Won't that be one mighty day
When we hear world leaders say
"We don't have to cry no more"
"We're givin' it up, we gonna let it all go"
Ain't gonna study, study war no more
Ain't gonna think, think war no more
Ain't gonna fight, fight war no more
We're givin' it up, we gonna let it go
We're givin' it up, we gonna let it go
We will take gun powder to have fun
Then get rid of the atom bomb
Something else that we can do
Get rid of all those rockets too
The money spent on bombs alone
Can build poor people a happy home
Something good we can do
You treat me like I treat you
No more starving in the nation
Everybody gets an education
Everytime a baby is born
We know he'll have him a happy home
No more sleeping in the street
We all happy whoever we meet
Then we all will shake their hand
And make this world a promised land
-Willie Dixon
o
Deep Space
March 21, 2124 (CC 105)
The AngelÆs Thimble was the first ship to be built from Midgard Staryards, mankindÆs first self-sustaining extrasolar colony. The ship was shaped like a silver spindle, a long needle-like main body with a wide ring around its axis. The bulb on the far end was its antimatter drive. There was a broad sheath of ice up front, which served as both as a shield against the strikes of interstellar material at a third of the speed of light, and a reserve of reaction mass.
It was half a kilometer long and had a waking crew of five. It was seven years into its journey when man encountered the first truly xeno race in its experience.
ôI am certain they can see us.ö the Alien-Technologies officer persisted. He pointed with a clawed finger at the screen. ôThat ring was rotating when we first encountered it. It stopped when we approached to two hundred thousand (kilometers). It can only be a mechanism to imitate gravity through centripetal force, but the spin would throw off any attempts at maneuvering. So it is still.ö
The Captain flicked his long hairless pink tail back and forth thoughtfully. ôThis is worrying.ö A Hero of the Kzin of course would not run from danger, but a warrior must have a healthy respect for the unknown. ôThey know of us but arenÆt trying to get away. Are they that confident of themselves?ö
The Alien-Technologies Officer shook his head and flattened his ears. ôLook, captain. The hull is composed of mere iron alloys and some carbon composites. It is practically unarmored. The gravity ring tells us that there is life within that ship. They donÆt have the gravity planer, if they need such a thing. This is one of the most primitive crafts IÆve ever seen.ö
ôAnd yet we are lightyears away from the nearest star!ö
ôWe have matched their velocity at twenty-five percent of the speed of light. They must have some efficient reaction driveà we have never need one as good, not since we found the gravity planer.ö
ôHss. Are they a threat to us?ö
ôI cannot see a way how, Srul-Captain.ö
ôKeep all weapons trained on it anyway. Where is that cursed telepath!ö
The door to the dimly-lit bridge slid open and a much more slim catlike figure entered. He stood at attention exaggeratedly. His fur was unbrushed and he looked as if he required more sleep. ôReporting as ordered, captain!ö
Srul-Captain bared his teeth slightly in displeasure. The telepath was a disgrace to the ideal of a Conquest Kzin, but of course the rarity of the talent ensured he wouldnÆt be murdered to preserve the honor of the KzintÆi race. He pointed at the main screen and spoke with sheer contempt. ôWe have encountered a new enemy craft. You will read their minds for us.ö
The telepath slumped in misery. ôYes, sir.ö He slunk over to a chair and closed his eyes. His ears flicked and rolled, his tail hung slack, and soon he entered a trance-like state. The captainÆs mind intruded on him, a hate that was eagerly but inexpressibly returned, and he frantically tuned it out. One by one he filtered out the minds of those in the ship, and reached towards the alien craftà
Strange and disturbing thoughts clawed at him across the void, and his mind reeled trying to turn the chaotic sendings of the eleventh sense into something more sensible.
ôà bet they donÆt even have radioàö
o
So how does a man from old worn Earth end up leading the first extrasolar spacecraft built by mankind? Not in the reasoning behind it, of course- wealth, political wrangling, nepotism, oh the excuses are so easy and so believable. ItÆs more a matter of distance, my friend. Up until this era of ours all colony ships had to be built and delivered from Luna Prime. Not since the first wave of seedships had anyone born from GaiaÆs womb had any graduate of the Red TowerÆs Xenocourse have gone further than just bringing the completed ship through the wormgate.
The Xenocourse had a serious problem getting any students to make graduate. The past hundred years twice now it was almost canceled, the program that gave mankind the stars. I suppose it is a matter of enthusiasm then.
Behind every prejudice, no matter how obsolete, is a nugget of truth. Or at least a falsehood as attractive. The reputation of us Earthborn, called flatlanders, as na´ve, lacking imagination, sheltered, and soft- I, Janth Baladeva, this I must admit to still have basis in reality.
You see, itÆs not like I ûwanted- to be here. While travel between wormgates reduces travel times by half, two endpoints of the warp tunnel need to be linked to each other. The other end therefore must be brought to place the old-fashioned way, at sublight velocity, through decades snatched from cold sleep.
But it is a matter of obligation. The Cohesive Humansphere is more than a government, less than a religion. Setting up a wormgate is as much an art as it is an artifact of science. Much as weÆve left behind a lot of the old self-destructive tendencies, a whole host of new superstitions seem to have replaced them. A ship with Earthborn at the head is somehow innately luckierà as the saying goes, God favors small children, fools, and ships named Enterprise.
No one is allowed to name their ship the Enterprise. ThatÆs what Akagi named the quantum tunneling experiment back in 2019, and that one instead of teleporting a small sphere of silicon from the sea level to Serenity Base on the moon instead flung the entire Solar System off to God knows where (and HeÆs not telling).
Since this mission is about not getting lost or stuck in improbable but intensely interesting situations, no way were the Sigilata going near that name. While the whole ship is heavily automated that a child could perhaps command it, the captain is supposed to keep the crew from annoying each other to death from their boredom. So, what did that leave? A likable fool of some sort.
