Nopileos: A novel from the X-Universe: (X4: Foundations Edition 2018) (X Series)

by Helge T. Kautz

  Chapter 37

  If the past were a place that one could reach, and if it were possible to deliver a single sentence to our ancestors, I would know exactly what I would say to them.: “Don’t give up, because there’s hope!”

  I would almost like to believe that this is really possible. Because our forefathers have never given up—never!

  That’s the only reason we’re here today.

  Hindrek Sills,

  Chairman of the Senate of the Argon Federation

  The computer used for the purpose of translation was, as was proudly asserted, a gift from the Teladi Company which had been presented by the representatives of the CEO just a few wozuras ago. It was quite obviously the onboard computer of a large starship in days gone by, going by the fact that some of the phrasing it utilized suggested a certain remorse for its fate. The word that Nopileos had translated into the trading language as Aesthetic Supervisor was simply translated by the computer as police, and Grand Aesthete came out as Conductor. Elena nursed the suspicion that it was in fact the ministry of the interior and the police chief, but she was quickly getting used to the words chosen by the translation computer.

  Idranenujos Andepebikas Cokadrareos I was the formal name of the Conductor, but he hurried to offer Elena and Nopileos his informal form of address as well, perhaps, he said while smiling benignly, with the addition of his title. But of course only if they so wished. Conductor Cokadrareos was a decidedly friendly Teladi. His muzzle was always ajar, leaving the impression of a smile, but of course Teladi never laughed, but instead inflated their scaly fin when they felt amused. The Conductor’s face paint was a simple ocher, with a few very small, discreet flames in light brown that extended from both sides of his stubby muzzle, over the bridge of his nose, and darted around his eyes to finally merge beneath the crimson, scaly fin. His clothes were just as simple: over a small body of claw-length, floral-patterned, artificial fur, he wore something that resembled a batik shirt. His leggings were a type of kilt or skirt in pale Teladi green, a color that was amazingly popular with the Teladi on—and off—Ianamus Zura. Starting at the collar, pale hieroglyphs spiraled around the kilt, all the way down to the hem. Nopileos, who had also learned to read ancient Teladi hieroglyphs in the noble breeding complex on Company Pride, was silent after he saw the twenty or so words of the writing system. Her forehead ridges darkened, but after a few sezuras she caught herself again. Everyone seemed to deal quite openly and matter-of-factly with things that were not even mentioned in whispers in the Teladi Company because they had simply been forgotten there over time! In addition, there was probably no uniform or dress code in the society of the planetary saurians from Ianamus Zura.

  “Oh no,” the computer said evenly, translating the Conductor’s sentences nearly simultaneously, “we do not know of any thinking machines that seek asylum in a distant refuge. And we also do not know how to deactivate a stargate. The Ancient Ones, however, we know through their Presence Cloud.”

  Nopileos looked at Elena almost doubtfully. They had been speaking with no one but the Conductor for almost two stazuras, but the conversation went in circles. At the beginning everything had looked promising. They had been channeled from the plain Aesthete to the Aesthetic Supervisor, to the Conductor. But from that moment on, the negotiations had faltered. Conductor Cokadrareos in fact recognized Elena as an important, high-ranking representative of a people with whom they wanted to build diplomatic relations as soon as possible. That there was a machine species in the Community of Planets that was facing genocide, however, did not make sense to him. That Elena needed help, was likewise clear to him. That she needed military or police support to find and overcome the pirates in her damaged ship and then continue on to Menelaus’s Paradise where she planned to shut down a stargate, however, was completely incomprehensible to him.

  “We know nothing about privateers,” the Conductor explained again after Elena and Nopileos didn’t reply. The astronaut rested her chin on her hand and peered out the window at the shimmering front of a skyscraper whose shape reminded her of an unevenly melted ball of soft-serve ice cream.

  “The universe is so wonderful, that it only has room for joy. And there is a lot of joy!”

  Ghinn was right, Nopileos thought. They are a bit like Boron on two legs. But just as the Boron Queendom long ago had to face the hostile universe after a long, painful learning process, Ianamus Zura would eventually have to give itself over to reality.

