Space Scout - The Peacekeepers

by S A Pavli

  “I had some help.”

  “Somebody found you?”

  “Yes, but nobody you know. Nobody anybody knows.”

  “Nobody… anybody…. knows?” He leaned forward, his grey eyes glaring out of the screen.

  “Yes admiral, aliens. They fixed my ship and sent me on my way.”

  “Jesus Christ Constantine, if this is a stunt, I’ll….!” he was temporarily lost for words.

  “No stunt admiral. My AI has all the evidence. It has happened. An advanced alien civilisation, more advanced than us. And they want to get to know us. Is n’t that nice of them?” He leant back in his seat, his face a picture of amazement. I had to laugh. “Admiral, it had to happen some time. Don’t be so amazed.”

  “More advanced than us you say?”

  “Yes, in some areas. But not in others.”

  “Are they, peaceful? I assume, since they rescued you and released you, they must be?”

  “Yes they are, very much so. They hate violence.”

  “All right, no point discussing things now. When is your eta?”

  “Alfred?”

  “Two days, six hours, thirty five minutes.”

  “Approximately,” I added.

  “Right. I’m catching tomorrow’s shuttle and will see you in the SES orbital station. In the meantime, you don’t communicate with anyone.”

  “Aye admiral.”

  “And Constantine, if this is some kind of hoax, you will be cleaning out the cages at the LA zoo.” The admiral’s face disappeared and I had to chuckle at his last statement. Manera had made the same threat to the stroppy robot on the emergency network, to which it had replied that cleaning out the cages at Mentilak zoo would be better than its current job! I remembered those desperate moments trying to escape from the doomed starship which was plunging into the planet’s atmosphere and about to break up.

  “Miss you baby,” I murmured.

  “Excuse me Paul?”

  “Alfred, sorry, just talking to myself. You heard the admiral. Set course for Earth to rendezvous with the SES station.”

  “Course set Paul, engaging inertial drive, please brace yourself.” I felt the rumble of the rockets and the gentle push of acceleration. I re-oriented myself to what was now the floor and waited for the acceleration to settle to the normal half ‘G’. This would continue for a number of hours until we reached our cruising speed. An equivalent number of hours out from Earth we would decelerate in order to achieve orbital insertion.

  “Right Ho Alfred. Can’t put it off any longer. Time for me to finish my official report of the trip.” Although Alfred had the details of everything that had happened to us recorded on his permanent storage, it was up to me to prepare the summary, a structured report which my superiors would peruse before diving into the details. Normally this was a straight forward catalogue of the planets visited and their various uniformly uninhabitable environment. In this case, it was obviously far more than that and I was struggling to organise and present the complex information and dramatic experiences in a coherent way.

  “Lots of coffee Alfred. And keep it coming!

  Chapter 3

  The SES Orbital station “Cyclops” was a one hundred meter wheel, rotating at a speed that created a quarter of a standard ‘G’. It was surrounded by a number of specialised structures for servicing and re-fuelling starships. It was an imposing sight, not the largest orbital, but certainly the most technically advanced. Beneath us, the spectacular blue green orb of Earth swam in starry blackness.

  “Has it only been twelve weeks since we left Alfred?”

  “Much water has passed under the proverbial bridge,” replied Alfred.

  “Indeed,” I agreed. The Lisa Jane was inching cautiously into one of the mooring docks, a huge skeletal structure equipped with a plethora of arms, gantries, docking modules and connectors. I could see the operators inside the bulbous control cabin, which looked like the head of a giant exotic insect, examining their instruments, but the piloting was being done by Alfred and the docking computer. The Lisa Jane would get a full service and check up, then be re-fuelled for the next trip out.

  I had packed my personal gear, just one bag with my ‘civvies’ and personal effects, and it was waiting for me at the airlock. There was a series of remote thumps and whirrs, the ship lurched and then came to a stop.

