Trek It!

by Robert T. Jeschonek

"I keep it all up here," whispered Folcrum, tapping his head with a fingertip. "Every word, every meaning, every rule. All here."

  The Vox moved forward, and Mariko twitched, thinking about getting a gun or waking the others. Folcrum was only shifting off his knees, though, and settled back to sit on the floor.

  "When someone is searching for a word," said Folcrum, "they come to a lexicon. When there is a question about the language, a lexicon answers it.

  "Without us, the language of the world would be in chaos. People would have no set rules or definitions to guide them. Miscommunication and misunderstanding would run rampant."

  As she listened, Mariko realized for the first time that she had been missing something.

  Since leaving the podcraft, the only place where she had seen a written version of the Vox language was on the display of the multiterpreter.

  In all the hours she'd spent on Vox, she hadn't seen a single sign, inscription, electronic readout or printed page. She hadn't seen so much as a single character representing a unit of Vox speech.

  Though she had been too busy and distracted to notice, the lexicon's story jogged her memory. If, as he claimed, walking dictionaries were needed to keep track of words and linguistic rules, it followed that Vox lacked something that was found on most worlds where the inhabitants communicated verbally: a written language.

  Though it was unusual, it wasn't unprecedented for a language-using culture to develop without the written word. She had read of a world or two where no written language existed; on Earth alone, there had been many aboriginal cultures possessing only a spoken language.

  But it was still a rare phenomenon. As apprehensive as she was after the sudden appearance of her surprise guest, her interest was piqued by his story.

  "Lexicons are not always popular," said Folcrum. "We are the enemy of those who would twist language for their own purposes.

  "Like them." Folcrum nodded in the direction of the sleeping Free Speakers. "A discredited language is not their chief concern."

  Mariko glanced at the nearby weapons. The truth of Folcrum's words was obvious.

  As much as Nalo had preached about the importance of restoring the language of his ancestors, Mariko had recognized his true intentions in his choice of words from the old language to quote.

  "Shoshar na yothu," he had said, meaning "to follow your heart."

  "Tark razeek na," he had said, meaning "to dream of something better."

  "Zush na carapata imbolio rivix shanyo," he had said, meaning "to tear down what is broken and replace it."

  "Follow your heart," "dream of something better," and "tear down what is broken and replace it." It sounded more like a call for revolution than a proposal for linguistic reform.

  "We lexicons have always remained neutral in matters of conflict," said Folcrum, "but not this time. This is a matter of life and death for us.

  "That is why I'm asking if you'll come with me. We need your help."

  Mariko looked at him, wondering what exactly he had planned for her…and if it could be any worse than what the Free Speakers had in mind. She suspected that once again she faced a choice between the frying pan and the fire.

  Instinctively, she liked Folcrum. She appreciated the fact that he was bothering to ask for her consent at all, unlike the Free Speakers.

  Getting away from Nalo and his supporters had a lot of appeal for her, and she couldn't ignore the possibility that this was her ticket to freedom. Escaping one elderly Vox was bound to be easier than taking on a dozen younger fanatics.

  On the other hand, it was possible that Folcrum was following in Nalo's footsteps and tricking her. She had no way to tell if he was lying to her, or if he was going to lead her to harm instead of safety. For all she knew, he might be an agent of the government, sent to retrieve her for execution.

  With Nalo, she knew what she was up against, and she had a plan to free herself. She didn't know what Nalo intended to do with her the next day, but she knew that she was bound for the surface, where at least she would have a fighting chance to take charge of her fate.

  Or maybe, when she got to the surface, Nalo and his people would truss her up so that she couldn't make a grab for a weapon. Maybe they weren't as trusting and complacent as they seemed in their underground stronghold.

  And then, she would be dragged along against her will into whatever scheme Nalo had lined up for the "big day."

  Mariko didn't like that idea a bit. She had had enough of being manipulated by the brown-furred Vox. Who knew what sacrifice he would next ask of her in pursuit of his personal agenda?