  “Oh colleague Conductor,” Nopileos said in trading language, “it really is of extraordinary importance that we permit the CPU ship to travel through to the refuge and disable the jumpgate.” The computer lagged in translation for only half a sezura.

  “Well, but I understand that!” the Conductor answered helpfully. “You are welcome to return to your planetary community with our diplomatic delegation!”

  The Conductor had said these sentences, with slight variations, for about the fourth or fifth time now. He never altered his friendly gaze at Nopileos and Elena. Of course, there was a series of other important information that had come out of the earlier conversation. But every time it came to the core of their concern, communication failed.

  Into the resulting silence, the notes of a strangely intricate melody fell: the Conductor was receiving a call. Cokadrareos spoke in quiet hisses with a video field that, surprisingly remained opaque from behind, so that Elena and Nopileos couldn’t see who he was talking to. “Dear friends,” he said after the field was deactivated, “I think you should come with me.”

  Elena and Nopileos looked at each other questioningly, but rose to follow Conductor Cokadrareos.

  “I will not speak with her.”

  For a moment, Elena started in fright.; she also heard Nopileos inhale sharply beside her. Ghinn t’Whht lay, wrapped in thick, sky-blue bandages, on two makeshift benches of Teladi construction. Along her entire right side was a large, dark spot and an unnatural curve. Some of the saurians scurried around the Split woman, but they were obviously only watching. Only then did Elena notice the small bundle wrapped in silver, shimmering cloth which lay to Ghinn’s left and moved at regular intervals. Now Elena understood. “Ghinn, I… congratulations!”

  “I will not speak with her,” Ghinn repeated and looked away.

  “She has, she is, has, laid?” Nopileos stammered. She stared with eyes like saucers at the bald, pale-yellow head of the infant who was peering out of the silver bundle.

  Before anyone could say anything else, Conductor Cokadrareos, who had watched the exchange of words silently, made a frightening noise that that sounded like a mixture of screeching and growling. All turned to the Aesthete. “Please excuse me,” Nopileos translated what the Conductor hissed with a chalk-white forehead ridge. Cokadrareos quickly rolled up a flexible radiophone and stowed it in a nondescript lining in his kilt. “Terrible, terribly important message,” the Conductor mumbled and left the room quickly. As he was leaving, he jostled another Teladi who wanted to come in.

  Elena looked questioningly at Nopileos. “What was all that?”

  Nopileos turned her palms upwards. “Tshhh—if only I knew!”

  The saurian who had just entered tilted his head and winked at Nopileos and Elena. He wore skintight ,yellow leggings and no face paint, but claws on his feet were painted in alternating white and black. “She’s like this all the time. But that is completely normal. After all, she is a hate-creature,” he said in Old Teladi and pointed at Ghinn t’Whht and her child.

  “Are you a doctor?” Nopileos asked. Eleana looked confusedly between the two Teladi, because she could of course not understand their conversation. Cokadrareos’s melodramatic departure was forgotten.

  “Um, no. I’m a painter.”

  “What is he saying, Nopileos?” Elena butted in.

  “He says he’s a painter,” Nopileos answered truthfully. The astronaut made a bewildered face.

  “Your friend, what does he mean, please?” the artist wanted to know,
<
br />   Nopileos hissed. “Tshhhhhh! She! My friend is a she! And one after the other! So, this is not a hospital, but a private art exhibition?

  “Why, no!” the artist’s scaly fin stirred. “Of course not. I found the hate-creature and brought her in. She was in a terrible situation, so alone out there. My name, by the way, is Gonareos Ianusis Jolandalas IV, member of the Artists Guild.

  Because Conductor Cokadrareos had excused himself until further notice, Jolandalas spontaneously proposed to show Ianamus Zura to Nopileos and Elena in the meantime. Elena considered herself out of alternatives, since all the other authorities kindly but definitely pointed to the Conductor and didn’t want to have a conversation with her on their own initiatives. She agreed after slight hesitation. Jolandalas owned a small hovercraft in the shape of a flattened flagellum; Elena had to bring her head in and make herself narrow, but she was already used to that from the many stazuras in the Teladi barge. The artist finally stopped the flying vehicle on a vast marshland, home to exotic plants, flowers, and animals.

