by Bob Mauldin
Linnas des’ Harras, Matriarch of the Shiravan Polity, clapped her hands together once to show her extreme pleasure. “It is well that this has happened at this time, Minister. I will authorize the departure of two Contact Fleets as soon as possible. They will be cut in size due to Korvil activity, but you will still have ten ships of the line, plus two corvettes to send word back. It remains to find the homeworld of these people. What have they to say on the subject?”
“Linnas,” Rentec said, emboldened by his success and the informality of the matriarch’s garden, “that’s one of the first things Maratai had me ask them. It seems that they’re common laborers trained to use the equipment and were transported to their asteroid belt to build a space dock. They have no concept of where their star is in relation to other stars and have no way to show us.”
Maratai spoke up. “We have a few clues though. Their system has an asteroid belt between the fourth and fifth planets, and the sixth is ringed as well, and our scientists have determined that their sun is younger and hotter than ours. The spectra it puts out gives a brighter, more yellow glow than ours does. Placed in a special chamber, Derek Carter has said that a particular wavelength is what he sees when he stands outside on a clear day, and Maggie Spencer agrees, so we can discount a great many stars and concentrate on those with the correct spectra.”
Rentec had one other matter he wanted to bring up. Fortunately, it was the matriarch who did so. “Minister Foran,” she said, “is going to need to be rewarded for his unflagging duty to his people. I had in mind to bestow a landed title upon him. It is, of course, necessary for someone from a major family to sponsor him.”
Rentec, knowing that this was the right thing to do for his father’s old friend and his own mentor in the political arena, instantly agreed to sponsor him. “It would be my great pleasure to offer land to this endeavor, Your Grace. I have in mind several parcels along the Kugarin River.”
“Excellent choice, Rentec,” the matriarch said with a smile. “I see that we chose wisely. It leaves me with the happy duties of adding several parcels from my own clan’s land along that same river and informing him personally. Minister Foran will have a very comfortable and beautiful estate to retire to after all of this is over. It’s my understanding that Mondel has no living elders?”
“That is my understanding as well, Your Grace. Two ex-wives, several children, and a few grandchildren. He is the eldest of his line now,” Rentec confirmed.
“Very well,” the matriarch said firmly. “From this day on, he shall be known as Mondel kep Foran, beholden to the do’ Verlas clan.” She thought for a moment. “There’s one other thing that needs to be done, and that is to confirm him as Minister for Spatial Affairs. This will leave you free to accept the post of Ambassador to the Human Race, Rentec. Do you accept?”
“Cousin,” Rentec said to Parlo, “it seems that the matriarch has plans for us.” The two men sat on Rentec’s patio, watching the Stalas throw the sun’s final rays back at it.
Parlo do’ Nallen poured drinks into the kemwood cups on the table between them. “I wonder if I’m going to like the direction this conversation is taking, cousin,” Parlo said. “But sitting in Cho-An, drinking zintha from kemwood, and watching the sun make all this gava stone shine is bound to affect my judgment. And that’s probably what you want, isn’t it?”
Rentec nodded. “Greater receptivity is what I hoped for, cousin. Linnas has decreed that the Contact Fleets will set out in half a cycle. That gives you just over ten days to better your knowledge of the English language.” With the success of the experiment, Rentec was daily adding words and phrases to his vocabulary and improving his pronunciation at the same time.
Parlo took a sip from his cup. “And why do I need to better my understanding of Eenglits?”
“English,” Rentec corrected. He got up and walked to the railing around the patio. “Because I suggested to Linnas that you’d be the best person to head up the contact team in the second fleet.”
“You what!” Parlo sat stunned after the revelation. “You know I don’t like space travel! I’ve never even taken the tour of Shabbas and Grinnas!” Parlo said, referring to a tour of the two moons of Shiravi that almost all children took as part of their schooling. “How could you do this?”
Rentec turned around and faced his cousin. “Parlo, it’s time and past for you to get beyond your irrational fear of space. The matriarch requires your expertise and assistance on this mission to approach the humans.”
“What ‘expertise and assistance’ do you refer to, cousin?”
“Why, it’s well known that you are, or were, one of the best negotiators on the staff of the Ministry of Defense. And after you spend a few days with Derek and Maggie, you’ll begin to be fluent in their language. These two traits alone guarantee you a place on one of the fleets.” Rentec waited for the news to sink in and added the final enticement. “There will be a new position added to the existing order of things, as well, cousin, and there will be two persons posted to this new position. I’ll be one of them, and you’ll be the other.”
Parlo carefully set his drink on the table and looked at Rentec. “And what is this new position to be, cousin?”
Rentec savored the moment. He knew he had Parlo hooked, and he drew it out. “The new position is that of ambassador.” He used the human word, since there was no equivalent in Shiravan. The Shiravans had only met one other race in their four hundred and fifty years in space, and the enmity between the two had precluded any concept of ambassador. “The word means one who speaks with the voice of the matriarch, Parlo. When we meet the rest of the humans, one of us will have to be there to speak for the matriarch and try to work out a preliminary treaty. It will be best if you can speak their language, and you’ll be able to practice on the voyage since one human will be with each fleet.”
