A Bellicose Dance

by Patrick M J Lozon

  “Touché.” Ryan swirled his glass. “It must be difficult to have a criminal in your midst?

  Within the Par lies a collective conscience that no one can truly hide from. It is impossible for evil to lurk there.”

  “Unless all of you become evil.”

  “Evil, as an idea, is purely self-destructive. There is a balance that must be maintained. That we understand.”

  “And the idea of religion – of God?”

  “There are but a few that have the gift to reach beyond this physical life, and see the greater universe. The Elders have told us with conviction that the voices of the Eternals are real. I believe in a larger reality, and all of its possibilities.”

  “Well, I’ll give your Eternals the benefit of the doubt, then. But that still doesn’t help me out right now. I feel the time slipping by. I need to get out there. I need to start searching."

  "I do understand." He got up, patting him on the shoulder as he left. Before he stepped out of the door, he stopped to say, "It is a good invention, this brandy."

  "Thanks," replied Ryan to a closing door. That night he proceeded to empty the remains of the bottle and fell asleep in the chair. The crackle of the fire brought him restless dreams, images of home around a campfire, faces that lacked definition.

  * * *

  The next morning started with a throbbing headache. The brandy may have tasted good, but it left a lasting impression.

  A familiar voice sounded from the back of this mind. "Hello, I am requesting a brief conversation."

  "Consider me a captive audience," moaned Ryan groggily.

  "I have been instructed to start the teaching sequence."

  "I gather you have to start this today?"

  "Yes, as of this moment."

  "Great. You do realize I have a headache."

  "Our memory informs me that this headache was self-inflicted by alcoholic beverage consumption."

  "Yes, I can't deny that."

  "Well, I cannot deny you another day of knowledge deprivation. I am initiating the program."

  Ryan began to hear a murmur in his mind. It was low and indecipherable. His headache seemed no worse – at least not yet.

  "Computer, explain the murmur."

  "That is the teaching program. It is running at the fastest rate at which your mind can absorb. If you concentrate, you can decipher what is being said. This program will be running indefinitely as long as a link is maintained."

  "That's pretty easy learning."

  "Your training will not stop here. Your classes will continue as scheduled as well."

  "Great. What’s my schedule?"

  "You have 10 minutes before your first session."

  Ryan jumped up and headed for the bath. "Thanks for the warning!"

  "You're welcome."

  The day and then the month literally flew past. He requested additional visual monitors to be placed in his room in order to help him retrieve and suspend related information. The Xeronians were baffled at his request. They had little use for any equipment that presented information in such a way, as they felt their vaskpars were superior to any form of visual medium. They complied, however, replacing the existing monitor with a new version that covered the whole wall of his small apartment.

  He studied day and night. Graphics and pictures blinked on and off as he plowed through the Xeronian sciences, math, history, languages, and art. He found himself able to recall tremendous amounts of information at a whim.

  This vaskpar thing was working.

  His knowledge was increasing almost exponentially. The murmur in the back of his mind was constant. It had become unnoticeable, a background of whispers.

  The Xeronians were also very busy. They had a starship to design and build. It was to be the most advanced they had ever constructed. Such a tool had to be capable of outperforming the best of the Xi-Empire’s arsenal of warships. Their progress was painfully slow. The design team had degraded into factions, each wanting their own philosophies to be entrenched into the ship's architecture. The most common of all Xeronian traits, the ability to work as a one, degraded into a constant barrage of foul-ups and unusual debate.

  In response, Tsaurau did something unprecedented. He called a meeting. The Par would no longer be the only forum of all thoughts.

  Chief-of-Engineering, Tanaka, started the discussion, albeit, soundlessly over the Par. "Our engineers are missing too many details. We have little knowledge in constructing a starship that is to be used in war. It is my opinion that we lack the imagination to build such a craft. There is also the question of experience, which all our teams are lacking. That is very necessary in order to put this ship together in the allotted time."