Of course IÆm a fool. I arrived on Alpha Centauri a sprightly twenty-six. Now IÆm a paunchy thirty-nine. IÆm sure my reaction was just hilarious when I told IÆd be on bed rota between the XO and the engineer. ItÆs not that Earth is all that repressive, but I just never expected how so blunt were the outborn towards sexual matters. Decades. In this ship, when not in cryo, thereÆs only fuck or sleep or find some other non-harmful way of not growing mad from boredom.
I didnÆt want to be here, not exactly in this ship, but something like that was the reason why I wanted to (ahem) explore known space.
I was young, all right? As much as roamed, I still expected to go back.
Earth is birthplace of mankind. ItÆs still sacred. We, as humans, still ûneed- that visceral connection to the source from which we all sprang.
It surprised me most of all to learn that IÆd been chosen to lead the mission, despite having no practical experience. But one does not ignore Vishnu Paramatma when He decides to call.
This mission ûmust- be specially blessed if He decides to take direct notice of it. This first contact with the first true alien race in humanityÆs experience is certainly a surprise, but not too much so. Am I giddy with excitement? Haha no. IÆm scared near out my wits.
The only sensible reaction, perhaps. I just canÆt show it. A captain needs to present a calm confident manner, itÆs not for nothing that I spent all these years.
ôà bet they donÆt even have radio.ö
IÆm jerked from my contemplative mood by a loud disputing snort.
ôRadio waves still propagate at the speed of light.ö speaks up Helena Diskport, the missionÆs Astrogator. ôWhy wouldn' anyone not recognize any signal sent through the spectrum? WeÆve tried every frequency outside of anythin' they could mistake for a targeting emission.ö She spun in the zero-grav of the central command bridge with a BelterÆs grace and floated over to other side of the bridge. ôAny species advanced enough to build a spaceship should know what can be used for communication.ö
ôWhat forms of communication should we be using?ö asked I ask her. Tall and leggy, with her hair in a military crew-cut, Helena puts her emphasis more in voice than in gestures. I guess that comes from being raised in a spacecraft where any random flailing could knock loose objects or switches in zero gee.
ôWe've already got the computer running the standard First Contact package, sa'ir. We've been throwing universal greetings in both analog and binary, running lights at pi an' Fibonacci, but they're just not responding. They should know thereÆs at least something annatural here.ö
ôThere might not be anyone there to respond.ö replied Changor Jicks, the shipÆs Pilot. He squints at the main screen behind thick-lensed goggles. While it was simple enough to get generic Earthform organs to replace bad eyes, he still rather likes the ones his mother gave him. Our lineage has a common thread, but he is Iupitrian.
Piloting a colony ship like this must be punishment for a rocketjock, and really just for that I have to suppress a bit of jealousy. That was the advantage of mystique IÆd never have. Everyone else on this ship, despite that we started off a young crew, had lived a more exciting life before being shoved into this hull.
ôA machine-piloted craft?ö Helena changed the main screen to show through the shipÆs optics. ôLook at that.ö Splashed across the shipÆs side was a line of dots and dashes, very different from the angular letters that made up human Interlang, but visibly serving the same purpose. ôSomeone had to have built that. Whoever they are, they write the ship-name across the hull like we do. They have language, obviously.ö
ôDonÆt you want it to be an AI?ö I ask her again. Astronavigation in deep space tended to be just plugging star charts into the computer. With next to nothing to do, her other job was tending to the computers. Her hobby was developing artificial intelligence without quite breaking the taboo on self-aware systems. ôIsnÆt that one of solutions to the Fermi question?ö
The only thing more boring would be the pilotÆs job, which would beà nothing. A seedship only needed to be steered at the start towards the prospective star, and then left to accelerate on its own.
Poor Changor. But thatÆs why he and Elena share misery and relieve it, among other pursuits, intellectually in making piloting and management sims.
ôLike, why havenÆt machine intelligences already consumed the galaxy, you mean?ö Helena shrugs. ôI donÆt knowà IÆd like something that thinks in ways I can understand. Something that we can talk toà itÆs better than risking a Berserker plague.ö
ôHow about a bug-eyed alien swarm? Biological von Neumann propagation is just a valid.ö Changor adds helpfully. ôThereÆs plenty ways of thinking and communicating. We might not even perceive space itself the same way. Spot!ö He curls his lips back. ôThat thing has a reactionless drive!ö
ôOur photon drive is also, by definition, reactionless.ö I say back not-at-all helpfully.
He glares at me. I think. I canÆt really tell with his lenses. ôOur Solenoid Engine doesnÆt create energy from nothing. If we could just generate black holes like the First Generation seedships, our drive would be much more efficient in transforming output into propulsion. But that thing isnÆt even emitting anything. I just saw it match our velocity from almost double ours!öHe wiggles his brush moustache at Helena. ôThatÆs not possible. It shouldn't violate the conservation of energy.ö
ôNot withà machines?ö I ponder out loud. ôAt least, not in the method we know from the history books.ö
Helena crosses her arms over her chest and lightly kicks off the back of ChangorÆs chair to drift back to her station. ôI donÆt have any proof that itÆs manned. I just think it likely that machine intelligence or no, it has to be ignoring us. If itÆs advanced to go interstellar on its own, howevÆ it does it, itÆs got to be enough to ûsee- us.ö
I canÆt help but to chuckle. ôItÆs still strange to finally meet an alien race that actually ûneeds- spaceships to cross the void.ö I guess that just leave us with just one important question.
o
The computers of the Kzin scoutship did receive the First Contact package, and speedily reinterpreted the data. ôBipedal, hands and feet with digits capable of fine manipulation, it looks like.ö the Alien Technologies Officer mulled over the data and snarled slightly. ôKzin-like, if just in shape.ö
ôThey look weak. These are the females, yes? Nearly the same size as the males. If not for the breasts, how can they even tell each other apart? Their furà hrr, itÆs not so much the lack of it that is unnatural, but that they seem to growing in the most useless places.ö But of course there was just one important question. ôWhat are their weapons?ö
ôThey have weapons, crude lasers and magnetic throwersàö the telepath murmured. ôThey are sure their weapons will have no effect, our armor is much thicker than they expected. They have seen our speed and are not confident they can even hit us.ö
ôAs they expected? Have they come to conquer?ö the Captain asked with relish.
