House of the Silent Moons

by Tom Shepherd

  * * * *

  An hour after the Legal Beagle launched on its ambulance run to Mindorius, Tyler called a strategy session. The glass-walled conference room featured an oblong table with eight leatherette swivel chairs, where Tyler’s remaining staff met to discuss the mission to Pirate space.

  Two marriage units faced each other. The family of Security Officer and multiple black belt Yumiko Matsuda, African-American attorney Lovey Frost, and their Quirt-Thymean husband Zenna-Zenn, also an attorney, who answered to the name Mr. Blue, occupied chairs on the port side, while Acting Chief Engineer Paco Léon and his multi-talented wife, Dorla, sat across from the married threesome. First cousin of Tyler Matthews, Julieta Solorio—the sleek, curvaceous, life-saving physician and death-dispensing JPT dispatcher—slouched in a chair next to Dorla. Suzie and Tyler held down opposite ends of the table, and blonde holographic secretary Ulrika took her position at the head of the table.

  The first item of business allowed Dr. Solorio to brief the staff on Rodney’s condition, after which Tyler turned their attention to the challenge facing the Patrick Henry crew.

  “Paco, before we get started, I’ve got to ask. With Rodney benched and Arabella staying behind on Mindorius, I feel guilty about stealing the only other qualified starship engineer in the Corporation. Are you sure Ulrika and Zalika can do the job aboard the Beagle?”

  “Yes, sir,” Paco said. “Dorla helped me download the full engineering program into their resident memory. They know as much as Arabella. More than me.”

  “They’ll be fine, Boss,” Dorla said.

  “Okay, let’s get to it.” He took a breath. “Our first task is to find TF-Drifter, the infamous Jump Gate that moves. Some reports say it follows no pattern whatsoever, which means either there is a design flaw in the Gate or the fucker is broken.”

  Lovey wrinkled her nose. “The original Gates—not the replicated ones your Family scattered a century ago—the originals have been around, what, a million years or more?”

  “Nobody knows,” Tyler said. “Paco?”

  “It ain’t a design flaw, Boss,” Paco said. “Best guess—a super-tech civilization of the deep past created TF-Drifter to be a traveling Gate.”

  “Traveling where, friend Paco?” Mr. Blue asked.

  Paco shrugged. “Hard to say. Nobody’s figured out how to find it, or where it’s going.”

  “Nobody but pirates,” Lovey said.

  “Not entirely true,” Tyler said. “We have evidence that suggests the Dengathi know how to plot the Gate’s location.”

  Suzie snorted. “And we all know how bloody innocent the Frogs are.”

  “Amen, sister,” Lovey said.

  Tyler chuckled. “My father has spies in the Stellar Lagoon. His sources say TF-Drifter follows a zig-zag trajectory by tacking off a sequence of buoy stars. It’s sub-light path is predictable, if you know any previous location plus the rotational sequence of its guide stars.”

  “Secret door. Once you exit, you’re in Pirate space,” Suzie said. “Alice through the blooming looking-glass.”

  “I still don’t see why we’re flying into the badlands to defend a piece of mierda like Flávio Tavarez,” Julieta said.

  “Because he’s got the key to the great prize,” Suzie said.

  Tyler nodded. “Unknown to most people—even Pirates—TF-Drifter has a twin, a second traveling Gate, which has its own haphazard pattern. If you know TF-Drifter’s current location, a second algorithm will give you the location of Drifter Gate Two. Supposedly, its event horizon leads to the cache of advanced technology the Dengathi are dark marketing piecemeal to the highest bidder.”

  “Which Tio Noah calls the ancient derelict,” Julieta said. “The abandoned warship from the last Galactic Empire.”

  “Righto,” Suzie said. “We find TF-Drifter, go to Pirate space, get that rotter acquitted, and hope he provides the nav coordinates to Drifter Two.”

  “That’s the game plan. Look at this.” Tyler placed an old-style photograph on the table. “Just in from M-double-I.”

  Ulrika brought up the same item on the wall screen behind Suzie. It looked like the corrupted image of an object from a long-lost era.

  “What are these letters…characters along the bottom?” Lovey said.

  “Don’t recognize that language,” Julieta said. “But the Dengathi subtitles call the image Cabin under Quiet Skies. What the hell does that mean?”

