There were still half a dozen technicians aboard; running tests right up to the last moment, knowing as Elena did that any further failure could end the program. They left on the feeder shuttle while Elena ran through the final launch checks.
"Computer, what is your name?" Maybe AI's didn't have emotions, as most experts believed, but given the power they had, it had become pilot practice to treat them as politely as they would another person.
"This unit does not possess a designation," it responded in a voice that lacked the rich modulation of modern models.
"Then I'll call you Marc." The computer did not respond.
"Marc, what Logic Level are you?"
"1.6." Short, but at least it confirmed acceptance of the new name. That logic level was comparable to a human IQ. The best modern variants scored between 4 and 6. According to historians the original Terraformer fleet had come in at 0.7 or 0.8. Humanity had learned from the Terraformer mistake and Artificial General Intelligences now had extensive safety protocols that so far had prevented any more serious incidents.
CHAPTER 17
Martinus is warm-hearted, helpful and well read. He's astute, interesting, perhaps a tad too lank, but still very attractive, and I like him bunches!
Nyana Gunne
Year 207 bzt.
By the time he walked down the transparent gangway to the docking area, the feeling of exhilaration that had been his almost constant companion for the past tazuras, had almost driven the incident with the Split from his head. This was the first time he had entered a space-station as the captain of his own – well, almost own – cruiser, instead of as a humble passenger! He felt like he'd grown a couple of talons since he had first stepped onto the Nyana's Fortune!
The docking bay of the trade station was large but nowhere near the scale of the assembly hall of the shipyard hangar. Alongside his yacht sat another three small to medium spacecraft, all of which must have been private vehicles, because time was money and no trader would keep his ship permanently docked. One thing was apparent though, the Nyana's Fortune was without doubt the tallest and most beautiful ship here, at least in his eyes.
Behind the observation window overlooking the docking area, Nopileos could discern many different species. While the aliens didn't seem to be giving his magnificent ship a second look the Teladi onlookers could not tear their eyes from the gently curved flanks of the egg-shaped yacht. Could one Teladi be so lucky? The question was written in their envious gaze.
He tried to whistle a confident, cocky tune in imitation of an Argon he'd once witnessed, 'strutting his stuff', whatever that was. His reptilian jaws failed miserably to produce any sort of melody and hissing with self-mockery he stepped off the gangway and nodded respectfully to a passing Boron, looking even more bizarre than usual thanks to its environment suit. Muffled clicks sounded through the creature's breathing mask as Nopileos walked by. He knew that practically every member of the Boron people was somehow informed on the most important events on his home planet at all times; therefore he expected the Boron to recognise him. How had Director Sibasomos put it? Nopileos had been declared the "Hero of all Boron", or something like that. But as bizarre as the Boron might look, they were actually quite discreet, likable beings that were always anxious not to embarrass anyone and the creature walked on by.
Nopileos looked around. The station's interior was coloured in a friendly light green, not quite like home but still comforting. The walkways were busy but not overcrowded and everyone moved purposefully, like they knew exactly what they wanted. Each Teladi was guaranteed to have a tight but well-organized schedule because as every Teladi knows; 'extreme haste leads to mistakes and mistakes shrink profits'.
Nopileos didn't have a perfectly worked out schedule, or in fact, any schedule at all. He simply kept to the principle of not rushing anything. The signposts, written in Argon standard lettering, indicated that the office of the port administration was some distance away. There, he would register, pay the docking fee and arrange for his ship to take onboard the necessary goods.
Despite not completely sharing his people's single-minded quest for profit, the Trade Station nevertheless exerted a certain fascination. The giant wheel was essentially nothing more than a gigantic warehouse, a trans-shipment centre for goods of every kind, complete with an administration, presenting few possibilities for its occupants to engage in rest and recreation. However there were a few small retail outlets targeting crewmen who stayed for more than the few quazuras it took to load cargo. Naturally these businesses established themselves in the vicinity of the permanent docking area to trap that kind of walk-in customer.