ôNoà explorationà they have not been space for long, less than a hundred years. No, waità they have only two worlds.ö The telepath couldnÆt keep an expression of feral pleasure off his face. ôThey are afraid. Their worlds have almost no defenses. No warships.ö
ôThis is a primitive ship, but at least we know they can be taught to build.ö the Alien Technologies officer offered. ôA new slave race.ö
The captain let out a satisfied growl. This was most fortunate. It would bring them much honor, names and wealth. ôCan they fight?ö
ôYes, very much they want to fight us. They know we are superior and that makes them fear. They want to fight so much they want to die, as long as we die with them. We must not be allowed to know where their homeworld is.ö
The Captain yowled in delight. A spirited prey. This just gets better and better. The Fanged God was surely smiling upon them this day.
ôWhy are they here?ö
ôà colonization. They carry with them hundreds of colonists in coldsleep.ö The small Kzin hung limp and went silent for a long while. It was only by the twitching of his tail and the intense expression of focus on his face that the crew kept from worrying about his weak, but still useful life. Suddenly he opened his eyes and flicked his ears up in challenge. ôThey have faster-than-light!ö the Telepath yelped.
ôYou are lying!ö yowled Alien-Technologies-Officer, reflexively striking out but with claws in. The telepath yowled, more of rote than in pain, and cowered submissively. The larger Kzin gestured at the main screen. ôI have eyes! Do you think it would be here if it had an FTL drive? This craft is almost a toy!ö
ôIt is not a drive. ItÆsà a gate of some sort. They must travel sublight until they can set it up in the far end.ö
ôHrrà is this possible?ö asked the captain.
The Alien Technologies Officer flattened his ears out and took a more submissive pose too. ôI am not sure, honorable Srul-Captain. Certainly we know of some animals that possess faster-than-light, but none of them capable of challenging us. The (Puppeteers) have it, and the Slavers before them, but the Jotoki never achieved such a technology. This primitive lump of a ship! I cannot believe it.ö
ôThen this telepath should be punished for insolence.ö
The telepath could only let out a mournful yowl. ôI may be deceived, my great masters, but in this I am not lying. I have nothing to gain from lying.ö
ôThat much is true.ö Alien-Technologist said. ôIt would be simple enough to check when we take the ship.ö
The Captain clawed at the air towards the screen. ôYou say they have no weapons to challenge us, fool?ö he said to the telepath. ôThat photon drive of theirs is a weapon in itself. Are they thinking that?ö
The telepath flattened his ears and went back into a trace. ôà yes, yesà they realize it too. But their ship is too long. They know the speed of our ship, andà we could easily destroy them long before they are in position to fire.ö
Srul-Captain chuffed with laughter. ôThat is a lesson we need not teach today. Today we have slaves, and new technology, and will soon know where we can find more! Alien-Techologist, we must have this craft. It is too valuable to destroy.ö
ôYes, Srul-Captain. But it has no armorà any of our weapons could easily destroy and compromise its cryogenic systems. If these new slave-animals do possess gate-FTL, then surely the knowledge would be in those too valuable to spend their years between stars. As much as possible, we should recover their computer data intact.ö
The Captain began to scratch at the bottom of his chin with his thumb, claw out. ôBoarding it would be simplest, but we must not give them time to purge their storage of star charts.ö To scream and leap, it worked best when the prey was unaware. His ears flicked at an idea. ôWhich part is the command module?ö
o
In under just fifty years had seen most of humanity move from the shelter of its cradle to the having the bulk of its number in orbitals and belt-ships and the seed-ships. As much as the once-fractured world finally put aside their old grudges and burdens, so did man seem intent in forging new planes of division. ThereÆs plenty of us now. Earthborn, Lunarian, Sol Sider, Martian, Sol Belter, Martian, Iupter and Nepter, then Outshifter. Then there are the extrasolar colonies. The Centauri Siders in worldless Alpha Centauri, the Gardians and Swarm Belters in Beta Centauri, Lynxians in Felisa, and so on. A hundred years later and most of humanity was born off lonesome Gaia. Earth imposes no influence on her colonies, each one that sets off is implicitly politically distinct as long as all obeys the common laws of the CHS.
A lot of things remained the same anyway. Our common culture is in no hurry to leave this state of humanity. IÆve grown up through this voyage and I can understand how almost everyone wishes they hadnÆt wasted their childhood years hurrying to grow up. Mankind as a whole is still so young. We have all the time in the universe.
I lean back on my chair, take the cigarette from my lips and blow. I roll the stick between my thumb and forefinger thumb and forefinger as I think.
All this time, the woman to my left hasnÆt spoke up. Her sharp, hawk-nosed face is set in grim concentration. ôThey haven't shot at us yet.ö Comrade Esperanza says nervously. ôMaybe... they're like us. It's automated until they wake up the crew from coldsleep?ö
She looks at the other craft in her own viewscreen. The bulb-like vessel does looks distinctly unfriendly, with bulges that could only be weapon ports.
"Is it safe to assume they're not hostile?" asked Changor.