  “We love beauty above all else,” Jolandalas said, performing a sweeping, outward motion with his claw that seemed to encompass the land, the horizon, and the sun. Nopileos simultaneously translated for Elena. “Beauty is harmony and contrast, color and dreariness. Function must yield to form if necessary, but the dark solstices are over,” he continued. “The glory of the universe speaks even in its slightest pieces. Science and art merge into one.”

  “That sound religious,” Elena remarked. In fact, Ianamus Zura was a delightful planet. Its tranquil landscapes, delightful contrasts, and vast, clean cities soothed the eyes and were capable of granting peace to even a human being’s soul, if only for a moment.

  “We know the concept of religion,” Jolandalas replied after Nopileos had finished translating. “But it’s been an empty word to us for a long time.” The artist paused, nudged Nopileos playfully, and started the hovercraft again. “The Teladi in the planetary community, however,” he continued “know one religion: it’s called credits.”

  Nopileos protested half-heartedly. What Jolandalas said had more than a grain of truth. It considered it appropriate at the moment to try to reassure him that she wasn’t chasing money, unlike every other Teladi in the Community, but on the contrary, was even planning to set up a non-profit organization! So she just wiggled her ears.

  In the late hours of the first quarter-tazura, the artist dropped the hovercraft near the barge at Elena’s request. The astronaut felt a nagging hunger, and she also wanted to make sure that Ghinn was provided with food: she mentally scolded herself for not thinking about the Split woman and her newborn baby. Of course there was nothing on this planet that humans or Split could safely consume. But in the pirate dinghy that both peoples had used, there were some supplies of concentrated nutrient rations for both Split and humans! Elena decided to strictly divide up the rations. She asked Nopileos to have a conversation with the Aesthetic Supervisor, but the call bore no result. The Conductor was still unavailable, but he let them know that he would be at their disposal on the next tazura.

  “I could cry,” she confessed to Nopileos. “They don’t seem to understand how important our mission is and that the lives of our crew are at stake!

  “Do not cry, star warrior! Didn’t you once say you never cry?”

  Elena conjured a faint smile on her face and put her hand on Nopileos’s arm. She thought of her experience aboard the Terraformer. “Don’t worry. Soft skin, hard core. Promise!” Nopileos gave a sign of approval. Elena pointed to the artist, who remained in his hovercar a few lengths away. “Hey, I think Jolandalas is waiting for you. Just go. I’ll bring Ghinn the nutrient bars—I don’t need an interpreter for that.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. Just be here early tomorrow morning, you hear?”

  “Hai, sister! And profit!” With these words, Nopileos ran over to the hovercar and shortly thereafter, with a tiny murmur of displaced air, the vehicle rose into the dusky evening. Elena gazed after them for a moment, then went into the barge and gathered up the nutrient rations.

  Chapter 38

  The Ancient ones aren’t wise, they are arrogant!

  Thi t’Ggt,

  First Warrior of Family Honh

  “Damn it all!” Major Seldon was upset, close to furious. “I’m slowly getting angry! That wasn’t seventy-six percent for us to come out at our destination, it was seventy-six against!”

  A few astronomical units away, three dazzlingly bright discs of suns stood in the night of space and outshined all the other stars with their glow.

  “We’re through,” Commander Borman stated. “But that’s not Menelaus’s Paradise. In fact, that isn’t any of the systems in the Community of Planets.” He didn’t even need to use the computer to verify that statement; there was only one star system in the Community of Planets with three suns, and this one here wasn’t it.

  “What? Are you sure?” It had naturally been clear to Siobhan from the beginning that the jump unit could also calibrate itself with completely unknown jump gates. But the chances of reaching nearby gates should be far greater than that of materializing in distant locations. The crux was, of course, that not all supposedly adjacent sectors in the Community were actually true neighbors.--many were hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of light-jazuras distant from one another, even though their stargates connected them directly together. If the AP Providence materialized in a star system that was was far from the known sectors on a cosmic scale, the likelihood of returning with a return jump would decrease significantly!

