by Doug Farren
“They’re probably checking to make sure nobody has stayed behind,” Commander Curvoth noted. “If the crew followed protocol, all of our sensitive equipment and data should be destroyed.”
One of the drones approached the dead crewman and picked up the body with a manipulator. It then moved over to the other body and did the same before taking off with them.
“That explains the lack of bodies around the Chroniech ship,” Admiral Shurvith said.
“Do you think any of them survived?” Captain Harth asked.
“They’re Chroniech! How do you think they would react? They’re probably all dead,” the Chief Medical Officer replied.
“Admiral,” the voice from the bridge began. “The computer counted 297 people exiting the Paranuth. Its crew compliment is 356.”
Admiral Shurvith’s tail twitched then thumped the floor several times. “Thank you. Continue to follow the crew. Let’s see where they’re being taken.” Addressing the rest of the room, he continued, “We have accomplished the purpose of this meeting. The video feed from the probe is available for anyone to watch. Unless anyone objects, this meeting is adjourned.”
The Admiral and the Captain returned to the bridge where, an hour later, they watched as the drones and robots herding the crew away from their ship stopped and formed a line.
“Let me guess,” Captain Harth said. “That line is 1,230 meters from the ship.”
“Correct sir,” Curvoth replied.
The Admiral’s tail was vibrating and snaking around indicating he was extremely agitated. After a few moments, he said. “Captain! The crew are outside the boundary. Launch a shuttle. Let’s see if it will be allowed to land near the crew. They are to abort at the first sign of interference.”
The Captain’s tail stood straight up but was shaking. “Admiral, I am required by regulation to point out that Fleet Command has specifically forbidden us from- - -”
“They are not here! I accept full responsibility for this. Launch a shuttle—now!”
“Yes sir!” The Captain touched a stud on his console. “Executive officer, contact the bridge immediately.”
“Captain!” Commander Curvoth reported from the tactical station. “A ship has emerged from the lake. It looks like the same one that attacked the Paranuth.”
“Bridge, this is Subcaptain Novith,” a voice issued from a speaker on the captain’s console.
Captain Harth touched an icon. “Standby Subcaptain. Tactical, report!”
Red icons began appearing on the tactical and the science stations. “The class-one probe over the lake has been destroyed,” Curvoth replied, his hands dancing over his console. “Two planetary survey drones have also stopped responding.” More red icons rapidly appeared on the science station.
“Captain,” the person manning science station one spoke up. “I don’t think the survey probes are being destroyed. It looks like the command and control network has been hijacked. The encryption codes have been changed.”
“Captain!” the communications station yelled, his tail vibrating with anticipation. “We just received a reply to our request for communication. It’s a text message in Galactic Standard.”
“On the main!” Admiral Shurvith ordered.
A moment later, the main screen, visible to every station on the bridge, displayed the message.
===========================
You ignored my warning. Warships are forbidden. Your probes and your ship as well as its entire crew are now mine. I will tolerate no further incursions. I have far more powerful weapons at my disposal. Leave this system immediately or you will forfeit your lives.
===========================
The Captain’s tail slowly dropped to the deck. “Subcaptain Novith—never mind.” Turning to Admiral Shurvith, Captain Harth said, “Orders, sir?”
The Admiral’s tail was vibrating so fast it was almost a blur. “They certainly have a grasp of our language and our communications technology. I think they deliberately chose not to talk to us. Order the fleet to leave and hold position one light-year away. Transmit this new information to Roulda. We will remain in the area until orders are received from Fleet Command.” Whirling around, he added, “I’ll be in my stateroom.”
Captain Harth waited until the Admiral was off the bridge then turned to his crew. “Helm, pick a place to park the fleet then take us out of the system. Comms, pass the Admiral’s order on to the rest of the fleet. Have them follow us to our new location.”
