Bloodlines

by Richard Fox

  Most of the buildings appeared completely utilitarian: steel frames, mirrored windows, dark grey concrete corner pylons. Every ten or twenty floors, wide landing platforms sprouted from the buildings, most serving as landing pads for shuttles or smaller flyers. A few had what appeared to be company logos affixed near the top floors.

  Smoke poured from industrial factories, placed in the city in seemingly random locations, with no thought to aesthetics or modern zoning requirements. Several blocks’ worth of warehouses, manufacturing planets, and refineries sat south of the spaceport, all feeding a constant line of massive box haulers, delivering or picking up freight.

  The skies above the city were filled with traffic, from small personal shuttles to lumbering flatbed barges, hauling stacks of multicolor cargo containers. A group of ships carrying large spherical containers cut through Valiant’s indicated flightpath, forcing the ship to slow to avoid a collision.

  Several kilometer-wide platforms floated above the city, throwing wide swaths of the metropolis in shadow as they moved slowly across the landscape. More buildings, though considerably smaller than their brothers on the surface, sprouted from these platforms. They seemed to be less industrial and more like they were used as residential towers. Gardens, parks, even pools surrounded them, some extending right up to the edges of the platform. Several pools stretched into the sky, beyond the platform’s edge, giving swimmers a terrific view of the cityscape below.

  The Valiant descended past one of these platforms, giving Carson and the others a good view of the aliens inhabiting the complexes. Several insect-like creatures, with several sets of spiny legs, moved—almost glided—across a swatch of bright purple grass, without giving the human ship so much as a cursory glance. Two sets of pinchers, the size of a human arm, extended out from a bulbous head at the front of its long body, opening and shutting in rhythm with its steps.

  Lincoln shuddered. “Holy shit, those things are creepy.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t have to deal with those,” Greer said. “They don’t much look like the forgiving sort.”

  “That’s two,” West said.

  “What do you mean?” Carson asked.

  “Two different species of alien, counting the Ultari. Well, three, I guess, if you count the cyborgs. I wonder how many we’re going to encounter. It’s actually kind of intriguing, this whole setup,” West said.

  “Because there could be potentially hundreds of species living together on this planet?” Carson asked.

  “Exactly. I mean, think about it. Humans have been trying to figure out how to coexist for thousands of years—unsuccessfully, I might add—and that’s just one species. The multi-species city back on New Bastion runs into all sorts of issues. If this galaxy’s managed to figure out a way for races to live and work together…it bodes well for our mission, at least.”

  Carson considered his logic and nodded. “Because if they can coexist with others, they’ll probably do the same with us.”

  “Maybe even provide support,” West said.

  “Let’s not put the cart before the horse just yet. We still have to actually meet them.”

  “Translation protocols,” Lincoln said, looking up from his console.

  “Excuse me?” Carson asked.

  “That’s what that probe was doing.” Lincoln pointed to the cluster of alien sensors still mounted on Valiant’s hull. “It accessed out computer data and worked up translation protocols based on our programing language and stored data. Looks like it’s some kind of universal translation program.”

  “Impressive,” West said.

  “Looks like its open source,” Lincoln said. “The program is transferable. The Qa’resh used a similar system on Bastion for interspecies communication. I can link it to your personal IR systems.”

  “Do it,” Carson said.

  A panel flashed on Greer’s console, indicating their course to their landing pad. Plotlines appeared, leading them on a curved trajectory, to a semi-enclosed structure in the middle of a wide spaceport. They passed over several other alien ships, all arranged in orderly rows. Pulsing lines drew a square around their pad, situated between a large, dilapidated-looking hauler and sleek, streamlined ship about the size of Valiant herself.

  “That ship looks fast as shit,” Lincoln said.

  West frowned, pointing at the hauler. “That thing? It doesn’t even look like it could get off the ground.”

  “Not that one, that one.” Lincoln pointed to the smaller vessel.

