by SF Edwards
“Really? Only species in the Consign Spur are like that. Is that where this Earth is?”
“It would appear so. What were all the other races?”
“Let’s see—there was a reptiloid.”
“They look like this?” I asked, displaying a picture. The being had almost no neck, the head and body blending together as it tilted forwards. Despite standing on its hind legs, it used its tail for balance and looked like it would feel more comfortable on all fours.
“Sure enough they did.”
“That’s a Krad. The Galactic Federation conquered them almost seven decades ago. They’re a slave race.”
Tomer shivered in response. “Slaves, nasty business. What about the four armed Felines, looked kind of like Otlians?”
I pulled up another image. The feline features were in marked contrast to the Capraic Otlians of the Confederation. They had a much longer torso, but they did share the feature of four arms. “Those are the Zantli, Conquered some three decades ago.”
“What about the hooved ones. Those beasts with giant heads.”
I found an image that appeared to fit. “Those are Centauran, not slaves, but not on the same social level as the Earthers either.”
“Hmm, and the cousin race, the big bruisers?”
“The medics determined that they aren’t the same species.”
“Look like a common planet of origin. But the genes are different enough to verify that they’re not the same species.”
“Probably these Thal then,” I replied and showed the picture of a Thal beside a Terran. They looked roughly the same, but the Thal was a head taller with a broader nose, thicker eyebrow ridge and a bulkier frame. “I bet they could give a Tomeris a good fight. Cousin races and all that.”
“So what’s their story?” Tomer asked.
“According to this, they were a former slave race to the Sirians, kidnapped from their homeworld.”
“I thought those little bastards had nuked themselves into oblivion centuries ago.”
“Looks like that’s a no.”
“So what is your computer chugging away at then?”
“Trying to crack the code on their communications system. Once I’m in, we should be able to contact them and maybe try to settle things peacefully.”
A moment later the console dinged. My computer had finally cracked the communications console’s encryption. My cheeks flushed with pride and I turned back to Tomer. “Inform the commander. I don’t have the jump codes since that Pharad roasted the nav computer. But I do have a signal vector to contact the ship’s base, and communications keys.”
“Don’t be so sure buddy,” Tomer said, pointing to my screen. “Is it just me, or does that look like a jump code in the signal buffer?”
UCSB DATE: 781.389
Hyperspace, En-Route to GF Space, UCSBS-Shalrik
I’ve never been comfortable around spirit orbs, and I’m even less so around mediums who have the ability to speak to them. So it was just my luck that I was assigned to a diplomatic team with both as members. We were on our way to the Galactic Federation system, the jump code indicated, to establish diplomatic relations.
It had turned out that Tomer was right: the code in the communications buffer was a jump code. The Galactic Federation had tied their navigation computer through the communications hub instead of giving it a direct connection. When they’d departed this system and pinged the jump buoy it had returned an identifier signal.
“Do I make you that nervous young man?” the medium beside me asked, flashing her green eyes at me.
“No, ma’am, it’s just that I’ve never seen this many orbs in one place before.” Young Man, she’s what an annura or two older than me?
“They will assist the Admiral and I with the negotiations. In addition to establishing a mutually agreeable relationship, we have reparations to make since we killed several hundred Galactic Federation citizens.”
“And slaves,” the Admiral added, unable to hide his distaste.
“Admiral, try not to sound too disgusted when we meet our new friends,” the medium replied, her tone as soothing as her blue robes, before turning back to me. “Now, young man, please, I did not have a chance to read your full report. Teach me of these people while we prepare to meet them.”
I cleared my throat and tugged on my collar in the humid atmosphere of the Lodran ship. They may be ocean dwellers, but I was raised in a desert, and the watery air left me feeling sticky. I hope they dehumidify whatever room we meet in. “Well, ma’am, the Galactic Federation is only 186 annura old. It is composed of at least twelve member races, eight of which are ‘conscript’ races, as they call them. There is some evidence of other races but I wasn’t able to find anything solid on them.”
She gave me a sidelong glance at the ma’am comment and turned a half smile my way that made me shift in my seat. “I see, tell me more. Your report said they used a different form of measurement. Also what is their relationship with the Pharad?”
“Uh, yes. They use a measurement system developed on their ruling world of Earth. They call it Metric. It is similar to what we use in the confederation, but with different base values. For instance, their ‘meter’ is 3.28 metra. They also still base their time scale on that of Earth. Their day is roughly equal to one of our cycles, but it’s divided into 24 hours instead of 30 hects.”
“Strange, I thought you said they used a metric system,” she replied.
I nodded. “Yes, for everything but time measurement. We metricized our time measurements, based on the pulse, with the exception for the number of hectapulses in a cycle. Their hour is broken into sixty minutes, and each minute has sixty seconds.”
She placed her hand to her lips in thought, and seemed to look at something over my shoulder for a moment. “Interesting, it shows that they cling to an old tradition of their homeworld.”
The Admiral harrumphed, and I took the opportunity to look over my shoulder. There was nothing there. “It might also explain why they’ve enslaved so many worlds. ‘Conform to our standards or else!’”