  She was already leaning toward a decision when Folcrum clinched it. Though she still had only his word on which to base her choice, what he said to her was convincing enough to win her over.

  "What must you do to change a language?" said Folcrum. "To make the kind of sweeping change that they want?" He gestured toward the sleeping Free Speakers.

  "Out with the old." The white-furred Vox slashed his hand through the air. "The old lexicons.

  "When minor changes are made, we are revised. When bigger changes are made, we are…retired. Our minds cannot be extensively rewritten.

  "But to replace an entire language? Every word and rule? Drastic measures are needed.

  "So, out with the old." Folcrum drew a single clawed finger across his throat. "Make way for new lexicons to serve the new language. Don't give the people a chance to fall back on the old language by keeping old lexicons around.

  "Not a single one of them," said Folcrum. "And that, my friend, is what happens tomorrow."

  With a little difficulty, the white-furred Vox got to his knees. Leaning forward, he extended a hand toward Mariko, palm up, and fixed her with his black pearl gaze.

  "So what do you say?" he whispered. "Will you come with me?"

  For a moment, Mariko hesitated and reconsidered. Here, at least, was a side worth taking…but she had to remember that her overriding purpose had nothing to do with taking any side at all among the Vox. The only question worth asking was which choice would most likely put her in a position to find and rescue her shipmates.

  On that point, given the evidence available to her, the answer seemed clear.

  She slipped her hand into Folcrum's and shook it.

  He got to his feet and she followed, taking care not to make much noise. When he headed for the tunnel entrance across the chamber, however, she made a detour.

  From one of the piles of weapons on the floor, she selected a few items, stuffing a holstered knife into her boot and a handgun into a pocket of her uniform. She slung a rifle over her back, then picked her way over the dirt floor to catch up with the white-furred Vox.

  Folcrum waited at the mouth of the tunnel, watching her with an unreadable expression. For all Mariko knew, it could have been a look of disapproval…but she didn't care. It was about time she had an edge on this madhouse of a planet.

  *****

  Chapter Sixteen

  As he watched the last of the three Vox spacecraft dock with the other two, Martin had the feeling that he ought to blast them apart right then and there.

  But they had not made a hostile move.

  Carried aloft by rocket boosters that had detached and fallen back to the planet's surface, the three small ships had maneuvered into a tight formation and carefully joined together. They were connecting to form a single, larger vessel, one which undoubtedly would threaten the Exogenesis.

  Martin knew what they were up to and knew that he could stop them with a preemptive strike during their docking and linking procedures…but instead, he had watched for forty-five minutes as they went about their business.

  Even as he did so, he knew that he was waiting too long, just as he had waited too long to launch the rescue team…but he couldn't justify attacking until the Vox actually made a hostile move. For all he knew, the composite ship was a transport or a science vessel or the planet's sole defense against the approaching invasion fleet.

  H
e knew better, of course, especially given the spacecraft's orbital proximity to Exogenesis…but he also knew better than to shoot before the Vox demonstrated their intentions. Being the first to fire a shot, even a low-power beam from an emanator cannon meant only to disrupt the ships' docking procedures, could permanently sour relations with the Vox – such as they were – and ensure that they would not cooperate in handing over the away team.

  On the other hand, Exogenesis personnel were already under fire from the Vox. The extraction team's podcraft had been attacked by Vox aircraft on the way to the surface; though the planes' projectile weapons so far had only inflicted minor damage on the shuttle, the team was still unable to shake their pursuers and set down.

  As far as Martin was concerned, hostilities had broken out even earlier…as soon as the away team had been attacked and taken prisoner. He certainly wouldn't lose any sleep over giving the Vox ships a jab to prevent their linkup.

  But he waited anyway. He tried to think like a star cruiser captain and resort to the use of force only when necessary. He consoled himself with the knowledge that the Vox spacecraft were outgunned and wouldn't be much of a threat to Exogenesis even when linked.

