ARC: Under Nameless Stars

by Christian Schoon

  “Oh, forgive me, Ambassador,” the Captain said, gesturing at his guests. “This is Jules Vancouver, of Earth.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Ambassador Noom… voykin…” Jules stammered to a halt.

  “Omma Tsantis Iph Sharor Tus Florim Shardahla Noom Surishta Voiykenoiboh Noomdrass-Liquissi,” the Cepheian said. “But please, you must call us Noom.”

  “We’re Noom Noomdrass.” “All Noomdrass.” “Liquissi as well.” “Liquissi family of Noomdrass, feh?” the male consorts babbled softly.

  “And this is Miss Zora Bodine,” the Captain said. “A Ciscan exovet, recently come aboard from Mars.”

  “Novice exovet, actually,” Zenn said. “I’m still in training.”

  “A novice exoveterinarian?” Noom rose a few inches into the air to make eye contact with Zenn. “A Ciscan.” “Creature physician.” “From Mars.” “The famous cloister, feh?”

  “A Ciscan cloister novice,” Noom said. “That would be the Arsia Valley Chapter, correct?”

  “Yes, the Arsia Ciscans,” Zenn admitted. She was surprised the Cepheian’s knowledge extended to a tiny, almost defunct exovet training facility on a backwater planet in a marginal star system. “You’ve heard of our cloister, then?”

  “Oh yes, we’re well aware of the Arsia Ciscans and their… good works.” Noom regarded Zenn with an odd expression. Was the Cepheian trying to imagine the face beneath the mermaid mask? Or was it, Zenn thought, just her own anxiety making it seem that way? “And what,” Noom said then, “do your Martian compatriots make of Earth’s new openness to contact with the rest of the Local Systems Accord?”

  Zenn certainly had her own opinions about the Rift between Earth and Mars – and the Earther push to resume contact with their former colony on the Red Planet. But to debate the point here, on a raised dais at the center of several hundred people, dressed as a mermaid? Her face grew warm with color.

  “I think most Martians are ready for contact again with Earth,” she said. “But I also think the Earther Authority needs to understand how we do things,” she added quickly. “You know, not impose their ways on Mars just because we do things differently or because we have alien patients at the cloister.”

  “Frankly, Ambassador,” the Captain said, shaking out his napkin and placing it in his lap, “that’s what puzzles me about your mission. The Temp Exec Authority has no love for Cepheians or any other Alien Sentients in the Accord. Why would Earth push for resumed contact with Mars and the Asent planets now?”

  “It’s the members of the Temp Exec Authority who wish to reopen trade with the other planets of the Accord. The extremists of the New Law faction are the only ones who wish to maintain the Rift and keep Earth cut off from outside contact,” the ambassador said.

  The Captain pressed his point. “I think what worries some within the Accord is the motive of the Cepheians in these negotiations. It’s no secret that Eta Cephei wants to expand its trade networks. It needs more ships to do that. A deal between your species and the Earther Authority would make some in the LSA… deeply unhappy.”

  “I assume you refer to Procyon,” the ambassador said, her voice gaining a slight flinty edge. “The Procyoni grooms have long held what can only be described as an inappropriate monopoly of Indra-drive ships and the profits that entails. But it seems self-evident that the open market is where issues of interstellar transport should be negotiated. All these rumors about Indra routes and secret dealings and such, this is simply the Procyoni stirring the pot, don’t you agree?”

  “Even so…” The Captain refused to be put off. “The fact is, the Authority seems to have reached out specifically, quietly, to Eta Cephei, Ambassador. Not to the Accord as a whole. This is bound to raise questions, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Any answer from the ambassador was prevented by the sight of a figure emerging from the crowd and approaching their table. It was one of the few passengers Zenn actually knew.

  “Lieutenant, glad you could join us,” the Captain said, rising from his chair. “Everyone, this is Lieutenant Stav Travosk, official envoy of the Temp Exec Authority.”

  The new arrival was the young soldier who’d been playing cards with Jules. Apparently, he’d decided his red-coated uniform was costume enough for the party. He ascended the stairs and stood behind the seat next to the ambassador.