Nopileos took his time to reach the port administration office. Upon arrival he was greeted by a Teladi in the uniform of the trade fleet who accepted his orders and paid him more deference than he was comfortable with. His grandfather's name - Ceo Isemados – shouldn't actually lead to him being handled more courteously than any other random Teladi, or at least, that's what he had been taught in the hatchery. But it seemed he still had many things to learn about his own people, things that Lecturer Wohalimis and his colleagues had never brought to light in the incubated, exclusive Hatchery of Company Pride.
After some considerable time, with the paperwork completed, Nopileos made his way back to his ship. He wouldn't be leaving the station until the middle of the next half-tazura and until then he had a whole tazura to look around. But before that, he could really use a clawful of sleep and a long session with a scale-scraper! The anticipation put a spring in his step as he headed for the hub walkway and the busy inner promenade ring.
The walkway circled the docking areas and allowed a view of the resting spaceships through large, transparent panels and Nopileos could already see the gangway that connected his proud yacht with the promenade like an umbilical cord. Someone was standing right in front of it and even through the distorting lens of distance the build could only be Split!
He sensed trouble and inconspicuously joined a group of three Argon and a fairly young Teladi in front of the window, haggling over the cargo of the ship being unloaded below. Nopileos pretended to look down as well, as he examined the Split from the corner of his eye. It was studying the data board on the gangway to the Nyana's Fortune. Split looked so much alike, like one freshly laid egg among others, but Nopileos would bet one of his squawk cubes, maybe even both, that this Split was the very same one that had caused him the totally unprovoked distress during his approach to the station. What did he call himself again? Right, Cho t'Nnt, special representative of the Patriarch of Chin.
The massive, stocky Split didn't have a particularly pleasant expression on his face. But then again, when had anyone heard of a happy Split?
"Daiyobu desuka?"
"Tsshh-hh-sh?" Nopileos looked up in surprise. One of the Argon looked at him with a questioning but friendly face, at least he presumed it was friendly as Argon facial expressions weren't always easy for a Teladi to decipher. The Argon, who didn't seem overly tall for his species, had long golden hair that fell straight from his head down to his back. In addition, he had – well maybe he was a female instead? With Argon it was so hard to tell.
The other two Argon and the Teladi now also regarded him with interest.
"Oh… shhhh… thanks a lot, everything's in order. I was just a little… lost in thought", Nopileos finally answered the question the Argon had asked him in the trade language.
The Argon laughed in a bright voice. "Well, that was hard to miss. You were watching that shady guy over there, weren't you?"
"Tssshhhs-hhhh?"
The Argon laughed even more, and his brothers or colleagues contorted their faces likewise. The scale fin of the younger Teladi twitched; he didn't seem to feel the least bit unsure of himself in the presence of the Argons. Nopileos took this to mean that their strange facial expressions actually matched the Teladian sense of humour.
"Don't worry – we're on your side. By the way, my name's Ninu Gardna. I'm the freig
ht master of the Aladna Hill. Down there." She pointed to the large transporter that was being unloaded. "Please meet Hal Nedrong and Lona Brant, First Officer and Captain of the Aladna and, of course, our good friend Iliminos." She pointed to the young Teladi.
"Business partner," the Teladi corrected promptly.
"Oh, of course", Ninu laughed.
Nopileos peered through the window in the direction of the gangway that led to the Nyana's Fortune. The Split was gone.
The Argon that Ninu introduced as Hal Nedrong caught Nopileos' eye. "His name is Cho t'Nnt. An unpleasant character. We had a little… confrontation with him when we were registering the Aladna in the port administration office." Hal Nedrong carefully moved his hand over his right eye, which stood out against a patch of dark blue skin.
Nopileos was slightly surprised, not having realised the Argon could change their epidermal colouring at will. "Well, I had a small confrontation with him too – one that ruined his destroyer's shield generators," he quickly explained.