  Unless, of course, they had some sort of capability that the Exogenesis's sensors could not detect.

  To be on the safe side, he ought to shoot. He was just as sure of that as he had been sure that he should have sent down the extraction team sooner. He could not have been more sure if a bull's-eye had appeared over the image of the ships on the screen and the words "SHOOT NOW" had flared in great fiery letters across the starfield.

  Instead, he waited…almost hoping that the ships would hurry up and fire a shot so he could get this over with.

  He could do without the distraction, given the number of other concerns on his mind.

  "Four hours, thirty minutes until fleet intercept," said Tanner.

  "Still no response to hails?" said Martin, guessing what the answer would be. They had been hailing the Vox ships for the past half hour without success.

  "No sir," said Ensign Neruda at Communications.

  "Stop trying," said Martin. "What's the podcraft's status?"

  "Still in the air," said Neruda. "Minimal hull damage, but every time they try to land, the Vox aircraft chase them off."

  "Damn," said Martin, wondering if he ought to call the podcraft back to Exogenesis or send down another to run interference. If the first shuttle hadn't landed by now, he doubted it would ever set down unassisted. Though the podcrafts were fast, highly maneuverable and armed with plasma weapons, they weren't built for aerobatics and extended aerial dogfights.

  Even if the shuttle did reach the surface, however, the debarking extraction team would likely be met by heavy resistance. Without the element of surprise on their side, Lopresti and his men stood a greater chance of being pinned down by enemy fire.

  As he considered the situation, Martin became increasingly convinced of one thing: the extraction mission was doomed to failure. His original decision to launch had been a sound one…but circumstances had taken a bad turn.

  He knew what he had to do.

  "Put me through to the podcraft," he told Neruda. As the channel opened and the audio feed crackled from the bridge speakers, he rose from the command chair and stood with hands clasped behind his back.

  "Lopresti," he said.

  "Yes, sir," said Lopresti, his voice tense and distracted. In the background, the sound of the podcraft's weapons firing was audible.

  It galled Martin to give the order, with the podcraft so close to the surface and the missing officers…but he gave it anyway. Though he never shied from risky operations, he refused to knowingly send his people on a one-way trip.

  "Return to Exogenesis," said Martin.

  "What?" said Lopresti, suddenly paying more attention to the conversation. "Please repeat."

  Martin raised his voice. "Disengage and get back here," he said. "Immediately."

  "We can do this, sir," said Lopresti. "Give us more time."

  "No," Martin said firmly. "Return now. That's an order."

  Lopresti hesitated. Over the open channel, one of his team members could be heard announcing that another aircraft had joined the pursuit.

  "Aye, sir," Lopresti said finally. "We're on our way."

  "Exogenesis out," said Martin, and Neruda closed the channel.

  For a moment, Martin stood silently, smarting from the decision he'd made. Though he was sure it had been the right thing to do, he hated aborting the rescue and consigning the captain and the others to more time on the hostile planet…time that could be the death of them.

  Which was why he wouldn't wait to try something else.

  In its own way, it could be just as dangerous as the podcraft's approach. It was possible that this second attempt could be as much a one-way trip as the first had become.

  Nevertheless, he thought it had a greater chance for success. Not only would it provide the advantage of surprise, it would allow the next extraction team to arrive in much closer proximity to their targets.

  Clearly, the potential benefits outweighed the danger…and it seemed to be the only viable option left now that the podcraft mission had been cut short.

  But that didn't mean he had to like it. He wouldn't have enjoyed being on the receiving end of his next orders any more than the unlucky crewmen about to receive them would.

  Turning, he activated the comm panel on the arm of the command chair. "Simon to Security," he said.

  "Security," said a voice from the panel – that of Ensign Bill Jennings.

  "Prep another extraction team," said Martin. "And report to the teleporter room."

