by Greg Curtis
“Except under emergency conditions Human, when the captain may become the sole arbitrator of guilt and punishment. Such as this.” Helos was huffing away once more, determined to win at any cost, and overriding the captain for the second time who was clearly starting to get angry with him if the orange glow of his face was anything to go by. Helos of course paid him no mind. He was determined to win the argument and everything else was irrelevant. But Daryl wasn’t about to back off either. It was stupid, but he’d had enough.
“I see no emergency Aler. Only some highly suspect accusations made by a supposedly advanced member of the Aler people.”
“Supposedly? How dare you human! My people had space flight when yours were still inventing the wheel.” The Aler was absolutely furious, and Daryl’s translator was having a hard time trying to convert his words into English. From the gaps in translation he assumed many of them were swear words with no true Earthly parallel. But then he already knew he’d gone too far, and he didn't care. Daryl tried hard not to smile at his accuser’s fit. It might cost him his freedom for a very long time to come.
“Then where is your emergency doctor? I’m a xeno-archaeologist. I study civilisations that have been dead for centuries at least and you’re hunting a race that died out a hundred thousand years ago. Next year or next century it will all still be waiting for you, unchanged.”
The logic of his argument was clearly lost on the Aler, as Helos started calling him every unmentionable name he could think of, none of which his translator could handle. The result was that Daryl simply stood there, waiting for him to say anything he could respond to, while the Aler carried on like a runaway maglev. Meanwhile his middle pair of legs, already crossed, suddenly folded up into his stomach, a sure sign of anger and Daryl braced himself just in case he did attack. Alers’ natural form of attack was to leap on top of their victims, and then trample them to death. It seemed quite a painful way to die.
“The human has a point friends.” A new voice had entered the conversation and Daryl turned to see a truly massive being enter the room. One with four legs extending from two hips, and four arms extending from two shoulders. It stood surely close to three metres tall, and was covered in shaggy fur. But other than that it was almost human looking. At least in its face. Two eyes, a nose and a mouth, all in the correct places, more or less. Compared to the rest of his visitors in fact, it looked almost pleasant.
“It knows it has committed no crime, and that your charges would be difficult to prove, and in the event you did win, extremely expensive to all our people.” Daryl didn’t know quite what to make of the alien. He’d never seen any with a body plan quite like it. But the fact that it could freely enter the room where the other members of the great races stood and were beating up on him without fear, and from the fact that it addressed them as friends, suggested strongly that it too was from an advanced race. It had to be, he figured, one of the fabled Xetans who’d never even bothered to come to Earth. They had better things to do with their time. He remembered some of the xeno-biologists at the varsity who had at least seen holo’s of them, talking about their unusual anatomy. He just wished he’d paid more attention.
“Please forgive my friends human. They mean you no harm. Quite the opposite in fact. But this is an emergency as you have been told, and your help is required. A scientific emergency, as we have made a discovery of immense importance. And none of us will be alive in a century or two to follow it up. This I think, you can understand.”
The strange being was using a translator as was everyone else, but for some reason his was converting his buzzing into perfect English, which surprised Daryl. The rest left gaps where words couldn’t be translated, and had strange mispronunciations as alien computer voices tried to speak human. It was obviously an advanced unit. But stranger still, unlike the others he was almost respectful of Daryl’s humanity, and as such totally unlike any others of the Interstellar Community. Of course humans had only been space faring for a century or so and had only met a few of the other races. Maybe there were some decent ones out there after all.
“Of course.” Daryl figured it was well and truly time to become respectful once more. He had been playing with fire by disagreeing with the Aler, one of the four pre-eminent races in the sector, while two others, the little Regularan and the Myran captain, clearly didn’t like him. Even if they didn’t charge him with anything, the great races could well have had all his permits removed so that he was stuck on Earth for the rest of his days. And assuming they felt wronged enough, they might also have taken other actions against his people, such as further trade embargos, or limiting their explorations even further. Earth wouldn’t thank him for insulting members of the great races, and he’d be lucky to ever get another off-world travel permit again.
“I know how it is when you find something. Please tell me how it is I can help you, and I will do my best.”
“Your limited best!” Li broke in once more, determined to make sure everyone knew his thoughts about the state of human knowledge. But the new being simply stared at him and the Regularan suddenly stopped speaking, which told him a lot more about the power relationship between them.
The newcomer continued to speak to Daryl while the others stayed surprisingly quiet. “On the world your people called Calderon Six, you unearthed a cache of ancient records and a computing machine from a ruined city.”
