by Isaac Hooke
The shuttle finally took on something akin to normal movement, as it began to fly with, rather than just through, the air. The noise, still stupendous, began to normalize, and then, almost shockingly, it suddenly flexed into familiarity as Raf fought the shuttle onto the perpendicular at last.
It was all but over. Smiles filled the cabin.
And with that, Scott finally lost his lunch.
“Doctor!” exclaimed Nathan, dismayed at the breach of protocol.
“Oh dear,” said Shellie, then thumbed at her restraints, glancing at the Captain for approval. Rob nodded. They were through the worst of it, and Shellie was clad in a powered battleskin, as was Raf. There was little that could hurt her now that entry was behind them.
Shellie sent the release command to the clips on her suit’s back, stepping forward even as the straps retracted back into her drop-seat.
She grabbed at a small chamois towel from a locker above their heads, truly an essential travel tool, and set to helping the scientist clean up, even as the captain also stood, coming over to Raf as the nose cone shielding began retracting and the view in front of them opened up.
“May we all stand?” said the Ambassador, somewhat meekly, feeling a little reticent, perhaps, after his stark rebuke of the unfortunate doctor.
“I wouldn’t,” said the captain, without turning to him, and he left him to stew in silence.
They were over water. They had been ordered to remain so until their speed had normalized. As the shuttle became an airplane at last, an alien voice came to Nathan, its words piped to all as they had been aboard the Sphere-ship, and quickly translated by the Hub transponders in everyone’s headgear.
“Your entry has been noted and approved. The coordinates remain the same. Indul awaits.”
The small landing party was silent for a second. Raf’s eyes remained closed, but a smile was spreading across his face, which was echoed in the Captain’s expression when he glanced at Shellie.
They should not mock. They were, in all sincerity, deeply honored to be here. This was a monumental event. Though it was occurring, in some form or other, fourteen times across the quadrant, this remained, at least for them, humanity’s First Contact.
But ‘Indul awaits?’ Really? Was this Vegas? Shellie did not say anything. She knew that Nathan would not stand for any frivolity here. They were to take this seriously, and indeed they all did. Their years in transit may have dulled the newness of it all somewhat, but that was past now.
As Raf maneuvered, now with the careful smoothness of a chauffeur, Shellie finished up with the doctor and stood, coming over to the rear bulkhead, and readied herself.
The Ambassador Espéce stood now also, permission or no, and cleared his throat.
“I know I need not remind you of the importance of this day, and your roles in it. Not since Columbus has one civilization met another of equal scale. The outcome of that meeting, and the fate of that civilization, remains one of humanity’s greatest tragedies. That will not be the story told after this.
“This will be a meeting of equals, a sharing of wisdom, and a beginning of a long friendship. These people, our records tell us, have a uniquely peaceful outlook. They have not known war in nearly a thousand years. They are so non-violent that they are even wholly vegetarian, as a society. Something I, for one, applaud.”
Shellie nodded. She had not believed it, at first. But the records gleaned from the Lost Sister were explicit. No murder, no killing, no slaughter. Not for centuries. These people had absolutely banished violence. The Lost Sister’s crew, long dead now, had expressed noted respect for them, an unqualified respect.
Shellie had come to feel the same way, for the most part, barring an inexorable skepticism. She’d seen too much in her military career. She didn’t do blind faith. She’d wait to see if they lived up to the hype. But in truth, she was very excited about it all. And when Nathan’s eyes met hers, Shellie saw real excitement there as well, and they shared a moment of true accord.
This was going to be historic.
Nathan nodded, appreciating the real sincerity. He had more to say. More approbation, more caution, but he set that aside now, as the crew grinned elatedly at each other.
“Indul awaits.” Nathan said with a broad smile, and the entire crew beamed.
Delegates
The wide field was bare of buildings for almost as far as the eye could see. On the horizon to the East, showing above the lush woodlands that hemmed the landing area, a skyline could be seen. It was a long line of definition behind and above the hazy green of the shoreline park they had been directed to.
