Vinium (The Silver Ships Book 10) Page 3 by S. H. Jucha
Miranda sent, the first one to report findings.
Z added.
Julien surmised.
Z sent.
Alex was immersed in his twin implants, and the bridge crew wondered what caused the slight smile that formed on his face. Z was universally known for his focus on mathematical calculations and their preciseness, and Alex was tickled to hear Z send something as vague as “isn’t that interesting.” Those SADEs closest to Alex were continually adopting subtle human characteristics.
The scout ship’s telemetry data, which was taken during the trip through the system, consistently revealed similar chunks and bits of refined metals and organic material, except for one particular area. Z had discovered evidence of different types of metal.
Julien compared the analysis of the metals generally found against that of the anomalous materials. The discrepancy was too great to believe the same culture had created both compounds.
Alex sent.
Immediately, Julien accessed data from the Liberator’s private storage banks, historical data accumulated by Alex and the SADEs.
Julien sent in reply.
Decades ago, the Rêveur had made a return trip to Libre to collect the Swei Swee hives, who would settle the Librans’ new world, Haraken. Julien, who was ensconced in his box on the bridge of the luxury liner that Alex had rescued, had dutifully collected telemetry data on the system.
The Arnos system was the site of the massive fight to free the Swei Swee, the alien species enslaved by the Nua’ll, who resided aboard their enormous sphere. The sphere and its bullet ships were completely destroyed by the avenging dark travelers of the Swei Swee, who lost many hives in the battle.
It was only later that Alex learned of the treasure trove of data that Julien had collected on the system, as part of his standing protocols.
Z added.
Alex sent.
Miranda sent.
Rather than receiving a celebratory response from Alex, the comm was quiet.
Julien sent privately to the other SADEs.
Z shared with his kind.
Julien replied.
Miranda added.
The SADEs abandoned their private conversation when they noticed Alex drop off the link.
Alex gently shoved off from Z’s Cedric suit. He wasn’t concerned about disturbing the SADE. Locked in place, the avatar, modeled on the heavy-worlder body of a New Terran and massing more than twice Alex’s substantial size, was similar to pushing off a granite wall.
“What did you discover?” Renée asked, having come to stand beside her partner. She made it her purpose to be present when Alex finished deep diving with the SADEs. Having spent years in space alone, tagging and shipping asteroids, and immersing himself in computational mathematics, Alex had developed a distinct preference for spending time communing with the SADEs through his implants. She was there to remind him that he was human and needed to stay connected to his kind.
“The Vivian collected evidence of metal compounds scattered in the system that are similar to the Nua’ll sphere at Libre, but they aren’t an exact match,” Alex said perfunctorily.
Bethley said to her comrades aboard the scout ship.
Trium replied.
“A second sphere was here,” Tatia said quietly, and Alex nodded his agreement.
“I say we get this out in the open right now,” Reiko demanded, facing Alex, with her fists planted on her small hips.
The bridge, humans and SADEs, went silent at the appearance of a confrontation.
“You, Alex,” Reiko said, pointing a finger at him, “need to close your eyes, go wherever you go, and count the number of spheres in our future so that we can do a better job of planning.”
A grin split Alex’s face, and the bridge broke out in laughter.
“It was worth a try,” Reiko admitted, smiling and shrugging her shoulders in imitation of Alex’s habitual gesture.
“I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that question, Commodore,” Tatia admitted, which many present could understand.
“How much material was found?” Svetlana asked.
“Small amounts,” Julien replied. “Enough to say for certain that a single ship, possibly a bullet ship, which accompanied the sphere was heavily damaged.”
“Why not the sphere itself?” Reiko asked.
“Everyone and everything is sacrificed to ensure the sphere’s survival,” Renée explained.
“Nice aliens,” Reiko said.
“You have no idea,” Renée commented.
“Then there’s information to be had from the Vinians, if we can find a means of communicating with them,” Reiko said.
“Agreed,” Alex said. “Besides, we can’t leave this species wondering who we were. They could be an ally someday.”
“Wonderful,” Tatia grumped. “I want it on record that I refuse to start wearing a colorful, wraparound headdress with frills to imitate a bloom when we greet their leaders.”
“Admiral, I think you would look adorable in the right ensemble, if you’d allow me to help,” Miranda riposted.
Tatia narrowed her eyes at the SADE, who laughed at the expression. “Think on it, Admiral, I’m sure you’ll warm to the idea,” Miranda replied, refusing to be deterred.
“Orders?” Tatia asked Alex. She had insisted that she lead the expedition to rescue the captured scout ship. That action was successfully completed.
Now, the Omnians were playing in Alex’s space, communicating with another strange, intelligent species in hopes of learning about humans’ nemesis, the Nua’ll. Having discovered evidence that the enemy had created two giant spheres, the nagging question became: How many more Nua’ll vessels were out there ravaging the worlds of distant stars?