  To his credit, Jennings did not hesitate or betray any reluctance in his voice. "Aye, sir," he said crisply.

  "Let me know when your team is assembled and ready for transport," said Martin.

  "Aye," said Jennings, still apparently unshaken by the news that he was next in line to have his atoms beamed through space by a temperamental piece of equipment.

  Martin hated the thought of sending anyone through the teleporter so much that he felt as if he should apologize. Instead, he flipped a switch on the comm panel and contacted the teleporter room.

  "Van Wyck here," said the ensign on duty, sounding a little surprised. The teleporter room could be a quiet post when it wasn't being used to send or receive cargo.

  "Run a full diagnostic on the teleporter," said Martin. "Triple-check everything. We're going to beam an away team to the planet's surface."

  "Sir, did I hear you correctly?" said Van Wyck. "Did you just say we're transporting people to the planet?"

  "Begin the diagnostic immediately," said Martin. "The team will be with you soon."

  "How many are we beaming?" said Van Wyck.

  "Six," said Martin.

  "I've never done a human transport," Van Wyck said tensely. "Organics, but not human."

  "I have every confidence in you, Ensign," said Martin, "but if you would prefer to call for support, please do so."

  "Aye," said Van Wyck, his voice tight.

  Martin felt more worried than ever about his team's chances in the teleporter. Going through the device was dangerous enough without a jittery first-timer at the controls.

  Switching the comm channel, Martin contacted Engineering. "Lieutenant Debias?" he said.

  "Debias," said the woman's voice from the panel.

  "Report to the teleporter room," said Martin. "Stand by to assist if necessary with a six-person ship-to-surface transport."

  "On my way," said Debias.

  Martin switched off the comm. As much as he disliked undermining Van Wyck's confidence, he felt better with a more seasoned hand in the room. It was better to order the support himself rather than leave it up to Van Wyck, who might have felt duty bound to carry out the operation without calling for help. Wounded pride was the least of Martin's concerns at the moment.

  He was about to ask Neruda for an update on the returni
ng podcraft when Tanner caught his attention from the helm.

  "Lieutenant," said Tanner, an urgent tone in his voice. "Something's happening out there."

  On the viewer, Martin saw that the Vox ships appeared to be fully linked…and the newly created composite vessel was spinning end over end. As the ship rotated, Martin could see that a thruster on one of the component spacecraft was firing continuously, emitting a fiery jet of plasma that propelled the spin.

  "Looks like a thruster malfunction," said Tanner. "They're picking up speed."

  "They're hailing us," said Neruda. "They say there's a fire in one of the engine compartments. They're requesting help."

  Immediately suspicious, Martin narrowed his eyes as he stared at the screen. It seemed like an awfully big coincidence that the Vox reported trouble as soon as their ships' linking procedure was complete.

  He turned to Levy at the science station. "Can you confirm what they're telling us?" he said.

  Levy glanced at monitors on the console and nodded. "One of the linked ships is on fire," he said. "It won't be long until the fuel tank ignites."

  Martin watched as the ship continued its spin. "Open a channel," he said.

  A frightened howl burst from the bridge speakers, followed by speech generated by the multiterpreter. "Help us! We're out of control!"

  "I suggest you move to the unaffected compartments and separate your ships," Martin said evenly.

  "Impossible," said the Vox. "Our docking systems are damaged."

  "You don't have fire control systems?" said Martin.

  "They're off-line," said the Vox.

  Martin frowned. More than ever, he suspected a trap. "Can you blow a hatch and let the vacuum extinguish the fire?"

  "No!" shouted the Vox, sounding as if he had reached a state of panic. "Help us!"

  Turning to Neruda, Martin signaled for her to close the channel. "Can we verify anything he just told us?" he said.

  "Their systems are damaged," said Levy, "but I can't tell which ones or how severely."

  "Are their weapons on-line?"

  "Negative," said Levy.