The distant skyline was punctuated by the great, stocky pyramidal towers that were the staple of Indulakan architecture, each strung with lazy lines that seemed ethereal from a distance, but which Nathan knew were in fact massive cable-bridges, thicker than their shuttle was wide.
The Indulakans didn’t do a lot of building; in fact most lived an agrarian lifestyle. Almost all urban life was focused into about thirty mega-cities across the great landmasses at each equatorial pole. These mega-cities had once been the capitals of very different nation states, but were now the regional hubs of a single, planet-wide society.
Nathan brought his mind back to the moment, to the group of individuals walking across the field toward them. It was a large group, or rather a large line, as there didn’t seem to be much organization to speak of, just a gaggle of Indulakans ambling their way. Slowly.
The shuttle’s crew, all except Raf and a still rather disheveled Scott, had disembarked, and stood now in the knee-high, darkish green grass that covered the landing field.
They waited. The Indulakans were not small: they each massed about twice that of an average human, though their quadrupedal lope and squat rear legs meant that they stood only about five feet tall.
Nathan shifted slightly on his feet. It took a moment to be sure the Indulakans were even moving, but as the portly creatures got nearer, Nathan could make out the pendulous roll of the broad shoulders, and could see the long, two-elbowed forelimbs shuffling along.
After a long while, he could also make out the two-part head. Atop the shoulders sat what Dr. Moon had termed the ‘ocular cranium’, a squat head on a thick neck with two eyes set almost at its edges, underlined with three gill-like flaps.
The second head—the ‘oracular cranium,’ or ‘mouth-head’—hung between the creature’s shoulders on a long neck, and held a wide mouth, filled with flat teeth, and another single nostril. Which of the two heads held the brain was unclear, if indeed the Indulakans had one distinct brain at all.
Nathan glanced back at the ship and saw Dr. Moon peering out from the hatch, giddy at the sight before him. In a rare moment of affability, the Ambassador shrugged, then waved the man down onto the grass to join the main party. They had rebreathers covering their faces anyway, and who was he to say how they would smell to alien noses. What was a little vomitus between species?
The doctor held well back, though, and Nathan nodded his appreciation before turning back to the still coming Indulakan delegation, which they could now see was hundreds strong, and spreading out to surround them.
By Nathan’s side, Shellie tensed involuntarily and her hand slid down to find a gun she did not have. No weapons had been permitted on the surface. None at all, by universal mandate.
At last, the two groups were face to face, and one of the Indulakans loped forward from the rest, Nathan stepping firmly but slowly forward to meet him.
Words came from the mouth slung under the Indulakan.
“Badhaee ho, bahut haardik rahe hain. To chintit! Prabhaavee, naatakeey dvaar.”
All the nearby Indulakans barked quietly at this.
Nathan waited a moment for the translation, “Congratulations are very hearty, if concerned. Effective, and dramatic entrance.”
Nathan bowed, bringing his face level with the alien’s, breathed deep and pronounced, “Shubhechchha. ham kee peshakash shaanti aur dostee.”
They would be the only Indulakan words he would attempt today, but he had practiced endlessly, and he was deeply relieved when the group around him began barking in pleasure and repeating the last two words, Shaanti aur dostee, shaanti aur dostee. The words echoed out across the crowd. Peace and friendship.
As part of the initial diplomatic exchange from space, the Indulakans had asked for a copy of their translation algorithm. Nathan had been happy to acquiesce, but was still surprised when the lead Indulakan’s mouth-head rose up and carefully formed, “Peace and friendship!”
The barking, a low and infectious bass thrum, rose in volume, and then the crowd, the herd, was ambling forward once more.
The Lost Sister’s records had spoken of this, but it was still surprising when the first of the big creatures stepped up to Nathan, who was still bowing slightly, and brought his lower-head up to sniff and rub Nathan’s faceplate and shoulders.
It was a sign of welcome, but no amount of warning could have prepared the small crew for the slow herding in of hundreds of the four-hundred pound beings, wide heads swinging upward and draping over and around them.
