StarShip Down

by Darrell Bain

  Seeing the small ship on the screen and knowing it represented conclusive evidence of another sapient species in the galaxy so excited Seemeena that she spoke out of turn.

  “A ship! A ship! Look, look! We're no longer alone!”

  Siessani hurried to her side as did the other four members of the sextant but lingered for scant moments, taking just enough time to verify Seemeena's excited outburst (whom she knew she would have to apologize to later for doubting) and hurried back to the control room of their ship. Her hands flew over the globes, touching, changing, almost caressing them in her eagerness not to lose sight of the other craft. Finally she had it locked in and there was no chance of it escaping their attention.

  “What shall we do?” she asked, then answered her own question. “I believe we must follow them to their home base then circle for a hundred or so falls before landing so they can get used to our presence. Even so, I have to believe they will be as excited as us at contacting another intelligent species. This is a great moment!” The exultant emotions of her and her fellow sextant members were passed on to the other sextants and soon they were as enraptured as the Fortina Sextant was.

  “Listen! We're receiving a signal of some sort from the opposite direction!” Seemeena called from her place in the control room. She turned the volume up.

  “We should follow the ship!” Seissani said, making an instant suggestion. The others quickly agreed and the signal gradually faded and soon was gone. Only the direction from which it came and whatever sense the signal contained was recorded for possible later use but at the moment none of the sextant was concerned with it at all.

  “Isn't a hundred falls a long time to wait?” Seemeena asked. “Even translating to this planet's units, it seems an overly cautious approach to me.”

  Fiirmina, a third member of the sextant, flicked both ears and gave a whistle of laughter to emphasize the movements of hilarity at the thought of translating the standard fall, the length of time for a weight to fall a standardized distance in vacuum into this planet's time.

  “We mustn't hurry,” Siessani said emphatically as reason took over. “Just because we've been searching for other sophants for so long doesn't mean they have, although I'm sure they'll be as jubilant at contacting us as we are them. However, note the size of their craft and its method of propulsion and the fact that we've not captured any emissions indicating civilization as we know it here.”

  Her reasoned sentiment served to dampen the excitement somewhat but by no means kill it completely. She gestured to Fiirmina to hurry and tell a member of another sextant her feelings. Her friend rushed off, her head fur trailing behind her she moved so fast. The others flicked their ears in amusement at the speed with which she was carrying out the suggestion but they really couldn't blame her. They all felt exactly the same way themselves.

  Later, the emotional high fell somewhat as the craft they had been following touched down amidst a very small and crude settlement. Their own ship was so silent that none of the creatures even looked up but it did give them a chance to observe their appearance.

  They were bipedal, just as their own species was but seemingly almost hairless because they wore what looked to be artificial coverings. The parts of their bodies visible were bare but ... colored in different shades, just as their head fur was. It is curious, Siessani thought, but then what could you expect from aliens? By the very definition of alien they would have to be different, wouldn't they? What was surprising was the way they conformed to the biological speculators who theorized that appendages freed for tool making were necessary for intelligence to develop. That wasn't the only criteria of course, but it was certainly one of the important ones.

  “Surely this can't be their only settlement,” Siessani mused aloud. “There are very few of them present, no more than a sextant squared.”

  “And such a simple and unsophisticated settlement as well. Surely there must be more to it. Underground, perhaps?” the youngest sextant member who rarely spoke offered an opinion.

  “Perhaps it is merely an outpost. Or what if ... what if they are explorers also?” Siessani replied. The thought just came to her.

  “No,” another said. “That ship is no interstellar craft, not unless its method of moving faster than light is radically different and much more advanced than ours. It is too small.”

  “You're right, Crimaakai,” Siessani conceded. “I really doubt it can be an interstellar ship. Most likely what we're seeing is a simple outpost and their principal living areas are somewhere else.”

  “Whatever it is, I believe they've spotted us,” Crimaakai observed. “Look at the way they're waving their arms around and looking up. They weren't doing that on our last pass.”

  “So we must reach a consensus. How much longer?”

  The sextant quieted, suddenly realizing how many of them had been speaking and how much they had said already when the other sextants had yet to be informed. It was embarrassing but allowable, given the circumstances. Siessani, as the one who usually spoke first suggested a time period and the rest of the sextant agreed to it with alacrity. One of them rushed to tell the other sextants. They were all eager to land and begin relationships with the aliens. Siessani had to remind someone to tell the sextant's male.

  * * * *

  “By God, that's another spaceship! We're saved!” a man yelled excitedly, momentarily forgetting their status as escaped convicts, and with the return of the tender, as kidnappers and murderers.

  “It can't be!” Esmeralda exclaimed. “We're so lost, an earth ship could never find us and the odds are astronomical of a second ship's computer going wrong and it coming out at exactly the same place.”

  “So what is it?” Morehill asked as he shaded his hand and stared upward. He had almost forgotten the new women in the excitement of seeing the huge ship traveling quietly in a large circle above them. Esmeralda must be right. It was certainly an interstellar craft but obviously with a much better method of operating in atmosphere than the one they'd arrived in. He remembered the bumpy, scary ride and the crash-landing very well. He had thought they were all going to die.

