002.01
Daniel passed me the plate of sushi. I
waved it off. “Try the small ones. They are just crab with rice wrapped in
seaweed,” he suggested.
“No thanks. I don’t eat anything that
might bite me on the way down.” We were at his place now. It was comfortable –
lots of colorful pillows and low furniture. Daniel seemed to live on the floor.
Even if there was a chair available, he tended to crash on the lowest surface
in the room.
“Are you going to GTD this year?” he
asked, as he stuffed a sushi roll in his mouth.
GTD is Galactic Treaty Day for those of
you who are planet bound. It is celebrated throughout the Verse. The date never
changes on Valaria (where the original treaty was signed), but it may shift on
other planets due to the planet’s cycle - check your calendar.
If you haven’t been to GTD on Valaria
you certainly should. The event runs a full thirty cycles on their planet. They
have a permanent facility set up for the shows. Everything and everyone you
could ever want to see is there during that thirty cycles. Vendors and buyers
come from all over the Verse.
Most of the event is indoors. There is
a building for the latest gadget you might consider for your home or ship –
from the galley to the cargo bay, from the bridge to the bathroom. They have a
complete display of every weapon available on the market. Of course, you have
to register to get in the door to see them and go through the whole intense
background check to buy any model. You might see your purchase by the next GTD
event. There is a building just for A.I. programmers and buyers and a building
dedicated to entertainment of every sort imaginable. I love the food court,
which is huge. There are things there that you can’t get enough of, and things
that you wish you hadn’t seen, but it is all incredible. Two years ago, when I
attended, there was even an animal show and sale. You could buy everything from
a Dar-dolf (from protect class to draft) to a Mahserĝ, or even a malfit on the
hoof.
I told Daniel I hadn’t really planned
on attending this year.
“I’m going this time. I have a new
program I want to get some feedback on. I intend to set it up in the playroom.”
Oh, that’s another building I forgot to
tell you about. They set up a game room so all the programmers can let
customers test drive facsimiles of their wares.
“You might have a look at it when I get
the proto type done. It would help with Cassie’s program.”
“Really? What is it?”
“Can’t say yet,” Daniel said, “still in
the smoke testing stage, but if it works like I have it planned it should make
me a very rich man.”
“When have things never worked like you
had them planned?” I asked.
“Well, admittedly, hardly ever. Oh, I
almost forgot.” Daniel hopped up and dug in a nearby drawer. When he came back
he presented me with a very intricately designed box. “It’s a puzzle box. I got
it off a trader in Dexter’s. I thought you would like it.”
I turned it in my hand, a box without a
way in – as far as I could see. Daniel loves unique packaging. You could almost
say he is obsessed.
“When you find the way in, it has a
surprise for you – a Muldavian chocolate – Rainbow flavor.”
I tugged at the corners thinking it
might pop open. I sat it on the floor and pushed down in hopes that it would
spring open. Muldavian chocolates are my favorite. I was not going to be thwarted.
I tried twisting it a bit. It still wouldn’t open. The nice thing about Daniel
is that he is so excited about the packaging that once you have given it your
initial effort, he is more than willing to show you how the delightful thing
opens.
“I can’t figure it out,” I said and
handed it to him.
Daniel held it in one hand, pushed on
the two opposing corners and the box literally popped open and played a tune as
the center rose up and presented the chocolate (dipped in gold) in all its
magnificence on a small black lacquer tray. “Is that something or what?” he
asked.
I didn’t know whether to eat it or
applaud. Temptation got the best of me – I opted to eat and applaud later. It
is the most incredible chocolate in the Verse.
*****
It’s been three days and I still
haven’t located a load for delivery. Trade post 1313 seems to be a dry hole at
the moment. I can’t afford to run Ma-rye-a with her cargo bay empty. I have to
locate a delivery. I guess if I have to be stuck somewhere, being stuck where I
have friends is better than being at some awful Outpost. Daniel and I have been
out to dinner twice, but he still won’t give me even a hint about his new
program. He has tantalized me enough that I have decided to attend GTD. I have
to see what he is up to.