  All heads turned to the concerned face of the Chief-of-Sciences, and head councilor, Tsaurau. "We all concede that something additional must be done. Do the Elders of the high council agree as well?"

  They acknowledged acceptance, although not being physically present.

  A gruff ‘voice’ sounded from the lower council. It was the Magistrate-of-Agriculture, Targoff. "Is the building of this starship so beyond our means? I cannot believe our proud engineers cannot construct such a basic vessel."

  "What would you know of the technology required, Targoff?" retorted Tanaka. "This is no ordinary vessel. It must be capable of exceeding all previously established performance metrics. The scale of offensive weaponry required to outfit this vessel is unprecedented."

  Master-Shipbuilder, Tmaurau, interjected for the first time. "We need not debate the smallest point of every detail. It is of no benefit. We require a solution to this dilemma immediately. Time is our most dire of enemies."

  "Yes, the Xi-Empire survey ships have already passed through this system once," added Targoff. “For what reason is it that you cannot make a decision on what the best design is?"

  "The problems are fundamental and numerous. There is no one 'best design', only untested theories,” Tmaurau replied. “A balance must be achieved that will not undermine any imperfections in our finished product. We simply cannot afford to fail."

  It was the Eldest, Tseman, who offered her wisdom. She elucidated, and all listened. She carefully projected each word with intent. "Balance is elusive. If the balance of the universe must be maintained, the answers of problems must exist as long as the problems present themselves to be known. The answers, you all know, rarely come from expected sources. That is the rare beauty of this universe, and of our lives.”

  Silence settled within the Par, of reflection.

  “I feel there is one amongst us that has a solution but is hesitant." Her eyes searched the crowd, finally coming to rest upon one Xeronian. "Please, Tsaurau, you must share it with us."

  He nodded to her in respect. "I am not an engineer. I have never built a starship, and I must confess, I am not comfortable offering my opinion."

  "Speak your mind, Tsaurau," coaxed Tseman, “We shall listen.”

  "Very well, I have had this idea for a time. I have given it careful consideration. I believe the answer lies within the Maskaffa Spider."

  Targoff scoffed, "That is an anomaly of historical archives. I doubt that it exists. It is a tale provided through a delusional spacefarer."

  That started an open forum for active debate. The Par flooded with the pressure of noise.

  Tseman put up her hand, and silence began to settle. "I have learned in my years. Knowledge need not always be divulged until its time." She stared at Targoff. "And it is not wise to reject the wisdom of the Eternals."

  Tsaurau interjected, "I will attest I believe the legend of the Maskaffa Spider and the starships that lie within it. The archives are not fully intact, however. Can you tell us where this can be found, my Eldest?"

  "When I was young, we also had stories that talk of the hole in the stars, and the long, dead corpse of the Maskaffa Spider. The stories stated there is but one way in and death was assured to anyone foolish enough to venture too close. I too was skeptical, until I personal
ly encountered the Spider. Yes, I know where it is. I have seen it myself.”

  The Par was again quiet.

  A few rogue thoughts percolated. Had Tseman gone mad?

  “It was, as all of you know, very long ago. Some of you may remember the demise of 784-3. It was a very large transport ship. It passed through a microscopic black hole and imploded. There was little left but twisted fragments and veritable few survivors. I was on the only rescue vessel that was able to reach the site of the disaster. We estimated the flight vectors and traced it back to the original point of collision. The transport had passed through the outer edge of the Maskaffa Spider. Knowing the legend, we felt it best to map the entire region and designate it as empty space, although it is far from empty. That is why the library’s star charts do not show it.”

  “What is the significance of the name?” asked Tanaka.

