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

by Helge T. Kautz

  Elena nodded slowly. Another frightening thought came to her mind. “What if the jumpgates have been destroyed? If I’m not mistaken, the way to Menelaus’s Paradise is through this system.”

  “I don’t know, Elena. The gates are pretty far out there. If they’re gone, we have a problem. All of us!”

  “We have to try it.”

  “Hai, Elena-san, star warrior, we have to!”

  “If the Conductor will help us at all, that is. Let’s find out.” Elena got up and was just about to press the buzzer on the bottom of the door when she remembered something else. “Nopileos, in case we do get a spacecraft: you don’t really have to come with me on this trip.”

  “Tshhhh!” Nopileos’s hiss was drawn out and sounded outraged. “But, colleague and sister! We’ve already talked about that.”

  “I just thought, because of Jolandalas…”

  “Because what? Jolandalas is a saurian like you and me!”

  The astronaut laughed.”Well, I’m not a saurian, anyway! Nopileos, consider it, this could be dangerous.” With these words, she pressed the buzzer. A moment later, the door to Conductor Cokadrareos’s office opened.

  Three stazuras and many questions from the Conductor later, the discussion continued at the highest level of government. The hastily summoned administrator Inalamas Samolodes Sumirasos VII was received by the Conductor with a flood of poetic words. Nopileos reported to a stunned Elena the many comparatives and superlatives the aesthete used to portray the story of #efaa and the Xenon. Elena never would have expected that the beautifully spiritual packaging she had used to try and make the mission palatable for the Conductor would so quickly lead to the opening of the floodgates.

  Elena was also really surprised by the fact that the administrator knew the name of scientific ethicist Nola Hi. The Teladi on Ianamus Zura were obviously extremely devoted to the Boron, and Nola Hi—at least in governmental circles—was well known as the adviser to the royal houses of the Boron. The Conductor and adviser were all the more eager to provide support for Elena’s task. No matter what the Boron undertook, it was usually of high moral and aesthetic value.

  “Oh yes, the pirates are already known to us as evil,” the administrator admitted. The saurian wore a Teladi-green jumpsuit and dark blue face paint with red appliqués. “Even if the thought of the life of a privateer cannot be denied to have a certain grandeur.”

  “It could be denied,” Nopileos grumbled, remembering the raid on the FL Raindragon only too well.

  “Oh yes, yes, certainly,” the administrator hasted to agree. “This is also one of the issues that will be discussed at a diplomatic level with the planetary community, and since our stargates changed their destinations and we have been in contact with the Community of Planets, we have already been visited by many unaesthetic subjects. Infested, one might say.”

  Elena nodded. “I can certainly believe it.”

  “You must understand that we do not approve of the use of weapons, so our starships are not equipped with them,” the administrator said.

  Hopefully your ships at least have shields, the astronaut thought. But one way or another, there was nothing else for her to do but accept the government’s offer anyway. If other pirates had already discovered and perhaps even recovered the drifting slave ship, then the journey had already failed anyway. “We will get along without weapons, administrator,” Elena assured.

  Nopileos nodded in agreement—a gesture that Teladi didn’t actually know.

  “The only question is how soon can we start?” Every mizura can be crucial.”

  The red eyes of the administrator starred triumphantly at Elena. “But dear Ms. Kho, the quick government ship Archipelago of Swamp Orchids is being made ready for takeoff at this very moment.”

  “Wonderful,” Elena slipped before the administrator had even finished. She almost jumped up right away, but she controlled herself that far.

  “Oh yes, that it is! The Archipelago of Swamp Orchids is quite eager to flex its strong muscles and finally set out on a grand journey! It’s been lying dormant in its berth for ninety-three suns now!

  Later, on the way to the hospital in Jolandalas’s hovercraft, Elena propped herself against the glass dome of the cockpit with her elbow and placed her hand on the back of her neck. The nocturnal aurora flickered over her, but it hadn’t occurred to her to admire the beauty of the spectacle of nature. “Ninety-three jazuras,” she muttered again. She thought of her own ship, the USC Getsu Fune, which had been similarly advanced in years. Hopefully, the Archipelago was in as good a condition as the old USC ship from Earth before it was shot down over Argon Prime.

