by Mark Wandrey
“Damn it, Pip!” she screamed, having almost punched him with her right fist. “I could have caved your head in.”
Pip tapped his shining dualloy skull with a knuckle. “Highly unlikely, even with that mechanical pile driver of yours.”
She took a calming breath and slipped by him, dropping the small backpack she carried on the carved wooden desk before heading to the bar. “I’d offer you a drink, but I see you’ve already helped yourself, just like you let yourself in.”
“Your assistant let me in before she left for lunch.”
Gotta remember to tell Ariana that my short list is shorter than that, Minu thought, then chastised herself for being so prudish. Pip was one of her oldest friends. She gestured to one of the four lavish, old-Earth style guest chairs and took the main one for herself.
“I finished the language matrix for The People.”
“Really?” Minu stopped with her bottom halfway to her seat, then realizing her unusual pose, continued to sit. “You didn’t say anything in your emails.”
“I’ve never been one to share every little detail.”
“Breaking the language is hardly a little detail.”
“I didn’t know I was close until yesterday. I hopped one of the regular jumps to Romulus on a Phoenix, diverted it to meet with Lilith, and put the final touches on it last night.” He yawned slightly, and Minu noticed how tired and unkempt he appeared.
“When’s the last time you slept?”
“I don’t know, ninety hours or so ago? Don’t look at me like that. I often go two or three days without sleeping. It’s not such a big deal to my brain anymore. But I could use a shower and some food.”
“Yes, you could use a shower.” He glanced at her sideways, and she chuckled. “Use my private bath. I’ll order up something from the staff cafeteria, and we can talk.”
An hour later he was filling her in on all the details over a mutton sandwich and a glass of apple juice. She absorbed as much as she could, until he finished his food and ran down. It was a little unusual chatting with her old friend about alien species while he wore only a bright green bathrobe. Ariana took it in stride when she got back from her lunch and took his clothes to the on-site laundry for a quick cleaning.
“How many of the ancient species are still around?” Minu asked as Pip finished off the last of his food.
“Not many that I could identify. We can’t rule out the possibility that some of the modern species are re-foundings of older ones. Maybe they collapsed and came back, who knows? We’re talking about millions of years here.”
“Okay, let’s try another tack. How many of the species currently in the galaxy are in the record as space-faring ones?”
“They all had spaceships back then.”
“Pip.”
“Okay, let’s look at how many maintained fleets or built their own ships.” Minu nodded. “Only four that we know for sure: Tog, T’Chillen, Mok-Tok, and Squeen.”
“Not the Tanam? I thought, for sure, they’d be on the list. How many were part of the founding species with The People?”
“All of those,” Pip confirmed. “The others are the Poolab, who are still around but weren’t into starships; the Goydook, who I think are gone; and the Grent. I can’t find a thing about the Grent in any of the modern records, and precious little about them in the Kaatan’s records. I can’t decide if they were small players or so old they were gone by the time their big war came along.”
“Seven species started it all.” Minu thought for a minute. “Any idea who the first was?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say it was The People or the Grent. But I can’t prove it either way. I chewed some of it over with Ted and Bjorn on the way down this afternoon, but they’re uncertain too.” Minu scratched her chin, trying to decide what to do with the information. She couldn’t understand why basic history was no longer a subject in the Concordia. It was as if, on Bellatrix, all records of Earth and their arrival from that dead world had been scrubbed forever from their knowledge. And, with the artificial expiration date built into all computer memory units, it had to have been a conscious decision. The Kaatan had access to data far older than that decision.
“Those bones you found? I have some answers on those, too.” Minu looked up, her question unspoken. “Hominid species. Could be a cousin of ours.”
“Really?”
“Yep. They’re trying to work up some of the genetics, but the bone you sent was mostly a fossil. The carbon testing showed it was two and a half million years old. Add to that the levels of radiation it was exposed to, and there’s barely a hint of genetic material left.”
“Did you take the data and run it through the Kaatan?”
Pip cocked his head. “I hadn’t considered it, but considering the bone’s age, I probably should have.”
“Lilith, you there?”
“Yes, Mother, what can I do?”
“Pip is going to upload you some data.” Pip already had his Kaatan tablet out and was moving files with hand gestures. “Can you run the skeletal and bio data through the computer and get a match? There isn’t much to run on.”
“There is more than enough,” she answered almost immediately. “This is a bone from one of The People.”
Years ago, when she found the artifact, Ted and Bjorn had guessed that Sunshine was devastated when a gas giant created a third star. The new star was a doomsday device, which slowly cooked the planet, killing everyone there. “We’ve stumbled on to one of The People’s worlds,” Minu thought aloud.
“My records do not contain any data on The People’s worlds,” Lilith told her over the link, “however your supposition is a probable one. The war went badly at the end, and ‘unthinkable’ weapons were employed.”
“Up to and including igniting stars, apparently.” Minu sighed and tried to imagine a war getting to the point where a species seared planets to destroy its enemy.
But, was the fate of the Rasa home world at the hands of the T’Chillen any different? At least they had mostly died quickly and had had a chance to fight their adversaries. Being slowly cooked alive over weeks or months by a newborn star with no way to escape was the literal definition of hell on earth.