  Ditta Borman made an unladylike grunt. “Damn sure.”

  “Good. Take it easy—the jump field generators will be recharged in less than ten mizuras. Then we’ll try it again. Zakk, you check the coordinates.” Siobhan unbuckled herself and pushed the seat back. Maybe she could optimize the settings of the jump unit for the local conditions. Until she found that out, she didn’t want to alarm the crew with her conjectures about the reduced probability of return.

  “I’ll take a look at the pulse generator,” she said, and stepped to the center console for a quick glance before she went into the cargo hold. The jumpgate through which the AP Providence had just come was not visible, for it was currently sinking behind the stern of the ship in to the sea of stars. The rear cameras, however, showed nothing unusual: a perfectly normal jumpgate of the well known, ancient style.

  “Here!” Ditta Borman suddenly exclaimed. Her hands flew and some smaller video fields flared up. Data scrolled past on them. “We’re receiving radio signals. Not natural sources!”

  Disbelieving, Siobhan looked as countless charts and patterns flitted across the datafield. They made no sense, didn’t correspond with any schemes she was familiar with. “Can we do something with it?”

  “Computer?” the pilot barked.

  “No, commander. I am working on it. Do you require details?” Borman said yes and the computer rattled off the list of known facts about the incoming radio signals.

  “Inconceivable,” murmured Siobhan. “I wish we had the opportunity…” she had to remember that her time was more than limited. With a jerk, she pushed away from the flight console, waved to Zakk, and left the cockpit through the dividing bulkhead. She stopped in the mid deck to hurriedly brief Ninu Gardna in her cabin about the events.

  “But we’ll get away from here in time?” the Goner wanted to know with eyes wide from terror.

  Siobhan nodded. “Of course we’ll get away. Don’t worry.”

  The cargo hold was—for the relatively small dimensions of the ship—quite lushly appointed. Originally converted into a diplomatic lounge, the previous luxurious furnishings had been removed down to the bare metal to accommodate the jump unit and additional generators. Later, Siobhan was sure of it, these two instruments could be miniaturized to a volume of less than a cubic length. But she preferred to leave that to the engineers. She simply provided the theory and if she was being serious, she
had already stuck her fingers far too deep into the hardware of the systems, anyway.

  Siobhan opened a tool cabinet and took out a passive tester. There were only a few moving parts in the jump unit, but those that existed had to be adjusted with incredible accuracy. She doubted that she would be able to align anything, but she had to make sure. With practiced movements, she unlocked the front panel of the diving unit. The device had the shape of a double mushroom, each end with a beveled head at the top and bottom. It was one and a half lengths in diameter and two lengths high. Siobhan ran her fingers over the metal; it was still lukewarm from use. The unlocked plate loosened with a clatter as she pulled on it. She leaned the rectangular piece of covering against the unit and directed her attention on the newly exposed guts.

  There was an audible crash. Did the cover plate fall over? No, it was still standing! Strange. Siobhan shook her head and got to work.

  The values supplied by the meter were exactly the same as the desired values. Siobhan unplugged the device again and grabbed the front panel to replace it when there was another sound that didn’t belong here. Siobhan looked around in the bright, artificial light. Between the jump unit and the wall of the hold were several lengths of bare metal floor, and they were completely empty, with nothing there. With suspicious eyes, Siobhan picked it up the front panel and replaced it; the latches snapped. Eight more measuring points were waiting. She opened the locking mechanisms of the next plate. Again, something that had nothing to do with the jump unit clacked, only this time very softly.

  Someone was watching her, she could feel it. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “Hello?” she called. “Zakk?” Her voice made a tinny echo. No answer. There were three closets that had been retained as instrument and tool cabinets when the interior of the former lounge had been removed. They stood out clearly from the bare metal as they still wore their original, dark blue covers with the red Federation symbols. Only one of them was actually used. The other two were empty. Treading softly, Siobhan approached the second cupboard and opened it with a jerk: actually empty! She was beginning to think that she was only imagining things, there weren’t any sounds here and no one was watching her! She tore open the door of the third closet.