  "From a distance, at the proper angle, the spider appears to have eight legs, perched on a web of gold. The image is very clear, very realistic. It is truly a frightening formation of celestial matter. The area within it is incredibly dense and very unstable, with antimatter clouds and miniature gravitation wells. A large gravity well lies less than a light-year away from the Maskaffa Spider. The gases of a surrounding hydrogen cloud sweep past the formation and blind many a weary ship from its dangers. Tracings are often affected, clouded by all bands of radiation. Navigation through such an area is difficult, impossible if one is unlucky enough to lose one's point of reference.”

  “If the place is so dangerous why venture there?” asked one of the crowd.

  “It is, in itself, a treasure. The Ancient Ones had the means to traverse through this hostile space into the very heart of the Spider. It is in this very location a sphere of peaceful, unscathed space resides. A place such as this provides a naturally impenetrable fortress and unremarkable safety.”

  “How did the Ancient Ones find it?”

  “I do not know all the history. I do know that the Ancient Ones found it useful, and proceeded to enhance it during Flukken War for their own purposes. It has been recorded that they added natural hazards to it, ensuring that there was only one safe path in. They stationed their fleet within the Spider and used it as a central command station. It was also a meeting area for the Flukken ambassadors during peace negotiations at the end of the war. Flukken warships were brought there by both sides of the conflict, as a sign of their good will."

  "But Tseman, the remnants of the Flukken civilization was overrun by the Xi-Empire half a millennia ago. They did not find any evidence of such a fleet, or the Maskaffa Spider."

  “The true Flukken civilization had long since disappeared before the Xi-Empire arrived, and the Xi-Empire is not known for thoroughness. The fact that the Xi-Empire did not find the Maskaffa Spider does not mean it no longer exists.”

  “What could we learn from a civilization that died out eons ago Tsaurau, why even bother with this?”

  Tsaurau looked back at curious eyes. They wanted to know why he would propose such an idea. The same look was in their faces when Tseman had stated she had seen the Spider.

  Skeptics until they are presented with the full context. His idea was absolutely reasonable.

  “The historical archives are rife with erroneous entries and fragments data, that is true. I’ve spent considerable time and effort reviewing this data and I have surmised to fill in the gaps. When the Ancient Ones encountered the Flukken civilization, it was waging an internal war. The capabilities of the weapons, the starships, the technology described was impressive, even in comparison to the Ancient Ones’ technologies. Their technology was well beyond anything we have ever devised to this moment in time. The Ancient Ones helped them find peace, at least for a time. The weapons of destruction were either destroyed or brought to the quarantine area – the Maskaffa Spider. To my knowledge, the war fleet still remains.”

  “And what of the Flukkens?” asked Targoff, genuinely interested.

  “A few years after the negotiated peace, they disappeared. Evidence found supports another internal war had started, new weapons had been utilized, probably biological-mechanical hybrids. That became the war that had ended all of their wars.”

  “I assume we have the key or is this discussion a waste of energy?” Tmaurau prodded.

  Tseman pointed to Tsaurau with a shaky hand. "There is much more to this story of the Flukkens, but that is for another time. We do know the way in, as the key is buried discretely within our own history archives, if you know where to look. This knowledge was passed down to us by the Ancient Ones. If you are confident what you require is there, then assemble an expedition and go. But you have only seven days. Do not go beyond that time."

  Tseman stood up and the rest of the Council of the Elders followed suit. "Tsaurau," she spoke in a dark voice. "I repeat. Only seven days – and within the largest ship, you may find an artifact of the ancient wars. Do not awaken it, please."

  He saw the genuine concern on her face. "Very well, we will avoid that vessel, my Eldest."

  A small smile spread on her thin lips - a human smile, then she left, limping slowly from the circle. The rest of the council also slipped away, leaving only its youngest member, Taldig.

  "The Council of the Elders is now adjourned until the return of the expedition."

  Then he stepped away, leaving the lower council to continue on to discuss the details for the pending expedition. They had only seven days to carry it out. Archaic maps were delivered to them from the Chamber of the Elders. These were celestial navigation maps, and within them were the navigation coordinates of the Maskaffa Spider, hidden under the guise of empty space. Additional maps provided precious clues to the navigational course into its center. An expedition was planned with a total crew of 90. By the end of the day, three small ships were pulled from their stored state and prepped for flight.