ôWar is such a hilariously expensiveà and slowà undertaking across interstellar space, that any resources applied towards waging it is very unlikely to be recouped in whateverÆs claimed.ö I say with a slight grin. ThaatÆs right. Listen to me, a bankerÆs son, laying down the costs of violence. ôThatÆs why the peace humanityÆs enjoyed for the past hundred years hasnÆt been because one political ideal or faction finally proved superior over all othersà we all learned itÆs not worth the heartache.ö
HelenaÆs smile is more than a little indulgent. ôEarthÆs peace, captain. And thatÆs because your primary export seems to be dissenting views.ö Jupiter and the Belt ended up not being happy with each other anyway.
Which just proves my point more, really. For all the talk of æpiratesÆ and rhetoric, they knew that industry put into building warships could be better habitats and resource extraction. Which in turn could be the seed for a military build-up, but in twenty-five, fifty years, trade would have linked them so tightly that war would be unthinkable.
ôExplorers, my dear. Such as we are.ö I point to the screen. ôAny species smart enough to get to space on its own should at least have managed to unite a good deal of their own species beyond violent competition. Fighting the well of gravity is hard enough.ö
All weÆve accomplished, weÆve done it without the waste of war.
I look to the station left of me, where sat Comrade Esperanza at the weapons controls. She shrugs. ôMaybe, but just because one got to space doesnÆt mean they have to be rational about it.ö The Lynxian has decided to take out her own smog-sticks. She takes a deep drag and swallows much of the smoke instead of blowing it out.
There are very many who still think smokingÆs a vile habit. I begin to spin the stick between my fingers. The missionÆs psychologists had accepted that some people did find it relaxing just to hold something in the middle of a crisis. It kept them centered. Poison might be in every breath, but it did force officers to take willful deep breaths regularly and that motion alone allowed them to keep their heads. The body needed to become the slave to the mind.
But to a Jinxian, the only other landborn in the Humansphere, the poisons would taste like home. Let me digress here a little. Lynx was the first real life-bearing planet humanity had found. Asgard doesnÆt count- itÆs a wordlet around a gas giant, like Europa for the Jupitris. Lynx is habitable, compatible with earthstock flora and fauna, except for one thing- its atmosphere was slightly toxic. Plants wouldnÆt care, but people would have to live in domes and carry oxygen packs when going about their world.
WeÆve learned from the colonization of Mars that dome dwellings are expensive and time-intensive. It would be much faster, and much more liberating, to implant whatÆs known as the BeecherÆs Organ, which allows human lungs to filter out poisons before they enter the bloodstream.
I can almost hear the reaction of the colonists when the next shipment arrived. Flatlanders. Yeah, only Earth-humans would think meddling with the genetic template was the simpler solution. Fortunately the implantation procedure only involved snorting down two thin hollow threads and a micro-pump pushing through the gene-seeds. ItÆs been a long time since we needed to do surgery just for implantsà there was no chance of organ rejection when theyÆre formed from the bodyÆs own cells.
The end result? Within a month, every Lynxian could walk outside, saving them a lot of time and effort and construction money. The improved lung efficiency also extends human normal lifespan by about five years. Another dirt-cheap solution brought to you by GEHRINÆs Artificial Evolution Labs. Subsidizing its research costs is part of where your taxes go.
Of course, I have one too. When I went off to work for Sol Space Agency, GARUDA, they gave me the full set of environmental tolerance implants. LunaÆs many white elephant industries are occasionally useful. Lunarians may be loony for their research, but itÆs still Terra that keeps on paying for it.
Speaking of Lunariansà
I thumb inship communications and call for Dr. Toyama. A short while later, I receive a reply from the coldsleep chambers.
ôMy apologies, Captain Baladeva.ö Our resident Scientific Adviser says, the tiny woman looking like a panda in her white parka. ôShe is nearly awake.ö
I nod. As a Captain, First Contact was never really my purview. I suppose anyone in this crew can be diplomatic if necessary, but there is only one person in this place that can truly ûknow- the border between man and alien. Qualifications donÆt really matter as much as beingà able to speak for all mankind. All of us.
ôThank you, Doctor. Please make sure sheÆs comfortable. WeÆll wait for you h-ô
The whole ship lurches as if struck by a hammer blow. I briefly feel a hot flash before the helmet-film engaged, covering my head and protecting it from the decompression. Air rushes out through two holes in the hull. The lights switch to emergency red, and I feel pops through the deck plates as the automated defense system shoot out laser-diffusion flares. Pressure containment seals rapidly flow from the edges of the hole.
ôHim on Earth!ö I gasp. ôWhat was that?!ö ItÆs a few more strained moments before I can move again.
I hear a whimpering through integrated comms. One of the holes is near the AstrogatorÆs station. Helenaà her legs are gone, the stumps seared and sealed. SheÆs still clinging to the side of her chair. ItÆs a good thing weÆre all hermetically sealed, IÆm sure we donÆt want to smell cooked meat.
I still feel sick anyway, imagining how oddly appetizing such an odor would be. ItÆs still part of our animal instinct, oh damn it.
Why would they attack?! Have we triggered some sort of automatic defense flag? No. I bump the alert from HARM straight into REFLEX. This is too precise. WeÆre being targeted. That shipà ôTactical! Hold fire!ö
Esperanza has already shot off our own defense lasers and a couple of missiles. The lasers had only tickled thick armor, and the missiles IÆm sure will be shot down by any decent point defense. ôBut, sir-!ö
ôWe need to look crippledàö
She gasps, understanding immediately. ItÆs the only way to avoid further damage. She glances at her screen to see two objects separating from theà enemyà ship. Boats? Boarding craft, yes quite likely.
ôMedical to the bridge! ö I shout into the inship channel. To those with me, ôEveryone belt in and brace yourselves. ItÆs not over yet. TheyÆre going to hit us again.ö
They did. But that attack never touches us. It splashes harmlessly off a hexagonal red barrier around our ship.
I feel cold straight past the bone, right into the soul. The terror in my gut pushes me to dry heaving. I feel so tiny, the light of my soul wavering under the unintended assault. I can feel her.
SheÆs Awake now. And sheÆs angry.