“Lilith, where did the data in the computer’s memory banks come from? We know they were essentially empty when we first came aboard the ship before you were born.”
“I’ve never been able to get a straight answer to that question,” her daughter confided. “I know from the Medical Intelligence that the system was not able to deal with my condition without additional assistance, but I do not know where that assistance came from.”
“We need to find out.”
“I’m sorry, Mother, but I don’t understand why it is critical.”
“I think it’s obvious. The galaxy has it out for hominids, a notion that goes way back. P’ing told me months ago that it is dangerous being a hominid, without our messing around with starships and other things. In any case, we’re stuck here with nowhere to go.” She looked at Pip and smiled. “I was sold on the fact that the galaxy of the Concordia is decaying. It turns out it’s dying and has been dying since before humans learned to make fire. But everything we’ve seen points to hominids being involved from the beginning.”
It was quiet for several moments as Lilith orbited far up in space and thought about her mother’s words. “I guess I have no choice but to agree. I will begin examining the quantum communication pathways to see where outside information is coming from. Hopefully it will lead to a source of data we can use.”
“Thanks.” She turned to Pip. “Is there engineering data on the Kaatan for the gravitic drive?”
“We already know all about gravitic drives; we use them extensively on the Phoenix and on basic fliers like your aerocar.”
“I mean the ones the Kaatan use to go five thousand times the speed of light.”
“Oh!” He gestured over his tablet bringing its holographic display to life. Hovering above it was a cut
away schematic of the Kaatan, its sphere pierced by an unmistakable needle shape.
Numerous components were highlighted then exploded into their individual parts, each labeled with ancient Concordian script. Instantly, her brain translated the old script, making it itch. She scrunched up her brows but didn’t look away. The aftereffects of the Weavers’ messing with her brain had never gone away. “The schematics appear to be complete.”
“I thought they would be,” said Minu. “Doesn’t make sense to not have the designs of a machine on a warship. How would you fix it?”
“Those computers are missing vast amounts of data. I’m actually surprised this is all here.”
“So, can we build one?”
Pip’s head jerked up, and he speared her with his intensely brilliant green eyes. “We’re about a million miles from being able to build a Kaatan.”
“I’m not an idiot, Pip. I know we could never build a starship like that. I suspect that technology disappeared a long time ago. But a ship doesn’t have to be as good as the Kaatan or as big as the T’Chillen flying cities. If we can fit an interstellar gravitic drive into a Phoenix, we could gain the ability to move from planet to planet.”
“We do have several Portals on Bellatrix,” Pip said.
“And the ability exists to shut them down.”
“You’re onto something.” It was not a question.
“I was wondering if the end of the Concordian starship era has more to do with control, then with high-minded morals or even the loss of the ability to build them.”
“So, you think the major species of the Concordia took starships away from the little guys, so they could more easily control them?”
“Don’t you think it’s possible?”
“There could be a hundred reasons. But that hypothesis is no more outlandish than any of the ones Ted and Bjorn have kicked around over a bottle of mead.”
“So, the drive? Is it possible?”
“This sort of engineering is Ted’s and Bjorn’s specialty. Let me run it by them.” He considered the technical data for a moment. “I think we have access to about three quarters of the materials needed to build these drives. The rest will probably be difficult to obtain, though, especially if it’s not commonly used in the Concordia.”
“Or just carefully controlled,” Minu mumbled. “Can you see if it’s possible? I think options are important. And, good job on the translation matrix!” She leaned back in her chair, one finger unconsciously stroking her upper lip as her eyes unfocused.
After a minute, Pip spoke up, suddenly reminding her she wasn’t alone. “What?”
“Huh?”
“You’ve got that look.”
“What look is that?”
“The same look you got when you came up with the shock rifles and the Lancers. What are you thinking about?”
Minu smiled and shook her head. “Am I that transparent?”
“Only to anyone who knows you as well as your closest friends.”
“I was just thinking. If humanity could become a space power, we might be able to shift the balance of power in the galaxy.”
“In a good way or a bad way?”
Minu was a little taken aback by his simple statement. “Things are falling apart,” she pointed out. “Power is becoming rationed, there are thousands of abandoned worlds that seem perfectly habitable, except for the lack of power and resources.”
She stared off into space and thought. She could imagine a fleet of human starships plying the lanes between worlds, carrying food and energy and things that were too large to pass through Portals to far distant places and to planets where there we no Portals. Who knew how many worlds had evolved perfectly habitable ecosystems in the millions of years since The Lost built the Portal network.
Her own species’ home world, Earth, was one of those planets with no Portal. Had the long-gone hominids visited an ancient Earth crawling with primitive dinosaurs and decided it wasn’t worth dropping off a Portal? She wondered how many planets in the galaxy had Portals and how many didn’t. It was an interesting question.
“And what happens to the status quo?”
“It gets torn down,” she said firmly. “So, what?”
“That never ends well.”
“How can it get worse?” she asked.
