Explorations: First Contact

by Isaac Hooke

  “I see,” said Nylund, simply.

  “The neck, Captain. Like most lifeforms, remove the head and it dies.”

  The Mu’d raised its head and flared out its proboscises. Nylund couldn’t help feeling it was defiance, a threat even, and in that moment he knew, without doubt, that if the situation was reversed, the Mu’d would kill him without hesitation, without mercy. He had never before encountered something truly evil, but the creature before him gave that feeling. Evil, the Mu’d were evil, he could feel it in his bones.

  Nylund looked to Mr. Jones, “Why didn’t you defend yourselves? You have the technology, the Mu’d can’t have been that far ahead of you, surely.”

  Mr. Jones looked down, a completely human gesture of sadness. “The Mu’d didn’t give us chance to retaliate, Captain Nylund.” The image of the man looked Nylund in the eyes, challenging. “As soon as they arrived, they began bombing us. Dropping massive metal rods from very high orbit. Simple and effective. And cheap. While bombarding us, they also dropped biological and chemical agents onto our cities. The few space stations, satellites and ships we had were destroyed. Only then did they land, to eradicate us. We didn’t have a chance, Captain. We were not a warring species. When we discovered that there were other intelligent races in the galaxy, we did build some defenses, in case of aggression. But we weren’t prepared, what we thought of as weapons were mere toys against the Mu’d. We didn’t understand; we couldn’t imagine the reality of war.” Mr. Jones paused for a few seconds. “Now we do, Captain Nylund. We understand war only too well. The Mu’d didn’t even want anything, Captain. They didn’t want our world, or anything on it. They came, they destroyed us, and then they left.”

  Nylund suppressed a shudder; the Mu’d hadn’t even tried to engage with the Terrakine, they had simply come to kill them. Evil.

  “Kill it, Captain,” said Mr. Jones.

  Nylund hefted the blade in his hand; it was a fine tool. Well balanced, and it looked keenly sharpened. It wouldn’t be hard to slice off the Mu’d’s head with it. One easily placed swing and the evil creature would be dead. He couldn’t take his eyes off the blade in his hand.

  “Kill it, Captain. Its species is responsible for the genocide of the entire Terrakine race. How many other races have they destroyed? How many more will they destroy?”

  He looked at the Mu’d: it was truly an ugly thing. It looked evil. Smelled evil. Its kind had eradicated untold numbers of Terrakine without warning, without reason. If the Mu’d ever reached the Earth they would do the same thing there, Nylund was sure.

  He couldn’t do it.

  “I won’t kill it.” But maybe I have just killed my crew, he thought. “Look at it, it’s helpless! It’s standing there in chains and you want me to just murder it? Would that be justice? Would that bring back your people? No. It would just be murder. I’d be no better than them. You’d be no better than them.”

  Nylund expected to die on the spot, but Mr. Jones just stood there watching him, looking like he expected more, expected something. He could feel tears on his face, raw emotion painful in his throat. He thought of his children, grown up now of course, and his wife, dead for over a decade. He had no regrets. He would not murder a living, intelligent being.

  “Kill it, Olafur.”

  “Go to hell,” said Nylund, and threw the blade down at Mr. Jones’ feet.

  Without warning, the two Terrakine and the Mu’d disappeared, making Nylund jump. He looked around; the hangar was still empty except for Mr. Jones, the table, and the blade on the floor. Mr. Jones was looking at Nylund with a kindly smile.

  “Captain Nylund, you are a man of honor. We can only hope that your species hold the same values that you do. There was no Mu’d, just an image and sensory cues.” Mr. Jones’ smile faded and a look of infinite sadness replaced it. “There are no Terrakine, Captain Nylund. The Mu’d killed almost all of them. Just a few survived the war, if you can call it a war. Extermination would be more accurate.”

  Nylund stood silent, listening to Mr. Jones speak.

