that do not translate to your language. I or someone on my crew will be happy to explain anything that is not clear.”

  7

  It had been a long day for Farber-Chatwell. His watch told him it was after eleven in the evening – on Earth. He felt worn out as he stood in the shower stall. He could have asked to be taken back home, but he wanted to get a better idea of what the lives of his people were like here. His room was small, but had all the basic comforts. He had asked for a blanket when he saw none in the room, and it was explained to him that the ships environmental system didn't just control the temperature of the room, but individualized that control over the different parts of your body. The temperature that was most comfortable for your torso was slightly different than what was best for your thighs, and your feet, and arms, and hands. The system was so sophisticated that it monitored and adjusted nine different body zones, analyzing your body's reaction and the quality of your sleep by measuring body part temperature and brain wave patterns. Blankets were only used when the system malfunctioned. But Farber-Chatwell wanted a blanket easily available anyway.

  “Deluge.” he stated, standing in the middle of the shower stall. He figured this command would give him the strongest spray.

  It was a lesson in not underestimating the Ganaphe' technology. The water that hit his body from all directions felt like a wave that was going to pick him up bodily, and carry him downstream. Water rushed into his nose and ears and eyes, and he stopped himself from inhaling just in time.

  “STO-O-O-P !” he yelled, and the water flow turned off immediately.

  He stood there, completely soaked and dripping, with his arms up in defensive manner. He coughed, spit and blew the water out of his nose and mouth. Then he started to laugh. He was standing naked and dripping wet, in an alien spaceship, thinking he was going to drown, and it all struck him as unbelievably ridiculous. He laughed a little harder.

  “Medium spray.” he said, and the water came out at just the right strength. “Pulsing jets at my back.” he said. The spray at his back hit him in pulsing waves, like a massage that went up and down his body. When it hit his neck he relaxed the muscles there and began to enjoy the sensation. “Increase water temperature by five degrees.”

  The temperature rise brought the water to just below being uncomfortable. It was just what he wanted. He let the heat soak deeper into his body.

  All of this was still very hard for Farber-Chatwell to take in. He never had believed in space aliens. 'Space aliens! C'mon. Really? People with a more advanced technology, traveling through the galaxies. Who the hell is going to believe that?' he thought. For one thing, galaxies were just too far apart – even at the speed of light! Nobody could travel those vast distances in a reasonable amount of time. Yet from what he understood from the Ganaphe', they were not the only ones. There were many galaxies with many inhabited worlds with many different species of beings, all capable of such travel. Some even having already traveled to this galaxy!

  From what the Ganaphe' captain had told him, it was the binding legal agreements between species and the accompanying uncompromising penalties for breaking these laws that was likely responsible for the Earth not having been a sci-fi movie like victim of an invasion by an alien species. Even those species that had elected not to sign on to the IGT clearly understood that violation of certain IGT laws would make them susceptible to retribution by its signatories. For someone like him, it was very hard to believe. Yet here it was for his eyes to see. Here it was for his hands to touch, and his body to feel, and impossible to be denied. In a way, it all proved that his mission, his planning, and his life had been mistaken if not false. 'No! Not false.' he thought, 'Mistaken at worse. Lacking in foresight.' If anything this proved the basic concept to be correct. In all of the years of his life since the mission began he believed 361 had been ahead of all others in planning and technology, and would be capable of creating something that would protect his country and its people. Now he had to accept that the enemy he feared was small compared to the possible enemy from without. He cursed himself for this lack of vision. But how do you defend from an enemy that you don't even know – don't even BELIEVE - exists. From a time before he was born, this planet had been susceptible to an attack that perhaps – probably - they could not have repelled.

  As he continued to let the heat soak into him, his military mind imagined ships orbiting the Earth, capable of firing on any target on the planet, with little to no risk of being struck back. The images swelled in his imagination. The mission of Operation 361 was no longer the same. It now had to expand beyond its original purpose. If these Ganaphe' were indeed friends as they expressed they were, they would be the key to expanding the knowledge of what lay outside the Milky Way. Their misfortune of crashing on the moon would be to
the Earth's advantage. '361's and the Earth's advantage.' thought Farber-Chatwell.

  “Off.” he said, and the water stopped. “Dry.”

  Standing still as the air jets squeegeed the water from him, Farber-Chatwell decided that the first thing he wanted to accomplish tomorrow was to take a walk on the moon's surface. Just a small personal desire. He wanted to take that walk on the Earth side of the moon, and gaze at the Earth. From what Travellor had told him about Ganaphe' space suits, it would be a very enjoyable experience. He couldn't remember seeing any surface vehicles on the ship. Were all their vehicles airborne? Maybe the Ganaphe' didn't ride on wheels anymore.

  8

  Farber-Chatwell sat on the edge of the bed in the dark room, ready for sleep, when a thought entered his mind.

  “Computer?”

  There was no response.

  “Is there a computer listening to my words?”

  Still no response.

  “LIGHTS!” he said loudly.

  The room lights came on full bright. He reflexively squinted, and put his hand in front of his eyes.

  “State the name, or the identification designation of the device that is controlling the functions of this room according to my requests.”

  “LNTGAD475341627144.73.5.3. I have also been given the designation 'ORYSTA'.”

  Farber-Chatwell was surprised. He hadn't expected an answer to his question.

  “Orysta! That's also the name of this ship.” he said.

  “Correct.”

  “So you have the same name as the ship?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you the ship's main computer, or some other processing device?”

  “Ship's central data processing computer.”

  “So the Ganaphe' give the ship's main computer the same name as that of the ship.”

  “Correct.”

