Starborn Odyssey: Voyage of the Lost (The Starborn Odyssey Trilogy Book 3)

by Haines Sigurdsson

  “Let’s focus on finding a place to live first,” Kelsan suggested.

  That ended the conversation, but Shana could not stop thinking about Gemma’s announcement. That evening she slowly drifted off to sleep thinking about the options presented, and the potential for contacting Prometheus again. As they approached Two, however, the subject took a backseat to the immediate adventure; they were just too well occupied.

  Gemma, on the other hand, was still thinking of the possibilities. She had the capacity to follow multiple complex trains of thought at once, and learning to navigate the crystal drive was always at the top of her priorities. She knew, perhaps better than the others did, that there was the very real chance that Prometheus would be stranded, its propulsion systems worthless, in a little over a decade, leaving them to drift at their high rate of speed right past their planned destination. The truth was, after the gravity losses, they realized that the rock of the asteroid itself was breaking down; the quality of the rock fuel was declining every year. Eventually, the Old Miss wouldn’t be able to run off the mined asteroid even for braking, and if Prometheus had not found a home world within shuttle range by then, they never would. Gemma was determined to find a world for them, and help Petya retrofit the asteroid with a crystal drive that would allow them to get there, before that happened. She sent signals out constantly, to herself, on Prometheus, and knew the version of her there, with Colin, was doing the same. At some point, she hoped, one of them would catch the other’s messages. Then it would only be a matter of time and mathematics before they could locate each other. Meanwhile, she and Cap had to figure out how to navigate the saucer ships, as quickly as possible. She needed Shana and the crew’s support to do it.

  When she again had the opportunity to speak of it, she would have to convince them of her plan; but that would have to wait for a while. There was a lot to do upon their arrival at the second planet and Gemma was sure she was detecting life there; she’d keep that to herself for the moment. She didn’t want to raise any hopes, or fears, unnecessarily. The life didn’t appear to be technologically a threat to them, but she thought the patterns indicated intelligence.

  First Contact

  Gemma woke them when they were in orbit around the second planet, Two, and it was time for them to have a real look at what was there.

  The planet below them was just slightly less than ten thousand miles in diameter with a single moon, hung at the perfect distance to create regular tides. The planet had six continents, one of which was completely covered in ice at its north pole. No land was detected under the ice of the southern pole.

  “Take us down to ten thousand feet and we’ll circle the globe looking for good locations to land,” Shana suggested. “I also want exact readings on atmospheric conditions: oxygen levels, humidity, and anything relative to our survival such as foreign gases or radiation levels that could be harmful.”

  They maneuvered to the desired altitude and began their tests. The scans showed near perfect conditions to support humanoid life, with no exceptional radiation or foreign chemicals in the air. “It should be breathable without any assistance,” Gemma announced, “and the airborne bacteria readings show nothing that humans haven’t lived with on other worlds. I recommend a search for any signs of civilization prior to choosing a landing site. It seems highly unlikely for a world to be this perfect for habitation and there not to be some life forms already here—and I’ve detected some patterns that suggest intelligent life.”

  “Please no spiders,” Pixie murmured under her breath.

  They began a visual scan starting at the equator, expanding both north and south looking for any signs of life in higher forms. It was a long, dull procedure. At that altitude they were forced to skirt numerous storms, though none were exceptionally strong, just inconvenient for visual scanning. Between the storm clouds they flew in wispy, white clouds and bright blue skies, over green fields and woods. It was beautiful—ideal.

  At last they found what they were seeking. In a forested area, about thirty degrees north of the equator, they spotted a group of bipeds walking upright across a small stretch of grass land. The excitement in the ship was palpable. As they zoomed in, they realized the creatures were hominids.

  “They’re human!” gasped Shana. Pixie actually clapped her hands. The natives appeared to be taller than the Starborn, with broader faces and bodies, but in other respects looked like human men.

  “Is this possible?” Elton asked, looking around the control room in awe. “Have we found distant relatives?”

  They kept scanning, and a minute later they found a small village of dome shaped, thatched huts which were surely their homes. The people of the village were staring at the ship and some were running for cover. There was a clear distinction between genders, both men and women, reinforcing that these people were possibly fully human. The crew of the Wanderer, (perhaps naively) hadn’t expected to be seen. It was not the way they had intended to introduce themselves to the native population. According to the statutes and by-laws of their mission, written generations before on Earth, they were not supposed to interfere with the development of inhabited planets, but experience had shown that they also couldn’t hope to find a habitable planet that didn’t already have some form of habitation already. That much they’d learned from their travels.

  At least these were humanistic creatures with whom they might learn to communicate, and they reasoned any contact wouldn’t actually be doing more than possibly speeding up local social or technological development. They would, however take it slowly and land far enough away that they could make their first contact with these people on a more equal footing, literally.

  They chose a landing site about five miles away from the village, and prepared to make their first excursion in the direction of the group of thatched huts.

  “I think that one of us should stay with the ship so as to be able to rescue you should things go badly,” said Shana. “I know Gemma could bring the ship if necessary but I’d feel much better if one of us was aboard for security reasons.”