Chapter 6
A blue government vehicle landed in the street that was still cordoned off by the police. A head appeared in the open doorway and looked around. As soon as he spotted Tom, he yelled, “You must be Peacekeeper Thomas-ga-Lashpa Wilks-ga-Krish.”
Tom was surprised and pleased to hear his full Rouldian name used. “I am.”
“I’m here to take you to the hospital.”
Tom allowed Shava and Kirth to board first. Responding to a biolink query, Orion identified the person who had hailed them as Varthis, the City Manager.
Inside the vehicle, Tom tilted his head as Varthis approached. A tongue flashed out and touched Tom’s neck. “I am Varthis-ga-Lurth Arnith-ga-Charch, Glurshvy City Manager. I would have preferred to have met such distinguished guests under different circumstances. Had I known you were here, I would have insisted on giving you a personal tour of the city.”
Tom swiped his fingers along Varthis’ neck and touched them to his tongue. “I’m not sure I understand. Peacekeepers do not expect special treatment.”
“Oh! I was not referring to your status as a peacekeeper. I was referring to your status as gragrakch. Your declaration sparked a debate among our philosophical elite that continues to this day. If they knew you were here, I’m sure they would insist on interviewing you.”
“We are here to spend time with family and enjoy the hospitality offered any visitor to your city,” Tom replied. “Perhaps something can be arranged after Lashpa’s parents return to Fanish.”
The City Manager’s tail writhed with anticipation. “The Department of Genealogical Archives would be overjoyed to have a chance to sit down and talk to you. Considering how badly they would like to talk to you, I will neglect to inform them of your presence on Roulda.”
“Your discretion is appreciated.”
“In that case,” Varthis replied, dipping his head. “I shall drop you off at the hospital and leave you in peace. Please contact me when you are ready to schedule an appointment.”
By the time they arrived at the hospital, Lashpa was already in surgery. Since the procedure was conducted under a local anesthetic, Tom was able to receive periodic updates from her. The head of the bolt that had destroyed her left eye was found lodged inside her eye socket. There was some internal tissue damage but nothing serious. The wound was easily treated and a new eye that had arrived from her ship was installed. Two hours later, she walked into the waiting room looking as if nothing had happened.
Shava wrapped her arms around her daughter as she ran her tongue along Lashpa’s long neck. When they separated, Kirth inspected her new eye. Stepping back, he said, “You look as good as new. How do you feel?”
“There’s a small amount of pain, but it will quickly subside,” Lashpa replied.
“Does this sort of thing happen often?” Shava asked.
“I’m a peacekeeper, Mother,” Lashpa replied. “It’s my job to put myself in harm’s way to prevent the loss of life. We are always on duty.”
“I … We, are very proud of you,” Kirth told her, putting a hand on the side of Lashpa’s face. “I still regret how we reacted when you told us you’d applied to the Peacekeeper Academy. You’ve done very well for yourself.”
Lashpa’s tail was pointing straight up in pride, nearly touching the high ceiling. “Thank you!” Looking over at Tom, she added, “If I had not applied, Tom and I would never have met.”
A huge smile appeared on Tom’s face as everyone looked at him. “I couldn’t agree
more. I would be a very lonely person if we had not run into each other at the academy.”
Shava glanced at her timepiece, a beautifully decorated band encircling her left arm. “Heshgerv and her mate are supposed to be here in a few hours. What should we do between now and the time they arrive?”
“I’m hungry,” Tom replied. “The longer days here have really messed with my normal eating schedule. Would anyone object to my finding someplace to purchase a quick snack?”
“The hospital cafeteria should have something you can eat,” Lashpa replied. “After that, we can head to the starport. There are several gift shops I would like to browse through while waiting for Heshgerv to arrive.”
Tom purchased a tasty pastry which resembled a Terran sticky bun. Since it was sized for a Rouldian, he was forced to share some of it with Lashpa. Afterward, they took a taxi to the starport. Since they had arrived in their own ships, this would be the first time Tom and Lashpa had been inside the starport.