  Carson put a hand on West’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get the team prepped.”

  “Full kit?”

  Carson shook her head. “I don’t think off-loading a fully armed combat team would be appropriate just yet.”

  “You’re probably right about that,” West said.

  “Light kit, camo cloaks, maybe some ponchos so we don’t look as conspicuous,” Carson said. “No weapons on the contact team. Have an over watch element just out of sight that’s armed. Wouldn’t want to get another fine.”

  Valiant’s landing struts groaned as the sprint settled onto the landing pad. Pistons hissed and pressurized gas blew out from relief values along the underside of her hull.

  Carson stood at the top of the ramp, looking out over the expansive spaceport. There must have been hundreds of ships, from tiny personal craft to large haulers like the ship on the pad to their left.

  A small triangular craft zipped down out of the sky, flared briefly, then touched down on the tarmac, thirty meters away from Valiant’s cargo ramp. Hinged doors folded up from either side of the craft, coming together at the top, and several figures stepped out.

  Carson took a long breath. This time, it’s going to be different, she told herself, and started down the ramp. She’d made it two steps across the tarmac when she froze, eyes locked on the figure at the front of the approaching group.

  The leader was Ultari, similar to the one they’d brought back to Terra Nova, but with orange skin and a more sleek build and not as cyborged as the ones they’d found on the bridge of the dying ship. A silvery mechanical implant sprouted about an inch from the side of his head at the temple, cables connecting it to something underneath its long, flowing purple robes. The robes were tucked behind a mechanical chest piece that wrapped around its body.

  Four robot attendants followed, each walking on two thin, double-jointed legs, which bent opposite of human legs. Their arms were overly long, stretching down past the first knee joint. The spherical torso was dull, grey metal, adorned with several groups of indicator lights and closed access panels. Their heads, like reversed arrow heads with three red orbs for eyes, sat on thin, segmented necks that constantly twisted around, obviously searching for threats.

  Maybe this isn’t a utopia after all, Carson thought, stepping onto the tarmac. She stopped a few feet away, giving her team enough space to fill in behind her, but putting her close enough to the ship that they could still make a hasty exit if need be.

  The group stopped three meters away, the orange-skinned alien visually inspecting Valiant’s hull. He produced a data slate and stylus from somewhere inside his robes and started making notes without taking his eyes away from the ship, saying nothing.

  Carson waited. First contact meant approaching aliens on their own terms. Only when the safety of her team or their ship was in danger would she act on her own.

  After several awkward minutes, the alien stopped writing and looked down at his pad, seeming to review the data he’d just entered. Without looking up from the pad, it spoke, its voice coming out almost like a croaking sound a frog would make. Caron’s earbud translated the alien’s words to English in almost real time.

  “I am Envoy Malistar. This vessel is not registered with DIN or any of its subsidiaries, it is also bearing non-approved external components, not registered with DIN Compliance, and additional fines may be added to your citation. Please present your identification chips and transit authority warrant.”

  Carson h
esitated. “My name is Warrant Officer Katherine Carson, Terra Nova Pathfinder Corps. We’re here to establish—”

  “Improper protocol,” the envoy said, interrupting her with a wave. “You will present your Transit Warrant or we will notify your consulate of the violation. You will be held in contempt of Regulation 1.703, Transit Warrant Required. Present your warrant, please.”

  “I don’t have a—”

  “Improper protocol.” The data slate appeared in Malistar’s hand again, and he made additional notes.

  “Wait,” Carson said. “What do you mean ‘our consulate’?”

  “The Zeis Consulate, of course,” the envoy said, without looking up. “They will have the opportunity to provide valid information to rectify this situation. Until then, this vessel is under the jurisdiction of DIN Compliance, to be released upon verification of warrant status. Additional fines may apply.”

  Another droid appeared, flying out of the back of the envoy’s shuttle. It zipped past both parties, attaching itself to Valiant’s hull. There was a series of clanks and whirling of gears as the droid clamped on to the drive chassis.

