“Good.” Rawlins turned back to Brenda. “The shuttle won’t wait forever. I suggest you hurry.”
She took James by the arm and dragged him toward Janice where she waited near the door.
“What was all that about?” Janice said as they hurried to the gate.
“Nothing,” Brenda said. “Everything is fine now.
8 ~ Decisions
Aboard ASN Invincible, uncharted space
Professor James Wilder ambled along the decks of Invincible feeling sorry for himself. Why had he agreed to come along? Hypno wasn’t so bad. He knew the rumours about the government turning people into loyal robots was just paranoia. It was used for more things than punishing serious crime. It was commonly used in medicine for one thing. Hell, anyone watching the latest release of Zelda and the Spaceways was agreeing to be submerged into the action via hypno.
Hypno didn’t worry him, but Brenda did. She would be more than a little annoyed if she knew how he worried for her, but that didn’t change how he felt. As a student of history, he knew the past wasn’t all that rosy, but he couldn’t help thinking that the days when armoured knights fought for a lady’s favour were better than today. He might have been a lady’s champion. He certainly fantasised about it enough, but instead of charging the foe, he was on a mission where his area of expertise wasn’t even needed.
Women can be so intimidating at times.
He stepped around a maintenance detail working on a section seal. He eyed the circuitry hanging from the access port as he stepped over the power feeds lying on the deck, but none of it meant anything to him. A crewman—crew-woman? Whatever, she scowled at his nosiness and he raised a hand in apology.
“Sorry,” he said backing away.
They were strong, women were—independent and career orientated. Where once they would have waved from the battlement as he rode to war, now they went to war, and he waved instead. He grinned at the image of Brenda standing over the gates of some castle waving, and shook his head. She would be galloping at the head of the army, not awaiting his return.
James turned a corner oblivious to his surroundings and those who populated it. He had let Brenda think she had talked him into coming along with her enthusiasm for meeting the aliens, but his fear for her was the real reason. The thing was, the data now seemed to show there was not the slightest chance of any danger from the Shan. Unlike the Merkiaari, they were civilised beings. He was sure they would be open to reason. So then, he was redundant twice over. Brenda didn’t need a protector and wouldn’t accept one even if she did, and his expertise was useless here. He was feeling out of sorts—bored and restless. Hence this little stroll, which was becoming a habit of his.
He was so distracted by his melancholy thoughts that he found himself confronted by a sealed hatch without realising where he was. He laid his palm over the scanner hoping it would open. Fleet was extremely security conscious for obvious reasons. Wherever this hatch went—Fleet called doors hatches for some reason—it was not sensitive. It slid aside, and he stepped through.
“Oh!” James said in embarrassment. “I didn’t know…” he said backing up and preparing to flee.
“That’s all right, sir,” a crew-woman said sitting on her bunk and watching a game of chess in progress.
“Yeah, come on in. You don’t play chess do you?” another said.
He nodded. “As it happens I do. The name’s James—James Wilder?”
“Yeah I know,” the chess player said. “I’m O’Malley—Trish to you. The big ugly one is Sam Lundquist, but we just call him Swede.”
James nodded at the man on the upper bunk. He was a truly huge example of a Swedish hero out of legend. Bulging muscled arms stressed the material of his uniform to bursting point even while relaxed. Good thing Fleet uniforms stretched to fit all types.
“Good to know you, Swede,” he said with a polite nod.
“Likewise,” the giant rumbled.
“You’re from Earth then?”
Swede shook his head. “Kalmar.”
“Kalmar… then why do they call you Swede?” The worlds of the Kalmar Union were on the periphery of explored space.
“My folks settled on Kalmar from Earth,” Swede explained. “The locals called us Swedes because of the way we looked, and the name stuck. I kind of like the image you know?”
James nodded. Swede certainly looked the part anyway. James acknowledged the others with a nod and received names and specialities in such profusion he had no chance to remember them all. He did associate certain faces to names, but not many. The man they called Whiz looked like one of his students back on Earth—a gawky kid name Andrew. Whiz was named for his ability to fix anything just by glaring at it. Then there was Pug—real name Edward Stockely. His nickname came from the state of his face, which was bruised and battered most of the time, and ugly all of the time. He liked to fight anything in a uniform different to his own. His nose had been broken so many times, the doctors had given up repairing it—hence the nickname.
O’Malley waved James forward and indicated a bunk near her and the board she was studying. He sat and glanced around. Dozens of eyes were on him. Some of the crewmen smiled or nodded, others looked speculative, many had been reading letters or books on their compads, but now they were watching him.
“Crew quarters,” O’Malley said absently and not looking up from the board.
James blinked. “What?”
“You were wondering what this place is.”
“I was. How did you know?”
“She’s psychic,” one of the others said and laughed.
The comradely feel here was strange to him. He was used to his colleagues fighting him for position and tenure, not laughing and trading friendly insults. Maybe he had missed something when he chose teaching instead of adventure in the navy—nah, too many rules to follow.
“Are you?” James said when they quieted.