  The two Teladi were strangely silent. For Elena, who had experienced them deep in non-stop conversation from the moment they first met, the unfamiliar peace was all the more noticeable. A few words in Old Teladi occasionally flew back and forth between the saurians, but it remained at a few isolated comments. A strange tension predominated between the two that Elena couldn’t quite explain. On the other hand, where should their thoughts lead? There were pirates and a supernova in front of her, the fleet formations of the Paranid and the Split, the Xenon CPU #efaa, and last but not least, a jumpgate to disable that had to be reckoned with. All this in an unarmed, ninety-three-jazura-old spaceship that probably looked like a colorful amoeba. Was it not understandable that their minds wandered if the opportunity arose?

  Jolandalas gently landed the glider in front of the hospital and they got out.

  “Well, when do we leave?” Ghinn t’Whht asked, as if everything she had previously said was no longer valid. The Patriarch’s wife raised herself on her elbows and looked at Elena adventurously.

  This made Elena’s eyes widen. “You want to go in the other direction, back to the Community of Planets, did you forget? We’re flying further out instead.”

  “I’m doing superb, the little warrior here too.” She cradled the baby. The swellings on both sides of her body had subsided, and Ghinn seemed almost as agile and ascetic as when Elena first met her on Nif-Nakh.

  “No, Ghinn, you stay here on Ianamus Zura. Under no means am I taking a woman with an infant along.”

  The Split woman’s eyes formed into slits and her hands twitched. A tantrum seemed to be brewing, but she still controlled herself. “We don’t get along with this vile planet. I would prefer to accompany you. I’m not afraid of the danger, as you well know.”

  The corner of Elena’s mouth twitched. “We’ll pick you up on the way back, promise.”

  “No, by Thuruk’s stinking, shaggy beard!” Ghinn exploded. Her face darkened and she wanted to form a gesture. But she was still holding her child in her arms, which was now stirring and screaming. “The creature will take me, I demand it!”

  “Won’t do it,” Nopileos hissed cheerfully. Ghinn tried to get up, but she collapsed again. She was not quite as fit as she looked.

  Ignoring the clamor from the Split woman, Elena and Nopileos made their way to the barge—a final time to pick up Elena’s nutrient bars and from there transfer the position of the drifting pirate ship to the onboard computer of the Archipelago. The small Teladi dinghy would certainly linger here for quite for many jazuras from now. Perhaps for ninety-three jazuras, but possibly forever. Elena didn’t look back.

  The Archipelago of Swamp Orchids was a large, impressive ship, even by Elena’s standards. With its shape that reminded of a bulging clam and the restrained, muddy and beige shades, it seemed, although organic and unfamiliar, also serious and somehow sovereign. The heavy engines accelerated at full throttle to reach the coordinates Elena had transmitted from the launch with the shortest possible delay, because nothing was as tight now as time. Each sezura might mean life and death for Uchan t’Scct, Kalmanckalsaltt, and Nola Hi, and the same held true for #efaa. Elena tried not to think that she was crossing this section of space for the third time in a few tazuras.

  Communication with the crew of the Archipelago was problematic. Nopileos constantly had to t
ranslate back and forth, since neither the onboard computer nor the crew of the ship had mastered the trading language. It turned out to be particularly difficult to translate the target coordinates into the non-standard notation of Ianamus Zura. It took a solid quazura, but finally the navigations commander of the ship, Eladadys Ujarofolys Ebosirireos II, ran dry of the beautifully spiritual words and looked at Elena and Nopileos almost despairingly.

  Nopileos, too, was more than unnerved; yes, she was an educated Teladi and understood almost all technical terminology. However, transferring these into Old Teladi was mostly impossible, and lengthy descriptions and explanations with constant questioning of Elena were the result. But ultimately, it was possible to determine the course with the help of the onboard computer. Nevertheless, a small numerical uncertainty could not be ruled out.

  The control center of the Archipelago was so spacious that even Elena felt comfortable in it. Certainly, the bright-plastic colors of the interior which made the control panels look like children’s toys took some getting used to, but all in all, the astronaut hadn’t seen such a pleasing ship interior, strictly speaking since they had left the cramped but cozy AP Nikkonofune behind.

