But that was a 'worst-case-scenario,' the worst imaginable, reality was a totally different thing. And Kyle was her friend, the best she'd ever had.
Major Elena Kho did not have a reputation for either ignoring or creatively re-interpreting direct orders, and normally she would have tried to act according to her best sense of her superior's intentions. The possibility of contact with alien life or artefacts, even human descendants, had been discussed in the briefings and she clearly remembered the words of Admiral Molander:
"In the event of contact we recommend an immediate return to Earth. Even human colonists should be considered extra-terrestrials after all this time. But if a direct threat to the planet can be excluded, I'll leave things to your discretion."
Could a direct threat be ruled out? No, certainly not at this moment. Elena decided to reduce the scheduled one-day local search to two hours. After that she would decide whether to return directly to earth or to continue her rescue operation. With a little luck her gravidar had a greater range than the alien detection devices and she'd remain un-noticed in the swarm of ships.
Time to start conducting a little research.
She began to manually shut down unessential systems to reduce her ship's EM profile. "Marc, are you detecting any communication signals? If so, how many and at what distance?"
This time the onboard computer answered promptly. "There are 117 distinguishable carrier signals and an unknown number that can't be separated. There are an additional four stationary transmitter stations of considerable power, the closest of which is 2.2 light-minutes distant."
It was the longest coherent sentence she'd heard from Marc so far, but it didn't register, the content quite outshining the form.
"Exact position and nature of that signal," she demanded.
"Audio, video and multi-channel transmission. Position on the display."
The gravidar zoomed in to display a 3D chart centred on the USC Getsu Fune with a triangulated point identifying the transmission source location. Marc overlaid the visual scanner view, still showing nothing but stars.
"Marc, can you make anything of all these signals you're receiving?"
"Make anything? In what way? Please specify."
A logic level of 1.6, Elena reminded herself. "Can you make them visible and audible? How are they broadcast?"
"Positively. The signals are broadcast in a variation of a protocol that was made obsolete 241 years ago."
"And you're able to understand it?"
"Positively. This unit is able to understand the protocol in question."
Did that sound a little bit proud? No way! Elena was beginning to appreciate the 'outdated' computer. She liked Marc's short, precise manner and the fact he answered the question without burdening her with extra information or opinions like a modern AI would.
"Let me see the closest transmission we're receiving."
A window opened in the gravidar display, picturing a pale green, two-dimensional oval laid on a slightly darker green background divided up into small, six-cornered scales. Written in large ochre tinged letters that shimmered like glittering stars was:
WJASL ITZAK SHOSH
The standard Earth alphabet! Elena, still doubting her own eyes, listened to the audio component of the transmission. It was a synthetic voice, which fizzed with static but the classical Japanese came through clear.
"Attention, unknown Goner space ship! We cordially welcome your presence in the approach corridor of space station High Finance. Please do not deviate from your flight path and await personal instructions from one of our space traffic controllers. Please confirm."
"Do they mean us?"
As the computer didn't answer, she rephrased the question Marc-like. "Marc, is this transmission targeted at us?"
"Positively. The data channel indicates that a ship at our position is the addressee."
According to the gravidar there wasn't any other ship quite near the USC Getsu Fune. If what Marc said was true, the signal really was targeted at them! But what the hell was a 'Goner space ship' and why did they take the old Earth vessel for one?
"Marc, confirm the reception of the message."
The computer complied to the order, while Elena sharpened the visual scanner display and a dark silhouette appeared at a great distance.
Four minutes later the green oval with the senseless writing disappeared from the display, making room for something different.
And this 'something different' moved and looked at Elena with glowing red eyes!
"Aolekosis Kissandras Minosos I is speaking, space traffic control. Though we doubt that we will be able to do good business with you, Goner, we still welcome you. Exact approach corridor and docking bay are being transmitted. Nice daynight indeed. Rajá."
CHAPTER 19
Sometimes people say we Teladi didn't have any form of artistic talent. Don't listen to them, colleagues. How, if not by artful mastery of our talents, had we ever hoped to become the greatest financial power in the universe?
