Spindrift

by Allen Steele

  “Allow me to introduce myself,” the hjadd said, its voice a low, almost feminine contralto. “My name is Mahamatasja Jas Sa-Fhadda. You may call me Jas, for the sake of simplicity. I have been designated as Prime Emissary for contact between the Talus and your species.” It raised a webbed, six-fingered hand, held it palm outward. “Greetings and good health to you.”

  Uncertain of the proper protocol, Harker hesitantly imitated Jas’s gesture. “Greetings and good health to you as well,” he said as he peered more closely at the hjadd. So far as he could tell, it was a hologram, just as Lawrence had been. “I take it that you’re…well, unwilling to meet us in person.”

  “No insult is intended.” When Jas spoke, the movements of its mouth were out of sync with its words; some sort of translation device was being used. “Although our atmospheric composition is similar to your own, the nitrogen-oxygen ratio is much different, as is the pressure ratio. You would quickly become ill if exposed to our ambient environment, and vice versa. One of us would have to wear an environment suit in order to meet face-to-face, and since we decided that you should see us for what we are…”

  “I understand. Thank you, Mamahataja…” Harker stumbled over the complex syllables. This was received by a dry, froglike croak; the hjadd’s fin rose slightly, and its membranes bulged outward.

  “Please, call me Jas,” it said, its voice taking on a terse edge. “Mispronunciation of clan names is considered an insult among my culture.”

  “Jas is your given name?” Ramirez stepped a little closer, obviously intrigued. “And…um, Sa-Fhadda? What does it mean?”

  “It designates both my caste and my social status.” The left eye twitched toward Ramirez. “This would take a long time to explain. For the time being, you need only to know that I am highborn within my society.” Another croak, this one a little more high-pitched, accompanied by a subtle swelling of sacs within the hjadd’s throat. “You should be aware that further inquires would give my clanmates reasons to challenge you to a duel. I do not believe you would like that.”

  “Not at all.” Ramirez hastily stepped back. “Sorry. No insult intended.”

  “None taken, on first offense.” Jas’s left eye turned toward Emily. “Speaking of which…Lieutenant Collins? Your marital status is of great interest to our sociologists.”

  “It is?” Emily looked surprised. “Why?”

  “You were found aboard a craft with two males. This indicates that your species has two discrete genders. Since we assume that both males are your mates…”

  “What?” Emily’s face reddened, and Harker had to clasp a hand to his mouth to stifle a laugh, while Ramirez simply turned away. “No…neither of them are my mates,” she said quickly. “They’re simply…you know…males. And I’m a female. And that’s it.”

  For a moment, Jas said nothing. It…or rather heshe, Harker suddenly realized…regarded the three of them with solemn curiosity, hisher eyes shifting back and forth. “How very curious,” the hjadd said at last. “Two males, one female, and yet no bonding. Your reproductive system is…”

  “Why were we kept in biostasis for so long?” Harker decided to change the topic. His father had taught him that there were three things one never discussed in polite company: politics, religion, and sex. Now he knew why, although for reasons his father would have never expected. “You said that we’ve been asleep for fifty-three years. I understand that you had to learn our language, but even then…” He paused. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe that’s the only reason.”

  Jas turned toward him again, hisher fin rising slightly from hisher skull. “Yes,” heshe said, “you’re entirely correct. That was not the only reason. The Talus wished to see what else your race intended to do.”

  “What else?” Ramirez stared at himher. “I don’t…”

  “We just became aware of your race when you sent a ship beyond the range of your system two hundred and seventy-three years ago, by your reckoning.”

  “The Alabama,” Harker said. “Launched in 2070, on course for 47 Ursae Majoris.” He hesitated. “That is, a habitable satellite of a superjovian gas giant in orbit around…”

  “We are aware of the world, yes, and also that particular ship. One of our own vessels spotted it shortly after it left the periphery of your system. This was how the Talus learned of the existence of your race.” Jas’s eyes wavered between him, Ramirez, and Emily. “At first, the High Councils considered you to be only a curiosity, and decided not to intervene.”