  “Alfred, it has been an experience.” I knew that I had not seen the last of Alfred. We would be working together to document the details of our trip, and I was still the captain of the Lisa Jane, if there was ever going to be another trip. “Thanks for everything, you have been amazing. Above and beyond the call of duty, and all that.”

  “Thank you Captain. It has been an honour to serve under you.” I delivered Alfred a crisp salute as I exited the ship into the airlock. I confess, it was an emotional moment, as the experiences of the past three months passed before my minds eye.

  Transport to the main station was via small ship to ship ‘tenders’ , basically just a square box with manoeuvring thrusters following pre-set routes. It took a few minutes to disconnect from my ship and lurch gently across to dock with the main station. I exited the air lock expecting to find a reception committee, and was surprised, and just a little disappointed to find only the tall lean form of the admiral waiting for me. I saluted casually, and the admiral returned my salute, equally casually. We didn’t go in for too much military strutting in the SES.

  “Captain.” He nodded his greeting. He was never one for exhibitionism, but I did think he could have been just a tad more excited.

  “Admiral,” I replied.

  “We’ve set up an interview room. There are some people who want to talk to you.”

  “I’ll bet there is,” I grinned. He looked at me askance but made no comment. We made our way down the stations main connecting corridor, passing a number of people, male and female technicians who ignored us both. I followed the admiral into a large conference room which was full of people. I counted six men and five women. Half of them were wearing the SES uniform, the rest were civilians. As I entered they all stood and started clapping. A few cheered, and some shouted their congratulations. There were broad grins everywhere and I grinned back. I recognised a few of the SES staff, and two of them stepped forward to shake my hand. One of them were fellow captains, the American Tim Wright, and the Frenchman Alain Constance.

  “Paul, that’s fantastic man. What news!” Wright was enthusiastic, and clapped me on the back effusively.

  “Thanks Tim, thanks Alain, just luck of the draw guys.”

  “Can’t wait to hear all about it mon ami,” said the Frenchman, grinning broadly. “Aliens. And they look so human. That is incredible!” The others crowded around to shake my hand and shout congratulations and a melee ensued. After a minute the admiral’s voice cut across the hubbub.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, please be seated, let us begin the de-briefing.” Order was gradually restored and I was seated at the front of the room with the admiral to my right and a handsome grey haired civilian man to my left. He looked vaguely familiar but I could not quite place him. “Let me make the introductions,” continued the admiral. “You all know Captain Paul Constantine by now. This is mister Juan Cortez, head of the UN Space Exploration Service. My boss, and yours.” He nodded at those of us wearing the SES uniform. “This lady, Ms Lorna Jane Peters is head of Communications for the SES. This gentleman is Major General James Cameron, military attache to the SES.” He pointed to a grey suited middle aged man sitting to the left of Lorna Peters.

  “The other ladies and gentlemen are scientific staff and others who have been seconded to carry out the analysis of the data from Captain Constantine ship and to prepare summaries and reports.” The admiral looked around him and put on his most serious face. “Suffice to say,” he continued. “That everything which takes place in this room and to do with this project is top secret. I know that you are all dying to get out and blab this to the world, but we are not ready to do s
o until we have all the facts. Is that clear?” There was a muttered “Yes Sir” around the room and a nodding of heads. “Let me hand over to Mr Cortez.” He nodded to the grey haired gentleman and sat down.

  I remembered that Cortez was an ex-captain of the SES who had served with distinction, discovering the fertile planet Aurora, which was almost a copy of Earth and was now the major destination for colonists. He was a USA citizen of Latin origin.

  “Admiral, officers of the SES, Ladies and gentlemen, it is a pleasure and a privilege to be here,” he began. “This is truly a momentous event and I welcome Captain Constantine and congratulate him on a fantastic achievement. But before we release this momentous news to the world, and throw Captain Constantine to the worlds media…” he paused for a second and smiled at me, earning a titter from the audience. “…we must assess thoroughly the nature of these aliens. Their level of development, their culture and attitudes and particularly of course, their military potential. Remember, they do not yet know the location of the Earth, thanks to Captain Constantine’s careful adherence to the rules of first contact, and it is up to us to recommend whether contact should proceed.”