  “The Frogs aren’t known for philological brilliance. They probably cocked up the translation.” Suzie picked up the photo and scanned the symbols. “No wonder. It’s Miyosian, one of the key languages of the old Galactic Empire. Spoken in millions of star systems across the galaxy.”

  “I speak over three thousand lenguas, but not this,” Julieta said. “Does any living culture speak Miyosian anymore?”

  Suzie said, “The homeworld of Miyos speaks a language related to old Miyosian, like Spanish is related to Latin.”

  “I’ve bumped into Miyosians on a few worlds,” Paco Léon said. “Pretty people. Humanoids, red hair, golden eyes.”

  “When was the picture taken?” Tyler asked.

  Suzie checked the Dengathi date/time stamp. “Converted to the Terran calendar—thirteen years ago.”

  “Which would explain why the Frogs have rolled out marketable innovations for about a decade,” Tyler said. “Dad was right. They found an ancient derelict.”

  “But this photo must be a duplicate of something much older,” Suzie said. “It’s the only way to explain Classical Miyosian, overlaid with notations in Dengathi Regalik.”

  “The Frogs copied an image taken centuries ago?” Lovey Frost said.

  “I fancy it’s much, much older than that. If the Dengathi have access to bits and bobs from the old Galactic Empire, Jesus knows when the picture was taken.”

  Tyler said, “Setting the Frog labeling aside, what clues does the original Miyosian give us about the object?”

  “Let’s see what the language archives say.” Suzie closed her eyes for a few seconds, then proceeded. “First off, the object isn’t a derelict. The nominative word endings and their corresponding adjectives are wrong for a starship.”

  “So, what is it?” Tyler said.

  “Depends on whether the nouns are–bloody hell.”

  Tyler leaned on an elbow. “Best guess?”

  “Not a guess—I get it now. Miyosians reserved this rare noun declension to identify very large structures. Not cities or forests, but single units of gigantic proportion. Like the Pyramids, KCMO Headquarters of M-double-I, the Gobikan on Suryadivan Prime. Word choice suggests military, not civilian. Offensive-defensive.”

  Tyler steepled his fingers. “And…?”

  Suzie took a deep breath. “And I think we’re looking at a fuzzy photo of the last surviving military starbase of the Galactic Empire.”

  “Puta madre!” Julieta whispered. “That sucker could be packed with high-tech relics.”

  “Makes you wonder,” Tyler said. “If they were so uber-sophisticated and far-reaching, why did their civilization crumble?”

  “All empires collapse eventually,” Suzie said. “Ask Winston Churchill.”

  Tyler gestured to Ulrika, who enlarged the image on the screen. “Can you tell anything else about the picture? All eyes, please—anybody?”

  Silence around the table, then Suzie tilted the hand-held photo toward the overhead light source.

  “Poor optical qualities,” she said. “Suggests this was taken from a great distance, magnified and cropped. And two dimensional! Didn’t they have a ruddy holo-cam available?”

  Tyler grunted. “Rotten shot. Fuzzed background, zero starfield references to indicate where it’s parked.”

  “Look at the smudge across the lower left corner,” Julieta said. “Is that a thumb?”

  “Not unless the photog pulled off his glove in space,” Suzie said. “I think it’s a planet. Maybe a gas giant.”

  “Flat shot of the greatest trove of
ancient technology ever discovered, and the picture sucks,” Tyler said.

  Paco Léon said, “I’d like to peek inside that Cabin under Quiet Skies.”

  Suzie waved a hand, irritably “No, no. The Dengathi got the Miyosian wrong. Very complex phrase, Hakieth n’diuo Kalieth.”

  Tyler flipped his hands. “Don’t keep us hanging. What does it say?”

  She handed him the photo. “House of the Silent Moons.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” Tyler looked at the picture again.

  She shook her head. “Haven’t a clue.”

  “Okay, let’s go to stage one. Suzie, you and Yumiko visit Mr. Arrupt and secure his willing cooperation.”

  “Just like that?” Suzie chirped. “Last time, the poor Wally said he’d rather be detained at His Majesty’s pleasure than fly to Pirate space again.”

  Tyler touched her arm. “I’m confident you’ll charm our froggy friend.”