  “Now, hold on just a second,” Carson said, stepping forward.

  Two of the robot sentries stepped up on either side of the envoy. Carson stopped mid-step, then backed up. The sentries watched her for a moment, then stepped back out of the way.

  Malistar stepped forward, holding out a small data chip. “Your temporary DIN account.”

  “Look,” Carson said, taking the chip and trying to keep the frustration out of her tone. “I was just trying to say that I’m not sure who these Zeis are, but we’re not them.” She motioned to the assembled team behind her. “We’re human. We came here from Terra Nova to contact something called the Sacred Intelligence.”

  “We are the Rightly Guided,” the alien said. “Use of the previous title is only for internal communications during declared emergency. Diasore is under heightened alert condition four.”

  Great, language games, Carson thought.

  “Why the heightened alert condition?” Carson asked.

  The envoy canted its head to the side, large round eyes squinting at the humans, as if seeing them for the first time. Its head tilted to the other side, like a dog might tilt its head at a strange sound. Lights began to flash on the mechanical harness and his mouth opened and closed, though no words come out.

  He looked down at his slate, mumbling to himself, as if trying to gather his thoughts. “No existing information for a Terra Nova located within DIN Registrant. No existing information for a human located within DIN Registrant. Negative compliance will result in a fine.”

  “If I’m not in your system, then that proves we’re new to this galaxy and don’t know your rules,” Carson said, stepping forward again.

  All four sentries stepped forward this time, forming a protective line in front of the envoy. Their lanky arms came up, forearm panels folding back, revealing some kind of weapons, aiming straight at the humans. “Cease hostile action immediately,” the sentry directly to Malistar’s right said, its voice tinny and mechanical.

  “Chief,” West warned, putting a hand on her arm.

  Carson stopped; shrugging West’s hand off, putting her hands in the air. “I am not being hostile. I’m merely trying to figure out what is going on here. Look, if I could just talk to someone in charge, we’d just like to introduce ourselves and—”

  Malistar leaned to the side, looking between two of the sentries. “DIN Governance is not available through this node. I am not authorized to conduct initial contact protocols. This is a violation of procedure. I must report this to DIN Central immediately. Further guidance is required.”

  Malistar turned and began walking back to the shuttle.

  “Wait,” Carson said.

  A whine came from the sentries, their weapons warming up. “Cease hostile action immediately.”

  “I’m not hostile, you stupid tin can,” Carson said.

  West took her arm again. “Chief, there isn’t anything you can do now.”

  Carson allowed him to pull her back, glaring at the envoy as he climbed into his shuttle.

  The sentries kept their weapons trained on Carson and her team for several seconds, then without a word, their forearm panels folded back into place, hiding their weapons. They turned and made their way back to the shuttle.

  “Son of a bitch,” Carson said as the shuttle lifted into the air. She turned, eyeing the droid that had attached itself to Valiant’s hull. Keying her IR, she said, “Greer, any idea what that thing is on the hull?”

  “Some kind of drive inhibiter, Chief. I don’t have any control of the engines or navigational systems, almost like I’ve been locked out.”

  “Are any other systems affected?”

  There was a pause, then Greer said, “No, just engineering and navigation. I have full access to everything else.”

  “Well,” Nunez said. “That could’ve gone worse.” Carson shot him a raised eyebrow and he shrugged. “I mean, they could’ve thrown us in jail. Those droids didn’t seem to have any problems with blowing us away if it came to that.”

  “Not how I wanted our first meeting to go,” Carson said. “Greer, see if you can figure out a way to get that damn thing off the ship.”

  “Roger that, Chief.”

  “What now?” West said.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Carson said. She nodded at Nunez. “Like he said, they didn’t put any restrictions on us, just the Valiant, which suggests that we’re free to explore the city. But without any knowledge about this place, I don’t have the slightest idea on where to go. We need to get the lay of the land. Birch, you have a spare drone?”