“Yes sir,” I said as I turned back.
“Diplomatic staff to the bridge, Diplomatic Staff to the bridge,” the loudspeaker blared.
Why are they bothering? We’re all right here, I mused as I got back to my feet.
The Admiral said nothing and marched through the door onto the bridge. I followed the medium, and her entourage of spirit orbs, as even she seemed to glide ahead of me. I couldn’t help but notice how alluring she was.
Maybe I could make an exception for this one. I must have been staring because she stopped and looked back at me, her eyebrows raised as a pair of orbs twittered in her ears.
I blushed and turned towards the main viewer. Looking at hyperspace always made me queasy, but I let her catch me looking. I can’t make anything of the view when navigating in hyperspace. We were near enough to the jump point, however, that it dominated the screen. It was like looking into a bowl with the night sky painted on the inside. Off to the side there was another jump point that offered a similar view, and another and another. Each one looked like some kind of star-speckled divot against an infinite backdrop of the same. I turned away towards the tactical hologram. At least it looked normal and my stomach settled.
“You too?” the medium asked.
I looked up and found her smiling back at me. I could get lost in that jade-eyed smile. At first I wasn’t sure what she meant but then I noticed that she had faced the hologram. “Uh, yeah. That’s why I never got my hyperspace badge. I can’t navigate in here at all. Give me open space any cycle.”
“Good. You’re here,” the captain interrupted.
I looked up and met the Lodran’s four-eyed countenance. I was thankful that his mouth full of razor sharp teeth was closed, not that it intimidated me. I’d worked with many of the selachii-evolved beings. It was a bit disorienting when trying to make eye contact. All four eyes can work together or independently. It’s impossib
le to tell where they are looking. He extended a webbed dual thumbed hand to the Admiral. “Good to see you again sir, we’re ready to drop on your mark.”
The Admiral glanced at the hologram and up at the jump point. “Any readings from the jump point? Do we know what’s waiting for us?”
“Scanner returns show nothing in the immediate space, and we can’t get anything more than the ID out of the jump buoy.”
I looked at the rough diagram of the jump buoy that the sensor returns gave. I couldn’t even see it when I looked at the jump point. It was inelegant in design. Confed jump buoys used four devices that actually penetrated the spherical jump point around a set equator. Tiny annihilation booms extended into hyperspace, absorption of which produced energy to power the buoys and allowed them to transmit their location. The Federation buoy was primitive by comparison. It was a single device that extended a shielded antenna into the hyperspace ether. The rest sat in normal space, complete with what looked like a small atomic decay reactor and thermal radiator vanes.
“I see,” the Admiral commented and looked over the flotilla.
Our cruiser dominated the group with four smaller corvettes providing escort. Our ship was no warship; it was intended for exploration and had only defensive armament. The corvettes were minimally armed, and their weapons defensive in nature as well. We hoped that this would display our peaceful intent to this Galactic Federation.
“Captain, at your ready, drop,” the Admiral ordered.
“Aye sir,” the captain responded and relayed the order.
It was over in a blink. I felt only a momentary bump as we transitioned out of hyperspace and into normal space. I breathed a sigh of relief at the dark sky that met us. All I could see in the distance was the local starscape. The limited view confirmed my earlier suspicion—we were no longer in the Atria-Stria Spiral, but well within the Consign Spur.
“Sensor contact,” an officer called out. “17,000 KiMets coreward. Sensors indicate a sentry satellite.”
“Armed?” the captain asked.
“Active sensors and communications detected. Power plant output appears to be enough to power a weapon system. Magnetic flux indicates a mass driver or plasma cannon.”
I felt the captain’s eyes on me as I looked down at the nearest console. The sensor return didn’t tell me much, but I could make out a familiar energy signature and the cleaned up signal showed me more. “Rail gun,” I stated. “This is the main barrel. The data we have indicates it has muzzle velocity in the point one light speed class. There are anti-recoil thrusters here on the aft end.”
“Helm keep us out of its line of fire the best you can. Comms, send a hail to the sentry. Sensors, do we have a gravitic map of the system yet?”
“Aye sir,” the first two stations replied.
“Map coming in now sir, on the main display.”
The hologram morphed to show the planetary system. There wasn’t much to it. A blue giant dominated the view. Around it were a handful of gassy worlds and multiple asteroid belts. I couldn’t spot anything in the habitable band that might be a planet, though two of the asteroid belts hung on the borders. The jump point had brought us out near the edge of the system, far from any of them.
“Captain, Gravitic anomaly near Giant Two, incoming at decimal six light,” the sensor officer called out. “It appears to be a ship coming in on slipstream. Awaiting dark matter and energy flux readings to confirm.”
I was surprised and looked again. We had found no evidence of a dark matter manipulating slipstream drive aboard the wreckage I’d searched. It must have been destroyed when the cruiser’s main reactor had blown.
“Understood,” the captain replied. “All hands to warning condition 1. Order our escorts behind us for now. Let’s look friendly. Shields up, defenses on standby. Admiral?”