“Yes. Two standard years ago, it was a very successful dig.” He nodded at the newcomer, wondering where he was going. He remembered the dig well. Calderon Six was a desert world, with temperatures daily reaching forty five Celsius and more, and the city itself - or what was left of it after nearly ten thousand standard years in the sun - had been buried in sand. It had been a difficult dig, fraught with danger as he’d had to overcome booby traps more advanced and deadly than any he’d ever heard of before let alone encountered. Yet somehow he’d got through them all in a mere six months, and been well satisfied to find the writings, and the ancient computer. They, along with much of the rest of the city, had almost miraculously been preserved by the depth of sand the city had been entombed in, and the unbelievably dry air.
The miracle had become miracles a month later, when he’d finally taken the time to fully study his finds. The writings were of course completely beyond him, but once he’d found the right power source for it, the computer had quite quickly yielded alien data which even now was still being decoded by the scientists at UEU. The language was indecipherable, even with Community assistance, always assuming they were telling them the truth, but the machine held far more than words. Even he had managed to find enough data in that dig to see the potential, as the machine was loaded with diagrams, and its processor was something as far beyond human technology as its interactive holographic display. If only the data hadn’t degraded so much.
“But Calderon Six wasn’t one of the Ancient’s worlds. Its people lived there up until ten thousand standard years ago, when they seem to have abandoned it and gone somewhere else.” Which was one riddle he’d really wanted to solve. Where had they gone, and why had they left? He thought he’d possibly worked out the second part, noting in the geologic records that the world hadn’t always been a desert. Ten thousand years ago, something had happened to change its climate dramatically. As to what that was however, he still hadn’t a clue. Pollution leading to a greenhouse effect, a change in the sun, or just the result of water loss to space. One day he hoped to go back and find out.
“We know. But we also know from the records you brought back, that its people knew far more of the Ancients than we do now.” Which was completely possible considering their advanced knowledge compared with anyone else around at the time. In fact, he suspected the Calderonians' knowledge had been on a par at least with any of the great races standing before him today. But then he had to ask himself, how did these people even know about the computer records? He’d never shown them to them, and he would have bet good coin that no one on Earth would have eithe
r. It was their find, from a world they had been granted leave to explore, presumably because the Community had already determined it held nothing of value, and the Community had no right to his research. But he didn’t have the temerity to ask such a pointed question and potentially offend his only ally.
“Quite possibly. They were an advanced people, and they had been exploring space for thousands of years before they departed. But if that information’s on their computer we haven’t been able to translate it yet. Much of the data was damaged over time.” A fact that still annoyed him. When he’d first unearthed it, the computer had seemed intact, and his primary scans of its data, showed a high level of integrity. But somewhere between Calderon Six and Earth, it had deteriorated, until what was downloaded at the other end was fragmentary and filled with static.
“However, I have a complete copy on the Sparrow, which you’re most welcome to.” Actually they weren’t. It was Earth’s information by right and Force law. He was just being blackmailed into a corner by them. But Earth Fleet would expect him to back down, and if it got him out of a jam with them, so much the better. Besides the fact that they knew about it suggested strongly that they already had a copy. No doubt obtained by diplomatic persuasion, gunboat diplomacy and not so subtle threats. He was merely trying to look cooperative after the event.
“Did you know that they left our space to live with the Ancients?” It wasn’t really a question. The newcomer surely knew he didn’t, that he hadn’t even guessed it, and in fact Daryl was practically gasping at the thought. The Calderonians, the only name he had for them, had abandoned their world - make that worlds - to follow another race gone at least ninety thousand years earlier, to somewhere else. Somewhere beyond both human and even the Interstellar Community’s knowledge.
Eventually he found the presence of mind to shake his head. “No.”
“It’s in the records you unearthed. We have a copy, thank you. Their sun was growing slowly hotter as it cycled through a new phase, and the people knew they had to leave. But few of the worlds they’d encountered or tried to settle were pleasing for them as they had an unusual sensitivity to variations in atmosphere, and in time they looked further afield. And further back in time. Then one day they were greeted by the race we know as the Ancients, and welcomed by them. A short while later, they had packed all their people and most of their society into an armada of great ships and left this section of space forever.”
“And where do I fit into all this?” Daryl asked the question almost on autopilot, his mind was still spinning with the implications of all he’d been told. The Ancients. The first known race to have developed space flight, and a lot more besides. The partial fragments they had of them suggested a culture so advanced they could play with the stars, getting them to burn as they wanted. A race that could move worlds, and not just within a solar system, and perhaps even build them. The more wild speculations suggested they also had some form of instantaneous matter transmission system as well as the secrets of immortality. Naturally they were the Holy Grail for every archaeologist. And the Calderonians had somehow found them, or been found by them. And he had found the Calderonians. No wonder he was so popular.
“They left a map behind. One showing not just the other worlds they had colonized, but also the one they made their first stop on the way out there. And there were others. Worlds the Ancients had arranged for them to visit. It was a lengthy trip, nearly five years, and they needed to re-supply themselves, and also find places to get out and stretch their legs as your people say.”