  “Recommend whether contact should proceed? Are you serious!” I could not contain my outburst and Cortez looked startled.

  “Er… Captain, hopefully that is an academic question. But it is something we should consider.” I was tempted to respond but decided that it may be wiser to control myself.

  “If you feel that’s necessary. But I assure you, the Hianja are not just peaceful, they utterly abhor violence.”

  “Then we won’t have a problem Captain,” he smiled. I nodded my agreement and he continued.

  “The reports we prepare here will go to the United Nations, and to the governments of all the world. Ms Peters …,” he turned and indicated the smartly dressed young woman, “…is responsible for supervising and preparing the reports and transmitting them through the usual channels. Our job is to give her the raw data. Captain Constantine will be available to answer questions and give you his personal view. The announcement of this momentous event will be made by myself, as head of the SES, at the United Nations. Now, let me hand over to the most important person in this room.” He turned to me with a smile and a wave of his hand. “The Captain will take us through his summary report, his own personal account of his experiences. Then we can all begin work.”

  There was a lectern at the front of the room, which interfaced with the large screen on the wall. I was used to giving these summary presentations at the end of every trip, but usually to an audience of two or three scientists. This was going to be a very different experience I was sure. I was also aware that the whole thing was being filmed for posterity. The price of fame Paul I told myself as I strode to the front.

  It was not, in the end, as painful as I expected. They hung on my every word with total concentration, ‘oooh’s’ and ‘aaah’d’ at the scary bits, asked a lot of questions and were almost shocked into silence at the end. We had a coffee break, then a winding up chat from Cortez and the admiral and then I was escorted to my small room by the admiral himself. It was equipped with a bed, toilet and shower, and a small cupboard for my personal effects. I could not help but compare it with the spacious apartments I had shared with Manera on the Hianja ships and Space Stations. It did not even have a window; the rotating station made for a vertiginous view of a wheeling Earth and starry heavens!

  “Remarkable experience Captain,” he said as he prepared to leave me. “You have conducted yourself well. A credit to the service.” He clapped me on the shoulder and shook my hand. “Well done, well done.” It was unexpected enthusiasm from the admiral and I thanked him warmly.

  “Freshen up Captain and we will see you for lunch in half an hour.”

  “How long will it take to complete these reports admiral?” I asked.

  “Ah, a couple more sessions should suffice for these first releases,” he said. “But of course, as you can imagine, the detailed de-briefings will continue on Earth for some time. Then it’s up to the politicians.” I nodded.

  “Thanks admiral. See you later.”

  The next two days passed quickly, but I became impatient to get it over with. Re-living the experience reminded me of Manera, and the good friends I had made amongst the Hianja. I began to feel as if I too were an alien being interviewed by these inquisitive Humans. The only relief was in the ‘evenings’, after work I would get together with the others in the station bar and restaurant to eat, drink and socialise.

  It soon became apparent that at least two of the women wanted to make their name by sleeping with the person they thought would become one of the most famous men in history, namely yours truly! Now it is true that I have a reputation to maintain and would normally have been very pleased to provide the ladies with that privilege; however, the vision of a certain beautiful lady with azure eyes and a tall lithe figure kept getting in the way and I had to reluctantly disappoint them. This was a new situation for me and was I puzzled, pleased and frustrated by my new found morality.

  But the time came when I could say my farewells to everyone and disembark onto the orbital shuttle. The admiral had informed me that I would, for the immediate future, be staying in SES accommodation until the announcements were made, then I would be ‘wheeled out’ to the media, as he put it.

  “The best place is the SES training HQ in Florida,” he said, as if I had a choice. “You will be inconspicuous there and free to enjoy the facilities.”