“No, but I can see you’re pissed about something,” O’Malley said and moved her bishop to block a possible mate in three.
James could see a way around the trap Trish had laid. He smiled at O’Malley’s opponent, but he did not speak. Whiz frowned at the board obviously wondering what he was missing.
“Going to talk about it?” O’Malley asked.
James shrugged, why not? “My area isn’t really suited to the mission. To be honest, I’m feeling a bit left out.”
O’Malley snorted and all the crew shook their heads at him in disbelief. “Tell him Swede.”
“Yeah Swede, tell him,” they chorused.
“Tell me what?”
“Civs,” Swede said in disgust. “You know what we do when that sort of thing happens to one of us?”
James shook his head thinking that he should find out.
“I’ll tell you. The Chief gives him a job, or the Captain does if he’s an officer, and tells him to learn fast.”
Laughter and insults rained down on him, but James gave as good as he got. There were advantages to being a historian after all. He knew a lot of cuss words.
“It’s not that easy,” he said when his new friends quieted. “It takes years of study to become a xeno-biologist or exo-biologist or any of the other disciplines needed for the mission.”
“You’re a prof right?” O’Malley said and James nodded. “That makes you clever right?” James nodded again. “In Fleet, we work as a team. We don’t go out looking to be heroes and saving the day on our own. We leave that crap to the Marines.”
“You’re saying I should just join in and help out?”
“Course! Everyone needs a hand now and then, and besides, you might learn something in the process.”
Could she be right? He knew next to nothing about most of the things needed for the mission, and it would take longer than he had to learn, but what else did he have to do? Nothing.
James stood to leave. “Thanks guys. It’s been fun, but I’ve got work to do.” Before heading for the hatch, he leaned down to whisper
into Whiz’s ear.
Whiz grinned and made his move. “Check and mate,” he said in glee and everyone howled in laughter.
“Hey!” O’Malley cried in outrage. “You cheated!”
Catcalls and more insults rained down from all sides as the others pounded Whiz on the back in congratulations.
“No way, he cheated! Jimmy told him the move I tell you. It’s not fair…”
The hatch slid shut on O’Malley’s cries of woe and James chuckled. With his hands in his pockets, he whistled a popular tune as he made his way to the briefing room. Captain Monroe had turned it over to the contact team for their studies.
He supposed this was a momentous time for the Alliance, but he knew the old saying with regard to living in exciting times and took its meaning to heart. So much could go wrong, but his colleagues—so busily collating the data they had been given access to—were the cream of the scientific community. Rawlins couldn’t have chosen a better team to ensure a smooth first contact. James knew he wasn’t in their league, or Brenda’s worse luck.
James strolled into the briefing room a short time later and watched his colleagues at their work. Linguistics would be critical to their efforts. He decided to have a word with Professor Singh who was the leading man in the area. Janice Bristow also took a keen interest in linguistics, but her main area of study was exobiology. She was too busy to help much, though James was sure she wished to. He crossed the room and stopped behind the busy man.
“Professor Singh?” he said softly, and Bindar looked away from his work to frown up at him. “May I have a moment of your time?”
Bindar hit the pause icon on his terminal and removed the earpiece he was using. “It’s good to see you, James. We’ve missed you around here. Where have you been?”
Bindar sounded genuinely pleased to see him, which made James feel like an idiot for not thinking of this sooner.
“Making friends with the crew. I was wondering if you needed any help?”
“Well…” Bindar said uncertainly. “This is an exhausting task, James, and ordinarily I would jump at the chance, but linguistics isn’t something you’re really familiar with.”
James smiled and sat next to the Professor so that he might explain. “Both of my areas aren’t needed Professor—”
“Call me Bindar. We’re friends, James.”
“Thank you, Bindar. As I was saying, my area of expertise isn’t required. I was rather at a loss for a while, but then someone advised me to help out with whatever the rest of you needed.”
Bindar’s face brightened. “That is a different matter. A lot of this is simply menial work at this early stage, any college student could do it...” Bindar’s face darkened in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to suggest that you... ah anyway, what I’m doing is isolating and cataloguing the verbal exchanges Canada obtained for us. It’s painstaking work, and I must warn you, James, it’s rather boring.”
James grinned. “That’s okay. I’ll do that and you can begin the translation. Would that be agreeable to you?”
“Agreeable?” Bindar cried almost bouncing in his seat. “My dear friend, I would be eternally in your debt! We have so little time to learn what we need to contact our newest neighbours. Your sacrifice will help immeasurably!”
“I wouldn’t call it a sacrifice.”
“I would,” Bindar said forcefully. “You haven’t been listening to those awful recordings for weeks.”
James laughed and swapped places with Bindar so he could take over the terminal. Bindar sat and switched on another screen and brought to life his software. He had designed it to make the translation easier, but the database of known words was empty at present. He would begin filling it soon enough. When he was done, they would all start to learn how to speak the alien’s language.