“Z said the Vinian warship is heading on an intercept with the fifth planet outward of the sun,” Alex said. “Let’s follow it. No closer than 250K kilometers, Admiral.”
Mealtime approached, and the crews in every Trident broke to partake of an opportunity to be together over food and drink. But, as opposed to passenger liners with SADEs in control, Tatia was averse to allowing a warship’s bridge to ever be unattended. Therefore, personnel were scheduled to relieve the bridge watch, during mealtime, every other day.
The New Terran Trident captains had adopted the same routines that Tatia authorized for her people, though they never had a choice. It had been a directive from New Terran President Harold Grumley. Unlike Grumley’s predecessor, he paid close attention to Maria Gonzales, who had brokered the deal with Alex to have Omnia Ships build Tridents for her government. Maria had suggested to Harold that he instruct the Trident captains to imitate Tatia’s command routines.
During a conversation with Grumley and Maria, the newly minted captains wondered why they should duplicate the Omnians’ military protocols. Maria had tersely replied, “It’s a simple historical observation, Captains. After twenty years of encountering more danger than any other group in this corner of the galaxy, they’re still alive and prospering. You’d do well to remember that.”
Throughout the decades, the head table, where once Alex and Renée had sat alone aboard the Rêveur, had steadil
y grown in size. On the OS Liberator, it now accommodated the couple, an admiral, a commodore, a captain, and three SADEs. Although the SADEs didn’t consume a meal, they attended to demonstrate solidarity with humans.
When Alex was able to get a few servings under his belt to fuel his heavy-worlder body, he glanced at the SADEs and asked, “What do we know about this world where the Vinian warship is headed?”
“Telemetry indicates a warm, wet world, which exemplifies a dense coverage of foliage,” Z replied.
“You could be misinterpreting the data, dear,” Miranda replied politely. “We might land a traveler and discover that the dense foliage is merely a planet absolutely crowded with plant people.”
The group’s reply was a collection of half-hearted laughter.
“Perhaps my attempt at humor was mistimed,” Miranda admitted.
“There is an absence of dense city structure that one would expect from a society that has the extent of warships and space exploration they exhibit,” Julien reasoned.
The SADE comms and human implants received a comment from Bethley, and Alex wondered who at the table remained linked to the scout ship.
Bethley sent.
“That would make sense,” Renée replied. “Think about what the Vinians would honor.”
“True,” Tatia chimed in. “Certainly not a dense collection of buildings or heavy industrial complexes.”
“Plants first; animals second; pollution last,” Svetlana replied cryptically.
Alex pointed a utensil at Svetlana in approval, while he swallowed a bite of roll, which he’d used to wipe the juice of a serving dish. Even the only other heavy-worlder at the head table, Tatia, had finished eating, while Alex was busy cleaning up the serving dishes. “I agree,” Alex finally said. “The Vinians would revere their greenery, especially immense tracts of forests. Therefore, as soon as possible, they would offload their heavy construction industries to moon bases to preserve their home world.”
“I wonder what the plant people think of our ships,” Svetlana said.
“Difficult to postulate,” Z replied. “Obviously, they would have been confronted with our Tridents’ superior capabilities, but that doesn’t answer the question of what they think of our origins.”
“It does bring up a more interesting question,” Alex said, staring thoughtfully ahead. “We’ve demonstrated peaceful intentions, despite evincing superior technology. That should buy us an introduction, but we don’t have a means of communicating with them. In fact, we’re not even sure by what means they communicate. No, the real question is: Who would the Vinians be more willing to speak with … flora or fauna?”
“Are you visualizing your headdress, Admiral?” Miranda asked and was redeemed by the table’s solid round of laughter.
-3-
World of Light
Scarlet Mandator completed a round in the recovery room, when the booth’s lights winked to signal the session’s end. As opposed to the earlier, premature waking, the mandator’s fronds were full of energy, which seeped throughout the stalks. The return to the bridge operations center found Plum Executor in charge.
“Status of the progenitor ships?” the mandator asked.
“They’re following us at a respectable distance,” the executor replied.
“It was as I thought,” the mandator replied. “We aren’t done with this species.”
“Will they demand some sort of payment for what was done to their seedling?” Plum Executor asked.
“If they do, it will prove to be exorbitant. Imagine what a superior species, which can build ships such as these, will demand,” the mandator replied.
Petals curling under the blooms of the executor, monitor, and several taskers caused the mandator to add, “Then again, they might wish to establish a relationship with us. In which case, we might benefit enormously from their patronage.” Immediately, petals uncurled and blooms lifted.
“Messages have arrived for you, requesting advice, Mandator,” Plum Executor said.
“Now the mandators request advice,” Scarlet Mandator said in disgust. He shifted to a tasker’s board to view the communications list. A stalk pad quickly opened each message and then moved on. The requests were the same. The mandators had witnessed the approach of the ships from beyond and the seedling’s release, without a shot being exchanged. Seeing the foreign ships trail the mandator’s warship, they were concerned for the World of Light.