Bomandrolas Sisinfinos Niandeles VIII
Sales manager SE
He covered the last few fathoms to the gangway with quick steps and directly opposite the entrance to the transparent docking tunnel, he discovered a few shops that he had overlooked. The businesses were built into the wall of the station, and their showcases, behind transparent energy barriers that crackled and fizzed at the edge of his hearing, displayed a smorgasbord of the strangest things.
The sign above the first shop read 'Iginaras Communications and Modern Sorcery' - electronics, in other words. Next to it sat a cafe called 'The Moneypit'. Moneypit? Nopileos pondered. The tenant definitely wasn't a Teladi! He planned to visit the cafe sometime later because the absurd humour tickled his scale fin.
The third and last shop in the immediate vicinity was modestly called Ebelon Souvenir. Acting on a sudden impulse, Nopileos stepped up closer to the display window. Here were the most peculiar things laid out - a scale-scraper in the shape of the station; a message drone, which really belonged in the electronics shop next door, but had obviously landed here because of its tasteless, bright yellow colour; postcards of a bird's eye view of the idyllic island archipelago Hila-Ambriel on Desolum VII; two ugly ceramic nitsus, one far more hideous-looking than the other; an inconspicuous, functional rectangular jobber in a depressing shade of grey; and an unusual round-bellied device with a long neck strung with wires. A little card sat next to the item and something was written in phonetic Argon: Gi/tar. Nopileos couldn't make heads or tails of it.
But what finally grabbed his attention and refused to let go, was a handmade sculpture that was half as high and wide as the peculiar argon device and did not seem to represent anything in particular. It stood on a dark green base, slowly changing form like a big chunk of liquid rubber that couldn't quite decide which form it wanted to solidify in. Its colours flowed hypnotically in muted tones around the artwork's top.
Nopileos felt almost irresistibly drawn into the shop. It was filled with all sorts of odds and ends that confirmed what the display window hinted. No clear common theme marked the items offered for sale. An old Teladi with dark red eyes wearing, in contrast to the younger generation, nothing but bare scales, scuffled towards Nopileos.
"What can I help you with, Colleague?" He asked in a drawl. If the old lizard recognized him, he didn't let it show, which was quite alright with Nopileos.
"Well…" Nopileos hesitated for a moment. His eyes wandered to the display window.
"The sculpture?" asked the old reptile. "Many of our people inquire but no one wants to buy." He laboriously shuffled to the display window with scraping claws, and took the sculpture in his hands.
"Who made it?" Nopileos asked.
"A crazy Teladi. Who else but a lunatic would make something that fascinates members of our species, but which no one would ever buy because it has no purpose? Whose colours repulse Boron, and which all others simply find ugly?"
The old reptile handed over
the sculpture to Nopileos. It felt exactly the way it looked - soft, warm rubber that writhed a little in his claws, as if it were alive. On it's base, Nopileos discovered a tiny, silvery engraving written in ancient Teladian hieroglyphs: Ianusis Gonareos Ianusis VIII. The name of its creator.
"An artist," Nopileos answered the old Teladi's rhetorical question.
The old lizard snorted through his nostrils. "Artists, lunatics… an Argon might think otherwise. But profit is what counts for us Teladi, and art…" He stopped to take the sculpture from Nopileos' claws, "Art is only profitable if someone buys it." He turned to place the strange object back in the display window. "But this piece of art" – he emphasized the words with irony – "is priceless as an eye catcher and therefore, young colleague, it's not for sale."
"Not even…" Nopileos began.
"Not even for the Ceos' offspring, no," the old trades-reptile interrupted, giving a cunning wink with his red eyes. "But feel free to look around, perhaps you would like to purchase something else, oh honourable Isemados Sibasomos Nopileos IV?"
"Thank you very much, but I'm really perfectly happy," Nopileos declined.
He made a mental note of the artist's name. Perhaps he would be able to find him? It was possible that he still lived or at least had descendants. On the basis of direct succession of Teladi genes it was not a rare occurrence that artistic abilities, intelligence or business instincts would show up repeatedly in subsequent generations of a family line.