During the next half-cycle, while the Contact Fleets were preparing for departure, Parlo and Maratai spent their time with the two humans, and while they weren’t quite as fluent by the end of that time as Rentec was, most simple concepts were being openly discussed, as well as a few esoteric subjects if simple words were used. Each day the verbal database grew, and conversations with their new friends became more complex. The humans were taken on a whirlwind tour of Shiravi and introduced to the populace at large, and most aspects of Shiravan culture were open to the visitors.
“It is of prime importance,” the matriarch said, “that these people understand our culture and can accurately report to their superiors just what kind of people we are and what our situation is.”
The disturbing aspect of the new conversational circumstances was that Shiravans were learning about humans as well.
“Linnas, I don’t think you realize just how different these people are,” sel Garian said, holding a brief report from Maratai in her hand. “They don’t have a unified world, and most of their sub-cultures are run by men! How are we to relate to such a situation?”
“That same report states that women are beginning to have a greater influence in their culture, Manura,” the matriarch returned. “There are women in their military forces, in their governmental processes, and in their business affairs. It’s not as if they’re second-class citizens.”
“In some of their subcultures, they are, Linnas,” sel Garian argued. “Maggie Spencer volunteered that information without coercion, and in such a way that there can be no doubt that she knew what she was saying and that we understood. While she seemed less than happy about the plight of her gender around their world, she seemed resigned to it as well. I have to wonder about the mindset of a people like that. Can we ever have a common ground?”
“I’m betting that we have a fear of the Korvil in common with them, Manura. That should bond us together for a short while. At least until the Korvil situation can be resolved. You know our scientists are working on ways to neutralize the Korvil. Ever since we were lucky enough to finish off that raider nest on our borders
and were finally able to get a few bodies for study, they’ve been working night and day to find a solution to the problem. And,” she continued before the older woman could interrupt, “we also have samples from Maggie and Derek if the humans try to replace the Korvil.”
“I still think the situation is too delicate to allow such youthful idealists to dictate policy for you from such a distance, Linnas. It is madness to allow such a thing!”
Linnas des’ Harras smiled at her friend and adviser. “And that is why you’ll be going along as well, Manura. We need a voice of reason tempered by wisdom and experience. Impetuosity has its place, but there are times for restraint. A calmer head to steer things in the right direction, don’t you think?”
“Me? Linnas! What about my duties here? Who will watch out for your interests in the Forum? Who will be there to watch your back? You know the Isolationists who killed Kirel do’ Verlas were never caught. They bragged that they could get to any Expansionist, and you are chief among those. Your safety is paramount!”
Linnas raised her hand, effectively cutting sel Garian’s protests off. “You have trained any number of people to do the jobs you do, Manura. It’s unfortunate that it takes so many of them to do what you alone are capable of, old friend, but that’s what we have to live with.”
“Or die with,” the Policy Minister muttered to herself.
It was almost a full cycle before the Contact Fleets were ready to move out. Twenty-four ships in all, twelve for each fleet, they had to be completely inspected and overhauled before the voyage ahead. Minister kep Foran, now confirmed in his position as Minister to Spatial Affairs, used his new position to commandeer all the files on any explored stars with the proper spectrum. Finding that none of them had any chance of harboring a native population that matched the human race, (not unexpected), he broadened his search to include the locations of all stars cataloged carrying that stellar signature. Even leaving out the obviously unpopulated systems, the number of stars of the proper spectra that they were concentrating on was daunting for the commanders of the two fleets.
Rentec, knowing that the situation with his consort-to-be was rapidly deteriorating, asked a local Son of Morath to perform a ceremony confirming his marriage to Ramannie.
“Now, my love,” he said after the priest took off his vestments and joined the festivities, “you have your status. And you have the responsibility you asked for of keeping the do’ Verlas name in the public view.”
Rentec had revealed his new status to Ramannie only the night before. After her initial shock, she asked, “An ambassador has more power than a mere minister, is that not so?”
Shaking his head, Rentec said, “I’m not sure. It will have a lot to do with how well we get along with the humans. If all goes well, I think I’ll get credit and prestige, but if not, I’m sure I’ll get all the blame. Who can tell the future?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The three, soon to be four, space docks of the fledgling Terran Alliance had formed a loose amalgamation, with Captain Daniel Baylor of Orion as senior captain. An engineer had to be able to handle a variety of systems, and in most cases, apply the proper principle to a given situation to bring it under control. Dan Baylor had long before seen the need to have a universally accepted command structure, and when it devolved upon him, he accepted the responsibility with the same aplomb that he’d demonstrated when he agreed to Orion’s captaincy. Still answering to Lucy as the head of the Alliance, the subcommand structure that grew up around Dan Baylor was more of an information-sharing system that began the official sharing of any innovations dreamed up by the crews of any of the bases as they went about the various duties assigned to them.
