A Bellicose Dance

by Patrick M J Lozon

  He saw her through a viewport crying for him. He could feel her pain.

  Then everything went black.

  He was inside the ship. She lay on the floor before him, bloodstains and vomit upon soiled clothing. He could not see her face behind the gnarled matt of brown hair.

  “Aviore, don't give up.” His voice echoed as if in a thousand empty rooms, each twisting and contorting the sound ever so slightly.

  She heard him and looked up, her once beautiful face now blackened with anguish and pain. Tears filled her eyes. Her hand reached out, fingers stretched in desperation.

  But they could not touch.

  A shadow moved between them. He looked up. It was the lizard, the Xilozak. It smiled, showing rows of white fangs. In slow motion, its arm went up and came back down. He saw the glint of steel and tried to move, but every muscle in his body was frozen. All he could do was watch as the razor-sharp edge seared into him, just above his eyes.

  * * *

  Ryan sat up, gasping for air. His heart pounded so loud it drowned out the sound of his breathing. He looked around. His clothes lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Across the room the artificial fire crackled, dancing light and shadow across his covers. His head throbbed and he was covered in sweat. He shivered.

  I've been dreaming again.

  He reached up to feel the long, deep scar on his forehead, and pulled his hand away, fingers wet with blood. His old injury had opened up again.

  * * *

  They arrived three days later than scheduled. They had crossed paths with a Xi-Empire cruiser. The probes had done their job and provided them the time needed to avoid detection, although it was dangerously close. The group of ships had piggybacked onto a large asteroid and shut down their systems. The cruiser passed by, missing them completely. Unfortunately, this put them considerably off course, but it worked.

  Their trophy, a ship from another time, was pulled into the docking bay. A large portion of the colony's population was there to watch. Engineers waited eagerly, ready to scour over the ancient vessel, to discover its secrets.

  Ryan observed from a distance. The swarming crowds made him uncomfortable. He could see a familiar silhouette descend from the ship. He reached into the Par. "Hello, friend. You've been away for some time."

  A head turned and a wave followed. "And it is good to be back home. Space is far too empty and vast to be traversed within these shells of suffocation."

  Ryan chuckled. "You make a poor spacefarer."

  "I will leave this sort of enterprise to you, Earthman. Come, join us." He beckoned him over with another wave.

  "No thanks. Attend to your business. I will meet you in the park, later."

  * * *

  A fragrance of lavender, the hushed trickle of a stream under a cool shadow of a squat flowering tree, these things were good. Ryan rested - and waited. Tsaurau did not take long.

  "You have chosen a pleasant spot."

  "I'll need something to remember. As you said, space is cold and dark."

  "Our expedition was successful. This derelict starship will provide us the information we need. Your ship will be built."

  "Thank you."

  "Do you know that its computer core is still partially active?"

  "Is that of significance?"

  "The core may hold historical and scientific facts that have been lost for thousands of years. It is a treasure of more value than the ship itself."

  A small blue bird above whistled sweetly to a prospective mate.

  He had little worries other than a divine urge to propagate.

  To live such an uncomplicated life. But did the little creature dream? Could it love?

  Ryan pulled himself back into the conversation. Right now, he had little interest in ancient computer data. "How long do you think it will take to build the ship?"

  "Many months, possibly a full year. Such a project is not trivial.”

  "I assume you are quoting me Earth time," laughed Ryan dryly. "Why do you bother to translate, my Xeronian friend? I do understand your time measurements by now."

  The Xeronian inspected him intently, black eyes scouring right through him. "Translation is not the issue. You seem troubled with this schedule."

  "You are perceptive. You still manage to surprise me, Tsaurau. Troubled you say? I was hoping for something much sooner. I guess it’s unrealistic."

  "Or maybe it is love that is the source of your pain."

  "What do you know about that?"

  "We have traveled this path once before my friend. I understand about love. Have you not noticed that we have families? We join, male and female, to establish a family unit."

  "Yes, I know, I know. You have a wife and I have nothing but desperate hope."

  They sat quietly. A small blue and white bird sang with concurrent whistles. Another fluttered past, wings dancing coyly.

  "Time's ticking by and with every second the odds of ever finding her slip away." He raised to his feet, then kicked a small rock across the stream with a vengeance. It skipped three times and disappeared into the shallows. They both watched with strange interest as the circular ripple expanded to reach the bank. Ryan looked at Tsaurau somberly. Words were useless. The alien could not offer what he did not have.

  “Tell your friends that I’ll keep up the pace if they can keep up with me. I need that ship built as fast as you can do it. See you tomorrow, old friend. Glad you made it back in one piece. I was getting worried.”

  Tsaurau watched him leave, dispirited. How strange it must be for this Earthman. Being persuaded by an alien race to fight a battle that they themselves could not win, possibly at the price of his own life. He leaned back. The pair of small yellow gurties chirped amongst the flowers above.

  Such delicate creatures. Did they love? What would the universe be without out that plain simple emotion?

  He would get that ship built faster than scheduled. It was not impossible. They had done it before.

  It was their debt, paid for in advance.

  * * *

  The engineering crews, the technicians, and the master craftsmen swarmed over the ancient vessel. Old forgotten secrets were remembered and new ones discovered. The shipbuilding proceeded, gaining time on the original schedule.