Currently, I am sitting in SS’s
(translation: Katka’s Slow Sip) hoping to catch some info on a load. The SS
serves everything Katka can get his hands on. You could live here if he
supplied the cots to sleep on. It’s a comfortable place with NET and I.N.C. access.
He doesn’t mind if you crash in a corner for the whole day as long as you have
a glass, mug, cup or utensil in your hand. I started off with a liquid
breakfast this morning called a Sunrise Special and moved on to a Smokin’ Tokin
at about mid-morning. Now I’m slowly working my way through a plate of raw
Pebble Fruit and a glass of Mid-day Madness.
It’s too bad Trading posts are not
organized enough to have a dispatcher. You have to rely on your own ability and
reputation to pick up a load at one of the local gathering holes. You post your
availability ad on the NET and you keep your ears to the ground. I don’t mind
waiting so much. Daniel is right the place is a gold mine for people/alien
watching. It’s not often that I see a species I can’t identify, but I must
admit there have been a few today. Katka said the two with all the eyes were
Licktode’s. I can’t say whether they were male or female, or if they even have
a gender, both looked a bit reptilian with long faces and three sets of eyes
running up the side of their faces. Their tongues would periodically sneak out
to lick across the eyes. Don’t know what that was all about, but I passed most
of the morning speculating on it.
One really surprised me. When it
crawled in, I thought it must be lost. More like a slug than anything else I
have seen in the Verse. However, when it made its way up to the bar Katka
seemed to be on a first name bases with the thing. Turns out HER name is Delic
and she speaks better than passable English through that sucker type mouth of
hers. She sounded like a person singing as they gargle. She does have a bit of
trouble with her ‘B’s and P’s’. When she tries to pronounce those she blows
bubbles that unfortunately for Katka they burst. He tried to keep a bar rag
close without getting in the line of fire. She likes Hardhat Spritzers –
through a straw of course. Crazy with a capital ‘C’.
I spotted Yakutis and his mate in the
crowd yesterday at the market. They are good folks. We had a bite to eat
together. Lucreal is pregnant. Her species’ term is a year and a half so she is
nowhere near delivery. In fact, I wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t told me.
Yakutis is in love with the idea of a child. He can’t keep his hands off
Lucreal and that is saying a lot cause their species has four arms.
They are doing a short shift of a load
from here to the other side of the planet. Lucreal told me they have developed
a mining station over there that’s in need of supplies. Then Yakutis says he
has a load to pick up at the mine for a Window jump to Gamma 12 and then a
delivery to Galnon Station #41. He’s hooked up with the mining trade to see how
he likes the duty. He is fearless. He doesn’t mind taking Windows to speed the
delivery, but it leaves me as cold as a spacewalk without a suit. I keep
remembering those simulations you have to work through in order to get your
license, maps and software from the Vularian’s at the GTD workshops. Those were
so hairy. You pop through a Window and there sits a floating Free Rider from a
bad jump and your ship careens into it. If the Valarian’s want to scare you
about the dangers of Free Riding and Windows, they certainly achieved it with
me.
*****
I picked up a load today. It went
something like this:
“Hi, I’m Bronwyn Remstedt. May I sit
down?” He was short, stocky and rather young. Not my type at all.
“Not today, thanks,” I answered. I
motioned him away with my half full mug as I brought it to my lips.
“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” he said.
“I understand you are a transporter and need a load. I have one.” He gave me
what he thought was a winning smile.
I looked at him from head to toe –
spacer suit, rather new (like him), spacer boots – nothing about him said
planet bound.
“Now, I’m really not interested,” I
confirmed. He was looking to ‘shift’ something. I don’t do shifts. They can
only lead to trouble. For those of you who do not know the industry term, a
shift is a load that goes through two or more hands before it gets to the
recipient. It is a dangerous practice to take on a load someone else started with.
You don’t know what they may have mixed in with it. All I could think about was
MT2424 stopping me on the way here. I was confident when I met them then. If I
had a shift, I wouldn’t be near so sure of myself and my load.
“Yes, it’s a shift, but not like you
think.” At this point, he was getting desperate. He pulled up his own chair
without an invitation and sat down. “Let me at least tell you about it.”
I shook my head and looked over his to
catch Katka’s eye in case I needed him to help me eject this guy.