Shellie and the Captain fought it for a moment, not physically, but with the stiffness of a haughty butler, before finally giving in to the simple gesture.
Even the Ambassador let out a laugh.
“Wonderful!” he said, almost giggling, a giddiness that was echoed by the anthropologist, Scott, having the time of his life.
Questions
They sat in a circle, still in the same field by the shuttle. The Indulakans had offered the human delegates something akin to stools, but seeing that the Indulakans intended to sit on the floor, Nathan had politely refused the proffered seats and joined them.
Sitting now, the height difference between the two races was reversed, and Nathan, Jacob and the doctor looked like children seated at the adults’ table. The captain and Shellie remained off to one side, happy to observe for now, their military roles an anathema here anyway.
After more detailed introductions, the Indulakans had, without preamble or any sign of officiousness, rearranged themselves. The alien who had been seated by the doctor, for example, had simply wandered off when he realized that there was someone nearby whose expertise made them a more suitable companion for him. But another, more enthused Indulakan replaced him, and soon the two were engaged in conversation.
Nathan endeavored, for about ten minutes or so, to control proceedings, to maintain some order. But the Indulakans were interrupters. They liked to pipe up, and soon the supposedly formal assembly had broken down into a series of huddled conversations, each veering wildly off ‘approved’ topics.
“And these…nostrils,” said Dr. Moon, pointing at the flaps below his companion’s eyes. They were not, it had become clear, a bashful species. “These are for smelling as well? They have olfactory sensors?”
The Indulakan looked pensive a moment, mumbled something to itself, seemed to get a reply, then warbled in assent, “Yes, yes. But very weak. Ambient. But not subtle. This is nose.” It brushed one of its chubby toe-fingers against the nostril above its mouth, picking it absentmindedly, “This is for real smelling. Like smelling your nausea from descent.”
The doctor looked shocked, seemed to consider denying it, then gave in to the simple honesty and said, “Yup. That’s a smell, all right.”
The Indulakan, who had introduced himself simply as Zuvan, looked confused then warbled out an Indulakan laugh. “Embarassment is funny,” it said after a moment.
“Indeed it is.” said Scott, smiling broadly, then in a gesture that was already surprisingly natural, he leaned forward and rubbed his cheek on the side of Zuvan’s shoulder. Zuvan’s lower-head came up and brushed against Scott’s shoulder in return, the beginnings of a friendship already burgeoning.
Across the circle, the elderly physicist Jacob was just as engaged with his two neighbors.
“So, just to confirm,” said Jacob once more, “the Waluun gravity is only three quarters that of the rest of the equator?”
“78% is accurate.” Then, “Is a quarter an important fraction to you? You refer to it often.”
Jacob shrugged, “Err, not really, no. It’s just a way of simplifying. We humans like to simplify…and to exaggerate, I suppose.”
The two Indulakans looked at each other, though only with one eye each—which remained the one truly disconcerting thing about them for Jacob—then one of them said, “Simplification only good for ones who do not really care.”
Their eyes now both swept to the side, then back, a gesture Jacob took as meaning, ‘you know, like the rest of these schmoes.’
Jacob pondered this. Neither Indulakan had chosen to name themselves, and Jacob hadn’t probed beyond introducing himself. Now the first Indulakan added, “Why bother talking to those that do not care what you have to say?”
Jacob nodded, appreciating the sentiment. Eventually, he asked, “But if it is something they need to know?”
“What aspect of astrophysics,” said one Indulakan, eventually, “does anyone need to know?”
Jacob shrugged, an act that inspired only confusion in his two hosts, so, remembering his emotive training, Jacob rather awkwardly rubbed his right arm on his side.
The Indulakans both made a sound like a belch now, Jacob taking a second to remember this was a type of laughter. They had many, and Jacob could only hope they were belching with him, not at him, so to speak. Sensing this, one of them, looking just as trepidant as Jacob had a moment before, took a deep breath, and then barked, a little too loudly, “Ho! Ho! Ho!” right into Jacob’s face.