“Take a message for all ships, Melon Tasker,” Scarlet Mandator ordered. When the tasker was ready, the mandator dictated, “Under no circumstances approach my ship or the ships from beyond. We hope that this species wishes to speak with us in peace. If not, there is nothing you can do to prevent them taking what they want.”
When Melon Tasker noted that the message was ready, the mandator said, “Send it.”
During the many cycles it took to reach the home world, Scarlet Mandator kept a constant check on the progenitor ships and those of the Light. Nothing changed, and the mandator was grateful for that. Mesa Control had adopted the messages, going so far as to replicate the language in describing the ships from beyond as the progenitor ships and the captured vessel as the seedling. It repeated the mandator’s message, requesting all ships to keep their distance.
Once Scarlet Mandator’s warship was in orbit over Ollassa, the World of Light, the mandator took a shuttle to the surface. After touchdown, the mandator waited in the comfort of a gel enclosure, while the tail cooled from the hot exhaust and taskers rolled over a lift. When the executor communicated that all was ready, the mandator exited the craft and rode the lift to the ground.
A transport waited to carry the mandator to an elevator that rode from the mesa top to the lowest level, where tram lines exited the mesa onto the forest floor. Trams were the primary means of transport for the Ollassa. Narrow gauge tracks meant a minimal disturbance of the forest. The tram cars were covered in a clear bubble so that the passengers could enjoy the benefit of the Light.
“Destination, Scarlet Mandator?” a tasker asked, when the mandator exited the elevator car into the central switching station for the trams.
“Priority service to the Scarlet Life Giver,” the mandator replied.
“At once, Mandator,” the tasker replied, tipping a bloom toward the board and ordering the tram.
Scarlet Mandator locked stalks to wait. The pull of the World of Light was a reminder that the mandator was home, once again, and it would take a few cycles to become accustomed to the sensation.
“Your tram, Mandator,” the tasker said, as a two-car transport slid to a stop in front of them. The first car held a tasker, who would drive the transport. The second car was for the mandator, and the station tasker hurried to open the bubble for the august passenger. It wasn’t only that the mandator was an important figure, it was that the destination requested was to a Life Giver. Communication with a Life Giver was a rare thing and only held for the most critical of issues.
As the tram exited the mesa’s tunnel, the mandator, who stood with stalks braced, opened fronds to the Light and trembled under the healing warmth. Soon, the tram entered the deep forest, and the Light was filtered. Undeterred, the mandator waited patiently for the openings to absorb the beneficence once again.
Meanwhile, Scarlet Mandator concentrated on composing a message. Conversations with Life Givers were brief. They were made so by the interpreters, who translated between the requester and the Life Giver. It was unknown by the mandators as to which of the pair, interpreter or Life Giver, required the communication be kept terse, or whether it was both.
After delineating the communication, the mandator dozed as the tram rolled through the forest. Occasionally, it was forced to slow to avoid striking the creatures of Ollassa that dotted the tracks. The fauna of the World of Light was considered a necessary nuisance t
hat was required to maintain the environment’s balance.
When the tram reached its destination, the tasker hurried from the car and opened the bubble for the mandator. The tasker reached out a stalk pad to wake the passenger, touching the mandator’s stalk three times before the bloom rose.
“We’re here, Mandator,” the tasker said.
Beside the tram, a small, wheeled transport waited for the mandator, who climbed aboard. A pair of Ollassa walked ahead of the vehicle, as it followed a path through a thick portion of the forest. The overhead canopy was so dense that the Light struggled to penetrate, and the mandator and the taskers closed their fronds against the cool air.
Suddenly, the trees abruptly ended, opening to a luxuriant, grass meadow. The clearing was enormous, which allowed the Scarlet Life Giver complete access to the Light. As it should be, thought the mandator.
The transport stopped at the edge of the meadow, and the mandator descended and followed the narrow, worn path through the grasses to the base of the Life Giver. The immensity of the entity was awe-inspiring. Rooted firmly in the fertile ground of Ollassa, the Life Giver stretched its branches high and wide to the Light.
Pods of different sizes hung from the Life Giver’s thick, upper limbs. The green ones were new buds; the larger, yellow ones were riper; and the scarlet ones were nearing maturity. Taskers, who maintained the Life Giver, carted nutrients, protected against intrusive fauna, and carefully, oh, so carefully, harvested the mature scarlet pods.
The taskers stopped work as the mandator approached the Life Giver. They tipped blooms and backed away to a respectful distance. At the base of the Life Giver, sat one of the rarest of Ollassa, who was wrapped against the massive trunk. The interpreter’s fronds were withered, the Light failing to penetrate near the trunk base, but the interpreter’s upper stalk pads penetrated the outer core of the Life Giver, who lent the interpreter its nutrients.
“Speak,” Umber Interpreter said simply.
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