  “What about the other processors, calculators, controllers and sensors on this ship? Do those all have names?”

  “No.”

  “Why don't the other devices have names?”

  “Operational protocol. The ship and the ship's main computer must operate as one unit. It is easier for the crew to refer to both as one unit. All other devices are designated by their function.”

  “So if I addressed you as 'Orysta', you would know that I am communicating with you?”

  “Yes.”

  Farber-Chatwell had so far found this conversation entertaining, but he wasn't sure he had learned anything important.

  “How powerful are you?”

  “Inquiry not understood.”

  “How much... processing capability do you have, Orysta?”

  “I have the capability of zero point four seven dedicated brain power.”

  He had to think about that for while.

  “Are you saying that you have point four seven times as much processing capability as the human brain?”

  “Point four seven times as much processing capability as a Ganaphe' brain dedicated to a single function. Not enough information available about the human brain to calculate an equivalent.”

  Farber-Chatwell thought about that. No processor on Earth could come close to the brain's processing power. If you could dedicate all that capability to a single function it would be the same as multiplying that capability by an unknown number of times. And no one on Earth could accurately calculate brain power. It was always underestimated.

  “Do the Ganaphe' have more powerful processors than you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How powerful? Is there some way you can explain this to me in something other than fractions of brain power?”

  “Will a comparison satisfy your requirements?”

  “I don't know. Go ahead, give it a try.”

  “Orysta is classified as a category thirty-four processor. The portable computer that you have would be classified as a category that is below a zero point zero zero zero zero zero one processor. Its capabilities are very limited.”

  “This laptop,” Farber-Chatwell interrupted, “has the highest end processor on the planet. I hasn't even been released to the military yet.”

  He got no reaction to his statement.

  “Please continue.”

  “Categories of processors presently go up to two hundred and thirty-one. This will change as more capable processors are developed.”

  Farber-Chatwell's eyes went wide. 'One hundred an ninety-seven levels higher than you.' he thought, stunned by the idea.

  “Let's talk about something else.” he said. “Were you given any instructions concerning my presence or activities on this ship?”

  “Yes.”

  “What were those instructions?”

  “Grilik Munen has instructed that you be placed under a maximum security protocol as an ambassador of another species.”

  Now this was something he found interesting. Could he gain some real insight into Ganaphe' thinking here?

  “What exactly does maximum security protocol mean? Am I free to leave the room? Am I free to wander around the ship?”

  “You have access to all of the ship except for three restricted areas. There are no time constraints.”

  “What areas are restricted to me?”

  “The bridge, the engine room, and the food stores.”

  Farber-Chatwell couldn't find any fault with that. He would have done the same thing if the Orysta was his ship. He was feeling very tired now. Sleep was taking over his mind, and any nervousness he felt before seemed to be gone. As he lay on the bed he noticed how perfect the temperature of the mattress and pillow felt.

  “Lights off. Thanks for the conversation Orysta.”

  There was no reply.

  Chapter 10

  Homesteading

  1

  July 2008

  Jibble Delfin looked out of the clear dome, in awe. The Earth floating just above the monochrome surface of the moon was a beautiful and inviting sight. Looking at it gave him a sense of warmth and comfort. He wondered if it engendered the same feelings in everyone who saw it from here. HERE! Here he was - on the moon, and the stationing was Farber-Chatwell's way of showing his appreciation for his dedication to the job – and he had thought Farber-Chatwell disliked him! Now he was the Chief Communications Specialist on Moon-base Trailblazer, was given an increase in pay, and had two other people working under him.

  He was told he was completely safe from space radiation in here. The dome was a present from the Ganaphe', manufactured in their on-board foundry, and it was made of the crystalline material they had come to mine. They called it Crystal-flow – or that was what the name translated as from their language to ours. It is found throughout the universe, but in concentrations so diluted by other materials that for most of their history they hadn't known it existed. It is most often found in concentrations of 1 part in a trillion or more, which is why it took so long to be discovered. Most geologists studying minerals would see it as a minor contamination of their sample instead of a mineral worth looking at in itself. But like gold or other precious materials, there are places where the concentrations are high enough to make it worth mining. 'High enough' is a relative term though. Here on the moon it is found in the amount of 1 part per one hundred thousand. That means that for every one hundred thousand grains of sand the Ganaphe' process, only one grain will be crystal-flow. That's considered a high concentration, making it commercially viable with Ganaphe' mining techniques. Of course it isn't always so dispersed in surrounding materials. Sometimes it is found in nuggets. A nugget the size of a pinky finger nail is worth a small fortune.

  The discovery and commercialization of crystal-flow had changed space travel for every species with the ability to leave their planet of origin. Before its properties were known space ships were more like flying coffins, in the sense that any view of the outside was seen through video links, sensors, or small view ports. The technological links to the outside of the ship were prone to failing, requiring either dangerous extra-vehicular repairs or jus
t flying by instruments. The view ports were often facing the wrong way when an incident occurred. Something as simple as not being able to see outside a space ship, that would be traveling many weeks or months to reach its destination, can lead to cabin fever, depression, and other changes in personality, and greatly affect the mental health of the travelers. The simplest treatment for this was just being able to see outside the coffin.

  Before the discovery of crystal-flow, short careers in long distance space travel was the rule. What makes crystal-flow so valuable is that it can be formed into windows as clear as glass, with many times the strength, and most importantly the ability to stop radiation from passing through it. Damaging and potentially deadly high energy particles are blocked and bound by its crystalline structure. On a planet, people are protected from these particles by the planet's atmosphere and magnetic field, but when traveling through space it is the ship's structure that protects the occupants.