If you have never been to a busy starport, you should make it a point to visit one even if you have no intention of ever leaving the planet—it is an eye-opening experience. By their very nature, starports are places where one can see examples of almost every known species in the Alliance.
Being a high-gravity world, most of the travelers were either Rouldian, Borillen, or Tholtaran—all species from planets with gravitational fields higher than Earth’s. There were a few examples of species from lower-gravity worlds such as Terrans, Omel, Shandarian, and an occasional Saulquin. All but the most daring wore some type of exoskeleton to assist them in dealing with the higher gravity.
The interior of the starport was primarily laid out for the efficient movement of people to and from the shuttles which ferried the passengers up to the significantly larger passenger ships. Each terminal had the ability to subtly alter the local gravitational field allowing travelers from a lower gravity world to comfortably wait for their next starliner or rent an exoskeleton if they intended on remaining on Roulda.
There were also a large number of stores where travelers could purchase forgotten items or mementos of their visit to Roulda. After getting her assurance that Lashpa would help teach him, Tom purchased a living art starter kit. It had all the appropriate seeds, growth medium, and instructions to get him started at creating a valley scene about a half a meter square. The one hanging on the bulkhead in Lashpa’s ship was much larger and far more complex. It had taken her years of careful cultivation of a hundred different varieties of plants to create a beautiful work of art.
After making his purchase, Tom found Shava and Kirth discussing the shipping arrangements of an insanely expensive carving they had just bought. As someone who carved as a hobby, Tom was impressed by the detail but wasn’t convinced that it justified the high price. Kirth, however, was excited.
“Tom! Come take a look. Do you know what this is?”
The single piece of dark, heavily grained wood had been carved into the shape of a mountain range and was at least a meter long, half a meter wide, and a third of a meter tall. It sat on top of an ornate, four-legged wooden stand.
“It looks like a mountain range.”
“This is no ordinary mountain range,” Kirth replied. “This is Vrlich’oon.” Taking Tom’s arm, Kirth pulled him around the carving. “Bend down and look between the peaks … a bit lower … now a little to your right.”
Tom did as he was asked. At the perfect viewing angle, the intricate carving suddenly created the image used by the Rouldians to identify themselves as a people. “Amazing!”
“Centuries ago, our first written languages used pictographs,” Kirth explained. “There is an ancient story about two nations that had been at war for as long as they could remember. Faced with a devastating famine, they put aside their differences and decided to work together to save both their nations. Their leaders met on a flat butte to discuss how to end the long war. When an agreement was reached, they looked up at the mountain and decided to use the symbol they saw there to represent the combined nations.”
Shava gently ran her hand along one of the mountain slopes. “The entire carving is made from the root of an Athura tree. Legend says that such a tree provided shade to the leaders of the two nations during their long negotiation.”
“It might be legend,” Lashpa said, coming up behind Tom. “But it is an important part of Rouldian history. We will be traveling to Vrlich’oon tomorrow to see it with our own eyes.”
While they waited for Kirth to finalize the arrangements to have the carving delivered, Tom asked Lashpa what she had bought. “I’ve hired a local chef to restock my ship’s pantry with authentic Rouldian cuisine.”
Tom experienced a momentary panic attack but quickly calmed down after being assured by the Orion and the Krish that the surprise modifications he had arranged for Lashpa’s stateroom would remain a surprise.
Lashpa picked up on Tom’s reaction but misinterpreted it. “There’s no need to worry. He’s been doing this for starliners, military vessels, and peacekeepers for a number of years. He’s become quite famous.”
An hour and a half later, Heshgerv and her mate, Vash, arrived. Tom was relieved when Heshgerv was genuinely happy to see him again. She had been almost hostile when they first met during Tom and Lashpa’s declaration of gragrakch ceremony. Tom had later managed to calm her hostility during a private conversation, but he always wondered if time and separation would reverse her conditional acceptance of their declaration. Apparently, she had come to believe that Lashpa and Tom, although of different species, could indeed be gragrakch.
