“You want to show me fish?” Any minute now I’m going to panic, Sarah thought, any second now I’m going to go completely hat-stand. If I get out of this alive I promise to be a better person, she prayed to any deity listening; I’ll bake cookies for orphans, I’ll knit scarves for homeless people but please don’t let them put me in a tank.
“Um, I think that possibly a small error has been made, um, I do, um, apologise. Your needs must have been confused with those of another Visitor. I shall, I shall look into this immediately.” He breathed deeply and stuck to what he knew. “My name is Martyn and I will be your Communicator during your stay with us. If there is anything you need during the Gathering please don’t hesitate to let me know.” His smile was beginning to look desperate. He knew that sometimes the trip up could make beings a little disoriented but it had usually worn off by now. A cold front started to wash over him and the unthinkable nudged to be thought. “We are honoured that you could join us for the Gathering…?”
“What Gathering?”
All colour drained from Martyn’s face.
Xander slowly lay down in his bed and tried to turn his thoughts off. It was going to be all right, he knew there was nothing more he could do until tomorrow when the Gathering would begin. With all the Visitors together, the shared knowledge and combined power would make a real difference. Everything rested on getting everyone safely together in the same place at the same time.
The intercom on the wall buzzed into life. Xander’s eyes shot open.
“Speak.”
Martyn’s voice came through. “Sorry to um, wake you up, sir, but, um, well, we’ve got a bit of a problem here and um, I hate to trouble you at this time of night, but um…” He sounded close to tears.
Xander massaged his forehead. Martyn was an excellent Communicator and the best host he had ever worked with but he was a perfectionist to the point of mania. If the water should rise or drop one degree in a holding tank he acted like the world would end. If the humidity was just a whisper off the ideal for a guest he would have to lie down with the stress of it once the situation had been resolved. Mind you, Xander could still remember what had happened when the previous Communicator (may he rest in peace) had been less than careful with the salt content of the food for the Sen-pru Visitor.
“Don’t worry about it, Martyn. What’s the problem?”
“Well, um, you know the last pick-up the bus did?” The sound of nose-blowing blasted through the intercom.
“Yes?” Go on, tell me that the tank is a millimetre short of the plan, he thought.
Martyn’s voice wavered. “And, you know we were expecting one of their aquatic life-forms?”
“Yes, that is what was specifically ordered, Martyn. I remember going through the list with you. Twice.”
“Well, um, it seems that this one is amphibious and would rather not be in a tank. Also the trip up has caused it considerably more confusion than normal so I was wondering if it would be possible to accommodate them in pod seven on level five?” Pause. “Please?”
Xander rolled over and pulled the covers up. “Yes, Martyn, that would be fine. I leave the matter entirely in your capable hands.”
“Thank you, sir.” The intercom fell silent.
As he finally allowed himself to fall asleep he mused on his last conversation. Caused it a bit more confusion? Put them in pod seven? Strange planet he thought. Oh well, at least the Visitor had been collected. That was the important thing.
After Sarah was reunited with Monty (the cause of Martyn’s shredded sleeve) the Communicator led her through what seemed like a labyrinth of identical cream passageways. There were a few sliding doors on either side and occasionally discrete round holes covered with silver disks were visible in the walls but otherwise there was no decoration. Although Martyn assured her that it was easy to remember the way when you had been on board for a while, she wasn’t convinced. Eventually they came to another identical door where Martyn inserted a key card into a panel and moved to one side to allow Sarah to enter. She unclipped Monty’s lead to let him have a sniff around. It had been so long since their original walk to the supermarket that Monty felt he was in need of something more relieving than a sniff. He started to pace around looking for the back door.
“Would this be um, satisfactory?” Martyn said nervously, looking at her and placing the key card on the edge of the bed.
Sarah took in the soft lighting, en-suite bathroom and snazzy décor and thought back to the small terrace she shared with five others. She bit her lip. “It isn’t what I’m used to,” she said honestly, surreptitiously looking around for the mini-bar, “but I’m positive I’ll make the best of it. Thank you.” She smiled at him.
To the right of the door was a small bathroom where he showed her which buttons to press for the shower, how to deal with the toilet (she had been quite nervous in case the aliens didn’t have bladders) and how to work the body dryer. The dryer was a curious small cubicle next to the shower that used electrical currents to take off excess moisture.
The main room also had a sofa, a large comfortable bed and on the wall opposite the door there was a row of discrete panels. On the right in the corner was a wardrobe that worked on rotation to save space. Pressing the panel next to it opened the clothes cleaner. Sarah learned that all you had to do was put your clothes in, tap in what material it was made from and the cleaner effectively sucked off any atoms that it didn’t recognise as the appropriate fabric. Next was the counter that would produce food from the kitchen on demand or by prior order, and finally another panel acted as the rubbish chute.
“If you would come this way”, Martyn said, gesturing towards the door next to the chute before leading the way through.
She moved to catch up with him but when she went out onto the small private balcony that was attached to her pod she stopped, speechless.
Exquisitely coloured plants burst into flower on the edge and dripped from the walls. There was a small water feature on the right with miniature shrubs nestling by the side. It was stunning, but what really took her breath away was the view.