“I’m doing a delivery to Madelor for
Andrew Daily,” he started to explain.
This just kept getting worse and worse.
If this kid was looking to unload something, he should have made up a better
story. Andrew Daily is known as the largest transport tycoon in the Verse. He
has a fleet of ships. Why would he hire some young inexperienced goon to
transport something for him?
“I may be young,” the kid said with a
look of defiance, “but I am not so stupid to know this doesn’t sound really
bad. Just hear me out, please.”
I gave Katka a nod to indicate I was
okay for the time being. I instinctively moved back my chair in order to reach
my blaster, but that wouldn’t help I wasn’t wearing it. You had to check your
weapons at the gate when you entered a Trade post. I hadn’t had my gun for
days. I really didn’t think this kid was a threat anyway. I picked up my mug
and took a sip. “Make it good,” I told him. I could hardly wait.
“I worked for Mr. Daily in his fleet
crew for a couple of years. Six months ago, I bought my own ship, a Class 1
Drifter.”
A Drifter is a very small, fast ship.
Usually they transport medical supplies. The supplies are small and needed as
quickly as possible.
“Mr. Daily contacted me,” he went on.
“He arranged to house a pair of Golden Screamers in his daughter’s menagerie.
The Zoo at Gamma 12 was going to loan them to him. He wanted them delivered in
time for Sarah’s birthday so he needed a fast ship in the area. He was willing
to pay big and throw in a bonus if I was early enough on the delivery to settle
them in before her birth date.”
Okay now I understood. Golden Screamers
are an endangered species. They are extremely small primates with incredibly
loud voices. From what I have read they like a static environment, if it
changes, they get really upset. When they get upset, they scream. They also
scream when they are looking for a mate, when they mate, when they communicate
in any way. In the wild a screamer can be heard for miles. And, they do scream.
They don’t call, bark or talk. They scream. As I have said a Drifter is a small
ship. I am surprised the kid made it this far without jettisoning his cargo –
live or not. I could take this on provided he had the proper papers to prove I
wasn’t transporting illegal cargo. I could put them down in the pressurized
section of the cargo bay. The screamers wouldn’t bother Sam. Between the Cargo
Bay and my quarters were at least three bulkheads. That should take the edge
off their screams. I decided to test the waters.
“What kind of deal do you want to make?”
I asked.
“40% for me getting them this far and
60% for you taking them the rest of the way,” he said. “I need 40% just to
cover my costs this far or I would offer you more.” He was pretty desperate.
“Do you feel comfortable contacting Mr.
Daily?” I asked. “I want written permission from him to shift the load and I
want a vet to have a look at the screamers to certify that they are fit to
travel on from here.”
You could see the relief on his face.
He suddenly looked five years younger. “Sure, let’s contact him right now.” He
accessed the NET from the keyboard on the edge of my table.
A woman’s face appeared on the monitor
– no 3D holographs here, a monitor was much more private in a place like this.
“Hi Bron. What’s up?”
“I’m at Trade post 1313. Can you
connect me to Mr. Daily?”
“Sure. He’s out in the field. Let me
put you through.” Her fingers flew across her keyboard and a moment later
Andrew Daily’s face appeared. I knew it was him from the news vids I had seen
over the years.
“Daily here,” he said. “Bron, where are
you?” he asked when he recognized his caller.
“I’m at Trade post 1313, Mr. Daily.”
“Nothing wrong with the Screamers is
there?” he asked anxiously.
“No sir,” the kid hesitated a minute.
“You know I wanted to do this job for you, sir. I’d like to still be a member
of your team, but those screamers are just too much in too close a space. I
can’t fly any further with them.” Daily started to say something, but the kid
cut him off. “I have it covered though, sir. This is another transporter, 3su.
She has a very good reputation in the area. I’ve checked her out. She flies a
larger ship and can take the screamers the rest of the way to your place. I’ve
calculated the distance and even though her ship is slower, I made good time
getting them this far. She can make it in plenty of time for Miss Sarah’s birth
date.”
“Do you agree to this shift,” Mr. Daily
asked.
“I want to check out the transport
papers and have a vet check out the screamers,” I answered.
“Of course, have you two agreed to a
split?” he asked.