It was, without doubt, the weirdest Santa impression Jacob had ever witnessed, and after a quick glance at Shellie, standing off to the side with the Captain, he started to laugh himself, at first hesitantly, then uncontrollably.
Nathan’s head snapped around to glare at him, and soon all were looking at the aging scientist. It was Nathan’s turn to glance over to the Captain, with an expression that said, ‘do something. muzzle him, shoot him, just do something,’ but the Captain saw only a first contact going immutably well, and, after a second, the Ambassador had to note that no one seemed offended, least of all Jacob’s two cohorts, who Nathan could see were belching away.
It only lasted a few seconds, but it still seemed to notably change the tone of the entire meeting, and Nathan could sense, no he could see, the Indulakans around the periphery spreading word of the exchange outward. They were a herd species, the Lost Sister’s records had told them that, and he could see it in action now, even more than he had at their initial encounter, as information washed outward.
Jacob, for his part, was oblivious to it all as he wiped a tear of mirth from his cheek.
“We are happy in large amounts,” began Hoho, as Jacob would come to call him, “that you have humor/laughter. The other visitors had only questions, only curiosity. They liked knowledge for knowledge sake. We do not. Once, perhaps. An age ago we manipulated the Sun’s gravitic field to communicate outward. Found others. Found Purgoid and also Kepr, indirectly.”
The sudden turn in the conversation brought Jacob back to the moment with a rush. He could also see the Captain, listening surreptitiously up till now, stepping closer.
“So many questions from this,” said Jacob, starting to ape the Yoda-esque grammar of the translated Indulakan words. “First, Purgoid and Kepr? Who are they?”
“Kepr are the Sphere-ship users,” said Hoho, clearly confused, then added, “They offered knowledge in exchange for access. They wished to watch us. To study us. We agreed. And they told us of many things. Many were excited.” Hoho and his friend exchanged single eye glances, then Hoho went on, “If it had happened after our birth, we would have been happy as well, with certainty.
“But they also spoke of badness, of danger, of races like the Mu’d. And, of course, of the Oota Dabun.” The words brought the stiffness again in the two, and from nearby Indulakans who had started listening
in, shuffling slowly toward the small circle.
Standing head and shoulders above the Indulakans, Captain Campbell was also leaning closer, and now he stepped up to the group with purpose. Neither alien seemed to mind, but simply used their massive forelimbs to shuffle themselves apart, allowing the Captain to sit down between them and join their small circle.
“Oota Dabun?” prompted Jacob.
“An exiled Star. The Recluse God,” said Hoho.
Jacob and the Captain glanced at each other, then leant in visibly, the Captain asking, “We may have heard of this star, this Recluse God, as well. Can you tell us more?”
But the Indulakans merely hunched their shoulders and said, “We do not know much. Nor did the Kepr. They intended to visit it. They hoped they would be able to get close where others had failed. They were worried, though. It was the only thing they feared. They have fantastic technology, as you know. But they feared Oota Dabun. They feared the Recluse. And they were not alone.”
“The Purgoid knew of it also?” prompted Jacob, trying to get the pronunciation right.
They both shivered slightly, and it took Jacob a second to place the gesture. Nausea. Sickness.
They were treading carefully now, and Jacob officially decided to shut up. This was the Captain’s job now, if only because Nathan could not bludgeon the Captain as easily as he could the lowly physicist.
The Captain, for his part, chose to let the Indulakans get to it in their own time, and after a moment, they did.
“Purgoid also spoke of the exiled star. They had denoted it as forbidden. Prohibited space. They seemed to know more about it than the Kepr, but we did not have opportunity for full discussion. The Purgoid, like Kepr, were tourists, but we were not able to make treaty with them. No agreement. They liked…they were…” Both Indulakans were stiff as boards for a moment, a sign of extreme discomfort, and again all eyes turned to Jacob’s little circle.
Silence sat among them for a long time, and then eventually Hoho said simply, “…Purgoid shikaree the,” spitting the middle word out like it was fetid meat, a sound that was echoed by all the nearby Indulakans.