“The transport is actually in four parts,” explained Martyn, enjoying her rapt expression. “In case we are attacked or something catastrophic happens, it will separate and each self-sufficient part will help out the others. We couldn’t put anything useful or valuable in the middle where the splits would occur so we modified the lighting and let a few things grow. We also have a green area in the relaxation space. Um, I thought you might enjoy this pod.”
Sarah was looking out across a small rainforest where multi-coloured birds circled the tops of tall trees. The air was warm and humid and steam rose from the tree tops in answer to a sudden artificially manipulated downpour. In the distance she could see a suggestion of buildings. Satisfied, Martyn left her to gaze in awe.
Another recently arrived Visitor stood on the balcony of their pod looking out over the same scene. Its tall body was covered in a red, hooded cloak that seemed to move as if in a breeze although the air was still.
The Visitor reached out its mind to the beings on the ship and felt the mass of thoughts and feelings of those inside. There was one mind that had troubled the Visitor and it was sought out. It was not time, was it? Yet, a time must surely come for all things to declare their way. The Visitor reached its mind further, found what was looked for and felt saddened by the discovery. Unexpected, certainly and regrettably not planned for, but at least the Visitor now knew.
It had begun.
Two
Sarah had no idea what the time was when she woke, her watch having stopped when she was picked up. The artificial sunlight streaming in through the open windows on the balcony indicated that it was probably quite late in the morning or early in the evening. She tried to decide how she felt about her change in circumstances. Lying on the soft mattress, warm and comfortable with Monty’s gentle snoring filling the silence, Sarah decided there was no need to worry just yet. Although worry, hysteria and
a full mental breakdown were all options that she could call upon later.
Last night had seemed to go by so fast. When he walked her to her pod, Martyn had explained that she would be expected to sleep for at least sixteen hours while her body adjusted to the atmospheric changes and pressure. Someone would collect her for the first meeting and bring fresh clothes. He had seemed slightly surprised that she didn’t have more in her backpack and she was too tired to ask why. She had tried, repeatedly, to make him understand that she really didn’t know what was happening but he had politely dismissed all her protestations and assured her that the memory loss was temporary.
She could hear voices from the corridor and reluctantly shrugged off her bed covers to get up. Monty, disturbed from his dreaming, stretched comfortably and followed her as she made her way towards the shower.
“Push off, Monty. This is my shower, you had one yesterday,” she moaned as she opened the cubicle door, but he was too fast for her. Squeezing his nose behind her knee he barged his way past and sat in the middle, his stump of a tail wagging and tongue hanging out in excitement. Sarah shrugged, turned on the shower and went to see about breakfast until he was done.
With a glass of orange juice in one hand she leaned over the rail on the balcony and admired the peace of the forest. A movement to her left caught her eye but when she turned whatever it was had disappeared. She really hoped they hadn’t imported bugs as well as birds into the forest.
Ten minutes later she wandered back into the bathroom vaguely concerned.
Monty was in the body drier, eyes shut in canine ecstasy. She kicked him out and had her shower. He sulked past and piddled on a bush on the balcony.
Engineering was filled with activity as Booker hustled his team back to work after their daily briefing. He returned the pad to the pack on his back and surveyed his realm.
His real name was Sheth Pause but the nickname “Booker” had caught on when he was studying at The Lights because of his evolving note pad that kept growing. He accepted this nickname in the same way a kindly old grandfather lets the grandkids find a suitable term of endearment, whether “gramps” or “granddad”, but forget the veneration that comes with the title and you’d better be good at stick-dodging.
Not that he was necessarily old enough to be a grandfather. Noticing that their son had an aptitude for mechanics, his parents had sent him to The Lights Academy as soon as he was old enough. He had been the first recruit ever to score 110% in the entrance exam by improving the design of an old bus engine they had been told to rebuild. After a few years they had nothing more to teach him but let him stay because he was the only one who knew how to fix the generator. For his part, he had nothing more to learn from them but stayed because they didn’t notice the spare parts he ‘borrowed’ to build his own bus in the room that used to contain the generator. During this time there was a freak energy surge and the administration room was lost, along with his recorded date of birth.
Having a simple outlook on life and being someone who naturally dreamed in terms of spanners and ratchets, he enjoyed a comfortable bachelor life. However, budding recruits desperate to serve with him knew that their chances increased in direct proportion to their needlework / cooking / cleaning skills.
With a straight back Booker stood at around five foot seven but years of crouching down through tunnels had left him with a slight stoop. His uniform of black soft trousers and matching T-shirt with heavy steel toe-capped shoes gave him a relaxed appearance. In contrast, he had a slightly tense, lined face, fitting to one who knows what could go wrong with the piece of metal hurtling through space and who also knows how old the parts are that hold the metal together. Although he managed to hold on to his eyebrows, despite the often intense heat he worked in, he had given up on his hair long ago and kept it closely shaved. The colour of Booker’s hair and skin under the stain of engine oil was anyone’s guess.
He scowled at a gauge on the wall and walked off to get a hammer.
