Tales of the Federation Reborn 1

by Chris Hechtl

  “Get them on it. They love projects. Let them in on it, but we've got a tight deadline. No time to play games or run endless simulations and tests. Get it done.”

  “Aye aye, ma'am,” the bosun replied dutifully.

  @^&##{==

  Doctor Cloutier ordered the Horathians to take painful genetic samples in case one of their subjects died in transport or while the ship was underway. The samples would be facilitated by blood and water samples to allow him to get a baseline for comparison later. It would hopefully allow him to spot problems and adjust as needed to keep them alive.

  He handled the task himself initially, at least until he realized his patients were not going to be cooperative. He then stepped back and handed the job over to Blake and the other enlisted. They had their own more direct methods to get samples.

  Brrfrak and Sputtersque had allowed themselves to be guided into improvised tanks made out of a cut cylinder. The edges were sharp so they were careful not to touch them. The water within was all that there was to keep them buoyant and therefore keep their own weight from crushing themselves.

  They'd learned to tolerate the two-legs coming close to them. But when the two-legs had tried to cut pieces off of them they had reacted in fear.

  The duo reacted with indignant squeals of pain as pieces were cut off and frozen. Bruno wielded an electric soldering iron to cauterize the wounds. Sputtersque saw her tentacle tip flop on the ground in horror. She stared at it, momentarily too shocked to react. It disgusted and amused the pirates, who danced around it. One picked it up and held it at arm's length as it flopped around. “Got a new playmate for you, Kelsea. This one is real flesh not plastic,” he taunted.

  “Bite me Bruno. Or better yet, let me push you in there with our alien pals and let them do the job for me,” she growled.

  Sputtersque endured pain like she never had before. White fire of nerve endings in pain in her phantom limb pummeled her consciousness, then numbing as her central nervous system adjusted and blocked the pain out.

  Brrfrak became enraged at the sight of his mate being mutilated. His own helplessness to defend her heightened that rage beyond his ability to think rationally. He lashed out, thrashing in his improvised container before he thought of a way to strike back. He used one of his primary tentacles to slash at the pirates. They whooped and hollered, dancing out of the way and ducking at the swinging limb.

  “Get that thing under control!”

  “It's kraken and it's pissed. I think we hurt its mate or kid or something,” Kelsea said.

  One of the two-legs got ripped by his hooks and Brrfrak drew the human in to kill him. His tentacle wrapped around the man's leg and worked its way up his body. The claws in the underside of the tentacle bit into the human, ripping and tearing at his coverall and flesh. The two leg screamed in pain, thrashing and screaming to get it off.

  A stunner shot from behind shook Brrfrak. It felt like a bolt of electricity from an eel or another Ssilli. He was jolted into freezing as his muscles locked, then when it wore off his muscles relaxed on their own. He slumped in the tank. There wasn't enough water to completely cover him. His tentacles were limp. The two-legs kicked at them warily.

  Sputtersque whistled in pain and distress at the sight of her partner being knocked unconscious.

  “You better not have killed it,” Captain Bellerose snarled, coming over at a trot. She pushed the weapon in Bruno's hands down to the point at the ground. “Secure that and that thing,” she ordered.

  Blake coughed, one hand holding his wound closed. He spat blood and groaned. “I think he should.” He groaned again. “Mother fracker, I don't feel so good.” He wobbled and then sat back down. “I think I'll just sit here a minute,” he said quietly.

  “Shut up. You were the dumbshit who got too close,” the captain snarled eying the man for a moment before she turned back to the prize. “Get the tentacles back in and put the lid on. We need to get this one and the other to the ship. Now, people,” the captain ordered.

  She turned to Doctor Cloutier. “Attend to the Ssilli first, Doctor. Get the samples you need while you can.”

  “Yes, ma'am,” the doctor said dubiously, glancing with worry to his human patient. “I cannot get the sperm or ova samples, however. Flesh is the best we can do here.”

  “Understood. Can you at least tell me if it is a boy or girl? Do they even have genders?”

  “I don't honestly know, Skipper. I am a people person not aliens,” the doctor admitted as he took his samples. He cauterized each wound with an electric wand to keep bleeding to a minimum. His tool box quickly filled up with blood and tissue samples. “That's enough,” he said after a moment. “The other will …” he turned to reluctantly look at the other Ssilli.

  “I don't want to risk the survival of the creature. It can wait I suppose,” the captain said, also turning to the other Ssilli. “It would be nice to know what sex they are. It would be quite the feather in my cap to have a male and female,” she said.

  “I will see what the literature says on the ship, Captain. Perhaps I can give you an answer from the blood sample?” the doctor said, hunching his shoulders as he polished his syringe in preparation of returning it to his kit.

  “Do not waste such valuable specimens on such trivial things, Doctor, not to assuage my curiosity,” she said. She toed Blake. She could tell from the looks her people occasionally shot his way that she wasn't going to get the right amount of performance out of them until he was attended to. “Get this one sorted out. I think he passed out. Then we'll need to figure out the thing's diet and nail down their health issues.”