-o-
When we hear world leaders say
"We don't have to cry no more"
"We're givin' it up, we gonna let it all go"
Ain't gonna study, study war no more
Ain't gonna think, think war no more
Ain't gonna fight, fight war no more
We're givin' it up, we gonna let it go
We're givin' it up, we gonna let it go
We will take gun powder to have fun
Then get rid of the atom bomb
Something else that we can do
Get rid of all those rockets too
The money spent on bombs alone
Can build poor people a happy home
Something good we can do
You treat me like I treat you
No more starving in the nation
Everybody gets an education
Everytime a baby is born
We know he'll have him a happy home
No more sleeping in the street
We all happy whoever we meet
Then we all will shake their hand
And make this world a promised land
-Willie Dixon
o
Deep Space
March 21, 2124 (CC 105)
The AngelÆs Thimble was the first ship to be built from Midgard Staryards, mankindÆs first self-sustaining extrasolar colony. The ship was shaped like a silver spindle, a long needle-like main body with a wide ring around its axis. The bulb on the far end was its antimatter drive. There was a broad sheath of ice up front, which served as both as a shield against the strikes of interstellar material at a third of the speed of light, and a reserve of reaction mass.
It was half a kilometer long and had a waking crew of five. It was seven years into its journey when man encountered the first truly xeno race in its experience.
ôI am certain they can see us.ö the Alien-Technologies officer persisted. He pointed with a clawed finger at the screen. ôThat ring was rotating when we first encountered it. It stopped when we approached to two hundred thousand (kilometers). It can only be a mechanism to imitate gravity through centripetal force, but the spin would throw off any attempts at maneuvering. So it is still.ö
The Captain flicked his long hairless pink tail back and forth thoughtfully. ôThis is worrying.ö A Hero of the Kzin of course would not run from danger, but a warrior must have a healthy respect for the unknown. ôThey know of us but arenÆt trying to get away. Are they that confident of themselves?ö
The Alien-Technologies Officer shook his head and flattened his ears. ôLook, captain. The hull is composed of mere iron alloys and some carbon composites. It is practically unarmored. The gravity ring tells us that there is life within that ship. They donÆt have the gravity planer, if they need such a thing. This is one of the most primitive crafts IÆve ever seen.ö
ôAnd yet we are lightyears away from the nearest star!ö
ôWe have matched their velocity at twenty-five percent of the speed of light. They must have some efficient reaction driveà we have never need one as good, not since we found the gravity planer.ö
ôHss. Are they a threat to us?ö
ôI cannot see a way how, Srul-Captain.ö
ôKeep all weapons trained on it anyway. Where is that cursed telepath!ö
The door to the dimly-lit bridge slid open and a much more slim catlike figure entered. He stood at attention exaggeratedly. His fur was unbrushed and he looked as if he required more sleep. ôReporting as ordered, captain!ö
Srul-Captain bared his teeth slightly in displeasure. The telepath was a disgrace to the ideal of a Conquest Kzin, but of course the rarity of the talent ensured he wouldnÆt be murdered to preserve the honor of the KzintÆi race. He pointed at the main screen and spoke with sheer contempt. ôWe have encountered a new enemy craft. You will read their minds for us.ö
The telepath slumped in misery. ôYes, sir.ö He slunk over to a chair and closed his eyes. His ears flicked and rolled, his tail hung slack, and soon he entered a trance-like state. The captainÆs mind intruded on him, a hate that was eagerly but inexpressibly returned, and he frantically tuned it out. One by one he filtered out the minds of those in the ship, and reached towards the alien craftà
Strange and disturbing thoughts clawed at him across the void, and his mind reeled trying to turn the chaotic sendings of the eleventh sense into something more sensible.
ôà bet they donÆt even have radioàö
o
So how does a man from old worn Earth end up leading the first extrasolar spacecraft built by mankind? Not in the reasoning behind it, of course- wealth, political wrangling, nepotism, oh the excuses are so easy and so believable. ItÆs more a matter of distance, my friend. Up until this era of ours all colony ships had to be built and delivered from Luna Prime. Not since the first wave of seedships had anyone born from GaiaÆs womb had any graduate of the Red TowerÆs Xenocourse have gone further than just bringing the completed ship through the wormgate.
The Xenocourse had a serious problem getting any students to make graduate. The past hundred years twice now it was almost canceled, the program that gave mankind the stars. I suppose it is a matter of enthusiasm then.
Behind every prejudice, no matter how obsolete, is a nugget of truth. Or at least a falsehood as attractive. The reputation of us Earthborn, called flatlanders, as na´ve, lacking imagination, sheltered, and soft- I, Janth Baladeva, this I must admit to still have basis in reality.
You see, itÆs not like I ûwanted- to be here. While travel between wormgates reduces travel times by half, two endpoints of the warp tunnel need to be linked to each other. The other end therefore must be brought to place the old-fashioned way, at sublight velocity, through decades snatched from cold sleep.
But it is a matter of obligation. The Cohesive Humansphere is more than a government, less than a religion. Setting up a wormgate is as much an art as it is an artifact of science. Much as weÆve left behind a lot of the old self-destructive tendencies, a whole host of new superstitions seem to have replaced them. A ship with Earthborn at the head is somehow innately luckierà as the saying goes, God favors small children, fools, and ships named Enterprise.
No one is allowed to name their ship the Enterprise. ThatÆs what Akagi named the quantum tunneling experiment back in 2019, and that one instead of teleporting a small sphere of silicon from the sea level to Serenity Base on the moon instead flung the entire Solar System off to God knows where (and HeÆs not telling).
Since this mission is about not getting lost or stuck in improbable but intensely interesting situations, no way were the Sigilata going near that name. While the whole ship is heavily automated that a child could perhaps command it, the captain is supposed to keep the crew from annoying each other to death from their boredom. So, what did that leave? A likable fool of some sort.