  Elena, Nopileos, and Ebosirireos were glued to the current flight information and the tracking device, on which they expected the appearance of the sought-after spacecraft at any moment. The computer didn’t display the data, as was usual on board Community ships, on virtual projection screens that appeared and disappeared as needed, but used a series of oval monitors that provided such brilliant images one could easily mistake them for windows. But outer space remained empty. Ianamus Zura was now just a tiny point separated from the Archipelago by light-jazuras and jumpgates. According to the calculated values, the ship should have already reached the region where the slave ship should be positioned two inzuras ago.

  “Maybe the gravidar isn’t working okay, either,” Nopileos guessed. Elena shook her head and thought of the ninety-three jazuras that the ship had under her belt. “Maybe you’re right, maybe it didn’t recalibrate after the gate transit. Ask Sobisirius.”

  “Ebosirireos,” Nopileos corrected, but she immediately tried to translate the question as precisely as possible for navigations commander.

  He snorted snootily before the question was finished. “Marginal sharpness and optimal points have not shifted, the Archipelago of Swamp Orchids constantly and carefully checks that,” Nopileos translated back.

  “Elena, what are marginal sharpness and optimal points?”

  The astronaut eyed the motley saurians from Ianamus Zura, who were again staring straight ahead through the windows as if they were completely alone onboard. “That means it wasn’t recalibrated at all,” Elena stated furiously. Apparently it wasn’t the ship that was rusted so much as her crew! “Can you tell the pig-headed commander anything aesthetic to change his mind?”

  “What in yellow salamander pies should I tell him aesthetically about how to operate his gravidar?” Nopileos cursed, palms upturned. Her forehead ridges became darker.

  Elena made a helpless face and shrugged. “Poetic justice, hatchlings in the fog, I don’t know, tell him anything.”

  Nopileos mumbled something incomprehensible, leaned back, and thought hard. After a few sezuras, she remembered something. What was more aesthetic than the truth in its ultimate, purest ramifications? What if she backed Ebosirireos into a rhetorical corner he couldn’t get out of? Could she, who was only moderately adept with Old Teladi, even succeed? Well, she would soon find out! Nopileos leaned forward again and tried to engage the navigations commander in a conversation as inconspicuously as possible. Although initially very snippy, Ebosirireos still took the bait after a short time.

  While the Teladi hissed and hissed with each other, Elena tried not to show her impatience, although the Teladi of Ianamus Zura would presumably not be able to interpret her body language. Eventually, ten mizuras later (Ebosirireos had just then committed himself enthusiastically to the elegance of truthfulness and immediately realized that he would contradict himself if he didn’t comply with Elena’s request), the navigations commander gripped a control on the console and moved two virtual sliders into new positions. With no transition, a gleaming white blip appeared on the gravidar screen and vanished as quickly as the knobs moved farther. Elena gave a small cry of surprise; the navigations commander also growled out and pulled the sliders back as far as it took until the bright blip reappeared.

  “Egg salad, I’m proud of myself!” Nopileos declared in stilted trading language. The Teladi expletive sounded quite strange in that context.

  Elena grinned as Nopileos’s scaly fin lifted in the face of Ebosirireos’s slightly contrite expression. “A true haggling lizard! You could sell sawdust to a lumber mill!”

  “Tsh?”

  “Oh, not that important. Translate the data for me?” Elena straightened up. The navigations commander looked up at her irritably for a moment, then returned to the screens. The Earth astronaut propped herself against a side brace and leaned forward to look out: nothing. With naked eyes, it was rare to see anything in outer space unless it was of planetary proportions or was already extremely close; otherwise there were only stars. After a mizura, when she brushed her hair out of her face and tried to sink back on the sitting bench, she saw Ebosirireos excitedly gesticulating and pointing with his right index claw at columns of yellow hieroglyphics on a display.

  “The mass is too low,” Nopileos translated. “He says that’s not the ship you’re looking for.”

  “We have to look at it anyway.”

  The navigations commander shook his ears. Did that mean agreement or abjection?