  The doctor nodded, feeling relief as he knelt next to Blake. “I'll need to run a baseline profile, Captain. That includes toxicology and other screens, whatever I can do with the limited facilities at my disposal. So finding out the gender might not be totally out of the question.” he waved to the Ssilli. “We can always get fresh samples later,” he stated.

  The captain nodded thoughtfully. She turned away as he worked on the petty officer. Her hands went to her hips, and she smiled an ugly smile at the visions of the massive payday she was going to receive once she got the two prizes back to Horath. It would make her career and catapult her out of the Gather Fleet and into the merchant houses or perhaps into the Home Fleet.

  The future was looking bright, bright indeed she thought.

  @^&##{==

  Brrfrak's consciousness hadn't quite faded out with the pain; he clung to it. He heard a squee of sorrow and felt a sonar pulse caress from his partner as the two-legs lifted his limp limbs and either hacked them off and burned them or dropped them back into the tank with his limp body. The pulse and thrums of Sputtersque's desperate love for him the signals conveyed were distorted by the containers, but he still felt their comfort and embrace.

  Their dream of life elsewhere had become their nightmare. His eyes rolled and he let unconsciousness take him.

  @^&##{==

  It slowly dawned on some of the crew that they would have to feed the Ssilli in order to keep them alive. That meant more fishing. More productive fishing, using means that hadn't been available to them before.

  The captain authorized Bruno and Blake to rig depth charges with some of the explosives the ship carried as trade goods, and then to drop them from the air into pods of fish. They would then scoop them up with their nets in a small boat. It was the only method she could see to get the job done, though she wasn't too enthused in using the improvised canoe Mackey and Oswald had created to get the fish.

  “You realize you are going to be out there, on the water with dozens of stunned or dead fish and with dick all for support? If something big comes or if the Ssilli that got away come, you are screwed, right?” she asked carefully.

  Mackey grimaced. “But if we don't do it, we don't have the fish we'll need, Skipper,” he said. “Do you have a better idea?”

  “Damn it, no I don't,” she sighed. She shook her head. “Be careful. Get going. I'll get o
thers to help you. You need more line?”

  Mackey nodded. “As much as you can spare.”

  “Well, since we've got a couple kilometers of cable and plastic line to use as a trade good, I think we can sacrifice some spools to get the job done. Just don't lose it; we can reuse it,” she said.

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Good. Go.” She turned to watch the loading. Doctor Cloutier had figured out how to rig slings for the Ssilli. He wanted to keep them wet with wash clothes and towels to keep their skin from drying out.

  Just getting them into the slings and onto the bird had been hell. But the last one was in the process of being loaded up. Their second grav loader had shit the bed so they were doing it by hand. A lot of hands grunting and straining as Mackey who should have been overseeing the loading took off to get his canoe going.

  “Get it together, people! We've got to get this cargo on board, then get it off! Move like you mean it!” the captain snarled, clapping her hands together with a loud slap and then pointing to them to maximize their efforts before they ran out of energy and stalled.

  A prize beyond measure she thought, eying the aliens.

  The end

  Ssilli Roles:

  Hunter/Gather: Led by RaspAlka. They hunt fish and other animals or gather materials when needed. They use crude weapons and nets to aide their efforts. They are also the guard; they protect the community from marauding predators and answer distress calls.

  Life Seeker: A healer who uses tools and holistic medicines to repair damage and extend life.

  Elder: Leaders of the community. One elder per specialty. Sometimes they take the role since their age prevents them from doing it themselves. They can still train and pass on their wisdom to others.

  Life Shaper: Ranchers who use nets and pens to farm clams, crustaceans, and fish.

  Past Keeper: Oral historian of the community. Also teacher of larva.

  Rock Shaper: They use crude stone tools to etch out chunks of loose rock or gather it and gravel from nearby sources. They then stack it into walls and piles. They pack gravel and sand to fill in voids, and will use kelp nets to keep things together.

  Once they are finished, Plant Shapers then seed the structure with coral and plant growths to tie it together. Over time the pile becomes a wall or other structure and can be added on.

  They can also dig out trenches of sand and gravel along the shore and deposit in other places. They can increase the depth of a cove and make it more sheltered with work to shore up the tidal arms. The biggest and strongest can move boulders or nets of gravel.

  Plant Shaper: Botanist/farmer who know how to seed areas and nurture them. They compost and tend to the underwater and shore gardens. Shore gardens are within reach of their tentacles.

  Thing Shaper: Clank and one to two others who create things for the others to use. They usually create tools or weave nets. They also spend a lot of their time repairing said tools and objects.

  Catch 22

  Proofread by Thomas Burrows, Carlos d'Empaire, Wayne Gaskin,

  Cast:

  Mara: Blue skinned genie. Has gills and lungs, long raven black hair, webbed fingers and toes. Wore a cobra insignia wet suit until it was taken away from her.

  Emory: Friend. Mate Anita captured. Daughter is also captured. Freed by Federation in Pirates Rage.

  Sydney: Daughter of Emory and Anita, captured.

  Ted Zane: Tall human doctor. Still wears wire rim glasses. Supportive of Helen and a reserve naval lieutenant. (modeled after doctor from hospital show).