  “It has to be aliens,” Esmeralda said simply. It was the only answer possible. “But goddamn,” she muttered, “of all the stupid places and ways to meet them this had to be the craziest anyone has ever imagined. A group of escaped convicts, murderers and kidnappers has to be the worst possible representatives of humanity.”

  Morehill glanced at her but ignored her muted outburst. “Aliens? You mean bug-eyed monsters? Like in the shows where they invade earth?”

  “I doubt they'll be anything like the stories, Crag. I see you brought some more females back with you but I don't see Brad. Where's he?”

  “Never mind him, he's dead. They got lucky. What I want to know is what in hell to do now.”

  She had to laugh. “You're asking me?”

  “Yes, goddamn it, I'm asking you.”

  “I think all COESS ships and tenders have first contact protocols in their files. Probably the aliens have the same thing.”

  “How do I get to them?”

  “That I don't know. I was just a substitute co-pilot, you know.” She had been more than that but she wasn't about to let him know. There were still those two pistols in the concealed compartment in the tender's cabin but so far she had never had an opportunity to use them.

  “You're no help. But if that's an interstellar ship then by the Devil's asshole, I'm gonna capture it.”

  “Crag, don't—”

  But he wasn't listening. Visions of forcing the aliens to find earth and take them back home had already formed in his mind. He hustled to arrange guards and a secure place outside for the new prisoners while he called everyone else together and outlined his plans.

  “No one starts shooting until we've got them outside their ship. Keep your weapons under your shirts until I give the word. I'm going to ask them politely to see the inside of their ship and if they don't, we'll force them. Regar
dless, this is our big chance. One way or another we're gonna take this ship and then make them bugs take us home. You with me?”

  A chorus of excited assents met his proposal and he began to get them organized. He didn't dare put so many prisoners in the tender nor did he trust their former guards. In the end he made them all, new and old captives, sit down in the shadow of the tender and placed three guards over them. Just as he finished that, one of his men called out.

  “Hey, they're coming down! They're gonna land!”

  “Okay, everybody put up your guns but keep ‘em handy. We don't want to lose our ride home!”

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Travis couldn't sleep for thinking of what might be happening to Sissy. He knew he should be concerned for the other women and he was but it was Sissy who stayed in the forefront of his mind. He could think of little else, not even the fact that an alien starship had probably landed at the convict base and they were probably talking. Or more likely, fighting. As often as that fact ran through his mind it never stayed more than a moment before thoughts of Sissy displaced it. It finally took a good mental shaking the next morning by Addie to get him back into the proper mood for a captain. She had sat down beside him in the officer's section of the dining room very early in the morning. She took one look at his face, then let him have it.

  “Captain, did you sleep at all last night? You don't look as if you did.”

  “No,” he confessed shortly.

  “Have you thought about what it means that we're going to meet some aliens?”

  “No. All I can think about is Sissy.” He picked up his coffee cup, saw that it was only half full then remembered the rationing. He also saw that his hand was trembling and quickly put the cup down without drinking. He saw Addie looking around to see if anyone else was present yet then she faced him with worried eyes and began speaking in a low tone of voice.

  “Travis, you can't just think of her,” she said, using his first name deliberately. “Remember every one of those women has someone who cares for them. And if that's not enough to get your mind back in gear, start wondering what kind of impression the convicts are going to make on the aliens for a first contact. For that matter, just imagine all the lies they're going to tell them even if they don't get violent.”

  He glared at her for a moment then realized his eyes were watering. He brushed a knuckle across them and resumed staring.

  “And it won't do any good to glare at me. You're our captain, so start acting like it.”

  The fact that he was sitting still for a chewing out by his chief science officer was what finally broke through his worry and grief. He gave her a bare nod of assent and picked up his cup again. He drank, set it down and sighed heavily.

  “You're right, Addie. You're absolutely right. I should never have let my grip slip like it did. It's just...” He shrugged helplessly.

  She reached across the table and patted his hand. “It got to all of us, Captain. In fact, it got to Terrell and Sandy and the machinists and engineers so much that I heard our tender is going to be ready by tonight.”

  “Really?” He sat up straighter. “I guess I have been goofing off. That's a full twenty-four hours sooner than they told me it would be!”

  “Right. And Bill said his troops were going to be ready to go.”

  He had to stop and think for a moment to remember that Grindstaff's first name was William. At the same time another thought occurred to him. Brandon wasn't going to like it but there really wasn't much choice. He tapped his wrist and waited.

  “Masters here.”

  “Brandon, this is the captain. I need to see you as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir. Where?”

  “My cabin. Ten minutes.”

  * * * *

  He was right. Brandon didn't like it.

  “But, sir, you can't be risked! You're the captain. Captains don't go on ground assaults any more than they go on boarding parties.” He looked earnestly at his senior as well as his friend, wondering what had brought this on. Surely it wasn't simply heroics, insisting on risking himself in order to be in on the rescue of Sissy? And the others of course. That wasn't like him.