Of course IÆm a fool. I arrived on Alpha Centauri a sprightly twenty-six. Now IÆm a paunchy thirty-nine. IÆm sure my reaction was just hilarious when I told IÆd be on bed rota between the XO and the engineer. ItÆs not that Earth is all that repressive, but I just never expected how so blunt were the outborn towards sexual matters. Decades. In this ship, when not in cryo, thereÆs only fuck or sleep or find some other non-harmful way of not growing mad from boredom.
I didnÆt want to be here, not exactly in this ship, but something like that was the reason why I wanted to (ahem) explore known space.
I was young, all right? As much as roamed, I still expected to go back.
Earth is birthplace of mankind. ItÆs still sacred. We, as humans, still ûneed- that visceral connection to the source from which we all sprang.
It surprised me most of all to learn that IÆd been chosen to lead the mission, despite having no practical experience. But one does not ignore Vishnu Paramatma when He decides to call.
This mission ûmust- be specially blessed if He decides to take direct notice of it. This first contact with the first true alien race in humanityÆs experience is certainly a surprise, but not too much so. Am I giddy with excitement? Haha no. IÆm scared near out my wits.
The only sensible reaction, perhaps. I just canÆt show it. A captain needs to present a calm confident manner, itÆs not for nothing that I spent all these years.
ôà bet they donÆt even have radio.ö
IÆm jerked from my contemplative mood by a loud disputing snort.
ôRadio waves still propagate at the speed of light.ö speaks up Helena Diskport, the missionÆs Astrogator. ôWhy wouldn' anyone not recognize any signal sent through the spectrum? WeÆve tried every frequency outside of anythin' they could mistake for a targeting emission.ö She spun in the zero-grav of the central command bridge with a BelterÆs grace and floated over to other side of the bridge. ôAny species advanced enough to build a spaceship should know what can be used for communication.ö
ôWhat forms of communication should we be using?ö asked I ask her. Tall and leggy, with her hair in a military crew-cut, Helena puts her emphasis more in voice than in gestures. I guess that comes from being raised in a spacecraft where any random flailing could knock loose objects or switches in zero gee.
ôWe've already got the computer running the standard First Contact package, sa'ir. We've been throwing universal greetings in both analog and binary, running lights at pi an' Fibonacci, but they're just not responding. They should know thereÆs at least something annatural here.ö
ôThere might not be anyone there to respond.ö replied Changor Jicks, the shipÆs Pilot. He squints at the main screen behind thick-lensed goggles. While it was simple enough to get generic Earthform organs to replace bad eyes, he still rather likes the ones his mother gave him. Our lineage has a common thread, but he is Iupitrian.
Piloting a colony ship like this must be punishment for a rocketjock, and really just for that I have to suppress a bit of jealousy. That was the advantage of mystique IÆd never have. Everyone else on this ship, despite that we started off a young crew, had lived a more exciting life before being shoved into this hull.
ôA machine-piloted craft?ö Helena changed the main screen to show through the shipÆs optics. ôLook at that.ö Splashed across the shipÆs side was a line of dots and dashes, very different from the angular letters that made up human Interlang, but visibly serving the same purpose. ôSomeone had to have built that. Whoever they are, they write the ship-name across the hull like we do. They have language, obviously.ö
ôDonÆt you want it to be an AI?ö I ask her again. Astronavigation in deep space tended to be just plugging star charts into the computer. With next to nothing to do, her other job was tending to the computers. Her hobby was developing artificial intelligence without quite breaking the taboo on self-aware systems. ôIsnÆt that one of solutions to the Fermi question?ö
The only thing more boring would be the pilotÆs job, which would beà nothing. A seedship only needed to be steered at the start towards the prospective star, and then left to accelerate on its own.
Poor Changor. But thatÆs why he and Elena share misery and relieve it, among other pursuits, intellectually in making piloting and management sims.
ôLike, why havenÆt machine intelligences already consumed the galaxy, you mean?ö Helena shrugs. ôI donÆt knowà IÆd like something that thinks in ways I can understand. Something that we can talk toà itÆs better than risking a Berserker plague.ö
ôHow about a bug-eyed alien swarm? Biological von Neumann propagation is just a valid.ö Changor adds helpfully. ôThereÆs plenty ways of thinking and communicating. We might not even perceive space itself the same way. Spot!ö He curls his lips back. ôThat thing has a reactionless drive!ö
ôOur photon drive is also, by definition, reactionless.ö I say back not-at-all helpfully.
He glares at me. I think. I canÆt really tell with his lenses. ôOur Solenoid Engine doesnÆt create energy from nothing. If we could just generate black holes like the First Generation seedships, our drive would be much more efficient in transforming output into propulsion. But that thing isnÆt even emitting anything. I just saw it match our velocity from almost double ours!öHe wiggles his brush moustache at Helena. ôThatÆs not possible. It shouldn't violate the conservation of energy.ö
ôNot withà machines?ö I ponder out loud. ôAt least, not in the method we know from the history books.ö
Helena crosses her arms over her chest and lightly kicks off the back of ChangorÆs chair to drift back to her station. ôI donÆt have any proof that itÆs manned. I just think it likely that machine intelligence or no, it has to be ignoring us. If itÆs advanced to go interstellar on its own, howevÆ it does it, itÆs got to be enough to ûsee- us.ö
I canÆt help but to chuckle. ôItÆs still strange to finally meet an alien race that actually ûneeds- spaceships to cross the void.ö I guess that just leave us with just one important question.
o
The computers of the Kzin scoutship did receive the First Contact package, and speedily reinterpreted the data. ôBipedal, hands and feet with digits capable of fine manipulation, it looks like.ö the Alien Technologies Officer mulled over the data and snarled slightly. ôKzin-like, if just in shape.ö
ôThey look weak. These are the females, yes? Nearly the same size as the males. If not for the breasts, how can they even tell each other apart? Their furà hrr, itÆs not so much the lack of it that is unnatural, but that they seem to growing in the most useless places.ö But of course there was just one important question. ôWhat are their weapons?ö
ôThey have weapons, crude lasers and magnetic throwersàö the telepath murmured. ôThey are sure their weapons will have no effect, our armor is much thicker than they expected. They have seen our speed and are not confident they can even hit us.ö
ôAs they expected? Have they come to conquer?ö the Captain asked with relish.