  The launch was set for the following day.

  Tsaurau found Ryan in the library, busily learning celestial navigation procedures. He informed Ryan of the news, but the Earthman hardly noticed him. He was buried in his studies, deep in concentration.

  Tsaurau left, too busy to feel offended.

  The Maskaffa Spider was waiting.

  * * *

  6. Seed

  T hree ships left the Xeronian colony trailing behind a string of navigational probes. The probes, with only a slight energy signature, were less likely to be spotted by a Xi-Empire patrol; conversely, they served as the long distance eyes for the small convoy.

  Tsaurau was aboard the lead ship, monitoring ongoing activity within the Par with impatient interest. This network was limited, reflecting only the minds of the crew. In comparison, it was quiet, devoid of the bustling life it mirrored on Xeronia.

  It did not help that they were also utilizing the highest security procedures possible. But this was standard protocol, regardless. Nothing critical was to be reviewed within the Par. There would be no intellectually stimulating interactions on this trip.

  He visited the bridge to scan the view of passing stars. The navigation officer appreciated the company and announced the news verbally to him prior to passing a condensed summary onto the Par.

  "The gravitational sensors show a dense array of small black holes throughout the whole quadrant. We will reduce velocity for maneuverability."

  "It is very clear to me this will be difficult to navigate through," agreed Tsaurau.

  "Yes, Councillor, most assuredly."

  Others joined them on the bridge; eyes focused on the scene that lay before them in the heavens. The sight was both beautiful and chilling. An eight-legged spider, 10 million kilometers wide, hung from an invisible web. Golden lines of celestial gases shot outward to form its long thin legs. They pointed downward from a gaseous body, jutting out and down, ending in a point, poised, awaiting unsuspecting prey. The head was a bright gaseous cloud, which held a blood red sun within its center.

  The three ships slipped under its abdomen, passing between
the spindly legs, and under the gaseous head. By now, all available power was being diverted to the tracing sensors, and disruptors were on standby, ready to destroy any threatening chunk of debris in their path.

  The Par muddied with strenuous thoughts, the crew nervous. A small mistake in navigation could spell disaster. The Captain cleared the Par with his formidable presence. "Enough of this. Mind your stations. Navigation, what is our status?"

  "I am not able to get a positive fix on the quasar emissions. This was not anticipated. The surrounding area is populated with gravitational anomalies. Most are miniature black holes less than two kilometers in length. The gravitational flux is distorting our tracing signals."

  "Can you lock in a course?"

  "I cannot, Captain," the frustration ebbed over the edges of his thoughts. "It is possible we are approaching a very dense area, but I cannot be sure because of the induced distortion."

  The Captain made a quick decision. "Navigation, bring us to full stop."

  He turned to face Tsaurau, and spoke quietly, keeping his thoughts closed off from the Par. "Forgive them, for they are young and inexperienced. We need time to establish a reference point and set our course. I do not know how long this will take."

  "We need not hurry, Captain. It is better to arrive there fully intact."

  "The celestial charts we are utilizing to navigate are very old. I am certain key formations have changed. There is a very strong possibility that the original route will no longer be viable."

  "Maintain your faith, Captain."

  "You respond as an Elder would. It is worrisome."

  Tsaurau clucked at the humor. The Council could not have chosen a better Captain. To remain calm in the face of the unknown requires special control.

  "Councillor, you need not remain on the bridge. I will let you know when we are ready."

  “Thank you for your consideration, Captain.” Tsaurau bowed and left. Instead of going to his quarters, which were rather stark, he wandered through the ship, eventually ending his trek at the observation lounge. He sat alone and studied the strange, colorful sight of the heavens through the large viewports. Their light shimmered, pulsated, and danced in the darkness.