  “Hello again,” the soldier said, acknowledging Jules.

  “You two have met, I take it,” the Captain said.

  “Yes. Earlier. And the little mermaid?”

  “Miss Zora Bodine,” the Captain said. “From Mars.”

  “I believe we met earlier as well. You were the one looking for Jules in the card room?”

  “Yes. That’s right,” Zenn said. The soldier gave her a nod and brief smile.

  “The lieutenant accompanied the ambassador on the shuttle from Earth,” the Captain said.

  “Yes,” Noom said. “The Authority was most generous in sparing Lieutenant Travosk. He is a highly skilled science officer and someone who understands the value of Earth resuming contact with the worlds of the Local Systems Accord. He is, as well, a man determined to help end the Indra problem afflicting us all. One could describe it as a driving obsession with him. And well it should be.”

  “Guilty as charged,” the soldier said. “But it’s not like I’m alone in wanting to see the disappearances solved. It simply can’t continue. And there are many on Earth like me, working day and night on the solution. We will put a stop to it.” The soldier’s eyes grew, if possible, even steelier as he spoke. “You have my word.”

  “I can believe it, coming from you,” the ambassador said. “In any case, the Lieutenant has been an invaluable asset to us, both a formidable mind and faithful bodyguard during our visit.”

  “A bodyguard?” Jules said, leaning forward to see the soldier better.

  “On Earth?” the Captain said. “Was this necessary?”

  “Simply a precaution,” Noom said. “You know, the New Law and others with… strong opinions about any treaties the Earth might attempt to enter into. An overabundance of concern, I’m sure.”

  “But this is bold and thrilling,” Jules said. “I should like to be a bodyguard.” He turned to Zenn. “I can act as Miss Bodine’s body-shielder. Like a horse-riding man covered in metal skin – a knight of olden days. So you will have no worries.” He put one mech-hand softly on her shoulder. “I will go wherever you go, at the ready. To guard your body.”

  “Jules, I’m not important enough to need guarding,” Zenn said quietly, not wanting to attract any more attention than she already had.

  “You underestimate yourself, Novice,” the Captain said.

  “Novice?” The soldier turned his silver eyes back to her.

  “Yes,” Noom said. “We have a novice exovet to grace our company, Lieutenant. From the local Ciscan cloister, no less.”

  “The cloister on Mars? Still in operation? I didn’t realize.” The soldier’s striking eyes rested on her in a way that made it difficult for her to look away. “But I’m glad to hear it’s still functioning.”

  “Yes, Novice Bodine helped to revive my ailing Cleevus, didn’t you?” The Captain beamed at her.

  Zenn blushed beneath her mask, wishing again that everyone would just ignore her.

  “In that case,” the soldier said, raising his glass to her, “we must thank the fates that Miss Bodine came aboard when she did.” Another smile for her, beneath the ice-gray glance. “So, where are you headed, Novice?”

  Zenn’s mind momentarily blanked.

  “Oh… to… Sigmund’s Parch,” she said. “I’m traveling with my father, to return his sandhog boar to the seller.”

  “So, the animal became ill?” the soldier asked. “And required your attention on the journey?”

  Zenn tried to think…

  “Yes. A parasitic infection,” she said, grasping for a reason she’d need to accompany the hog. “Affected his behavior and made him difficult to handle… He was a
ggressive, kept burrowing out of his pen, that sort of thing.”

  “Well, your father’s a lucky man to have an exovet in the family,” he said. He turned then to address the table: “Now, if you’ll all excuse me for a moment, I’d better check in with my adjutant before we eat. He’s handling all the paperwork for our excursion from Earth, and it makes him cranky if I don’t update him on a regular basis.”

  The soldier stepped down from the dais and spoke into his sleeve screen as he walked a short distance into the crowd.

  ELEVEN

  An hour or so later, they’d all finished their main courses. The ship’s stewards were weaving among the guest tables offering trays arrayed with assorted dessert dishes.

  “…and in your exciting role as bodyguard,” Jules was saying to Stav Travosk, “are you often called upon to heroically defend Ambassador Noom by shooting down nefarious assailants, blazing at them with your pistol?”