ôNoà explorationà they have not been space for long, less than a hundred years. No, waità they have only two worlds.ö The telepath couldnÆt keep an expression of feral pleasure off his face. ôThey are afraid. Their worlds have almost no defenses. No warships.ö
ôThis is a primitive ship, but at least we know they can be taught to build.ö the Alien Technologies officer offered. ôA new slave race.ö
The captain let out a satisfied growl. This was most fortunate. It would bring them much honor, names and wealth. ôCan they fight?ö
ôYes, very much they want to fight us. They know we are superior and that makes them fear. They want to fight so much they want to die, as long as we die with them. We must not be allowed to know where their homeworld is.ö
The Captain yowled in delight. A spirited prey. This just gets better and better. The Fanged God was surely smiling upon them this day.
ôWhy are they here?ö
ôà colonization. They carry with them hundreds of colonists in coldsleep.ö The small Kzin hung limp and went silent for a long while. It was only by the twitching of his tail and the intense expression of focus on his face that the crew kept from worrying about his weak, but still useful life. Suddenly he opened his eyes and flicked his ears up in challenge. ôThey have faster-than-light!ö the Telepath yelped.
ôYou are lying!ö yowled Alien-Technologies-Officer, reflexively striking out but with claws in. The telepath yowled, more of rote than in pain, and cowered submissively. The larger Kzin gestured at the main screen. ôI have eyes! Do you think it would be here if it had an FTL drive? This craft is almost a toy!ö
ôIt is not a drive. ItÆsà a gate of some sort. They must travel sublight until they can set it up in the far end.ö
ôHrrà is this possible?ö asked the captain.
The Alien Technologies Officer flattened his ears out and took a more submissive pose too. ôI am not sure, honorable Srul-Captain. Certainly we know of some animals that possess faster-than-light, but none of them capable of challenging us. The (Puppeteers) have it, and the Slavers before them, but the Jotoki never achieved such a technology. This primitive lump of a ship! I cannot believe it.ö
ôThen this telepath should be punished for insolence.ö
The telepath could only let out a mournful yowl. ôI may be deceived, my great masters, but in this I am not lying. I have nothing to gain from lying.ö
ôThat much is true.ö Alien-Technologist said. ôIt would be simple enough to check when we take the ship.ö
The Captain clawed at the air towards the screen. ôYou say they have no weapons to challenge us, fool?ö he said to the telepath. ôThat photon drive of theirs is a weapon in itself. Are they thinking that?ö
The telepath flattened his ears and went back into a trace. ôà yes, yesà they realize it too. But their ship is too long. They know the speed of our ship, andà we could easily destroy them long before they are in position to fire.ö
Srul-Captain chuffed with laughter. ôThat is a lesson we need not teach today. Today we have slaves, and new technology, and will soon know where we can find more! Alien-Techologist, we must have this craft. It is too valuable to destroy.ö
ôYes, Srul-Captain. But it has no armorà any of our weapons could easily destroy and compromise its cryogenic systems. If these new slave-animals do possess gate-FTL, then surely the knowledge would be in those too valuable to spend their years between stars. As much as possible, we should recover their computer data intact.ö
The Captain began to scratch at the bottom of his chin with his thumb, claw out. ôBoarding it would be simplest, but we must not give them time to purge their storage of star charts.ö To scream and leap, it worked best when the prey was unaware. His ears flicked at an idea. ôWhich part is the command module?ö
o
In under just fifty years had seen most of humanity move from the shelter of its cradle to the having the bulk of its number in orbitals and belt-ships and the seed-ships. As much as the once-fractured world finally put aside their old grudges and burdens, so did man seem intent in forging new planes of division. ThereÆs plenty of us now. Earthborn, Lunarian, Sol Sider, Martian, Sol Belter, Martian, Iupter and Nepter, then Outshifter. Then there are the extrasolar colonies. The Centauri Siders in worldless Alpha Centauri, the Gardians and Swarm Belters in Beta Centauri, Lynxians in Felisa, and so on. A hundred years later and most of humanity was born off lonesome Gaia. Earth imposes no influence on her colonies, each one that sets off is implicitly politically distinct as long as all obeys the common laws of the CHS.
A lot of things remained the same anyway. Our common culture is in no hurry to leave this state of humanity. IÆve grown up through this voyage and I can understand how almost everyone wishes they hadnÆt wasted their childhood years hurrying to grow up. Mankind as a whole is still so young. We have all the time in the universe.
I lean back on my chair, take the cigarette from my lips and blow. I roll the stick between my thumb and forefinger thumb and forefinger as I think.
All this time, the woman to my left hasnÆt spoke up. Her sharp, hawk-nosed face is set in grim concentration. ôThey haven't shot at us yet.ö Comrade Esperanza says nervously. ôMaybe... they're like us. It's automated until they wake up the crew from coldsleep?ö
She looks at the other craft in her own viewscreen. The bulb-like vessel does looks distinctly unfriendly, with bulges that could only be weapon ports.
"Is it safe to assume they're not hostile?" asked Changor.