  “A small number survived because they were on an exploratory vessel. This vessel. They were a long way from home. They received transmissions—some of which you saw—from their world, and fled, knowing there was nothing they could do, except survive the destruction of their people. The crew of this ship eventually died of old age, millennia ago, Mr. Nylund. I alone remain; a construct, an artificial entity. Safeguarding what little remains of the Terrakine in the hope that one day their knowledge will be passed on.” Mr. Jones paused, to allow Nylund a moment to reflect on what he had said. “I have a recording of the captain’s last command. I have translated it for you.”

  An image formed a few meters from the pair. A Terrakine stood before them, holding something like a stylus and datapad, looking up as though into a recording device. It seemed to be looking directly at Nylund and Mr. Jones.

  The old Terrakine spoke in a gravelly voice, “Keep our race alive, if only in memory. Be the safe-keeper of our knowledge, our history and our culture. Pass it on to worthy successors, let them benefit from our wisdom, our learning, and yes, our folly. Do not let us disappear silently into the night, un-mourned and un-remembered by an indifferent universe. But also, do not let this knowledge fall into the hands of those who would turn it against others. If anyone comes to take our technology, or our science, and desires it to become a weapon of war, you must send them on their way and destroy this ship and all its accumulated knowledge. The desire for war leads to only one end: death and destruction. No one wins a war; at best they merely survive it. If they are lucky.”

  The image disappeared. Nylund couldn’t find any fitting words, so he stayed quiet.

  “I have refitted, rebuilt and advanced this vessel beyond anything my creators could have imagined, Captain Nylund. I have had a very long time to do so. It is now yours. Use it with wisdom, not malice. I will be here to help. There is technology on board to use against the Mu’d, Captain. One day, they may find your world. They should not be allowed to eradicate any more races from the galaxy. I believe you would use it only in defense. I hope the rest of your species has such nobility.”

  There was much to do now. Nylund hoped his face didn’t give away his lack of faith that the UEF would see things in such simple terms of black and white.

  “Thank you,” said Captain Nylund.

  Nick Bailey Bio

  Nick was born at a very young age in an uneventful part of the West Midlands, England. Star Wars was released when he was six years old, and the path was set. He met the co-author of Liberator, Darren Bullock, at school and things just got worse. They had to write made-up stories just to stave of the boredom, so it was inevitable that books would be created. Nick assures us that he is, in fact, still alive

  Buy his debut novel Liberator here!

  Sleeping Giant

  By PJ Strebor

  CHAPTER 1

  Admiral Susan Skarsgaard took her seat and buckled in. The shuttle was too small to accommodate the alien artificial gravity, so it was back to old school space ethics. Within minutes the shuttle slid from her berth aboard orbital space dock Gagarin and engaged her drives. At the age of fifty-nine, Susan acutely felt the gees pressing her body into her padded seat.

  They wouldn’t be going far today, so the drives shut down before passing point one two of light speed. In the last twenty years they had gleaned much from the damaged alien sphere, like the powerful thrust engines in use by all nations participating in the First Contact Federation. Within twenty minutes the shuttle rolled over and applied braking thrust to slow her.

  The dark side of the moon had been a very busy place over the years. Susan unbuckled and floated to the flight deck. Through the forward view-plate the darkness was lit by banks of lights surrounding the alien sphere. Nicknamed the Lost Sister, the sphere was bathed in brilliant light emanating from the surrounding superstructure. She looked much the same as she had twenty years ago, but her damaged beauty seemed taint
ed by humanity’s intrusion into her interior. Although her intelligence had been forever corrupted, the relatively small fragments of knowledge gleaned from the Sister had advanced human science by a hundred years.

  Susan found her brief reunion with the Lost Sister to be both uplifting and painful. However, the Sister was not Susan’s primary destination. Leaving her behind, an object began to take shape ahead. With all running lights on, the first contact ship Nomad sat in frozen geosynchronous orbit awaiting her arrival. One final farewell before she headed out into the great unknown. Well, not exactly unknown. They had the location of the planet, but that was all.