James inserted an earpiece, but he didn’t start just yet. He went through the professor’s work studying and learning as he went. It was fascinating, and he soon saw the pattern Bindar was imposing on the chaos. Bindar had been listening to the recordings and picking out the individual words before cross matching them for context. For instance, he had a list of words always, or nearly always, spoken at the end of a sentence. He had tentatively labelled the set as phrases of leave taking; in English, a comparison might be good-bye, or see you soon. Other sets were labelled as nouns and adjectives, while still others were broken into groups such as words with a technical bent. Those came from ship to ship communications.
The only column completely empty was labelled Common Phrases and James wondered why that was so, but Bindar was busy. He decided he knew enough to begin.
He keyed the terminal to resume, and winced at the yapping growl of Shan speech. He lowered the volume and began to make out what he was supposed to be listening for. The yaps and growls appeared to be some kind of emphasis placed on the words. He heard it at the termination of each sentence mostly, but certain words always had emphasis put on them. He reversed the recording and listened while reading Canada’s observations. He tried to associate the words with observed movements of the ships.
Ha! He had one already. He typed the word Chakra into the noun column. The Shan crew seemed to use the word a great deal. Perhaps it was the name of their Captain?
Interesting…
9 ~ Checkmate
Aboard ASN Invincible, uncharted space
Brenda watched James chatting with Bernard and smiled secretly. A couple of weeks ago, James had wandered around doing nothing and feeling sorry for himself, but now everyone was clamouring for his help on their projects. Bindar was the first to see him as something other than a fifth and unneeded wheel, but he certainly hadn’t been the last. When he ran out of recordings to transcribe, James was swamped with requests for help on other projects to the point where he was the busiest among them. He was on his third project now. Brenda was determined to have him next.
“You should marry him,” Janice said in an offhand way as she paged through her printouts.
“Don’t start that again.”
Brenda was tired of Janice badgering her. Didn’t the woman ever let go? It had started with a mention of how good James was with Bindar, and then how nice his eyes were, and then how good he looked in uniform, and then back to his work. On, and on, and on, for two whole weeks. She just never gave up.
“If you won’t marry him, at least take him to bed.”
“Janice,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
“You’re attracted to him, and he to you, so what’s the problem? You don’t have to marry for life. Just keep him for a few years then trade him in.”
“Ha, ha. I’m not you, Janice.”
“Obviously. If you were, you wouldn’t be turning into an old maid.”
Brenda winced. Janice was only teasing, but it was too close to the mark for comfort. She was fifty years old—a third of her time gone already and she was still alone.
“I’m sorry,” Janice said with concern. “I didn’t mean it; you know that don’t you? I just want to see you happy, kiddo. Don’t live your life regretting what might have been.”
Brenda shrugged uncomfortably. “I have my work… we’re part of something huge here. I don’t need—”
“Crap,” Janice whispered crossly. “Hey, this is me, Janice remember? I taught you about boys and where to get them—remember? I know you, Brenda. I’ve seen you with other people’s kids. I’ve seen you standing alone watching them.”
“So I like kids. So what?”
“So you want some. I had mine early, so I could watch my great-great grandkids grow. If you don’t get off your duff and start breeding girl, you’re going to miss it all.”
“I could adopt; I could even have one implanted. I don’t need a man to make babies.”
“No, no, no. Don’t even go there. I don’t need a man to make babies, but you definitely do.” Janice looked her directly in the eyes. “Definitely. Besides, kids aren’t everything. A husband makes for a great bed warmer, and they’re fun at parti
es.”
Brenda grinned, but then looking at James she sobered. “He’s not interested.”
Janice sighed. “Again you fail to see. He’s the strong silent type—he’s shy.”
“Shy? The man is fifty-two years old!”
“So? Age doesn’t cure all ills, Brenda. Some people go through life without actually living it.”
Brenda flushed. That described her as much as it did James. When she didn’t answer, Janice shook her head again and went back to work. Brenda could almost hear her friend’s thoughts; they were so obvious. You just can’t help some people, Janice was thinking, and she was right. Janice was right about a lot of things.
She was lonely.
Her career had been one long series of successes, and at the time it had seemed like all she wanted, but as the years rolled by, she was seeing things differently. What real difference did it make who discovered this thing or that, as long as someone discovered them? She had only one life to savour; she should be living it to the max.
She watched James preparing to leave. “I’ll see you later,” she said to Janice. Taking a firm hold upon herself, she met James at the hatch. “James?”
“Hey Brenda. What can I do for you?”
Take me to bed like Janice suggested?
“Take me to… dinner,” Brenda said lamely and cursed herself for not following through.
“Sure. How about tomorrow?”
“Why not now? It’s about that time.”
“Sorry, Brenda, can’t do it,” James said reluctantly. “I have something on tonight.”
“Oh,” she said in disappointment. What if it was one of the crew? It had better not be, or she would… what? She had no call on him. “Can I come?”
James raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Sure, glad to have you.” He palmed the hatch sensor again.
Had Brenda more courage, she would have said something different, something Janice would have approved of, but the words stuck in her throat. She was like a schoolgirl on her first date.
“So, where are we going?”
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