Lona Brant, whom he had tentatively labelled a female, said: "That was a Python-Class destroyer wasn't it? I'm impressed. What's your name?"
Before Nopileos could open his mouth, Iliminos answered for him. "His name is Isemados Sibasomos Nopileos IV, grandson of the Ceo – and the richest Teladi in the entire universe!"
'Salamander pudding!' Nopileos thought to himself as an embarrassed silence fell. Iliminos was still very young – much younger than twelve suns and he probably had a second job as an advisor. Therefore, one should excuse him for throwing out things that he would be better kept to himself, but - egg salad! That every Boron knew about him didn't bother him much; but having each and every Teladi that crossed his path recognise his face was frustrating. He snorted through his nostrils and wiggled his ears. "Certainly not the richest Teladi. But, as it seems, the most famous, unfortunately."
"Brother!" he added after a short pause and shot Iliminos a sharp look. The young Teladi didn't know what to make of it but fell silent.
Nopileos pointed through the window with his claw. "That's my ship over there, the Nyana's Fortune."
"Nyana's Fortune?" Nedrong said, "Curious name for a Teladi ship."
"Nyana and Martinus, the great heroes of the Battle of Antigone!" Ninu shouted with enthusiasm, "a beautiful, tragic love story!"
Nedrong wrinkled his nose. "As beautiful as that ship…"
"Yes, that it is… wonderful, like an egg," Iliminos emphasized, his gaze fixed on the yacht.
The Argon threw him a look, the meaning of which would remain a mystery to the two Teladi. He looked down at his freighter and raised his eyebrows, crumpling his forehead. "Be that as it may - the Aladna Hill's cargo will be finished unloading soon and we're going back empty for a change so we're going to have to say goodbye now – we don't want to be fined for a delayed departure."
Ninu Gardna nodded in agreement and stroked a thick strand of her long hair out of her face. "Back to the Cloudbase – back home", she said.
Nopileos was surprised. "I would have guessed Argon Prime."
A vague smile tugged at the corners of Ninu's mouth. Her eyes dropped and she hesitated a tiny moment, as if she weren't sure if she should really say what was on the tip of her tongue. "No, I am a Goner", she finally said. "My mother is a Beholder of Truth at the temple." The weak smile suddenly gave way to deep worry. "She's very sick. My Argon friends here are refusing a really good deal to bring me to her as fast as possible."
Iliminos wiggled his ears and made a snort that was barely audible. No one noticed him. In a gesture of sympathy Lona Brant took Ninu's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Nopileos didn't understand much of inter-human relationships, but the small gesture touched his hearts and suddenly he realized that humans – whether Goners or Argons – weren't such strange and incomprehensible beings, like many Teladi seemed to believe. Maybe – just maybe – his supposed colleagues were the stranger beings?
"If there is anything I can do for you, Brother Gardna, please let me know. Anytime!"
A small tear formed in Ninu's eye and rolled down her cheek. But she brushed it away quickly and a faint smile settled on her face once more. "Thank you, Nopileos. And it's Sister Gardna."
"Oh… I beg your pardon! Isn't that the same thing?" Embarrassed, Nopileos twisted his ear back and forth between two fingers.
Ninu shook her head. She made a soft laugh. "No, not in the least!"
Nopileos apologized again and said goodbye to the four, wishing Iliminos "good profit", which made him marvel at himself in hindsight. He hadn't even meant it in irony!
CHAPTER 18
Often more is said by keeping the silence.
Novalis
Milano Mission Control started the countdown at 11:09 p.m. Central European Time. Marc activated the pre-jump sequence, re-orientated the ship with the attitude jets and activated the main drive. Unlike the X-Shuttle the USC Getsu Fune had an ion drive and, although it was energy efficient, acceleration was low.
"T minus four", Marc reported, "All systems go, no problems encountered." Elena scanned the instruments and called confirmation. She could feel the change in pitch of the singularity engine in the vibrating hum of the hull plating.