  Suzie scowled. “He thinks I’m ugly.”

  “He’s a cold-blooded amphib. I find female Frogs distinctly unattractive, too. Let’s use the tools we have.”

  “Need an aux pilot, Boss man?” Lovey said.

  “That would help,” Tyler said. “Especially with so many starship-qualified personnel on field assignments.”

  “We can always reprogram holograms to fly the ship,” Paco said.

  “Not this time, Chief,” Tyler said. “Flesh and blood only.”

  “I was a Terran naval officer,” Lovey said. “Not just JAG. Commonwealth forces cross-train everyone. I can handle the helm, navigation, and command seat.”

  “Great. You can kick off stage two. Report to the flight deck and set course for the Barrio system, edge of the Huáng Expanse, max FTL.”

  Lovey actually grinned. “You got it, sir.”

  “Mr. Blue, I want you to dig into the MLC archives and see what you can find about pirate systems of law, Free Enterprise League—you know.”

  “Perhaps Suzanne can direct me to fertile ground.”

  She smiled. “Happy to oblige, mate.”

  ‘Uh… I thought your mate was Tyler.”

  “Another quirky Terran word, Zenna,” Dr. Solorio explained.

  Zenna shook his head, ears flopping. “Such a perplexing language.”

  “One more mission factor,” Tyler said. “And you may not like this.”

  “Oh?” Lovey perked up.

  “Stage three.” Tyler swept the room with a glance. Now was the time. “You all know the risks. Pirate space is the most dangerous place in the known galaxy. But we won’t be flying the Patrick Henry.”

  Paco’s hands twitched. He leaned on the table. “Oh?”

  “We rendezvous with the CC Wollongong in one week.”

  The crew relaxed visibly. Then Tyler dropped the bomb. “She’s carrying our new ride.” He paused to let it sink in. These people were the Patrick Henry, and he read the tension in their faces. They needed to know.

  “What new ride?” Julieta said.

  “During the next few days, everybody might spend a little time studying basic Regalik. We sail into the Huáng aboard the Dengathi pirate ship Howling Tadpole.”

  Nine

  Arabella Mahboob’s black hair and smiling face filled the viewscreen in the quarters shared by Tyler and Suzie aboard the Patrick Henry. Rodney Rooney lay in a hospital bed behind her, hooked to multiple healing machines. He waved and smiled weakly.

  “Doctor Suzie! He’s going to make a full recovery. Thank you so much. I love you!”

  Tyler sniggered. “Heave to, Lieutenant. I told you she’s taken.”

  The camera followed the lovely Arab starship engineer as she drifted away from Rodney’s treatment center after telling him to rest. She found a window alcove overlooking the Oncaro District of Mindorius and continued.

  “How is everyone doing?” she said. “I miss my friends, the Henry, everything.”

  “We’re all smashing,” Suzie said. “But we’re mad for more details about you and Rodney. You’ve been gone five days. Does the bugger still love you?”

  She beamed. “First thing Rodney says when he comes out of anesthesia—‘Wowzers—am I dead? I see an angel.’ Who couldn’t love a guy like that?”

  Suzie smiled. “Did you ask how he feels about you converting to bioenergetic?”

  Arabella rolled up the cuff on the left arm of her jumpsuit. A double helix tattoo gracefully snaked from elbow to wrist.

  “Congratulations and welcome to humanity,” Tyler said. “Gotta go. Bridge duty.” He kissed Suzie and left the two bioenergetic females to continue their long distance chat.

  “Does this make us sisters?” Arabella said.

  “Abso-blooming-lutely.”

  Arabella’s nose twitched. “Well, Sister, you never told me this bioenergetic body comes with all the subroutines of a Homo sapiens female. The first day the Beagle dropped us here, I got hungry enough to eat a bear. So, I gobbled up two large pizzas until my new stomach rebelled and I had to… uh…”

  “You honked all over hospital, didn’t you?”

  “I couldn’t keep it down!” Arabella grasped her head. “And you never mentioned shitting! Yuk!”

  “Up or out, Arabie. The pizza has to go somewhere.”

  “And another thing.” She checked both directions before continuing. “This morning I spotted blood in my panties.”

  “Oh, my. You’re picking up this female business rather tickety-boo, aren’t you?”