Nopileos made a snap decision: he would not rest until he had found every last Teladi who had a talent that didn't rely on careful management of credits. Artists, musicians, free thinkers of every kind – yes, he could already picture the first ever Teladi non-profit organisation! And he would begin the search with the sculpture's creator, Ianusis Gonareos Ianusis VIII!
Nopileos politely thanked the old Teladi and said goodbye. Deep in inspired thought, he left the shop on fast claws without looking to either side and immediately ran into someone and stumbled to the floor. Unhurt, but surprised, he looked up and found himself staring right into an energy weapon's emitter.
"Creature! I crush it under my feet!"
It was Cho t'Nnt. The stocky, massive Split barely felt the collision but now irritated, had drawn his weapon in a fraction of a sezura. How dare this lowly life-form get in his way, let alone touch him? His orders were of utmost importance and he had suffered enough delays already and the Patriarch was unforgiving of failure. This green pile of misery wouldn't get in his way ever again though; he would free him from his miserable lot. Cho deactivated the trigger safety but he didn't get to fire.
A thin, towering figure with leathery, yellow skin and three watery eyes set into a strangely shaped skull, was suddenly behind Cho, striking the weapon out of his hand with a bony multi-jointed arm and then shoving the Split roughly aside. "This soulless creature is not holy enough for it to be killed!" the Paranid proclaimed with a growl.
"How dare you!" Cho screamed, inflamed with rage.
Not caring that his weapon lay within easy reach at his feet or that the Paranid was at least two heads taller, he dropped into a fighting stance. It was a mismatch as the Paranid were extremely fast and deadly close-quarter fighters. Only a Split would dare to attack one with bare fists – and would lose his life as a rule.
However, this Paranid was not looking for a fight and he simply snaked his long, jointed bony arms around the enraged Split and pinned Cho's hands against his back. "The Split should calm down. To kill a Teladi in this station would endanger our sacred mission."
Cho t'Nnt struggled in futility against the powerful Paranid.
Nopileos, whose scale-plate had taken on an ashen hue, shook himself out of his fear-induced paralysis and saw his chance to get away while the two beings were still bickering. The transparent bulkhead barring entrance to his ship was only a few Teladian fathoms away. Grabbing a small, grey object that had fallen unnoticed out of the Paranid's pocket he then crawled to the gate as fast as he could. The mechanism acknowledged him immediately and opened automatically. Nopileos rolled through and the gate slid shut behind him. He stood up on shaky legs and, without taking a single look around, ran as fast as they would take him until he had reached the Nyana's Fortune's airlock and the welcoming red lighting of the ship's elevator.
"Inani… Computer, take off! Destination: Boron. Immediately! Full thrust! Now! And shields!"
By the time the hover platform brought Nopileos to the pilot's pedestal, Inanias had already received clearance, paid the inevitable penalty for the unscheduled launch, and preheated the engines. As the still trembling Teladi threw himself into the pilot seat, the gigantic airlock gates opened and let the yacht out into free space.
It wasn't before the trade station was just another tiny star amongst many on the rear screen that Nopileos found himself able to think clearly again. Inanias tactfully had left him in peace and silence. Only then did Nopileos notice he was still clinging compulsively to the small object the Paranid had lost during the uneven fight with the Split. It was a data octahedron of Paranid design.
"Can you make something of this?" Nopileos asked the computer softly and held the octahedron up high. He didn't feel at all well, having been brought to within a scale of his life. Adventure is all well and good, he thought, but that was more than just a bit too much! Maybe he should become a respectable trades-lizard after all, instead of trying to found a non-profit organization! He snorted and gave instructions to the automatic kitchen to prepare some green wonton soup. That would put him right.
"Captain Nopileos, I've downloaded the data octahedron's contents to my memory banks and broken the ridiculously primitive encryption. Should I summarize while you eat?"