  “Because we hadn’t yet developed hyperspace technology?” Ramirez asked.

  “Correct. For us, your kind was just one more race that learned to leave its homeworld.” Jas folded hisher hands together within the folds of hisher robe. “After a time, though, your race sent more ships to that system, and we realized that you were making an effort to colonize. So we decided to wait and watch, to see what you would do. And then you went to Shaq-Taaraq…”

  “That raised your interest.” Harker was beginning to catch on. “We found the taaraq…”

  “After that, we were unsure of your intentions.” Jas’s membranes fluttered. “Were you destined to be a friend, a foe, or a race best left undisturbed? We didn’t know. All we could do was wait to see what you would do.”

  “And keep us asleep until then.” Harker tried not to let his temper rise.

  “My apologies, Commander. We did not know whether your kind was…” J as hesitated. “Mature enough to be trusted.”

  Harker let out his breath. “Well, all right then. You’ve kept us in hibernation for over a half century while you’ve observed our kind. So what’s your judgment?”

  The hjadd silently regarded him for a long moment. “We believe the time has come for the Talus to make contact with your people. Would you be willing to make the necessary introductions?”

  Harker glanced at the others. Seeing no argument, he nodded. “Very well, then,” Jas said. “We shall proceed with no further delay.”

  Heshe stepped back, and the fireplace rumbled slightly as it moved aside, revealing a hexagon-shaped door. As Harker watched, the door split in half. Beyond it lay a long, brightly lit corridor, its paneled walls gleaming like burnished copper. Bowing slightly, Jas extended a webbed hand toward the passageway.

  “If you will come this way,” heshe said, “I will show you how to return to your own kind.”

  NINETEEN

  JANUARY 18, 2344—TALUS QUA’SPAH

  Emily felt a twinge of dread as she followed Harker into the corridor. Until now, their surroundings had been familiar; even though the Galileo in which she’d awakened was little more than an unconvincing facsimile, at least it was enough of a human environment that she didn’t feel threatened. Indeed, that was why the hjadd had made the effort in the first place.

  This was something new. When the library fireplace turned out to be little more than a facade for a hidden door, she had the urge to grab Ted’s arm and cling to it. She hadn’t been with him or Jared when they’d explored Spindrift’s tunnels, so this was her first exposure to a place that, beyond doubt, had been constructed by alien hands. Perhaps the other two were used to it already, but she wasn’t, and it was all that she could do to keep her fear from getting the better of her.

  “Where does this…?” she started to ask, pausing to look back only to discover that the door had silently closed behind Ramirez as soon as he’d entered the corridor behind her. Just as startled as she was, Jared turned to inspect the inside of the portal.

  “Sorry, guys,” he said after a moment. “If there’s a way to open it, I can’t find it.”

  “We couldn’t be so lucky twice.” Harker gazed at the corridor in which they found themselves. Like the door, it had the same hexagonal configuration, its copper-paneled walls angled outward at shoulder height. “But we can breathe…at least they’ve accommodated us that much.”

  “Our native guide has disappeared.” For the first time, Emily realized that they were alone. No sign
of Jas, or even Lawrence’s doppelgänger. “Guess this part isn’t equipped for holo imaging.”

  “Perhaps it’s not important enough.” Harker pointed to the other end of the corridor. Less than fifteen meters away lay another door, identical to the one through which they had just passed. “Jas clearly wants us to go there. So…”

  “Sure. Why not?” Emily tried to be nonchalant, yet she took Ted’s hand in hers as they continued down the corridor.

  They’d just reached the second door when it bisected, revealing what appeared to be a small, dimly lit room. Like the corridor, the walls on either side were lined with copperlike plates that, as soon as they walked in, glowed to life with a mellow golden radiance. The opposite wall, though, was little more than a floor-to-ceiling plate of black glass. Once again, the door closed as soon as they entered the room. Seeing their reflections in the glass, Emily realized just how helpless they appeared. Three dumb humans who’d stumbled into a place where they had no business.