  “I fully agree with you,” said Gemma. “Tactically, moreover, in case of a conflict, it would give us a psychological advantage to have some someone who could step out of the ship, suggesting that there are more reinforcements.” As if two spontaneously-appearing human holograms wouldn’t be enough of a psychological advantage, Shana thought wryly, but nodded.

  “Are you volunteering?” Kelsan asked Shana, always to the point.

  “I am looking forward to setting my feet on the real world and making new friends as much as the rest of you,” said Shana. “But unless someone else would prefer to stay, I’ll do it.”

  It was a good thing she hadn’t expected anybody else to volunteer, so she wasn’t disappointed when nobody begged to be the one. “Then it’s set, just keep good communications with us and we’ll be prepared to come if and when necessary,” she said. “Hopefully that won’t be the case.”

  With that settled, the other five prepared to go out and meet the neighbors. It was going to be a real test of their communication skills. Hopefully they wouldn’t scare the natives into doing something foolish like attacking the crew. They certainly couldn’t afford any injuries or deaths from their small group, but they felt confident in their abilities, and perhaps hubristically, were not worried.

  “The temperature is sixty seven degrees and it’s mid spring as far as my calculations can tell by planetary position and polar angle,” informed Gemma. “This is a near perfect temperate zone. The oxygen content is five percent higher than Earth standard with minor variances in some of the lesser gases, but nothing that should pose any threat to your well being.”

  “Deflective jackets and side arms are the only real necessities from all I can see,” said Kelsan. “I see on the scanner that there are some larger animals that appear to be grazing just beyond visible range, so we will have to watch for their reactions to our presence.”

  “Yeah, they look to be the
size of bison or even rhinos. Be really cautious,” warned Shana. She found herself involuntarily looking at Elton as she said it. “I don’t want to lose any of you.”

  Elton nodded at her. “We’ll be careful.”

  “I think we’re ready to go out and see what we can see,” said Tanya. “Let us know if you see anything at all coming in our direction; I’d prefer that you don’t lose us, either,” she added with a smile.

  “We’ll be watching like hawks,” assured Gemma, “And Cap and I will appear if we need to draw an attack away from you; they can’t hurt us.” They were preparing to open the air lock; it would be the first time in years that they’d all be breathing unfiltered air. The hatch opened and a fresh breeze blew in the soft fragrance of damp soil and grass on the open plain, and some other strange, delicate scent that they couldn’t identify.

  “Be careful; don’t take any unnecessary risks,” said Shana as the crew walked past her, and down into the grass. Elton was the last off the ship. He stopped, and then took her hand, and squeezed it. He smiled and she smiled back, slightly. He let go of her hand and walked out. Shana took a deep breath to calm her nerves as she stood in the open hatch and watched them head off in the direction of the village.

  The village was near to the edge of a forest, which was clearly the villagers’ source for materials to build their thatched huts. Based on scans, the huts appeared to be simple dome structures without foundations, and probably dirt floors. They were shingled with some sort of large leaves. Heaven only knew how well they’d keep out rain and wind in a storm much less the cold in winter—but Shana supposed the natives knew what they were doing, and that, if they stayed, they would undoubtedly find out in time.

  As agreed, Pixie and Zak trailed slightly behind the group as it progressed toward the village, so that they could give warning of anything coming from behind or from the sides of their path, though no traveled way had yet shown itself to them. Kelsan, Tanya and Elton took the lead and stepped gingerly over the unknown terrain. There were probably snakes or other such creature in the grassland, possibly some poisonous to the crew, even if not to the native population. “Best to stay alert,” warned Elton.

  They traveled in silence for about two and a half miles, seeing only a rabbit-like creature and a snake that raced away from them and posed no immediate threat. They then spotted the hunting party they’d seen from the air. They were armed only with clubs and rudimentary spears that would have been for jabbing, as they were heavy and appeared to have no balance in their design. Also several of them had stone knives tucked into their leather sashes that would be adequate weapons at close range. The hunters stopped and stared at the intruders, unsure what to do.

  The crew advanced toward them until the two parties were separated by about fifty feet. At that point, as planned, Elton stepped slightly forward, and, gesturing dramatically, set down a gift for the villagers. The crew then stepped back several paces from the gift, leaving it lying between them. It was a knife made of fine steel, with a good balance. Based on the visual scans that showed the natives carrying stone knives, it was an item they would recognize; but it would be a remarkable improvement over their rudimentary weapons.

  One member of the hunting party, the tallest and brawniest male, who stood nearly a foot taller than Zak, advanced and picked up the knife, never taking his eyes off of the strangers. He had a brace of rabbits hanging over his shoulder, and wore a heavy fur skirt around his waist. His feet were bare. He glanced down at the knife, then he surprised them by looking up and pointing at Elton, and then at the sky, twice. He appeared to be asking if they were from the saucer. Pixie stepped forward and made several gestures to confirm that he was correct; at least, she hoped that was what she was signaling.

  “Hopefully they won’t think we’re gods now,” Kelsan muttered, but sounded vaguely hopeful that the opposite was true. Pixie shot him a look, and he grinned a little sheepishly and shrugged.