ôWar is such a hilariously expensiveà and slowà undertaking across interstellar space, that any resources applied towards waging it is very unlikely to be recouped in whateverÆs claimed.ö I say with a slight grin. ThaatÆs right. Listen to me, a bankerÆs son, laying down the costs of violence. ôThatÆs why the peace humanityÆs enjoyed for the past hundred years hasnÆt been because one political ideal or faction finally proved superior over all othersà we all learned itÆs not worth the heartache.ö
HelenaÆs smile is more than a little indulgent. ôEarthÆs peace, captain. And thatÆs because your primary export seems to be dissenting views.ö Jupiter and the Belt ended up not being happy with each other anyway.
Which just proves my point more, really. For all the talk of æpiratesÆ and rhetoric, they knew that industry put into building warships could be better habitats and resource extraction. Which in turn could be the seed for a military build-up, but in twenty-five, fifty years, trade would have linked them so tightly that war would be unthinkable.
ôExplorers, my dear. Such as we are.ö I point to the screen. ôAny species smart enough to get to space on its own should at least have managed to unite a good deal of their own species beyond violent competition. Fighting the well of gravity is hard enough.ö
All weÆve accomplished, weÆve done it without the waste of war.
I look to the station left of me, where sat Comrade Esperanza at the weapons controls. She shrugs. ôMaybe, but just because one got to space doesnÆt mean they have to be rational about it.ö The Lynxian has decided to take out her own smog-sticks. She takes a deep drag and swallows much of the smoke instead of blowing it out.
There are very many who still think smokingÆs a vile habit. I begin to spin the stick between my fingers. The missionÆs psychologists had accepted that some people did find it relaxing just to hold something in the middle of a crisis. It kept them centered. Poison might be in every breath, but it did force officers to take willful deep breaths regularly and that motion alone allowed them to keep their heads. The body needed to become the slave to the mind.
But to a Jinxian, the only other landborn in the Humansphere, the poisons would taste like home. Let me digress here a little. Lynx was the first real life-bearing planet humanity had found. Asgard doesnÆt count- itÆs a wordlet around a gas giant, like Europa for the Jupitris. Lynx is habitable, compatible with earthstock flora and fauna, except for one thing- its atmosphere was slightly toxic. Plants wouldnÆt care, but people would have to live in domes and carry oxygen packs when going about their world.
WeÆve learned from the colonization of Mars that dome dwellings are expensive and time-intensive. It would be much faster, and much more liberating, to implant whatÆs known as the BeecherÆs Organ, which allows human lungs to filter out poisons before they enter the bloodstream.
I can almost hear the reaction of the colonists when the next shipment arrived. Flatlanders. Yeah, only Earth-humans would think meddling with the genetic template was the simpler solution. Fortunately the implantation procedure only involved snorting down two thin hollow threads and a micro-pump pushing through the gene-seeds. ItÆs been a long time since we needed to do surgery just for implantsà there was no chance of organ rejection when theyÆre formed from the bodyÆs own cells.
The end result? Within a month, every Lynxian could walk outside, saving them a lot of time and effort and construction money. The improved lung efficiency also extends human normal lifespan by about five years. Another dirt-cheap solution brought to you by GEHRINÆs Artificial Evolution Labs. Subsidizing its research costs is part of where your taxes go.
Of course, I have one too. When I went off to work for Sol Space Agency, GARUDA, they gave me the full set of environmental tolerance implants. LunaÆs many white elephant industries are occasionally useful. Lunarians may be loony for their research, but itÆs still Terra that keeps on paying for it.
Speaking of Lunariansà
I thumb inship communications and call for Dr. Toyama. A short while later, I receive a reply from the coldsleep chambers.
ôMy apologies, Captain Baladeva.ö Our resident Scientific Adviser says, the tiny woman looking like a panda in her white parka. ôShe is nearly awake.ö
I nod. As a Captain, First Contact was never really my purview. I suppose anyone in this crew can be diplomatic if necessary, but there is only one person in this place that can truly ûknow- the border between man and alien. Qualifications donÆt really matter as much as beingà able to speak for all mankind. All of us.
ôThank you, Doctor. Please make sure sheÆs comfortable. WeÆll wait for you h-ô
The whole ship lurches as if struck by a hammer blow. I briefly feel a hot flash before the helmet-film engaged, covering my head and protecting it from the decompression. Air rushes out through two holes in the hull. The lights switch to emergency red, and I feel pops through the deck plates as the automated defense system shoot out laser-diffusion flares. Pressure containment seals rapidly flow from the edges of the hole.
ôHim on Earth!ö I gasp. ôWhat was that?!ö ItÆs a few more strained moments before I can move again.
I hear a whimpering through integrated comms. One of the holes is near the AstrogatorÆs station. Helenaà her legs are gone, the stumps seared and sealed. SheÆs still clinging to the side of her chair. ItÆs a good thing weÆre all hermetically sealed, IÆm sure we donÆt want to smell cooked meat.
I still feel sick anyway, imagining how oddly appetizing such an odor would be. ItÆs still part of our animal instinct, oh damn it.
Why would they attack?! Have we triggered some sort of automatic defense flag? No. I bump the alert from HARM straight into REFLEX. This is too precise. WeÆre being targeted. That shipà ôTactical! Hold fire!ö
Esperanza has already shot off our own defense lasers and a couple of missiles. The lasers had only tickled thick armor, and the missiles IÆm sure will be shot down by any decent point defense. ôBut, sir-!ö
ôWe need to look crippledàö
She gasps, understanding immediately. ItÆs the only way to avoid further damage. She glances at her screen to see two objects separating from theà enemyà ship. Boats? Boarding craft, yes quite likely.
ôMedical to the bridge! ö I shout into the inship channel. To those with me, ôEveryone belt in and brace yourselves. ItÆs not over yet. TheyÆre going to hit us again.ö
They did. But that attack never touches us. It splashes harmlessly off a hexagonal red barrier around our ship.
I feel cold straight past the bone, right into the soul. The terror in my gut pushes me to dry heaving. I feel so tiny, the light of my soul wavering under the unintended assault. I can feel her.
SheÆs Awake now. And sheÆs angry.
-o-