  “We’re about to go aboard, admiral,” the pilot said.

  “Very well,” she replied.

  Floating back to her seat, she buckled in and braced for the return of normal gravity. Unlike the shuttle, Nomad was large enough to employ the alien artificial gravity tech.

  As soon as they breached her landing bay, the gravity pressed her into her chair. Susan took several deep breaths until the fireflies disappeared from her vision. I’m getting too old for this caper. The years had been reasonably good to her, but with the age of sixty fast approaching she wondered how much longer she could continue this most fun of all fun rides.

  The hatch opened and Commander Steven Albacore stepped aboard.

  He held out his hand and Susan shook it.

  “Welcome aboard Nomad, Admiral Skarsgaard,” he said, with the crisp efficiency of a machine.

  “Thank you, Commander,” she replied rising from her seat.

  Albacore took the steps to the deck and held out his hand.

  It was just that sort of presumptive attitude that had galled Susan from the first day she met him.

  “Thank you, Commander,” she managed to say in a pleasant tone, “but I’m not ready for an exoskeleton yet.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he snapped.

  No you’re not, you little prick.

  “If you’ll step this way Admiral, the,” he cleared his throat, “Captain is expecting you.”

  She didn’t trust her voice to betray her feelings, so replied with a brusque nod.

  The elevator took them smoothly to deck one. They exited, walked down the short corridor and onto Nomad’s bridge.

  “Admiral on the bridge,” Albacore snapped.

  The crew snapped to attention.

  “At ease, Nomads,” she said.

  I’ve told him not to do that, but it’s like trying to talk to a child.

  Stepping to the ready room hatch he hit the buzzer. The hatch slid open and they stepped inside.

  Captain Elizabeth Millard stood from behind her desk.

  “Admiral Skarsgaard, Captain.”

  “I don’t care for your tone, Commander,” Susan said in a tenor to freeze a plebe in his boots.

  “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Bullshitting dung muncher.

  “That will be all, Commander,” Elizabeth said.

  “Aye, aye,” he darted a sideways glance at Susan, “Captain.”

  When the hatch closed the two old friends embraced.

  “That dickless wonder could be quite a handful for you, Lizzy.”

  “Who, him? Nah, I’ll have him eating out of my hand before we’re halfway there. Don’t give it a thought, Admiral.”

  “Admiral?”

  “Susan,” Elizabeth chuckled. “I’m still getting used to calling you that.”

  “You’ve come a long way since I first spotted you at Dartmouth. And we’re friends, right?”

  “Much, much more than that. You’ve been my mentor, supporter and friend for twenty years. I love you like my own mother.”

  “Even when I was busting your chops?” Susan said around a smile.

  “I eventually figured out that the chop busting had a purpose to it.”

  “And you took to every challenge with gusto and never gave up,” Susan said. “That’s why I recruited you for astronaut training as soon as you graduated the academy. Everything else you took care of with guts and determination. And more than a little smarts.”

  They both took seats.

  “I read your shakedown cruise report, but give me your personal impressions.”

  “Fairly normal,” Elizabeth said, “as the sims predicted. One transition out to Alpha Centauri, a few drills, then back. The crew performed flawlessly. I’m very proud of them and my command. Nomad’s the biggest and best in every way. I’m getting butterflies thinking about what we’ll find out there.”

  “Nomad is a combination of twenty years research and is the most technically sophisticated vessel ever built by humanity. You and your crew will be going further into the galaxy than any human has done.”

  “Where no one has gone before?” Elizabeth smiled.

  “Yeah, funny.”

  “We’re here because of you, Susan.”

  “Me? I haven’t done that much.”

  “Really?” Elizabeth rubbed her chin as she examined the overhead. “Let’s see. First human to examine the Lost Sister. First person to board her and check out her interior. First person to test the smaller replicated version of the displacement drive. That one nearly got you killed, but you took your ship out four more times until you ironed out the bugs. Then they sat you in the big chair and you’ve been keeping First Contact Federation on track ever since.” Elizabeth shook her head. “And you say you haven’t done much.”