After helping the new arrivals get settled into their hotel, the group decided to get something to eat. A nearby restaurant within walking distance was identified and they headed out. The meal was delicious and filled with pleasant conversation. Afterward, they bought tickets to a musical play. Tom was shocked when he heard the Rouldian actors singing. The grating, oddly pitched performance was unlike anything he’d ever heard or seen before. He thoroughly enjoyed himself.
Later that evening, as he was enjoying a nightcap of red wine in his stateroom, the ship’s AI said, “Krish and I would like to discuss something with you and Lashpa. She is in her hotel room and available for virtual. May we proceed?”
Tom set his wine down. “Proceed.”
The world around him shifted. Since the ship’s AI had complete control over his cybernetic implants, it was capable of creating a virtual reality indistinguishable from the real world. The stateroom faded away and Tom found himself sitting in a thickly cushioned recliner in front of a warm crackling fireplace. His wine was now sitting on a heavy wooden table. Lashpa appeared to his right. She was laying on a Rouldian couch. Two individuals, one Rouldian and one Terran, appeared standing in front of the fireplace.
“We’ve decided it’s time to share the results of our research into what we’ve been calling the gragrakch effect,” Krish’s avatar, a young Rouldian male, said.
Lashpa’s tail began vibrating. “You found something!”
“Indeed we have,” Krish replied. “To ensure we have had enough data for a conclusive analysis, we’ve enlisted the help of a vast number of peacekeeper AIs. Of all the peacekeepers in the Alliance, there are two declared pairs of Rouldians. We have also included peacekeepers from other species who, although unfamiliar with the concept of gragrakch, have formed exceptionally close gragrakch-like relationships.”
Orion’s avatar, a young Terran male, seamlessly took up the narrative. “Although our results are preliminary. We have enough data to conclude that there is some type of subtle connection between two people who have formed very close bonds to each other. The evidence can be found in a deep statistical analysis of the brainwave patterns of each of the pairs we have been tracking. We would like permission to make this data available to any researchers who might find it of interest.”
“We will, of course, hide the identities of the individuals who have been part of this study,” Krish said. “B
ut we have concluded that it is almost certain that the two of you will be known to be two of the subjects.”
Orion lifted his hands, palms up, and pointed his fingertips towards Tom and Lashpa. “Because of this, we are asking your permission prior to releasing this data.”
“Put your data on a storage crystal,” Lashpa suggested. “We will present it to the Department of Genealogical Archives when we meet with them in a few days.”
Krish and Orion looked at each other. “Lashpa,” Krish said, “Your statement is an example of the type of unspoken connection that exists between the two of you. We know you are aware of the conversation Tom had with the City Manager regarding the desire of the Department of Genealogical Archives to meet with the two of you. But neither of you discussed a final decision as to whether or not you would agree to do so.”
Orion looked at Tom. “Are you in agreement with Lashpa’s statement?”
“Of course I am,” Tom replied.
“Yet, you did not directly communicate this to Lashpa. She assumed you would agree and did so without hesitation.”
Lashpa looked at Tom. “I knew he would not object. “We make these sorts of decisions all the time because we are so familiar with each other. This can’t be all there is to gragrakch.”
“It’s a small but significant part of it,” Krish replied. “A better example would be when Tom had an instant, physical reaction when you hurt your eye. No communication of the event took place along normal channels and there is no way he could have seen the impact. He knew you had been injured but we don’t know how.”
“The evidence,” Orion said, “of some type of near instantaneous communication between two close individuals is in the analysis of the brainwave patterns. The two of you are linked in a manner we cannot detect. You may not be consciously aware of it, but it is there none-the-less.”
“Well I’ll be damned!” Tom said.
“My sentiments exactly,” Lashpa replied.