  “This just keeps getting better and better,” Ramirez murmured. “Maybe next they’ll…”

  “This is only a temporary resting place,” Jas said. “We hope the surroundings aren’t too intimidating.”

  Caught by surprise, Emily looked around to see, behind them to their right, the hjadd standing in a shadowed corner of the room. This time, though, the alien wore an outfit that was doubtless an environmental suit of some sort. Light grey and made of some plastic material, it covered himher from feet to neck; hisher head was encased within a cylindrical helmet, with a reflective visor hiding hisher face.

  “Please forgive my appearance.” Jas’s voice came from a small grille at the base of hisher helmet. “Your atmosphere is toxic to us, so this suit is necessary. It is more convenient for me to protect myself than it would be for us to manufacture suits for the three of you.”

  Yet that wasn’t the most startling difference. For the first time, Jas seemed to have form and substance that heshe had lacked earlier. The subdued light from the walls cast shadows from hisher body, giving himher a lifelike quality that had been absent before.

  “You…” Emily stumbled for words. “You’re real.”

  A sibilant, stuttering hiss; oddly, it sounded like a reptilian sort of laugh. “If by ‘real’ you mean that I’m not a projection, then yes, I’m a corporeal entity.” Jas raised hisher gloved right hand, palm down. “You may touch me if you’re still uncertain.”

  Emily hesitated. “Go ahead,” Harker whispered. “Your turn to make history.”

  Feeling herself shake with fear, yet nonetheless compelled to do so, Emily stepped closer to Mahamatasja Jas Sa-Fhadda and, extending her hand, gently touched the back of hisher palm. To her surprise, she could feel warmth through the glove; despite appearances, its texture was as fine as cotton gauze.

  “See? Not so unlike, you and I.” Jas slowly rotated hisher wrist, allowing Emily’s hand to rest within hisher own. “We do not clasp hands when we greet one another,” heshe continued, hisher voice quiet and undemanding, “but we understand the gesture is significant with your kind. May I shake your hand, Lieutenant Collins?”

  “Yes…” Emily swallowed. “Yes, you may.”

  Ever so gently, the hjadd closed hisher hand around her own. Six webbed digits encompassed her five fingers; for a brief moment, she felt a soothing warmth like none she’d ever felt before, sensual and almost erotic, disturbed only by the hard leading edge of hisher talons against the inside of her wrists. If heshe chose to remove the glove, Jas could easily open a vein with those claws, yet she knew that heshe would not do so. This was a gesture of trust, as none she’d experienced before.

  “Greetings, Emily Collins,” Jas said. “I am honored to meet you.”

  “Thanks…thank you.”

  “You are welcome.” Heshe released her hand, then turned to the others. “Now, let me show you how you will return home.”

  The wall became transparent, and they found themselves gazing out at the Maria Celeste.

  The shuttle rested on its landing gear at the center of a large, hangarlike room. The belly ramp had been lowered, and Emily noticed that the fuselage was clean, the black dust the craft had collected on Spindrift long since cleared away. Indeed, it almost seemed as if Maria had been parked there some time ago, and now patiently awaited the return of her crew.

  Yet the shuttle wasn’t the same as when she’d last seen it fifty-three years ago. Where there had once been the bell-shaped nozzles of its twin nuclear engines there was now a pair of oblong humps that bulged from the stern. Looking closer, Emily saw that the VTOL engines were missing as well; the underside was smooth, plated over, with no sign that the thrusters had ever been there.

  “Oh my God!” She stared aghast at Maria. “What have you done to my ship?”

  Harker noticed the changes as well. “You expect her to fly that?” he demanded, the patterns of his robe becoming bright red as he pointed through the window. “We won’t even be able to get off the…!”

