by B. V. Larson
I wasn’t quite ready to sign off yet. Too many questions bubbled through my mind. “Before you go, I have a question, Senator. We captured a Demon ship, and we found it was layered with slimy fluid. Do you have any idea why?”
Diogenos hesitated, as if uncertain what to tell me. “I am not a technician, but we have many here that will discuss such specifics. Until we meet.” The screen went blank before I could say more.
“He dodged that question,” Hansen said from his pilot’s chair.
“He did indeed,” I replied.
“And what the hell was that crack about the lower orders?”
“No idea. But my mother’s people in India still struggle with the remnants of the old caste system. Maybe that’s what he meant—some kind of social class.”
Hansen turned control over to Valiant and stood, walking to the holotank. “I guess it’s a good thing we look like them, more or less.”
“I suppose it can’t hurt. But don’t worry. We’re not about to adopt their customs.”
“I’m not worried about adopting their customs,” Hansen said, “but I am worried about them adopting us.”
“What do you mean, adopting us?”
Hansen led me over to the holotank. I knew he’d appointed himself devil’s advocate long ago, and it seemed he was trying to make a point here. The view in the holotank was one of the average street scenes we had been seeing since we had been able to get sensor readings.
“Okay, Lieutenant, what am I missing?”
“The collars, Captain. Notice that nearly all of them are wearing collars. If those collars represent anything like the ones from Earth’s history—I’ve got no desire to be wearing one myself. I don’t know who the lower classes are here, but I sure don’t want to be finding out the hard way.”
“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully. “You’re right. Do you think we’d be helping the wrong side? The side of some kind of enslaving race?”
“No, sir I don’t,” he said, “but I thought you might think it’s a big deal. I think we got far more critical things to worry about. These guys could be cannibals for all I know—like the Raptors and the Pandas, remember—but unless they try to eat us, we need to find a way to work with them if we want to get home. No matter what their quirks, we aren’t going to change their society, but you’re idealistic enough to want to try.”
It felt like the start of an argument, but he had a point. My job was to get us home, and to do that. Our new allies had to stay allies. That meant dealing with our common enemy, the Demons, first. The rest could be negotiated afterward. It still made me wince and rub my neck, looking at what I had first seen as merely part of the local dress.
“You’re right, XO. First, we kick these bugs’ asses. Universal peace and harmony will have to wait until later.”
I made sure everyone had a good rest before we approached our parking orbit a million miles out from Trinity-9, one we’d chosen for ourselves. No ship-mounted laser I knew of would more than tickle us at this range, though the surface installations could probably do us some damage.
“Valiant,” I said, “you’re to control our shields until command personnel tell you otherwise.” I lounged in my chair waiting for our allies to contact us. “Snap them on at the first sign of any attack.”
“Protocol updated.” A moment later, the AI went on, “Incoming transmission in full video.”
“Put it on.”
I’d expected Senator Diogenos’ picture, but instead I was treated to the face of a Whale. Because of the transmission lag, I had a few seconds or so to stare at it.
Blunt nosed with a centrally located round mouth, it possessed four eyes equidistantly placed around the forward edge of its head. I presumed this allowed for parallax vision within its front 180 degrees of arc.
A fringe of a dozen fine tentacles sprouted from what would be the neck on a terrestrial whale, apparently to serve it as hands. This Whale clutched several things in those appendages as it floated in front of its video pickup, holding the devices of unknown use well within its own field of vision, much as a human would.
It maintained its position with a selection of larger, flattened tentacles that sprung from its middle and nether regions. These seemed to function much as those of a jellyfish or octopus, for propulsion and station-keeping, as it floated in the middle of a room. Because I had no reference for scale, it seemed to me as if it were the size of a dolphin, but I was certain that was only a trick of the vid, as the Whales usually ran at least a hundred yards from nose to tail—if they had noses or tails.
Its translated words were spoken in the ship’s voice. “We greet you, Captain Riggs. We are called Farswimmer, and have been appointed as liaison to your squadron.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Pleased to meet you, Farswimmer. Our translation issues seem to be a thing of the past.”
“The Elladans worked with us to optimize our language databases and transmission systems in order to more easily mesh with yours.”
As it “spoke,” I could see nothing that indicated how—no mouth movements or other telltales. I’d have to ask Valiant or Marvin about that later.
“Good,” I said aloud. “Avoiding misunderstandings between our two peoples is a high priority for me. By the way, do you or the Elladans consume other sentient creatures for food?”
The Whale jerked as if it’d been hit with an electric prod. “Absolutely not. Our diet consists of plants and tiny sea creatures. We’re a nonviolent species and only wish to be left in peace.”
“Yet you have ships of war.”
“An unfortunate necessity that has been forced upon us. When sharks attack, the pods must defend themselves.”
He must mean pods of whales, like schools of fish or flocks of birds. Our translation software was doing a fine job. I wondered if Hoon would make a good liaison to these creatures. Then I remembered these Whales weren’t really aquatic. They only looked that way. Actually, they functioned like living airships floating in the thick soupy atmosphere of their gas giant home. I supposed they had some kind of internal bladders to control their buoyancy.