The Admiral looked over the sensors and nodded. “Good, continue to transmit friendly intentions on the provided frequency. Time to intercept?”
“At current speed and course, make it to be five hects, sir.”
“Get comfortable people.”
***
The medium, Jemma, and I got ourselves something to eat while we waited, returning to the bridge four hects later. I also continued to study the system maps the gravitic sensors had generated while she meditated. There was only the one jump point that we could detect. Why leave such a strategic asset so poorly defended? The system had to serve as a refueling point for long range missions. It was the only thing that made sense to me.
When we arrived back on the bridge the mood was grim enough to force Jemma to halt at the door.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
She turned to one of the orbs and it twittered back at her. “Everyone is on edge. We’ve only received one return to our hail, and it ordered us to leave the system.”
I considered not entering, my job was done really. I would only get in the way, but Jemma took my hand and all but dragged me behind her.
She strode up to the Admiral with a purpose. “Sir, what’s our situation?”
“Ah, Miss Sciminder, I was just about to send for you. We have a significant number of ships headed our way. At least a dozen cruiser class vessels, four to five corvettes and a large battlewagon, possibly a carrier or battleship. This could turn ugly, and if it does, I’ll need you off the bridge. I hope you understand.”
“It might just be a show of force to scare off rogues and pirates,” Jemma replied. “Jard here thinks this system might only serve as a refueling depot.”
The admiral’s face tightened in thought. His eyes widened when he looked at me. He’d forgotten I was even here. “That might be, but this large a battle force seems odd for that,” the Admiral commented.
“Have we sent an audio-visual hail yet?” Jemma asked.
“No, and the return we received was over radio, not tach comm…”
“Fine, then let me speak to them,” she replied and smoothed out her dress. “I am trained for this. Perhaps a friendly face will be better met.”
The Admiral nodded and pointed her towards the communications station. She glided over to the captain’s seat and stood beside it, the captain remaining seated and waving to the communications officer.
“You’re on, ma’am.”
“Incoming ships. On behalf of the Universal Confederation of Sentient Beings we bear you greetings. We come with open arms to welcome you to the larger galactic community. Let there be no ill will between us. If you check your sensors you will see that our weapon systems are powered down as a show of friendship. We discovered your ship, the thi, a little over one of your weeks ago. It was unfortunately destroyed in an accident that we were unable to prevent in time.”
The captain beside Jemma wrinkled his nose for a moment at that. Lodrans hold truth-telling to be of the utmost importance. They despise liars or those that conceal the truth, as Jemma now did. He and his crew also had to harbor some anger about that fact that it was a Lodran pilot that the Mallard had killed first, opening fire on his fighter without provocation.
“We understand that your ship must have come in peace as well, and are saddened by the loss of life. We come to open peaceful relations with you and your government and to return your honored dead to you. We look forward to your response.”
Jemma waved to the communications officer and he nodded that he had cut the feed. A moment later he transmitted the message as Jemma stepped down from the captain’s chair towards me. “Let’s hope they receive that well. How long until we can expect a reply?”
“They should receive in thirty-seven pulses, ma’am. If they respond immediately, we will get a response in another thirty-seven pulses. It may take longer depending on how long they wait to respond.”
That will only give us twenty-five pulses to prepare if their response is hostile. That should be enough time, but still. The waiting was interminable. I couldn’t help but start tapping at the console in front of me. The ever patient Lodran sitting there stared at me
with amusement, I think. Only Jemma laying her hand on mine stilled it. Her hand was beyond soft.
Seventy-five pulses came and went. I was not surprised. They would have to draft their response after all. Five more pulses came and went and Jemma squeezed my hand. I looked at her, but she remained transfixed on the situation display. I could read the worry on her face about their failure to respond. Another fifteen pulses passed and their response came.
A high energy plasma round seared our shields, leaving them crackling as the protective ion screen replenished itself.
“Combat stations,” the captain called out. “We have less than five pulses to contact. Comm, resend the medium’s message and our intentions. All defensive systems to active.”
“Why?” Jemma all but whispered in response to the aggressive action, her eyes wide and mouth agape.
I squeezed her hand and waited.
“Sir, we have a message incoming!” the communications officer called.
“Secondary viewer,” he ordered.
Jemma and I both turned to watch a military man standing on a ship’s bridge. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought it was crewed by my own kind. “We have received your lie-filled communications. We know that you destroyed the Mallard. We give you one final chance to leave this system peacefully or our next volley won’t be a warning shot.”
Jemma hung her head as the Admiral came up behind her. “You did fine, Ms. Sciminder. They must have received a distress or destruct signal from the ship. It was a gamble.”
“Ships are dropping from slipstream, distance one light pulse,” the sensor officer called out. “They are closing with conventional drives. Weapons are hot, repeat weapons are hot.”
“Set up evasive maneuvers, level six, defensive fire only if they attack,” the captain ordered. “Admiral, what are your orders?”
The admiral straightened his uniform and approached the captain. “We’ll hold this space for now. Prepare the first crypt for deployment, show them that we meant what we said and return their dead. Order the corvettes ahead though. I have a feeling we might need a stronger picket.”