  “Ordinarily, I'd agree with you, Brandon. And if you recall, I did agree originally that you were the logical choice to go on the assault of the convicts and rescue our people. And to try and execute those convicts on the spot if you decided it was both necessary and expedient to do it there. But the aliens have changed all that.”

  “How so, sir?”

  Travis could see that he was willing to be convinced, albeit reluctantly, but so far he hadn't been.

  “Don't you see? The senior person of our species has to be the one to meet with an alien species if at all possible. That becomes especially important if those goddamned convicts cause as much trouble as I'm almost certain they will. In fact, given their position I don't see how they could do anything else. They know that eventually we'll come at them if we have to walk across the continent to do it.”

  Brandon rubbed his chin then splayed his hands out on the desk between them. He gazed directly into Travis’ haggard face.

  “That's all well and good, sir, but are you up to it? Right now you look like hell warmed over, if you'll pardon me.”

  “I'll pardon you. Yes, I know I look like hell but I'm in my right mind and physically capable of doing whatever is necessary. I won't be doing any of the fighting, though. That's not my job, any more than it would have been yours. Talking to aliens is. I'm sorry, Brandon. I know you were looking forward to getting your licks in against the cons but as my executive officer, you have to stay here in case I don't come back. In fact, there's no one else other than Grindstaff I'd feel comfortable leaving in charge but he's army. Addie might be able to handle it but she's already swamped with all the new science. So that leaves you because I don't want us to wind up with anything that has even the appearance of a military dictatorship. For that matter, neither does Major Grindstaff.”

  “I guess that's a compliment, Captain, so thanks.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Well, it looks like I have just a few hours to catch you up on the brief for the attack. No, wait! Now we have to do things just a bit differently, I'd imagine. The aliens. Damn it. With everything else, we weren't thinking of them.”

  “I've already been considering what to do. I'm afraid I'm going to have to give orders that may cause casualties. More so than we anticipated originally.”

  “What kind of orders?”

  “Regardless of what's happening, no one is to shoot an alien unless they are directly threatening that person. Even then they are to shoot only to wound if they can decide what part of it to fire at.” He smiled slightly at the attempted humor. “Even if it's the difference between them getting shot by a convict and hitting an alien by firing back, they're not to do so. We're going to have plenty of troops to overcome them. They can't have that many weapons, even with the ones they captured yesterday. All the women weren't armed. People had gotten a little slack and I was intending to raise hell with them about it. I guess it's a good thing I didn't get around to it or the convicts would have even more guns now.”

  “Whew! I'm glad it's you giving those orders and not me,” Brandon said grimly.

  “Whatever we do we can't take a chance on alienating the aliens. Any further than the cons already have, unless I miss my guess.”

  * * * *

  “It looks as if they've separated into two groups to meet us,” Siessani said as the ship came gradually lower. “I wonder why that is?”

  She expected an answer this time since she had framed the question as one for consensus and resolution, if not now then on the ground when they met the new species.

  “Perhaps they form groups larger than sextants?” one member said.

  “But they're not the same size! Their members differ in number!” Fiirmina retorted.

  “Curious, but I suppose it's possib
le,” Seemeena said. “Regardless, this is so exciting! I suppose they'll think we're whackythockies if we continue speaking to them as much as we have to each other like we've been doing!”

  Siessani suspected Seemeena was right. They had been talking a great deal where ordinarily a single sentence would have been thought of and mused on and the viewpoint of the others considered thoroughly before finally offering an opinion. Of course there were some exceptions to the rule, some professions where the sextants had to speak and reach consensus quickly, such as emergency care, piloting, a crisis in a gravity generator or such. This wasn't a crisis as such, but still there was a necessity for rather quick decisions. Of course the astrogation and control sextant she belonged to had come to an extremely fast consensus when the little alien craft had been spotted during deorbit. There was never a question of not following it to its home. In fact, she had made the decision herself, but the others had quickly concurred so she didn't feel any guilt about it.

  Now the object of consensus was how many sextants would leave the ship to greet the obviously waiting aliens. Naturally they all wanted to be on hand for the first meeting between intelligent species in history and from the messaging back and forth between sextants, she thought that was exactly what would happen. She and her sextant had the final decision but she was already certain they would allow all of the sextants to go outside and meet their new friends and exult in the joy of finding other sophants and see and look and learn all the different ways they did things. There was no question of whether or not they would be friendly. Every philosopher male and every xenologist of the race assumed that much. Why on earth would they not? An intelligent species would naturally never offer violence to another. The idea was ludicrous. Siessani twitched her ears and whistled to herself for even thinking such a thing then passed the humorous thought on to her fellows as a means of releasing tension during the final descent.

  * * * *

  “Now you're not to be involved in any of the fighting, Captain,” Grindstaff said emphatically. “Neither is Murphy, Mannerheim or Wu. I trust you'll tell them that? Particularly Sean. He's young and may want to get in on it.”