  Zenn noticed then the soldier did in fact wear a holster on one hip, whatever weapon it held hidden discreetly beneath a wide flap.

  “The ambassador exaggerates my position. I’m just here to represent the Authority and provide a courtesy escort. Nothing more heroic than that.”

  “And what’s your take on the ambassador’s negotiations, Lieutenant?” the Captain asked.

  “Only time will tell,” Stav said. “But Eta Cephei makes a compelling case. I think she may have persuaded a lot of people back on Earth, people who have a long history of not being persuadable.”

  “Yes, so I hear,” the Captain said. “But I wonder. Is their case compelling enough to offer them exclusive control of the starship routes to Earth?”

  “Captain Oolo,” Noom interjected, rising a foot or so into the air. “You will embarrass the lieutenant.”

  Stav shook his head dismissively. “There are always rumors kicked up in this sort of negotiation: that the Cepheians are trying to control all Sol space routes, that the Authority is planning an end run around LSA trade law, that sort of thing. All I can say is that the Authority is the one who’s reaching out. We have nothing to hide.”

  Noom then rose further into the air to address the table. “Precisely. And I think we can all agree that Accord politics are too spicy an addition to civilized dinner conversation.” She gave Captain Oolo a significant look. He seemed on the verge of contesting her point when she went on, “Now, Captain, what about this mudlark of yours I’ve heard so much about? It will be performing tonight, will it not? I’m sure we’re all anxious to hear this rare exhibition.” Her attempt at changing the subject was successful, and the Captain happily launched into a discussion of Cleevus’s lengthy pedigree.

  After the dessert course, a Gliesian waiter came through the crowd wheeling a small trolley. On it was a portable aquarium, complete with a tiny purple velvet curtain.

  The Captain descended from the raised dais and went to introduce his pet to the audience. Standing next to the trolley, Zenn saw him touch one hand to his belt. His holographic human-ship’s-captain costume deactivated, revealing his true physique. Zenn had guessed right. The Captain was a bird of sorts – he was an Ornithope; six feet tall, his long neck topped by a smallish, round head with a massive hooked beak and hooded hawk’s eyes. His leather-booted legs held a body covered mostly with brown and white feathers. Where a bird would have wings, Ornithopes had evolved feathered, claw-tipped arms. His white, vest-like captain’s uniform was cut away at the chest, allowing him to show off the characteristic rainbow-hued breast feathers Ornithopes used for displays of various emotions. The chest feathers were now rippling with pride as he drew the curtain back to present Cleevus standing alertly within her small glass enclosure.

  “Honored guests, allow me to introduce my fungal-animoid, Cleevus.” The Captain’s speech was now no longer the deep, bass drawl that had been manufactured by his holo-costume. Instead, he spoke in his natural voice: a bubbling Ornithope warble. Much like an Earther parrot or mynah bird, his heavy, black beak moved only slightly as he spoke, the sound produced by the complex, flexible membranes within his avian syrinx – the equivalent of a human’s voice box – located deep in his chest.

  “Tonight,” the Captain continued, “Cleevus will be performing a program of symphonic, popular and operatic works by composers from across the Local Systems Accord. For her first selection, a concerto for Alcyon harp and orchestra, by Ghilic Sha.”

  By the time Cleevus had completed her final number, a soothing choral rendition of a Procyoni folk lullaby, Zenn was fighting to keep her eyes open. She leaned over toward Jules.

  “I’m ready to call it a night,” she said. “And I’m definitely ready to get rid of this tail. No offense.”

  “None taken. You do look on the verge of sleep. I should accompany you, should I not, if I am to serve as your body-guardian?” But as Jules said this, Zenn saw he was gazing at something across the room. Through a gap in the crowd, she could see he was watching a corner table with several costumed guests sitting around it. They were playing cards.

  “Would you rather stay?” Zenn said, grinning at his obviously conflicted state.

  “Would I be derelict if I did so? In my guarding duties?”