  “That would be futile,” Nopileos translated. “It is not the ship you are looking for.”

  Anger rose up in Elena. “Who knows if this marsh flower gravidar is even showing the right values? It’s already made a mistake!” she snapped at Nopileos.

  She looked visibly frightened at Elena’s tone. “But sister, I’m merely translating!”

  “Yes, I know. Please excuse me, Nopileos. What did he say?”

  “In the name of truthfulness, the Archipelago of Swamp Orchids is adjusting its course to the located object.”

  “Very good decision,” Elena murmured soothingly. Shortly thereafter, it flashed diffusely on the right side of the large cockpit window as the reaction control thrusters altered the ship’s course. Slowly, stars and distant galaxy clusters wandered through the field of view. The large, oval central screen, half inclined into the consoles on the right of the navigations commander, showed only a single blip whose noisy, false-color image suggested that it didn’t shine in the spectrum of visible light. That had to be the target object. After an inzura of tense silence, during which the blip on the screen slowly became flat, dark-blue luminous phenomena suddenly appeared on both sides of the Archipelago, giving reverse thrust in space. Still, nothing was visible to the naked eye. Elena was more than worried. When at last the strong floodlights unexpectedly lit up, she blinked I surprise. Barely a hundred meters ahead, an apparently tiny vehicle obliquely about its longitudinal axis. The central screen switched to normal view. Elena expelled an audible breath.

  Sector Control, someone had scrawled in rickety Argono-Roman letters on the side of the dinghy, which looked looked like an egg just like the barge on which Elena, Ghinn, and Nopileos had reached Ianamus Zura.

  Slowly and silently, the jagged surface of the dinghy rotated under the lens of the approaching drone, while the Archipelago was still busy minutely adjusting its course. More than just open space and possibly old age had marred the small ship: traces of flames, the crumpled outer hull in some places, and some deep dents suggested that something else, something bad had happened. As the bow of the barge became visible, Elena’s breath caught and the forehead ridges of the two Teladi became paler. The metal glass pane, designed for the toughest material stress, had burst. It hadn’t cracked completely, but an almost square opening, perhaps fifty
centimeters across, had fine, white branches in all directions. Something hat hit the pane with great force and pierced through.

  “Oh god,” Elena whispered. Whoever sat there couldn’t have survived that impact, even in a spacesuit. “Can the drone fit through the opening? Quick!” she urged. Nopileos didn’t need to translate because the Teladi who was piloting the reconnaissance device was already trying to maneuver it through the jagged opening of the metal window. The constant gyrating motion of the dingy made this undertaking extremely difficult. Exactly the many miniaturized reaction control thrusters which gave the drone its high maneuverability also made it enormously difficult to match the precession of the impact opening. Again and again, a not one hundred percent regulated thrust pushed the drone to the side, made it slip off, and the Teladi hissed and tried again. Elena followed the tedious procedure with increasing unrest. Finally, after the seventh attempt, Ebosirireos stopped the attempt.

  “He wants to take the ship into the hangar, Nopileos explained. Elena nodded grimly.

  An inzura later, the large hangar lock closed under the barge. They had previously evacuated the air from the hangar and hung the Archipelago’s dinghies in their transport alcoves. Carefully, the artificial gravity was now increased, until the still-spinning ship finally touched down with a grinding noise and came to a standstill. Now the gravity was switched off once more so that the camera drone could approach the dinghy again.

  “Do you see that?” Elena pointed to the screen as the bow of the barge got bigger again. “Around the cockpit window. What is that?”

  “Hm! That doesn’t belong there!”

  Before Elena could recognize further details, the drone plunged into the cockpit, this time without difficulty. Two Argons hung strangely wrenched in the seats that were too small. One wore a long, black hair braid which well forward over his shoulder and fanned wide over his chest. Elena clenched her teeth hard and forced her eyes to remain open. That was one of the slave drivers, she had recognized the man immediately. He was dead, and so was his accomplice. The camera drone continued to advance into the tiny ship, but found nothing else of interest. Relieved, Elena registered that her fears about Nola Hi, Kalmanckalsaltt, and Uchan being on the barge hadn’t materialized.