“And you want to follow them.” Which was the only logical explanation. The great races had an incredible desire to understand the Ancients, though they had never deigned to tell the humans why. And given what they had apparently found on the computer, they suddenly had an incredible opportunity to not only learn more about them, but perhaps also to meet them. Which oddly enough was something Daryl could relate to. But why was he being drafted into the mission?
In reality he knew, he didn’t need to ask the question, it didn’t matter. The terrible thing wasn’t that he knew they had all the cards and were simply playing them, it was the understanding that Earth Fleet and the university, who funded his research, would expect him to go, regardless of the personal cost, as would Earth Gov. Whatever the reason, he was trapped, and by his own masters.
“Of course.”
“And what do I have to do with this? Other than finding the computer, it seems I can offer you very little more. As Doctor Li has said, you have the more advanced science and better scholars. Your equipment is far superior to anything I have. And you obviously have greater knowledge about both the Ancients and the Calderonians.” He watched the Regularan making some strange body movements, twitching his lip, and blinking a lot, and suspected he was finally agreeing with Daryl on something. Strongly. Unlike the Aler however, he didn’t seem to be willing to interrupt anyone to confirm it.
“Yet with your primitive equipment you managed to burrow into one of their ancient cities on their home world, evade any number of deadly traps, and come away with significant finds, as you have done on five other occasions. Some of those other sites were heavily protected as well. It speaks highly of your survival instincts. And the reports you gave show that you have significant experience in an area that we long since ceased studying. Archaeology. After all there is little new knowledge remaining for us to find.”
Other than that of the Ancients of course. But Daryl for once, didn’t say it. He was already on thin ice with several of them and Helos would probably have liked him best as a puddle of blood and bone under his feet. He had to try not to antagonise the rest. Daryl listened politely instead.
“It is true that your knowledge is limited, but your experience is invaluable. You have some practical skills that we lack and an insight that is markedly different from our own.”
“But five years, each way?” That was more time than he was willing to commit to such a project, no matter how worthy. Especially ten years cooped up with so many members of the great races, all of whom would give him endless grief.
“More like one to one and a half in total. The Calderonians were forced to travel at the speed of their slowest ships, terrig four or five. They had some huge vessels, the size of a small moon, so speed was a problem, and they also made some lengthy stopovers along the way. But we have the latest generation Force battleship at our disposal, and we can cruise comfortably at terrig twelve, and have no need for fleet control either, reducing our travel time by at least eighty percent.”
Terrig twelve? Despite himself Daryl was impressed. The Sparrow could manage two, on a good day. His people had a lot of catching up to do. But then that was no surprise.
“I don’t have the supplies for such a long journey. And my equipment needs servicing and repair.” But it was a futile gambit to save himself and he knew it. The Myrans would have thought of that long before they’d ever approached him.
“Already taken care of Doctor Daryl. The Targ will be docking with a human supply ship in a few days, and there you can get all the things you need. Food, medicines, recharges for your equipment, whatever. And the Targ itself is well equipped with engineers. If it breaks they can fix it.” Was that pride in the captain’s translated voice? Daryl thought so, and looking at the great ship, he could understand why. It was a massive ship, surely the pride of any fleet. Even perhaps, the Force.
“You know the Sparrow’s top speed is only terrig two?” But of course they did he realised a split second later. It was a stupid question. He had no doubt he would have to leave the vessel behind for Earth Fleet to collect, while he would become a passenger and presumably the bug would become his only lab.
“It will not be travelling there under its own power doctor. That would take fifty years. The Targ will take us there, and the Sparrow will remain inside the docking bay until it’s needed.”
“But it’s a -” Which was as far as he got before his brain ran into problems. The Spa
rrow while small was a full sized ship. But then he saw it against the size of the Targ and reconsidered. The Sparrow was only seventy eight metres long, The Targ maybe fifteen hundred.
“Come now Doctor. My ship carries two cruisers of its own, each of which is ten times the size of your own vessel. Surely you cannot imagine that your vessel will pose a problem. Especially when we have already prepared a dock for it in the shuttle bay.” Of course the captain was right but his words still took his breath away. The shuttle bay? Not even the true docking bay? It was humiliating. But at least it meant he wouldn’t be loosing his ship. His home.
“And I suppose you’ve already brought the permission notes from my professors and Earth Fleet.” There was no point in asking he realised. If there was one thing the Force would do thoroughly it was comply with the regulations and laws. After all, they wrote them. And they’d already told him they’d obtained permission from his superiors. All he was doing was making them dot their i’s and cross their t’s. But the captain wouldn’t mind his asking, as it only went to show how thoroughly they had prepared. Myrans liked that.