“40% for me, 60% for 3su,” Bron
answered.
“Is that agreeable to you?” He asked.
“Agreed,” I said.
“Bron, I’ll transfer funds to your
account when 3su confirms she has taken on the load. 3su, I will forward
written permission to shift the load within the hour. I will have your funds
waiting for you when you arrive on Madelor. Did Bron tell you about the bonus?”
“Yes, sir. Looking forward to picking
that up too,” I said with confidence.
“Then I will leave you to it.” Daily
signed off.
I stood and stuck my hand out to Bron.
“Let’s go find a vet. I want to make good on that bonus.”
*****
In case anyone should ask, three
bulkheads are not a sufficient barren between a pair of upset Golden Screamers
and the human ear. However, three bulkheads, the Milky Way Galactic Rock
Revival at full volume and noise cancelling headphones do the trick.
*****
I arrived at Madelor in record time,
Golden Screamers being a great motivational tool. Andrew Daily was prepared to
receive the little noise makers. He had an enclosure built with the burrowing
sand they love and their favorite natural growth grasses. Of course, a guy that
is beyond wealthy thought of everything, the unit is sound proof. The little
buggers seemed to settle down as soon as they got their burrow lined with the
grass they harvested and the hair they pulled out of their chests. They were
down to yelping instead of screaming by the time we exited the premises.
“Come up to the house and I will
arrange for your payment transfer, along with the bonus,” Daily offered.
“Thank you, sir. You wouldn’t think
something that small would be that difficult to transport, but I must admit I
am glad to have them off my ship.” I took the headphones off my neck and hooked
them on my utility belt. “The trip down in the pod was the worst. I thought my
eardrums were going to burst even with the headphones.”
We climbed in his ground transport to
head up to the house. House…Sure for him maybe. More like mansion or estate or
castle to the rest of us. Mr. Daily likes to live old world. The place has the
look of an earthling’s southern plantation mansion out of a history book. Huge
three story pillars line the porch. You climb a flight of ten stairs just to
get to the entry. Before you even reach the porch you have to travel through
the acres of manicured gardens, up the tree lined main road and past the
towering three tiered fountain out front.
There was a crew setting up tents,
tables and a stage, people with linens and flowers everywhere. The place was a
buzz of activity preparing for the birthday celebration in two days.
The entry of the house is dominated by
a massive sweeping staircase that comes down through the middle of the house. I
suppose the bedrooms are upstairs. Huge portraits hang on either wall to the
sides of the staircase like he was royalty or something, and I guess in his
mind, he is. There is one of him, his late wife Madeline and of course the
birthday girl herself, Sarah. Sarah looks spoiled even in her portrait.
The floors are hardwood, a terrible
waste of natural resources if you ask me. Guess when you are wealthy you can
act like a Kracow and rape the environment all you want. After all, he owns the
planet. To think rich folks used to just own islands.
Part of downstairs is an extensive
library with shelves and shelves of real cloth bound books. No flats here that
I could see. Daily uses the library for his office. There was a desk almost as
big as my landing pod in one corner made of some old-world wood carved with
lion’s heads on the front, and ball and claw feet. It may have looked old, but
when Daily sat at it, it transformed into a high-tech work station with all the
bells and whistles.
Daily transferred my funds as promised
and then invited me to stay for the celebration. I guess one more wouldn’t
matter to an event with God only knows how many people attending. I decided to
stay for the show. Not every day that I get an invite to a party for a
semi-celebrity. I will get to meet the birthday girl day after tomorrow.
*****
Whoa! I am back up on Ma-rye-a after a
full day and night of partying on Madelor. Got to give the guy credit, he knows
how to throw one hell of a birthday bash. It was like a smaller version of GTD.
Yesterday morning the guests started to
arrive. We were all jockeying in space for an orbit location without drifting
into each other. Seems some of them pooled their resources and came together in
one ship. I would estimate there were at least a thousand people, all human I
noticed. The guy is a Humanid (the spacer term for someone who only frequents
beings of their own species). I am embarrassed that the word is based on our
species. Shows how open we were in the beginning. Thank the heavens most of us
have evolved since then.
Non-the-less, it was a real wild event.