  “Allow me to explain, please.” The hjadd hastily backed away from them. Despite her outrage, Emily found a certain dim satisfaction in the realization that these creatures, as superior as they seemed, could nonetheless be intimidated. “Your ship will still be able to travel. In fact, the alterations have greatly increased its efficiency…”

  “I don’t care about efficiency.” Stepping forward, Emily stared directly at Jas’s helmet. She couldn’t see hisher face though the visor, only her own reflection, yet nonetheless she knew that the hjadd was looking straight at her. “You never mess with a pilot’s craft without her permission. I don’t care if…”

  Jas hissed, more menacingly this time, as heshe raised hisher hands in a gesture that was unmistakably defensive. “Stand down, Emcee,” Ted murmured, grasping her arm and pulling her back. “Take it easy. We can work this out.” He moved between her and the hjadd. “No offense intended. We’re only…surprised…by what you’ve done.”

  Jas lowered hisher hands, and heshe assayed a slight bow. “My own apologies. Our study of your culture gave us no indication that your kind felt so…personally…about your craft.”

  Now it was Emily’s turn to feel humiliated. Less than a minute ago, she’d felt nothing but warmth toward the hjadd emissary. Then she’d almost ruined it with a tantrum that she wouldn’t have thrown at a spacecraft mechanic back home. “My fault,” she said quietly, bowing as well. “Perhaps I should have listened first.”

  “Well done,” Ramirez whispered from behind her. “Now shut up and be nice.”

  She didn’t look back at him, but made a mental note to herself that she was in the presence of an alien race. So far, this was something only Ramirez seemed to comprehend fully.

  “Then I will continue, with your permission.” Calm once more, Jas returned to the window. “The alterations were necessary for two reasons. When we recovered your craft from Shaq-Taaraq and brought it here, we soon discovered that it would be difficult to safely contain the radioactive materials within its engines for a long period of time. The Talus has long since ceased relying upon nuclear fission as its primary source of energy for this very reason. So we were forced to dismantle your engines and dispose of them in order to protect ourselves.”

  “Quite understandable,” Ramirez said. “Please, go on.”

  “The second reason is that, in order for this craft to travel through our starbridge, we had to install a version of our own drive system.” Jas gestured toward the two bulges. “Your craft now utilizes a negative-mass means of propulsion far more suitable for hyperspace. You will find that your ship will operate just the same way as it did before. However, of course, the new system will produce a much higher mass-to-thrust ratio, and your internal guidance and navigation system will have a much more limited set of parameters.”

  “Limited? I don’t understand.” Emily shook her head. “What do you mean by that?”

  Jas’s faceplate turned toward her. “As I explained earlier, the method of
hyperspace travel your race developed is nearly identical to those developed by other races in the Talus. The basic principles are virtually the same. However, the major difference is that, until very recently, your race had only two starbridges…the one in orbit near your world, Earth, and the one you had established at the outermost edge of your solar system.”

  “KX-1,” Harker said. “That was an experimental bridge. We used it to rendezvous with Spindrift…Shaq-Taaraq, I mean.”

  “We are aware of that. Since then, that starbridge has been rendered inactive. The only one that remains beyond your home system is that which was recently established near 47 Ursae Majoris, near the habitable moon of a gas giant in that system.”

  “That would be Coyote. You mean to say…?” Emily glanced at Harker, saw the same look of astonishment on his face. “They’ve built a starbridge there?”

  “During the time you have been asleep, yes.” Jas emitted a hiss that may have expressed either amusement or irritation; Emily was still unsure of how the hjadd registered emotion. “They have used it to achieve hyperspace travel between Earth and its colony. By those same means, you will be able to reach…Coyote, you call it?…from here.”

  “Or Earth,” Emily said.

  “No.” The hjadd’s helmet swung back and forth upon hisher long neck, an oddly human gesture. “You will not be permitted to return directly to Earth…only 47 Ursae Majoris.”

  “‘Not be permitted?’” Harker stared at Jas. “How can you tell us where we will or will not…?”

  “Allow me to continue, please.” The hjadd raised a hand, admonishing him to be silent. “As I said, your shuttle’s navigation computer has been programmed to function only within a limited set of parameters. This is how all Talus hyperspace vehicles operate. In order for a ship successfully to navigate between one starbridge and another, both sets of space-time coordinates must be entered into its guidance system. Otherwise, a wormhole won’t be formed, and any ship that attempts to make the jump to hyperspace would be instantly destroyed.”