  Atlantia: Selkie cow mermaid. Mix of selkie and naga. Let go.

  Jamaica: Selkie bull merman, captured.

  Anita: Small fish lady, mate of Emory, mother to Sydney, captured.

  Cornelius Vanderbilt IVXL: Industrial developer (mentioned only).

  Paco: Selkie young, got bit by a Great White.

  Malto: Selkie Walrus merman, hunter.

  Isina: Elderly selkie female, getting over pneumonia.

  Pico: Blue and red fishman, runs a charter company.

  Quinn: Yellow and black striped fishman. Wants to get into the charter business.

  Nohar Rajestan: Planetary security chief. Neotiger, former Sergeant 501, sleeper.

  Rear Admiral Linnaeus Von Berk: Horathian admiral.

  Commander Rick Roshou: Admiral Von Berk's chief of staff.

  Captain Bordou: Captain of Apache.

  Doctor Staten Milgram: Eugenics and brainwashing psychologist.

  Major Eichmann: Intelligence officer.

  Colonel Bericus

  Mara smiled as she listened to Irons with the wireless headphones. “Mara, I know you love the sea, but there is another sea. Your people called it the god sea. It is hyperspace. We landies can't fly as well as you can in hyperspace, I freely admit it. We need you to consider it, Mara, consider it carefully. Both for yourself and as a future for many of your people. It is … not as hand to mouth as living in the real sea is. I can list the benefits if you want.” His video image frowned.

  She'd played it several times already and was always struck by his honesty. She looked up briefly to where Emory and Sydney were trying the VR goggles before she looked back to the image.

  “I won't lie to you, Mara; we need you. We need you to fight predators of a different sort. Your special abilities in hyperspace will allow you to pilot a ship far better than anyone as I said. I don't know if you've seen the histories, but ever since the first dolphins piloted the Lagroose explorer ships, oh so long ago, your people have been highly prized. The ability to hit the higher hyper bands and to find the sweet spots in hyperspace cuts down in transit time. The ability to skip around or even through a star system is a priceless tactical advantage. So is the ability to see an opponent in hyperspace or to see them from hyperspace when they are in real space and then drop in on them.” He shook his head.

  “Those are just some of the reasons why the Xenos hunted your kind and others like you. They learned to fear your native abilities. Now the Horathians are on the march. They are moving faster, Mara, and they do not care about other species. In fact, they are actively rounding them up and slaughtering them in a holocaust,” he grimaced, face bleak for a moment. He looked away and then cleared his throat before he looked back to her.

  “I'm sending this message on a courier to you. If you aren't interested, fine. But perhaps others might be. We will take care of them, Mara; you have my word on that. We will extend the same courtesies of free travel and medical care to our training facilities. We will make them as comfortable as we can on the journey. We want their good will to stop these … monsters before their evil spreads any further than it already has.”

  “For that alone, please consider my words carefully, Mara, before it is too late. Before they are in your skies, bombing your cities, and then on the ground hunting you and your people,” he said shaking his head.

  “I'm sending this tablet, the goggles, and some software so you can see what I am talking about and perhaps show others. Thank you.”

  She looked up in time to see Sydney and Emory still at it. This wasn't the first message from the admiral, but it was the first bearing gifts. It was also the most interesting. She'd read the manual, and she was still struggling with the idea that the VR simulation was a pale shadow of what the true experience was with full implants.

  Something deep within her craved more. She wasn't sure if it was curiosity or if she was running from her own responsibilities. That thought made her hesitate to find out more. But she had finally decided to show the godsea to some of her people—after she'd gotten her initial fill of it of course.

  That thought made her lips tug in a slight smile as Emory shook his head, swore, and then put his hands up in surrender. Mara frowned thoughtfully. Sydney was still going strong; her youth and flexibility made it far easier for her to react to the game.

  It was a game, of that she had no doubt. Emory though, he might be too old, too in-grained like some of the other adult
s she'd tried the game on. Almost everyone who had agreed to try it had been initially reluctant to do so. Some had become interested, but just about everyone was scared of going out to space. It was a big leap.

  Still some had made the leap. Ten had left on the ship that had brought her the tablet and goggles right after she'd shown them the sims. They'd been fascinated by it and even more determined to help in any way possible once they'd heard about what the New Federation was up against.

  Of course, the lust for adventure hadn't entered their minds at all she thought with a brief flash of irritation. It had to be nice to be young, unattached, and without commitments.

  She had the unattached part down. The rest though … she grimaced.

  Emory took off the virtual goggles and handed them back to her. “You have to understand, Mara, it is too much, too hard for me to go out there, no.”

  “It is like going out into the deep end of the ocean; you don't know what is below you in the dark depths. Each time could be your last,” Sydney said, taking her own goggles off reluctantly. “I loved it though,” she said, shooting her father an apologetic yet defiant look as she too handed her goggles back.

  “That is what sonar is for,” Emory said, touching his head, “and watching and knowing your opponent. Sharks like the whites prefer to hunt in the canyons and bottlenecks though. You can't hunt alone; you travel in a group. You can't do that in a starship. There are too many unknowns.”