The theme was carnival – everything a twenty-four year old young lady could
wish for; fortune tellers, magicians, acrobats, tumblers, flame eaters, sword
swallowers and knife throwers among others. The live music kept the carnival
atmosphere going long into the night. The refreshment tent overflowed with food
and libations of every sort. They even had a mixologist on hand to match your
mood to your beverage.
Sarah gave tours of her menagerie. She
is quite the collector and thrilled with her new pets, the pair of Golden
Screamers. Daily introduced me to his daughter during their presentation where
he spoke briefly of the trials ‘he’ had gone through to get them here on time
for her birth date. She is just as spoiled as her portrait indicated.
She looked me up later in the crowd and
asked me if I knew Jake Harcourt and Arr. I told her I did. She was ecstatic.
She pulled me to one side and gushed about Arr and how wonderful a specimen he
was. (Specimen? Sounded like she was studying a lab slide.) Did I know that
Jake had saved her from the Hydra? (Hadn’t a clue. He didn’t mention it in our
last meeting.) Seems she was kidnapped by that slaver race. Nabbed right off
her own planet. (How dare they!) She rattled on about Arr and how fascinated
she was with him. What cool fur he had. Weren’t his cat eyes just incredible?
Did I know he growled? (Did she know he could speak any language he heard?) He would
make a great addition to her menagerie. (I bristled at the audacity of the
child.) Her father had offered to buy Arr from Jake. (Bet that went over like a
Free Rider being dropped in unknown space.) She talked a bit more about places
she knew the guys had been lately. I don’t think, given what she said that the
guys have been in contact with her. The little minx is no doubt following their
movements via her father’s I.N.C. connection. I will have to remember to tell
the boys about her continued interest in Arr. Someone this obsessed, with this
much money, could be dangerous.
*****
002.07
Andrew gave me a delivery back to Trade
post 1313. Nice of him to supply me with a reason to get back closer to the
normal transport area I work in.
“There is a message waiting for you,”
Ma-rye-a informed me when I hit the deck.
“Play back, please,” I requested as I
hung up my jacket and placed my blaster in its rack.
It was a message from Tim O’Malley -
his annual invite to Jake’s birthday party. Jake will be the “Big 4 - 0” this
year.
Tim was Jake’s dad’s best friend. He
picked up on the tradition of Jake’s dad throwing him a party each year. He
gathers all of us together and we give Jake the most ridiculous gifts we can
find. I think Tim is the only one who gives him anything useful. The parties
are usually a three-day bash in which Tim arranges for a suitable location (one
that can handle a couple dozen slightly inebriated spacers without getting
complaints), food and entertainment. I am sure Tim spends a considerable time
planning the event. For the last couple of years he has put together a vid of
Jake with hilarious subtitles and voiceovers.
The guests are a combination of
mercenaries, transporters and old family friends. I am one of the few women
invited, sometimes the only one that shows up. I was raised with several
brothers, so they can’t get too rowdy for me. It is an adult only party. We get
a bit raw at times with our gifts. We all talk about our missions/transports
and the places we have been. The conversation normally digresses into a ‘gross
out – one upsmanship’ of who has had the worst job the past year.
It’s a networking time too. All of us
keep a log where we exchange useful information – good places to pick up leads,
new Outposts or Trading posts that have cropped up and their potential,
business associates that are either, good or bad news, etc. etc.
All in all, one of the best places to
be each year.
*****
“What was that?” I demanded from the
floor of my cabin where I was thrown by a horrendous jolt. Ma-rye-a was still
rocking in the wake of whatever it was.
“It is the Maelstrom,” Ma-rye-a said.
“It has moved.”
Even for an A.I. she seemed surprised
and I didn’t blame her. I ran toward the stairs to the bridge as fast as my
heavy spacer boots would allow. “What do you mean, it moved?”
“Either the Maelstrom we all know has
moved or there is another one right off out port bow,” she said. “And, it is shifting
even more as we speak,” she warned.
I hit the bridge at a good clip, swung
into my chair and started reading the information Ma-rye-a was gathering on the
stream beside us. “Don’t let us drift in. We need to put some distance between
us and it.”