  “Why not go home to London?” I asked.

  “We need you close to hand and accessible,” he replied. I thought this was a vague answer but decided not to push it. The campus in Florida was fully equipped with technical infrastructure. It also had pools, Gyms, bars and restaurants and was on the coast between Miami and the Cape. If I was going to be temporarily incarcerated, I could think of worse places.

  I was the only passenger on the shuttle. The trip was uneventful, and I was met at the Cape by a couple of rugged looking individual in military uniforms. The senior of the two sported sergeant’s stripes.

  “Captain, we have been assigned to escort you to your accommodation.” he explained. His younger associate obligingly took my bag and they took me through the reception building to the car park where a large and sumptuous limousine awaited us, driven by a third equally tough looking individual.

  “What have I done to deserve this VIP treatment?” I quipped.

  “We’re the admiral’s normal escorts sir,” said the sergeant. “Don’t normally escort Captains,” he added. “You’ll be using the visiting VIP suite at the SES training centre.” He looked at me curiously. “Something going on?”

  “Sorry guys, I’m sworn to secrecy.” He grunted noncommittally and waved me into the car. I couldn’t help wondering why the admiral was going to such lengths . Was he protecting me, or keeping an eye on me? It was looking suspiciously like the latter.

  Chapter 4

  The SES Training HQ was both a technical school for all aspects of Space science and technology, as well as an astronaut training centre with all the necessary advanced aids for familiarising astronauts with the essentials of surviving in Space. The training was combined with frequent trips to orbit in order to sample the real thing of course. It did not just train Space Scouts but also crewmen, engineers and pilots for the larger starships that followed up the Scouts discoveries. At any one time it would accommodate 60-80 astronauts in various stages of training, both male and female.

  I had some fond memories of my own six months stay at the centre. I had, in a sense, re-discovered myself there, taking to the work with a real desire. I had found a new niche in life, and loved it. I had also made a number of close friends of both sexes, mostly platonic with a couple of exceptions. The uninhibited English redhead Jennifer Jane Proctor, training as a Systems officer. And not forgetting, how could I, the blonde Scandinavian trainee pilot, Alice Jensson. Tough no nonsense Alice whose career was more important
than our relationship. The thought occurred, you can eat your heart out now baby, I’m well over you ! But then I chastised myself. Grow up Constantine, you’re bigger than that.

  My military escort dropped me off outside the accommodation block and handed me a card key.

  “Stateroom 301. Third floor,” he said tersely. “You wanna go anywhere off campus let us know and we will take you. Looks like you’re an important man Captain.” He also handed me a small clip on communicator. “That’s tuned to me.” He patted his own clipped to his lapel. “Have it with me all the time.” I nodded and took the communicator. I knew very well that it wasn’t just a communicator but also a tracking device.

  “Good Ho!” I said cheerfully. “We can have some nice chats if I can’t sleep at night.” I smirked at him and he gave me his non-committal grunt again, jumped in the car and roared off. My bag wasn’t heavy so I took the stairs up to the third. There were four staterooms on that floor. I opened the door to 301 into a spacious alcove leading to a large open plan living area. There were two doors leading to the bedroom and the large luxurious bathroom. Wide picture windows provided a view of the ocean and a long narrow strip of beach. In the distance a long pier served as mooring for a number of different sized boats.

  “OK Very nice. But why the security?” I asked myself. “Do they really think I’m going to get drunk and blab everything into some female’s shell like?” On the other hand, given my reputation they may be justified.

  I unpacked the small number of personal effects and checked out the room’s facilities. It was getting late so I decided some dinner and a visit to the bar was needed before settling down for the night. The walk across the quadrangle brought back memories. Students sat and chatted on the open air seats, others were reading. It was early evening and the sun was peeking over the horizon, the outdoor lighting casting bright pools of light in the early dusk. The restaurant, bar and recreation block was across the square, through some landscaped gardens.