  “I couldn’t convince the Chinese and Americans not to do independent journeys. That makes a mockery of the Federation and the United Earth Foundation.”

  “It was expected that they would go it alone from the beginning,” Elizabeth said. “I still can’t figure out how a Yank got aboard a European Union ship.”

  “The Americans are still coming to grips with the concept of a United Earth. And your token Yank is here because they want one of their own on our mission. And their influence was none too subtle, I’ll tell you. You’re stuck with Albacore. Sorry.”

  “Like I said,” Elizabeth said, “I can deal with him.”

  “Had to push to get a Brit appointed as captain, as well. After your people pulled out of the EU forty years ago, well, let’s just say certain members have long memories.”

  “It only lasted a year before the British people came to their senses,” Elizabeth said. “With few exceptions my crew represents every nation in the EU. And they are a brilliant group of techs and scientists.”

  “They should be,” Susan said, “you trained them.”

  “The same way you trained me.” She smiled ruefully. “But perhaps with a tad less arse kicking.”

  Susan was about to respond when Elizabeth held up her hand and touched her external mike with the other.

  “Captain,” she said. Elizabeth listened for half a minute before replying. “Very well, Lieutenant, I’ll be out shortly. Captain out.”

  “Time to go?” Susan asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “God, I envy you,” Susan said.

  “We can always make room for one more.”

  They both chuckled at the thought.

  “This is a young person’s mission,” Susan said. “No room for relics like me.”

  They hugged one last time before stepping onto the bridge.

  “Safe journey, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Admiral.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “Point two nine. Point three of light speed captain,” the helm officer reported.

  “Point four is what we’re after, Lieutenant Hong.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  He continued to count the speed as Elizabeth keyed her comm.

  “Chief Engineer, report.”

  “Thrust engines are purring like kittens, Captain. She could make point six if we pushed her.”

  “Perhaps another day, Commander. Captain, out.”

  Beside her Commander Albacore examined his readouts and yawned.

  “Three point eight,” the helm reported, “three point nine, point four of light
speed Captain.”

  “Very well, helm officer, prepare to engage the displacement drive.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  “Number one?” she asked Albacore.

  “We’re green across the board.”

  Captain. Elizabeth stifled a sigh of frustration.

  Her board contained similar green readouts.

  “Helm, engage star drive. And Adam, ease us up to maximum steadily this time.”

  “Aye, skipper. Engaging, now.”

  Nomad, and her crew of two hundred and six, disappeared from the universe.

  The transition to light speed was undetectable to human senses. No jarring, no sensation of a colossal increase in velocity, nothing. Her readings, however, indicated that Nomad had already reached two times the speed of light, and was increasing steadily.

  Unlike the alien sphere’s enormous drive, Nomad’s smaller drive could not take them all the way to the Delphinus constellation in one transition. Since they were passing close to it, she had orders to check on the American first contact ship Columbia, which had been selected to investigate the Pegasus Constellation. A lazy fifty light years from Earth, Pegasus was half the distance Nomad would need to travel to her destination. Their journey of ninety-eight light years would test both ship and crew.

  CHAPTER 3

  Elizabeth keyed her comm. “Captain.”

  “Captain, we have a problem with the drive,” Chief Engineer O’Toole said.

  “Is it serious, Andy?”

  “Not yet, but I’d like to reduce speed while I check it out.”

  Elizabeth gave the matter some thought. “Very well, how about we drop out of light speed altogether?”

  “That would be ideal, Captain.”

  “Helm, reduce power, steadily, to zero and prepare to transit to normal space.”

  “Aye, skipper.”

  “Is that advisable?” Albacore asked. “We have no idea where we are. I suggest—”

  “With me,” Elizabeth said, and stepped into the ready room. “Commander, if you wish to discuss such matters with me you do it here, not in front of the crew. I’ve told you that before. So what is it? Do you have a hearing problem?”