“I completely agree, Farswimmer, and we’re glad to fight by your side against our common enemy. Can you provide us with more intelligence data on the Demons?”
“We have prepared a package to be transmitted on your signal.”
“Go ahead and send it now.” Valiant already knew to check the data for malware, so I went on, “Tell me, how much of your technology did you develop yourselves, and how much did you acquire from the Demons or the Elladans?”
“The Elladans blessed us with the knowledge of machinery thousands of years ago, when we were but nomadic primitives.”
I stroked my chin, my eyes unfocused. “So where did they get it?” I mused.
I hadn’t intended it to be a direct question, but Farswimmer replied. “It was bequeathed them from the Departed Gods, those who made us.”
“Made you? So you don’t believe you evolved from lower life?”
The Whale’s tentacles waved in a complex pattern, and a moment later the translation software provided the sound of laughter. “What a curious idea. Forgive us, Captain Riggs. We do not mean to impugn your religious beliefs, no matter how unscientific.”
I stifled laughter myself. I guess one guy’s religion was another’s rational belief system. “Likewise, Farswimmer, but…you said some kind of gods made you? That seems like religious belief as well.”
“We understand your confusion, Captain, but the eldest among us remember those times quite clearly. The Departed Gods appeared unto us before they left. This is not a matter of belief but of fact.”
“They remember back ten thousand years?” I gaped. “How long do you people live?”
“We live until we are killed. We do not run out of life as you unfortunate humans do.”
“You mean you only die from violence, or perhaps disease?”
“Exactly.”
Wow. Immortal beings. Or at least beings wi
th a lifespan measured in thousands of years, which might as well be the same thing. To them, we were like bugs that hatched in the spring and died at the onset of winter.
“Um…back to these Departed Gods. What did they look like?” My obvious working theory was that Farswimmer was talking about the Ancients, and if these Whales possessed firsthand knowledge of them, I wanted it.
“None could look upon one directly and live, but they appeared as living fire dwelling within the stars.”
“Within the stars? Valiant, are you certain that is an accurate translation?”
“Yes. Certainty parameters are currently set to ninety-nine percent.”
I held up a hand, hoping the translation software would interpret the gesture while my mind whirled through the implications.
“So about these…powerful creatures,” I said, unwilling to call them gods. “Let’s term them Ancients, if you don’t mind.”
“That is a reasonably accurate designation.”
“Okay, so…they were made of fire and lived within stars. You say they created you…how?”
“According to them, they altered our planet and seeded it with organic life—life which they’d designed for the environment. At first, the life was microbial. From these beginnings, they engineered ever more complex creatures to populate the ecosystem. We’re their crowning creation upon our planet as the Elladans are upon theirs and you are upon yours.”
I glanced over at Hansen and Bradley who, like the rest of the bridge crew, were listening intently, their eyes wide.
“Valiant, mute me for a moment, will you?” I asked. Once that was done, I turned away and said to my crew, “This is fascinating stuff, but it’s not necessarily true.”
“But it could be,” Bradley said eagerly. I could see that the man was taken with a tale that explained human origins so neatly, but without evidence, that’s all it was: a tale.
“Let’s all stay skeptical, all right? Keep our eyes open for anything out of place. Remember, every one of the alien races we’ve met—the Pandas, the Lithos, even the Raptors—has deceived us or tried to kill us at one time or another, not to mention the golden machines and Sokolov.”
“Right, Skipper,” Hansen said heavily, glaring around at the watchstanders. “This is a war zone, people. Don’t get complacent.”
I nodded to Hansen and snapped my fingers, turning back. “Valiant, unmute the channel.”
“Done,” said the ship.
“Farswimmer,” I said, “do you mind answering more questions about your people and the Ancients?”
“Not at all. It is our purpose as liaison to foster communication. We do have some queries of our own.”
“Of course. Let’s talk about the Elladans. Why do they look like humans?”
“Because they choose to do so. Just as you all wear uniforms, they do the same.”
I frowned. Clothing wasn’t what I was getting at. Maybe clothing was a significant thing to the Whales. They didn’t wear any except for a few adornments and technological devices.
“All right then,” I said. “What about the Ancients? How exactly did they manipulate your planet’s environment and the creatures there?”
“By means of machines.”
“Did the Ancients ride around in ships, then? Is that how they left their stars?”
“They could not leave their stars until they learned to manipulate space. Even now they usually send machines and control them from afar.”
This was beginning to sound familiar. The Blues had done something similar by creating the Macros and the Nanos to explore beyond their gas giant home while they themselves were largely trapped within the gravity well of their own planet. In fact, Earthlings had done much the same thing when we started to explore space by using robot probes more often than manned missions.
But that was before the Macros came and changed everything.
“But…how could creatures of fire, beings that dwell within stars, make machines?” I asked. “I mean, what kind of materials could stand up to that kind of heat and pressure?”