  “Of course not. Go play cards. But Jules…” She waited till he turned to face her. “Do not gamble your walksuit away. Promise?”

  “My walksuit? That would be folly.”

  “Yes. It would.”

  “So, if you are certain, then,” he said, standing up from where he’d crouched at the table. “Sleep comfortably. I will see you in the morning.” He then raised his voice so the others could hear. “I will bid you all good evening. Zora Bodine, when you return to your cabin, please wish your father good evening as well for me.”

  “Yes,” Zenn said, thinking this was overplaying the part just a bit. “I’ll do that.”

  He leaned in to whisper to her, “A subterfuge. I am deceiving those present by leading them to believe you now go to your own cabin.”

  “I get it, Jules,” she whispered back. He engaged his legs and strode off toward the card game.

  She rose from her seat, thanked the Captain and said goodnight to him and the others. Noom also excused herself, saying her consorts were growing weary and she needed to retire.

  The soldier took his cue from the ambassador and said he was leaving as well. He rose and approached Zenn.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Novice Bodine,” he said, politely taking her hand in both of his and giving her a smile, locking his gray eyes on hers. “Travel safely,” he said, held her hand a moment longer, then released her.

  “I will, thank you,” she said. She watched him go, momentarily flustered by their exchange. There was, she decided, something intriguing about this Earther soldier. Leaving the dais, she made her way through the partygoers toward the corridor. She was about to step into the passageway when the crowd parted and she saw the Captain’s mudlark, surrounded by the pack of Alcyons. They were demanding an encore.

  “Sing,” one of the rodent-clad reptiles hissed, leaning in close to the aquarium.

  “Yes. The Alcyon anthem. Sing that. Do it now,” another lizard said, poking at the mudlark with one claw-tipped finger. The mudlark shrank into itself, its color blanching pale.

  “The Alcyon anthem.” The mudlark repeated the reptile’s words back to him, perfectly mimicking the reptilian tones and timbre. “Sing that. Do it now,” it said, again a perfect match.

  Zenn looked to see if the Captain had noticed, but he was conversing with one of the waiters.

  The mudlark was clearly terrified, Zenn thought, and its mimicry was just a fearful attempt to ward off the hostile group encircling it. When that didn’t work, the mudlark seemed to panic, picking up any sound it could hear, replicating more and more voices from the partygoers in the room. Within seconds, the creature was emitting a babble of dozens of voices all at once. This only seemed to annoy the Alcyons, who drew in even closer around it as they continued to hector their victim.


  Zenn was trying to work up the courage to intervene when it hit her, the feeling immersing her, sapping her strength to the point she had to lean against the nearby wall for support. The lights in the room grew faint, and all at once she was in total darkness. A wave of overwhelming fear hit her, a dreadful sense of being exposed to danger but unable to flee.

  She had linked with the mudlark again, or it with her, as it was tormented by the Alcyons. But there was more. A roaring in her ears, a growing onslaught of incoherent sounds. Squeals. Clicks. Gurgles. Garbled words. Tones, rising, falling in the darkness that engulfed her… She was hearing… voices, human and Asent, distorted, impossible to sort out, ten, twenty, dozens of voices, all speaking at once, in a babble of different languages. She was hearing the conversations of everyone in the room, hearing through the exquisitely sensitive audio receptors of the frightened mudlark.

  In the cacophony and darkness, she struggled to keep her balance, forced herself to remain still. Then, through the din of alien tongues and snatches of sentences, came words she recognized.

  “…no, it is her. I’m certain… she’s on board.” The voice was faint, indistinct, and Zenn couldn’t even tell if it was male or female, human or not. It faded in and out in the cascade of sound ebbing and flowing through the room.

  “But how…?” This new voice was guttural, rasping, but clearer, easier to hear. “When last I saw her, we were at the launch port on Mars.” Zenn knew then. It was voice of her Skirni abductor – and he was talking about her.

  “…doesn’t matter how,” the other, unidentifiable voice said. Then it submerged, only to re-emerge. “…back on schedule, no thanks to you. Now, we can proceed as originally – we will take the ind– You will release the… into the chamber… you gain access?”