Nopileos agreed and as he made his way to the kitchen on Deck Four, the computer reported the information the data octahedron contained:
Several Split, Paranid and other species' stations had detected and verified the arrival of an alien spaceship no more than half a tazura ago, at the outermost edge of the Teladian realm. The craft didn't correspond to any known designs and had appeared without any advance warning, without the use of a jump-gate. It had emitted a multi-frequency radiation burst that had caused a strong gravitational pulse of a type produced only by collapsing neutron stars, and it was this alone that drew attention to the unknown vessel.
Naturally the spacecraft's appearance had awakened the Paranid's greed, but they were much too far away from the event to be able to intervene at an opportune time. Thus, they had used diplomatic channels to ask the Split - or, to be more exact, the Patriarch of Chin - for help. The octahedron even held the exact coordinates at which the alien spaceship could be located at this point of time.
Nopileos sat open-snouted in the kitchen, the wonton soup untouched. He wasn't hungry anymore and had even forgotten about the frightening meeting with Cho t'Nnt. A strange, wholly unknown spaceship – here, within the sectors of the Commonwealth of Planets! Totally exotic life forms – perhaps they held the solution to the unanswered riddle of the jump-gates? Maybe a new technology that didn't need them? At any rate, this was certainly evidence that the species of the Commonwealth weren't alone in the entire universe and that in itself would change the world-view of the many billion inhabitants of this galaxy forever!
"Inanias, set course to the alien jump ship's coordinates!" The computer obeyed. "And send the contents of the data octahedron to the Ceo," Nopileos added after a brief hesitation.
"Why certainly, oh Captain Nopileos," Inanias studiously replied. The computer didn't find it necessary to mention the fact that he had sent a message drone to Company Pride with the octahedron's content already, even before Nopileos realized that he still held the device in his claw. It just didn't seem worth mentioning, especially since the Ceo's explicit instructions coincided with Nopileos' commands. Nopileos was eccentric, no doubt about it, but he would never withhold important information that could harm the Teladi people. The computer composed a note to this
effect, to send to Ceo Isemados at the next opportunity.
Nopileos gulped down the now lukewarm soup. Soon he would meet beings that no one had ever seen before.
Egg Salad!
CHAPTER 20
Course.setCourse[_%e00FF00FF00FF00FFset%ei].byOS [4D6963726F536F66742057696E646F7773205445202863292032313135]00FFl_ified00FF00FF00FF{fail%re}
Terraformer Core dump,
historical excerpt
The tiny, flashlight-shaped ship, bearing all the hallmarks of a missile, was no larger than a human forearm. Undetectable by even the most sophisticated sensors because of its reduced gravitational wake and an absolute speed near c. Propelled by an ultra-miniaturized M/AM system, it couldn't be seen either, it was too fast; the bright lightning of its main propulsion system preceded the missile itself only by fractions of a sezura, obeying the laws of special relativity.
Continually recalculating the shortest possible route to the next jump-gate it adjusted its trajectory with short but precise pulses from tiny attitude jets, even if it meant skimming asteroids and shooting unhindered through meteorite deflectors of close by ships as if they didn't exist. It passed sprawling nebulae clouds, their gases excited to a riot of colour by the stars they veiled, traversed solar systems of planets banded by rings of ice, and skirted the corona of a bloated red giant, cleaving to the most direct route with absolute precision.
With an electric flare that burned the last remnants of fuel, it accelerated through the final jump-gate and at a velocity just a few decimal points below c the now dark object hurtled through the system known by the name of its rulers, the Family Chin.
The flashlight-shaped ship was nothing more than a message drone. For an eternity, scientists had been looking for a way to transmit signals with a speed greater than that of light. Although this was clearly possible under lab conditions, it would never work in free space because of some of the more delicate physical details. So if it became necessary to transmit information from one solar system to another, tiny spacecraft became commonplace, consisting only of a propulsion system, fuel tank, memory, computer and radio-unit. The drone would store the message, begin its journey with the highest possible acceleration and radio the contents of its memory somewhere near the addressee. Owing to its high acceleration, a message drone was impossible to intercept or destroy even moments after it ignited its propulsion system. It could penetrate weak energy shields unharmed and escape even the titanic gravitational fields of neutron stars.
Farnham's Legend: The beginning of the X-Universe saga (X Games Book 1) Page 13