“You need to pay better attention to human history. Nearly every time an old and stratified system like the Concordia was torn down or replaced, the outcome was anarchy, destruction, or tyranny.”
“The galaxy isn’t made up of humans.”
“No, many of the species are not nearly as calm, contemplative, or logical as humanity. And that’s saying something, because I think we’re a borderline crazy species sometimes.”
Minu nodded and thought about it.
“And need I remind you,” Pip went on, “that the surviving star faring species will likely not be thrilled to invite us into the clan? I doubt the T’Chillen will give us a welcoming wet kiss.”
“I’ve been on the busy end of T’Chillen affections,” Minu said with a mirthless laugh. “But you’re right, they wouldn’t be welcoming. We’ll have to be very stealthy about this.” Pip shrugged. “We’re getting way ahead of ourselves. Let me know what you find out about building a star drive, and we’ll go from there.”
An hour later, Pip was gone and Minu had a lot to think about. She knew now why P’ing was so concerned about humans, a hominid species, pushing into areas hse considered ‘dangerous.’ Hominids had been involved in the creation of the Concordia, and all evidence pointed to the fact that their time in the leadership hadn’t ended well.
She’d begun to evolve her view of the current situation of the galaxy. There were no more starships plying the stars because most were destroyed millions of years earlier, presumably along with the means to build more. Why else were the snakes so desperate to salvage the ancient spaceships left behind by The People?
Pip was worried humanity might upset the balance of power, but the snakes had been trying to do just that for a long time. Sally, the T’Chillen, had told her they’d been trying to gain access to the fire-base for as many as a thousand years. It had probably been a lot longer than that.
Minu called up a design schematic of the Groves Industries A-2 Phoenix. As the wife of the president, she had access to the complete designs on her tablet and a fully functional design interface. As the part of her mind dedicated to politics and the Chosen considered what she’d learned, the scientific part tweaked the Phoenix.
An hour later, she looked at the ship’s design in surprise. She’d doodled it into a starship almost a hundred meters long with cargo and passenger capacities to match. All it needed was a faster than light drive. “It might work,” she said to the darkened office.
* * * * *
Chapter 9
March 2nd, 534 AE
Sanctuary Island, Plateau Tribal Territory, Bellatrix
Minu tended to spend less time at the island over the winter. It was uncommon that a migrating kloth would find its way across the frozen lake, but not impossible.
One spring, she’d returned to find four of the beasts wintering under the old lean-to woodshed her ancestor built before she’d converted the building to run on EPC. Since the ice was long gone, she’d had to shoot the beasts. She still had a few kloth steaks in the bottom of the freezer. The reptile meat was a taste she’d never quite acquired, but Aaron loved the stuff.
They typically spent the first weekend after winter doing maintenance on the five-hundred-year-old cabin, and this year was no exception. The sun was up, and it was a nice fifteen degrees outside. Minu and Aaron were using the old clothes lines (now replaced with dualloy lines) to air out the linens and get the musty, wintery smells out of the house. “At least we didn’t have to shoot any kloths,” she commented as she held a blanket for Aaron to secure with a clip.
“We’re almost out,” he noted. “I was thinking about hooking up with Gregg and going on a hunt this migration season.
”
She made a face and shook her head. “Help yourself. I’ve had enough of the damned lizards to last me a lifetime.” He grunted and nodded. “But shoot a small one, I’m not as big a fan of kloth-kabob as you are.”
They both turned at the sound of approaching gravitic impellers. Minu knew it couldn’t be Gregg. He and his wife weren’t coming out that weekend as he was off-world on a gig with the Rangers.
She held up a hand to shield her eyes from the morning sun. Her skin itched from the heavy sunscreen she had to wear. “Reporters?” Aaron guessed.
“No,” she said and cocked her head. It was a pair of private aerocars flanked by two larger flying trucks. “I think they’re lost.” But a minute later, they began to descend and look for a place to land.
“Damn it!” Minu growled and ran as they started to zero in on her garden. The first car had already set down by the time she got there. A hundred and sixty-five centimeters of pissed off redhead descended on the driver just as the door rotated up. “Get off my garden, asshole!”
“Minu Groves?” asked a thin bookish man that seemed somehow familiar to her.
“You know damn well who I am! Don’t let them land those beasts on my garden, damn it, it’ll take me weeks to re-till that soil!”
“I’m Dr. Romulus Engles,” he said and held out a hand.
“Good for you,” she replied. There was no doubt he thought she recognized the name. The first large truck grounded and flattened a dozen square meters of her garden. Her blood pressure shot up. “Get the fuck off my island!”
“We had an appointment, Mrs. Groves!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Another truck was coming in, and Minu was considering going into the house and getting a shock rifle.
“Your assistant, Ms. Beck, set this up with you. She assured me she’d made the arrangements. Director Porter will be here in a few hours…”
The pieces finally fell into place. The Plateau Historical Society. She remembered an email from Ariana that had arrived a couple of days before she left for the weekend. It wasn’t flagged important, and now she suspected she knew what it was about. Shit. She couldn’t exactly start shooting up their cars with a shock rifle if she’d invited them.