"Don't worry, we'll keep our finger on the abort button up to the last moment," the Milano Controller said. "T minus three."
"Don't get too trigger happy on the Abort," Elena cautioned. "I'm good to go."
At T minus two the vibrations soared to a roaring pitch but she could feel a slight irregularity in the beat as the ship gently shook like a comfortable car driving over a gravel drive with an occasional pothole.
Electric blue tongues of energy lapped around the broad expanse of the cockpit windows and began to rotate faster and faster until they formed a dazzling, flashing vortex. The cockpit glass darkened in response and Elena could barely hear the countdown over the rising static storm. Her instruments still registered green across the board but Elena knew that Kyle's problems had begun during the "hot" phase, just 30 seconds before jump initialisation.
The countdown continued on the main display panel, in large red digits.
33, 32, 31, 30, 29 - an abort was impossible now!
It began like fear in the pit of her stomach and slowly extended to her extremities and her sense of balance, making her feel a little drunk. The heavy gravity of the singularity containment field continued to play havoc with the curvature of local space and she gritted her teeth against the rising nausea.
By T minus five seconds the vortex had interweaved and deepened into a tight, glistening blue tunnel, spinning around its own centre at an accelerating rate.
Above the static howl she could hear the USC Getsu Fune groan in protest against the greatest of tests of its structural integrity. Sweat trickled into her right eye and, no longer insouciant in the face of the enormity of her mission, she willed her racing pulse to slow.
T minus one second.
Jump!
Silence fell like an abrupt blow and the only sound she could hear was her own gasping breath. No vibrations, no static and no electrical glow remained. The cockpit transparency increased slowly to display stars like tiny blue gems shining against the black of space. The nausea remained but Elena dismissed it as an adrenaline side-effect rather than a space-time distortion.
Nothing had happened, she thought, the drive had failed, despite the impossibility of aborting the final stage of the jump sequence. Not even a total power failure could do that. No! It must have worked! It had to.
"Marc, try and get a fix on our position," she said, as breathless as if she'd broken the 800 metres track record and angry at her inability to bend her body's autonomic system to her will.
"Working," the onboard computer answered.
They'd gambled and either won or lost and there was nothing she could do about it now but wait for the computer's verdict. Half a minute went by and with each second her hopes rose. Marc would have identified familiar star patterns instantl
y, if he was still busy with the problem after half a minute, this could only mean he was comparing ever-changing constellations with the real stars outside.
While Marc kept busy, she managed to bring her pulse back to normal using meditative techniques. Then she ate an over-salted nutrient bar for food therapy.
She realised she was on her own, regardless of what Marc found. The mission started now and she'd better be prepared for the unexpected. Kyle could be light-days, even light weeks from the transit point. The volume of space she'd have to search was, and she forgave herself the pun, astronomical. She would spend a day searching the immediate locale. After that she'd wing it.
Elena activated the gravidar and immediately switched it off and counted to five before reactivating it.
"Marc, there's a potential problem with the gravidar."
The display flickered for a split second before Marc answered in his usual tone of bored indifference. "Gravidar self-diagnostics negative on malfunctions."
Elena leant forward and frowned. "That's quite… quite interesting!" she murmured.
The scanner showed dozens, hundreds of beyond visual range contacts with masses that indicated small to medium sized craft. And they were moving. A handful of contacts were huge and stationary. Space Stations?
For centuries humanity had so feared attracting hostile attention that it hadn't dared poke its nose beyond the ancestral system and now it appeared she had stepped right into a wasp's nest. Extraterrestrials or descendants of human colonists, friendly or hostile? For a few seconds she considered attempting to return immediately to Earth to inform her superiors of her discovery, which in the grand scheme of things weighed more than a single human life, even Kyle's. If something happened to her those 'blips' could be bombarding her home planet tomorrow.
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