“Every time I move, it alters its
course,” Ma-rye-a said. She seemed
honestly worried. After all, in her data base was listed all the missing ships
that had been lost to the Maelstrom anomaly.
“It’s reading our energy signature. If
we shut down will we be able to stay parallel to it?”
“Yes, unless it shifts closer, in which
case we will be sucked in,” Ma-rye-a cautioned.
The entity in the stream of the
Maelstrom seemed to sense our presence. The fields in and around the stream
acted like currents forcing the ship to rock from side to side in its wake. The
Maelstrom is a swiftly moving stream in space. It is believed to be created by
an entity that feeds off of the energy from the stars at the edge of the stream
it creates. The problem was that the Maelstrom that was on my set of maps was
weeks away even if you jumped through several windows in order to get there.
This one shouldn’t be here.
Some people were crazy enough to ride
the stream in order to arrive at their destination faster than any jump through
a window, but it was extremely dangerous to maneuver. Very few lived to tell
about the ride. If you dropped into the stream to close to the entity it could
read your energy and turn on you. Once you were in the stream you had to cut
off all power except basic life support and manually keep the ship in the
stream. It was like struggling to keep a boat heading into a waterfall. If you
lost control while in the stream it chewed you up and spit you out. No telling
where you would land and in what condition.
“Shut down, Ma-rye-a, everything except
minimal life support. I want to play dead and hope it doesn’t come true.”
The steady hum of the ship’s engines
ceased immediately. The instruments and lights on the bridge dimmed. I found
myself holding my breath.
Out of the swirling mass of space dust,
debris and gases carried by the stream came something both fascinating and
frightening. It was spiracle in shape, but dotted with small globules of some
foreign matter that glowed neon green. As it emerged further I could see it was
dragging battered and broken ships in its wake. Ghost ships
“I count partial debris from seven
ships,” Ma-rye-a said, as she scanned. “I can identify at least four from the
I.N.C. missing records.”
“Shut down your scan,” I hissed at
Ma-rye-a.
“Done.”
But, it was too late. One of the neon
globes detached itself from the main entity and moved slowly toward us. I could
see that it was still attached via a long umbilical type cord that pulsed with
what appeared to be electric charges or lighting.
“Ma-rye-a?” I whispered.
“It has attached to the hull,” she
answered my unasked question. “Orders?”
“Sit still and be quiet.”
I could see the green globe ooze its
way over the edge of the hull onto the front portal. It emitted sparks so
bright that they hurt my eyes as it glided over the surface. The ship vibrated
with pulses from the globe. I could feel the hair on my arms and head rise like
I had touched a ‘hot’ wire. I sat oh so very still. I didn’t know if it could
see me, or even if it cared I was there, I just knew I wanted it to go away.
After making a full survey of the
portal, as though it were studying every aspect of the bridge, it let go and
floated back to the main entity as the attaching cord coiled tighter and
tighter. The larger entity shifted back into the Maelstrom and disappeared. I
took the first deep breath I had taken in over an hour.
“Boy, am I going to have a story to
tell the guys at Jake’s birthday party.”
*****
“One quarter power,” I instructed.
“Let’s back away slowly.”
Ma-rye-a came to life and slowly and
carefully we edged away from the Maelstrom.
“We have made the first sighting of the
entity in Maelstrom,” Ma-rye-a stated. “I wish I had been able to record it.”
“I think we should contact the Valarian
officials at the academy. When we get up to full power see if you can get us a
connection.” I continued to sit immobilized in my chair. I was a bit shaky
still. It had been a very close call.
“Tea,” Horus announced, as a hot mug
appeared in the prep unit at my elbow.
I moved the tea out of the unit. “I
think I will be needing something a little stronger than this, Horus.”
“Hot or cold?”
“Hot. I think my blood has frozen,” I
admitted.
“Hot coco with a shot of Marson’s
Nectar.” Another mug appeared.
I took a sip. It burned nicely all the
way down. “Better, much better, thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Horus replied. “Ma-rye-a
shut us all down. We are now back up to speed and we have downloaded what
information there is in her processors. What did it look like?” Horus asked.