  “I do.”

  “Let’s at least get a scout of the surrounding area. It might give us idea of where to start.”

  Birch nodded and jogged up the ramp, into Valiant’s bay. He reappeared a few seconds later, one of his newer smaller drones in his hand. He tapped a few commands into his wrist computer, then tossed the drone into the air.

  It zipped away, stopping twenty meters above the tarmac to get an initial scan of the area. It rotated there for a moment, then turned to start its scouting run.

  “I’ve got a good connection,” Birch reported. “Setting up its… what the—?”

  A large flying droid dropped out of the sky, stopping mere inches from Birch’s drone. Two half-domes, attached to a rectangular body, rotated opposite each other. Clusters of antennas extended out from the sides of each dome and each held a sensor dish, which spun constantly. A red sensor eye, above a cluster of antennas on the front of the main, rectangular body, focused on Birch’s little drone.

  “You are in violation of DIN Compliance Code 11.231a,” a robotic voice announced as an arm extended out from the bottom of the droid and swatted Birch’s drone out of the air. It fell to the ground in pieces. “A fine has been assessed to your account. Failure to comply will result in additional fines.”

  The police drone swooped over the Pathfinders and dropped a plastic chit at Birch’s feet.

  Carson threw her arms up in frustration. “Are you kidding us!”

  “Um, excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said.

  Carson turned and saw a short, tan-skinned alien, standing several meters away. It was humanoid, bipedal, hands pressed together in front of its chest as if it was praying. Large ears, which were almost the same size as its head, stuck out on either side of its head and flapped slowly. Gold and silver jewelry adorned the outer and middle lobes of each ear, some attached to other rings with small gold chains. Its skin seemed to sag slightly. Its small round eyes, set close together, seemed almost abnormally small when compared to the rest of its features. Its nose and mouth were elongated like a canine’s.

  It wore a blue shirt, smoke-grey jacket, open at the front, and black trousers, which were tucked into tan boots. A large pistol was secured in a holster on its right thigh.

  “Yes, yes, yes, I am Abendu Strace
,” the alien said. “I wonder if I might be of assistance.”

  ****

  Carson considered the mouse-eared alien for a several moments. “And you are a…?”

  The alien bowed. “Abendu, fair traveler. Humble Pindiki trader from the non-aligned worlds, at your service.”

  Carson frowned. “And why would you want to help us? You don’t even know who we are.”

  Abendu stepped forward, spreading his arms. “No, no, no, fair traveler, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with the envoy, vile thing Adjudicators are.” He shuddered. “Simply vile. And they’ve put a restraining droid on your ship…” He made several clicking noises with his tongue. “DIN Central should really ought to rein Adjudication in. I mean, the Node thinks it can just walk over anyone it wants to.” Abendu stopped and straightened. “Oh, where are my manners? I have neglected to ask for your name. Please, forgive.” He bowed at the waist, head down.

  “No apologies necessary. My name is Warrant Officer Kit Carson, 1st Terra Nova Pathfinders.”

  “Yes, yes, yes, of course… wait.” The alien tilted its head to the side. “But… but, you are not Zeis?”

  Carson exchanged confused looks with West, who stepped up beside her. Turning back to Abendu, she said, “We’ve been getting that a lot lately.”

  “Oh my, oh my,” Abendu said, clapping his hands together. “My apologies, I meant no offense.” He stepped closer, inspecting Carson’s face. “Your similarities to the Zeis are impressive, but I see it now, you are definitely not. But what…”

  “We’re called human,” Carson said.

  “Yoo-maan,” Abendu repeated, exaggerating the pronunciation. He nodded. “And where do you hail from, Yoo-maan Carson?”

  “It’s just Carson. Our home world is a place called Earth.”

  Abendu frowned, canting his head slightly to the side. “You name your world for dirt?”