  The villagers did not bow down, but did not retreat, and that appeared to invite more communication. Elton suggested that he advance to the leader alone in order not to startle them. “If he makes any aggressive move, stun him, but don’t kill him,” he said. They all nodded brusquely, acknowledging the unnecessary order.

  The hunter was now checking out the knife, with true fascination, clearly reassured that the strangers did not intend any immediate threat. The knife blade shone in the sunlight, and the plasticine handle had ornate carving of a snake wrapped around it. The hunter made an experimental cut into one of the rabbit creatures hanging from his shoulder and looked delighted with the result. Two others from his party advanced cautiously to get a better look at the object. The tall hunter directed several short sentences at Elton but it was unclear exactly what he was saying, though Elton thought perhaps he was asking how such a marvelous item had been constructed.

  Gemma was analyzing every word in order to speed up communication with these people, and Elton did his best to try to initiate a conversation.

  “That’s a knife,” he said, gesturing to the knife. “It’s a gift.” He brought his hands to his heart and then extended and opened them, to the villagers, in what he hoped would be a gesture understood by them. The hunting party leader removed one of his stone knives and handed it to his companion, and then slid the steel blade into the sheath. He put his hand to his heart, repeating or copying Elton’s gesture. Elton was elated, and couldn’t help but grin. The entire crew was mesmerized by the exchange.

  Elton pointed to himself. “Elton,” he said. The leader cocked his head, looking confused.

  Despite their intentions to be ever vigilant, everyone was distracted by the arduous conversation, and didn’t see the large lion-like creature stalking ever nearer until it was almost too late. At the same moment, both Gemma and the leader of the hunting party let out yells of warning. The lion launched itself at Elton from only about thirty feet away. Pixie was the only member of the group carrying a laze pistol in her hand, still set on lethal. She was however, well trained. She responded instantly and expertly, blasting a hole four inches in diameter in the lion’s chest, dropping it on the spot.

  The hunters, who had raised their spears, cried out in astonishment, and several of them dropped to the ground in a defensive crouch, gazing at Pixie, and the decimated lion, in alarm.

  Elton, without thinking, rushed forward and began helping the hunters back to their feet. “It’s not magic, it’s just a tool!” he said, gesturing to the pistol, and then to the stone knives on the leader’s chest, and back, hoping they would make the connection. It was questionable as to exactly how much they understood, but the hunters were clearly not a warlike or aggressive people, and were amenable to additional attempts at communications. The sudden proximity caused by the lion scare seemed to make relations between the Starborn and the hunters even easier.

  Shana watched enviously from the Wanderer and the crew bungled their way through introductions. Eventually, they established the apparent leader, the tall one, was named Bard. The other nine hunters in the group, all men, gave their names as well, and the crew was glad that Gemma would be able to remember them all, because while some names were simple, some were surprisingly long and complicated.

  In looking at the hunters, it was plain to see that half of their clothing came from lion-creatures like the one Pixie had killed, with different shades of long, shaggy brown and black fur making up shoulder coverings and loin cloths. The hunters themselves also had long mangy hair, and were scratching constantly. Lice were obviously rampant. Elton had no doubt that, with their aptitudes at communication and hunting, the cultural changes that would help rid them of that problem would come within not too many more generations.

  As soon as the introductions were over, four of the natives moved quickly to begin stripping the hide from the huge lion-creature, and butchering the animal, which had long, yellow tusks protruding from its mouth, and was almost shoulder height to a man. It would probably feed the whole village f
or at least a week.

  Bard surveyed the operation, but the hunters seemed skilled, and he didn’t intervene in any way. Instead, he tried intently to speak with Elton, a halting and laborious task. Twice his eyes darted from Elton to the pistol, which Pixie had holstered, and lingered slightly too long before he looked back. It was clear he wanted to get a better look at it, but he was too polite (Elton thought) to ask. The pistol was clearly a main point of interest to all of them, and the hunters all kept darting glances toward Pixie and her formidable weapon. It was uncertain whether the stares were inspired by fear or a lust to have such a weapon.

  One of the men next to Bard showed less restraint than the others, and gazed unabashedly at the pistol. Tentatively, and perhaps bravely, he reached out and touched the pistol and quickly drew his hand back as if it had bitten him.

  Bard snapped at him and he cowered, looking remarkably sheepish. They had very human mannerisms.

  Kelsan leaned over and muttered to Elton, “I’m sorry Pixie was the first to use a weapon in front of the aliens. I have a feeling they now think that only the female of our species have this strange power.”

  Elton rolled his eyes. “Jealous?”

  Kelsan gave him a look of mock injury. “Elton, I just want to make sure they know we’re all capable of such feats. What if they decide Pixie’s a threat? I’m just looking out for the girls.”

  Elton shook his head with a slight grin. “Of course you are.”

  At that moment a breeze kicked up and a rank smell wafted over to them from the hunters. It was hard not to gag. Pixie coughed and covered her nose with her hand. Obviously, the aliens had developed very little in the ways of Starborn hygiene—that, or their natural odor was offensive to the human nose. Perhaps a combination of both.