Xander paced around his pod, uncomfortable in his ceremonial uniform. The Grand Dinner tonight had not been his idea but he had been unable to dissuade Leader-One who had been adamant. A great idea in theory, but one cherry daiquiri too many and someone would take the last chocolate mint and then there would be an argument about what “your Snargof did at my Libbet’s wedding[2] last year” followed by a fight and the whole Gathering would be off.
Sweet freedom, he thought, this posting was supposed to be meant as a rest and token promotion after the Gralic mission. What would they have done to me if I’d screwed up?
As he headed off to the dining hall he tried to loosen his collar. Before things had become “complicated” he had enjoyed the Gralic mission. The time spent during his first command of a small flotilla of research ships had been exhilarating and he didn’t have to worry about things like uniforms or diplomacy. The fashion for ceremonial clothing this season involved bright colours and tassels. He felt like a kitsch lampshade.
The hall looked impressive; he hoped that the twenty-five chosen Visitors appreciated the efforts taken for their comfort. Martyn had clearly spent hours fussing around making sure that each place setting was appropriate for the diner. Knives, forks, spoons, straws and a crowbar were set to take into account the individual’s taste in food and the method they would use to eat it. Xander approached the circular table to check that he wasn’t sitting next to the crowbar user and found that his companion for the evening was the Visitor from Ageron. He didn’t mind aquatic life forms as a whole but he found conversation with them difficult. Anyone travelling through space had a translator chip inserted into their eardrum or throat as a matter of course but some of the bubbles coming from the tanks were best not translated.
An area to the side had been prepared for a small quartet to provide some light background music. Again, one of Leader-One’s touches. If it had been up to Xander the Visitors would be kept as far away from each other as possible and the first intergalactic conference call would have been set up.
Around the table, where fitting, high-backed white chairs complemented the crisp white tablecloth. The floor was tiled blue and the ceiling had been taken back to let the stars shine out, leaving the ship’s energy shield as protection. He looked up, at peace for the first time that day, and felt that he could never grow tired of gazing out at the sparkling diamonds of light that broke up the endless dark.
He heard movement behind him and turned round to see Leader-One, resplendent in his ceremonial uniform. It did not, he noticed, involve tassels. Leader-One was on full charm offensive, laughing and joking with one of the Visitors. Here we go, thought Xander, show time. Making sure his smile was firmly in place, he walked over to greet some of the other Visitors arriving.
The space filled up quickly and soon a myriad of shapes and sounds were circulating around the room. The cloaked Visitor was not one of the first to arrive and so moved quickly and quietly to the table, acknowledging the rest of the company with a nod. All afternoon it had been in communication with the Council of its home planet and the advice had been to observe without action. They too had been surprised, but they agreed that if the time had arrived then let it be so.
Sarah inched her way into the room with Monty pacing next to her. Her measurements, taken from when she was first picked up, had been passed to a member of engineering who was gifted in needlework. She was secretly quite pleased with the resulting simple black dress, which felt appropriately demure while flattering her figure and didn’t make her feel that she would stand out.
The group of musicians was playing something tuneful and soothing in the corner on various instruments. The shapes of the instruments were almost as interesting as the shapes of the musicians. Monty knocked into her and her attention was drawn away. Although Monty’s lead was on, Sarah still kept a cautious hand on his neck, aware that this was not an appropriate time to see how well he would get on with strangers. She looked around the room at the strange mix of creatures. Clearly this
was a diplomatic affair as everyone had fixed expressions of happiness and there was far too much polite laughter. She spotted a man trying to look inconspicuous and glowering at the drink of someone who was getting into a heated discussion with what looked like a geranium. He was slightly more than six feet tall with a well built frame and was looking decidedly uncomfortable. As a waitress in a demure green dress walked by Sarah picked up two drinks and went over to him.
She held one out. “Here you are.”
“Hmm?”
“I saw you looking at…his?... drink and I thought you might like one. I’m new here, arrived yesterday. You?”
Xander took the drink and tried to think where the slightly nervous-looking biped was from. Shoulder-length brown hair, two eyes, oxygen user with smooth skin. He couldn’t place her.
“My name is Xander Mantac, I’m Leader-Two on this ship.” He politely took the glass and smoothly deposited it on a passing tray. Noticing her expression he gave her an embarrassed grin. “Not while I’m working, and especially not these ones. Have you tried them?”
Sarah took her drink and sniffed it experimentally. “Brandy?”
He nodded.
She took a small sip. “Cherries?”
“Kirsch.”
The liquid trickled down her throat leaving a curiously warm sensation. “Rum?”
Again he nodded. “And..?”
“And?” The small trickle had made its way to her nerve centre causing ripples of relaxation to flow through her. “Lime juice?”
He beamed at her. “Almost! It’s actually lime alcohol, which can be lethal if not diluted correctly. It’s one of the few cocktails that does not, in fact contain anything non-alcoholic. I believe Leader-One hopes they will relax Visitors such as yourself and help make the evening enjoyable.” Xander looked around at the assorted delegates. My personal choice would have been water, he thought. As they sat in separate rooms. On their own planets.
Space Hoppers - Dance of the Guinea Pigs Page 2