I took for granted Horus’ curiosity,
but it was really unique. Daniel was truly a programming genius. “It was
frightening and fascinating at the same time. It was spiracle with globes that
seemed to be a part of it, like attached probes. It radiated like pent up energy.
It glowed. The scary thing was the derelict ships that it appeared to be
towing.”
“I could not scan with the power at
minimum, but I believe the entity may have been magnetic and that the ships
were not towed so much as unwontedly attached,” Ma-rye-a added.
“Spooky,” Cassie chimed in. “To think
the crews were probably still inside.”
I took another gulp of my drink, to
hell if it was blistering hot, it made me feel alive. “Let’s not talk about it
anymore right now. I will be looking over my shoulder for months.”
“It is not following us,” Ma-rye-a
stated in her crisp official ship voice.
“Good, but all the same, I want to put
a lot of space between it and us before we go to full power,” I ordered. “Call
me when we are far enough away we can contact the Valarians. I’m going to take
a shower. I feel like I have been violated after having that think ooze over
the viewport for over an hour.”
“You feel like you have been violated?”
Ma-rye-a said. “Sam? Can you get the scrubbers to the outside hull right away?”
“Will do,” Sam affirmed as I headed
toward the shower.
*****
I couldn’t help but stare at the
Valarian on my viewport. His bulbous head filled the whole screen. For those of
you who have not had the opportunity to meet one of this species, it is quiet
extraordinary.
He was speaking. The mouth on the right
side of his head was verbalizing a series of pops and smacks. The mouth on the
left side of his head interspersed those pops and smacks with trills and
whistles. The translation appeared on a reader line at the bottom of my screen.
As I told him about my encounter with the entity in the Maelstrom his head, and
what I could see of the rest of his bulbous body, took on varying shades of
color, I assume to match his mood/reaction. He seemed to fade from light grey
to an almost green hue, then to a ruddy color when I spoke of the ghost ships.
I was so fascinated by the display before me I had a hard time concentrating on
what I was saying.
He wanted every detail I could
remember. He asked permission to download Ma-rye-a’s data base in case she had
recorded something that perhaps she or I had forgotten to mention. He was being
extremely thorough. He moved away from the viewport on his eight appendages and
connected to Ma-rye-a.
It was spellbinding to watch him and
his crew move about their deck. The bridge is huge. It has to be to accommodate
a crew of Valarians. When they are moving at a relatively normal speed they
walk on any number of their eight arms/legs – from two to all eight. When
moving beyond a walking speed, they fully extend their appendages and cartwheel
from place to place. They are able to do this and still keep track of where
they are going because their head rotates 360 degrees, much like our owls on
earth.
The commander of the ship turned back
toward me at the viewport and would have bumped into one of his crew except
that the crew member used the third form of movement. He pulled all his arms/legs into a ball and
quickly rolled out of his commander’s path. Once he was past, he uncoiled his
appendages and continued on his way four-on-the-floor, two with a flat reader
each, one punching the flats, with one left over to scratch his head. The
captain, nor his crew member, didn’t even pause, it was that fast and routine
an action for them.
“Much gratitude is bestowed upon you,
Captain 3su,” the Valarian said, or so it translated.
“I just wish I could have made a vid of
it for you, but I guess you will forgive me considering the circumstances,” I
replied.
“Completely. Good Ma-rye-a identified
ships. Closure for many,” it read. “Academy in contact if needed more.” I hated
the translator. It read like the Indian’s dialogue in some of the ancient “B”
western movies Tim dragged to Jake’s birthday parties to play in the
background.
“It was lucky you were so close. I am
glad we could help.”
The captain and his crew had actually
been tracking the Maelstrom’s movements. One of its stars had gone supernova
and blown it out of its normal path. Amazing it had not killed it, but what was
that old saying, “what does not kill you, makes you strong.” In the case of the
Maelstrom it appeared as though it had fed off the radiation from the
supernova. The captain said the entity seemed to be headed back to reestablish
a path very close to where it had been before. It was feeding on the debris
field of nickel and other base element remnants from the explosion.
The captain bubbled and whistled his
way through another thank you and a good bye before we parted company, him to
continue his observations of the Maelstom’s movements and me to head for Jake’s
birthday party and a much needed R&R.
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