I couldn’t tell you how, but I got the impression Farswimmer smiled. “Our scientists have debated this question for many years, and they have theories. The most popular explanation is the use of precisely controlled magnetic fields. But it really doesn’t matter. Their science is advanced so far beyond ours as to seem supernatural, though we know it isn’t.”
I realized he was right. Our scientists were no different. I imagine all scientists were the same in that regard, debating the possibilities all day long. But as Captain, I didn’t have that luxury. I had to get us home, and for that I needed answers. “Do you think the Ancients are dangerous?”
“If they wish to be,” Farswimmer said. “They are individuals. At times, they come out of their lairs and do what they wish with lesser beings. Think of them as farmers or gardeners. If they’re bored with their garden—they might choose to make drastic changes.”
“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully. I didn’t like the idea of being a farm-animal—or worse, a turnip to be plucked or plowed over. “How do you fight a star dweller?”
The Whale made a motion I interpreted as a shrug. “We do not know. Some of the more radical among us have proposed creating weapons to attack the brown dwarf itself, but the time scales to build such projects range into the millennia.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s only a Whale issue,” I said with grim amusement. “Humans have a way of ignoring their problems until it’s almost too late, too.” I drummed my fingers on my chair arm and thought while Farswimmer floated patiently on the screen. “What about the golden slab machines?” I hoped that would translate well enough to understand what I meant.
“The Cubics?”
“That’s a good name. We’ll use it from now on.”
“We believe they’re a remnant of the Ancients’ machines, but they have begun to malfunction. Their visits have become more erratic, and lately they have acted unpredictably.”
“For example?”
“They’ve stolen various pieces of machinery from space near the far ring—the one you arrived through. Probes, observation satellites, even one crewed ship. We and the Elladans now give the ring as wide a berth as possible as do the Demons. The Cubics are simply too powerful to deal with, and we’ve never found a way to change their behavior.”
I smiled. Farswimmer seemed like a decent guy, so I didn’t mind sharing a technique with him. “We found a way,” I said. “At least, one rogue human did. He planted a fusion bomb in the Cubics’ control center which knocked them out for a while.”
“Humans are resourceful creatures!” the Whale said. “Perhaps you’re a superior breed—like the Elladans.”
I sat back, putting my hands behind my head. For some reason, Farswimmer’s agreeability and willingness to subordinate himself was beginning to make me suspicious, so I decided to needle him a bit just to see what the result would be.
“Doesn’t it bother you to think we’re somehow superior?” I asked.
“Every species is better than others in some areas. Elladans are better at war, at technology and at exploration. Ketans value other things, such as art, song and harmony. We are what we are, and you are what you are. We only wish to end this conflict and return to our peaceful ways.”
Ketans…that was a new term. I figured it was what the Whales called themselves.
“Right,” I said. “A sensible attitude.”
Well, if Farswimmer wasn’t lying to me, these guys wouldn’t make any trouble for us. I hoped they could fight, too, however. I had the feeling the Demons were resourceful and unlikely to cease their aggression.
“But when we defeat this latest attack,” I said, “the Demons will only build another fleet, and another. Do you guys have any plans to counterattack? To defeat them and win the war?”
“Given the distances involved, that’s very difficult. Attacking fleets have many disadvantages. They cannot resupply with personnel, fuel or ammunition,
and they cannot withdraw. They must either remain at speed to conduct one attack, or they must expend fuel to slow down and fight to the death. The defense, on the other hand, can resupply from stores, use moonlets as weapons platforms, and can see the enemy fleet approaching. Also, given that we hold two worlds, even if the Demons devastate the defenses of one, the other can counterattack and relieve its ally. Thus have we coped with the Demons for the past decades, and we will do so today. We are confident.”
Damn. I chewed my lip. The Whales seemed committed to a purely defensive stance, which was probably fine for now…
But the fact these Demons launched an attack fleet every year… Eventually, something had to break.
“Thanks, Farswimmer,” I said. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I need to consult with my officers and call you back later, okay?”
“Of course, Captain. We’re at your service.”
I sat a while after the screen blanked, eyes unfocused, musing. There was so much to digest.
-10-
The sound of a throat being cleared broke my ruminations on all Farswimmer had told me, and I glanced over to see Hansen jerk his head at the ready room door. Nodding, I stood and went in. He followed me, leaving Bradley with the watch.
When the door had shut, Hansen turned to me. “Pardon me, Captain, but we’re getting off track.”
“How so?”
“It’s not our job to win this war for our new allies. You didn’t even ask about their rings—whether they worked, where they went? What if we can simply move on?”
“We can’t leave these people at the mercy of genocidal monsters.”
“Why not?”
Hansen had probably meant that to be rhetorical, but I pulled out a semi-bullshit answer anyway. “Because eventually they’ll come after us. It’s always better to stop a threat early.”
“But early is relative,” he argued. “Okay, I can see us helping with this battle coming up to gain their goodwill, but after that, it will be another year before the Demons attack. In that time, we can get home, then Star Force can get involved for real. Once they know about these new threats—the Lithos, the Demons, the Cubics—they’ll have to get off their asses and start exploring again. But none of that’s gonna happen if we don’t get home.”