Carefully choosing among the crew of Orion Base, Dan had recruited anybody to his staff who had any engineering training at all—systems engineers, flight engineers, stationary engineers, electrical engineers, etc. These crewmembers came to be known as the Research and Development Department of each base and reveled in turning up new and innovative uses for the technological toys they were playing with. He’d prevailed upon the commanders of Libra and Gemini to implement similar programs, and by the time Lucy’s order came down requiring the personal histories of the crew, the task had already been accomplished.
Since Daniel agreed with Simon that design improvements needed to be shared between the bases to allow uniformity, keeping in touch was of vital importance. They agreed that it would be a shame if a ship couldn’t get proper servicing because it had to go to a particular dock that may not be able to accommodate them for some reason.
Daniel also saw to it that another task was performed by all the bases along with construction of new ships—placing sensor buoys throughout the solar system. A number of small, single-burst, omnidirectional buoys that would send out a pulse when triggered, as well as other more sophisticated kinds, had been loaded onto any passing ship and dropped off into deep space whenever feasible. The “smarter” buoys would record as much data as possible, and when the coast was clear, they’d locate the nearest base and send a compressed burst transmission. The problem as Daniel saw it was that there were just so many areas to cover.
“It would take hundreds of years to cover the entire sphere of our system with buoys,” he said, “so we’ll concentrate first on those areas where someone could come directly from another star and their counterpoints, and fill in the blank spaces as we get to them.” He smiled at his small joke.
It had, admittedly, been an expansive project but one that needed to be started as soon as possible, and it had paid off.
“Sir, we have incoming traffic,” Communications Officer of the Watch, Lt. (jg) Sarah Rogers said, breaking into the middle of the racquetball game Captain Baylor was losing to his second in command.
“Make it brief, Lieutenant, I’m in the middle of something here.” Breathing hard, he picked up a towel from a bench near the door and wiped the sweat from his face as he sat down heavily.
“Sir, standing orders require that the captain be informed whenever a buoy has been triggered.”
Sometimes I think the military mind grows out of thin air! Dan thought. Quoting orders at me! Aloud he asked, “Which buoy and what possibility of error?” An unnamed fear raised the hair on the back of his neck.
“Sir,” the young, shaky voice replied, “Buoy two-four-four-one, placed on-station seven months ago by the McCaffrey near the Oort cloud. Possibility of error nearing zero, sir. The data transmitted carries a power spike, and none of our ships are scheduled to be in that area at this time.”
Dan glanced at his exec, one eyebrow raised slightly. It was his classic “what the hell” look. “Is that all, Lieutenant?”
“Uh, no sir, it isn’t. The, uh, computer went nuts when the message came in, sir. Lights and bells all over the place. I had to hit the override to shut ‘em down. Sir, the computer has issued a threat assessment.”
“I’ll be right up.” Turning to his partner and exec, Dan said, “Tom, jiggle that memory of yours. Where and what type of buoy is two-four-four-one?”
All thoughts of the game forgotten, the two men headed for the comm shack. The hapless junior grade lieutenant handed over the papers that had poured out of the printer and made herself as inconspicuous as possible.
Several seconds went by as the two men poured over the papers, and Dan was the first to speak. “Well, the shit just hit the fan, Tom. Ninety-nine percent probability that the energy signatures of that drive match the one we recorded after the first attack. And the same for the ship in the asteroid belt but slightly less if it was the one that got away. At ninety-four percent, it’s still well within the limits of an overhaul or refit. Now we’ve got an idea where to look for our playmates.”
“We’ve also got the spike of a small ship here, boss,” Commander Tom Caudell said, waving one of the papers. “Look here. Not as much energy as the Heinlein puts out and way less than the Galileo but more than a Mamba. My guess is that there’s a mot
hership out there somewhere, looking to pick it up after its recon. If the Heinlein can make six lightyears a month, then these guys have probably been out here a long time. If it’s the same ship. It would have had to limp back to base, report in and refit, and return. It’s been two years or maybe a little more since Orion was attacked. Out and back, say seventy-two lightyears.”
“A good working hypothesis, Tom,” the captain agreed. “But it could be just an outpost, too. These folks have been in space a long time, and we just got here. I’ll be very interested to learn how large each civilization is. Remind me,” he said, changing tracks, “to get a message off to First Captain Grimes. We should try the U.S. Embassy first, but we can’t stop until we have her reply. I’ll be in my quarters.”
“Captain,” Tom said, a preoccupied tone in his voice, “the bogey was powering down and headed straight in, not vectoring across the system.” He shuffled papers around in his hands. “We’re guessing at the size of the vessel from its power signature, of course. Since it shut down its drives, we can’t get any other information about it, and it’s going to coast through the system gathering all kinds of information. I’d say that it’s somewhere around the orbit of Saturn right now. And if it followed a direct course, then it came in from the direction of Alpha C.”
The two men walked out of the comm shack still discussing the problem. “Aren’t you going to notify Libra or any of the ships?” the exec asked worriedly.
“We don’t know their intentions or temperament. If we make an unscheduled comm call to the base nearest them, it could trigger the very thing we don’t want to happen, which is a repeat of what happened here. I’m playing the odds, and it’s with people’s lives. Not my job. I’ll gladly pass the buck on this one.”