  “It isn’t funny! I have awful cramps. It hurts.”

  “And you still love Rodney?”

  She blinked. “Of course.”

  “Woman’s curse, luv. See a doctor for the cramps. Nothing can be done about the love symptoms.”

  “If I go internal, back into the computer, will the cramps go away?”

  “Yes, but they’ll be waiting for you when you return to human form.”

  “And women have put up with this since hominids came down from the trees?”

  “Longer, I’d wager,” Suzie said comfortingly. “So, tell me more about your plans with that swashbuckling Irish samurai you’re nursing back to health.”

  Arabella grinned. “Soon as Rodney has recovered enough, he wants to go home to Terra and introduce me to his parents. Oh! And he wants to join the Eastern Orthodox Church so we can get married by Father Cárcel.”

  “The Father is Catholic—oh, right. Everybody recognizes everybody else’s holy orders these days.”

  Arabella bit her lip. “Suzie, will you be my maid of honor? And I want Parvati and Myong Li as bridesmaids. You’ll be there, won’t you?”

  “Of course, luv. Wild horses.” Suzie’s smile slipped into a look of concern. “Do be careful about traveling right now. Sakura House and M-double-I are on the verge of war, and I don’t trust Tsuchiya to respect the neutrality of passenger craft.”

  “We’ll be on Mindorius awhile.”

  Suzie weighed her next remark carefully. “I know how cheesed off you are about Tsuchiya trying to kill Rodney. Crikey, we’d all like the prat to come to a sticky end. But playing dispatcher will make your fiancé a widower before you’re hitched.”

  “There are schools on Mindorius for—”

  “For assassins, I know,” Suzie said. “And Tsuchiya doesn’t know you, and you’re dishy enough to get close to the old lecher. But that’s not your job. Star Lawyers Corp needs you and Rodney alive and well.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, don’t get military on your only sister.”

  Arabella grumbled and nodded. “What should I do?”

  “Skive off a bit. Visit the sights on Mindorius, Soon as he recuperates enough to travel, book a flight on a non-Terran vessel headed to Earth. Meet his mum and dad. Plan your wedding. And stand by for orders. We’ll send you the coordinates to report for duty.”

  Arabella saluted. “Aye, aye, sister-ma’am.”

  “And try to keep Rodney from throttling any more of Tsuchiya’s goons, especiall
y in sanctuary zones like Mindorius. Lieutenant Peppy-Puppy has proven to be quite the badass.”

  Arabella giggled and they signed off.

  * * * *

  “No! Turn not starboard. Get smashed ice rings,” Arrupt croaked from his position behind the command seat on the Howling Tadpole’s compact bridge. “Grey square nav panel, avoid ice. Do you not color-code Terran ship consoles?”

  ”What does the color gray have to do with ice?” Lovey Frost grumbled from the unified navigation-helm.

  “You no turn gray when froze? I turn gray! Ship not built for Dirt Monkeys.”

  “I am black for all seasons, Brer Bull Frog.”

  Listening from the command chair, Tyler chuckled at their banter. The Frog was holding his own with the truculent Lovey Frost.

  “Allza colors mean this and that,” the Dengathi navigator said. “When color shift, it not this—it that!”

  “I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Lovey said.

  Tyler waved a hand. “Watch your panel.”

  “It’s shifting to red all across the activation squares,” she said.

  “That means you’re clear of the gas giant’s ice rings. Open space ahead,” Tyler said.

  “Red means go? Boss-man, how do you know this shit?”

  “Suzie’s internal, whispering in my earpiece.”

  “So, you cheated?”

  “Always use the tools at hand, Lieutenant Frost.”

  “That’s why I left the Navy.” She scowled. “I should be a Lieutenant Commander by now.”

  Although he refused to say it, Tyler sympathized with Lovey. The smallish bridge of the battered, old ship held the largest array of blinking indicator lights and throbbing command buttons he had ever seen in a vessel of this class. And the colors shifted as changing circumstances affected the helm, nav, commo and command stations.

  If an unknown ship approached, blue squares which once controlled sublight velocity shifted to yellow-orange to become shield enhancement and weapons regulators, releasing speed control to the Dengathi equivalent of the MLC. Yellow-orange indicators notified helm and nav of the danger, if the operators knew what that color-shift meant.