  Tsaurau ensured he stayed amidst the bustle, constantly directing a variety of different teams, and conducting the odd debate with various team leads. His current discussion was in a dreadful disposition. He knew he was going to lose before he had even started.

  "We should use the parts, it will save much time and work."

  "No. The new ship must be built to withstand immeasurable stresses, forces difficult to imagine. I will not allow aged, deteriorating components to hamper this ship's durability, or put its crew in danger."

  "The construction must be as fast and efficient as possible."

  "We cannot afford to move quickly here. Time is the enemy of an improperly built ship. The saving of time now will simply result in a requirement of increased repairs later. This is not acceptable."

  Tsaurau did not bother to push his position further. He stared at the withered old Xeronian in front of him. He was almost a century his senior, with as many years of wisdom as experience. Even for his age, the old one still carried a sharp mind and a mischievous glint in his eye.

  "Father, I sense a certain harmony within you that I haven't seen in a number of years," said Tsaurau.

  The Master Shipbuilder's eyelids closed ever slightly at his son, an equivalent of a smile. It did not last for long, as his gaze was quickly distracted by the construction project occurring around them.

  "Yes, my son. I am creating again. I have not built a ship for at least a half a century. It is good to be doing what I truly love."

  "The scout ships were quite a challenge, were they not?"

  "No, they were simple vessels, a mild puzzle to be assembled from the parts of the transport ship upon landing."

  "The task of building this underground colony wa
s a major accomplishment for our people, for you as well.”

  "Yes, we did manage to survive in those lean years, and yes, the work has been challenging and rewarding. We would not be standing here if our success had not been absolute. But those tasks are dissimilar in so many ways. We are designing and building a starship of unmatched caliber. It is one of the last truly artistic endeavors. It melds the hard sciences of technology with the biology of life. We model so much from ourselves. It is like giving birth to a new life-form."

  "Answer me this question: Have you forgotten so much? Why did you not contest me when I suggested the trip to the Maskaffa?"

  "Because your plan had merit, my son. I have not built anything like this for years, and the others, well this is their first. I am old and tired of arguing. Our young engineers are not familiar with the practicalities of building a space worthy vessel, nor the additional considerations required of a war vessel. They need to learn first hand about the actual interactions that occur between a properly designed ship and its environment. They need to discard their theoretical precedents. You must understand that I have been buried in the mire of their strange and wonderful ideas. They contribute with shapes that have no form, ideas with theoretical worthiness, but no substance."

  "And now?"

  "This old ship is what they needed. They are beginning to understand. Their analysis is leading them to practical applications. They have even discovered mistakes made by the original designers - the Ancient Ones themselves. That knowledge is invaluable and convincing. It is the type of knowledge that is never actually documented or stored in some archive library."

  "But why not just use our scout ships for reference?"

  "No, we need a vessel that was constructed for war and had withstood the abuse of enemies and time. You learn much from these teachers. The most enduring of constants is the reality of what exists. They need to see how time worked against design, how the chaos of reality infiltrates into the nice, neat physical definition. The vessel you found was designed to last forever, to survive the stresses of combat. Even now, if we took the trouble to prove it, I am absolutely sure this ship could still function adequately with up to 70% of its primary systems damaged. That is what I am striving to teach. That is defined as above and beyond the standard. We must incorporate this strength into our designs. This will be a ship like no other."

  "So you have said before," smiled Tsaurau.

  "Take heed my words. I know I will not live forever. This, I believe, will be my last starship. You do understand that this ship must be my greatest achievement.”

  “Come." He turned sharply and beckoned Tsaurau toward his private lab. When they entered, he raised his arms, pointing at many of the objects scattered throughout the room. "My life's work. I have spent many years in this lab. I have perfected the technologies of our forefathers in countless ways. I have spent my life developing, testing, improving and developing again. All of these secrets will be embedded into this ship. That is what I mean when I state that it will be the most advanced Xeronian ship ever built."

  “I do understand, Father. I have been at your side and witnessed your achievements. I believe you will succeed. But time is our enemy.”

  "Yes, time is what we have precious little of. I have to admit as well, there were a few things I have forgotten. I am thankful for the new ideas that came out of studying that ancient vessel. You must remember that all of these young, eager engineers are competing to prove themselves. They must be humbled by the knowledge that these sciences are so old."

  "This ship you build may outlive all of us."

  "Yes, I believe it will." The old engineer looked sharply at his son, catching a hint of doubt, a tinge of worry. "Have some faith in the Elders. Their visions have proven themselves many times. Most importantly and especially, you must heed this if anyone: do not doubt our Earthman. He needs your confidence. You must have faith in our young warrior. He will succeed where others have failed.”

  “And you, Father, how are you to fare?”

  “Through focus - simple applied concentration. We cannot be concerned with things that are not directly under our control. We have a job to do, and I tell you, as I have told my engineers repeatedly, it is our duty to ensure that this ship will not fail this Earthman, not the other way around. This machine must not, and will not, fail him, ever."

  Tsaurau glanced down at a model on one of the desks. It was detailed assiduously, a work of hundreds, possibly thousands of painstaking hours. Its nose pointed upward prominently as if it was straining to launch right off the desk, restrained only by its platform.

  "This is the prototype? It is indeed beautiful."

  "That it is, and it shall be - when we are finished."

  * * *

  Ryan was anxious. He paced his room from one end to another. He was waiting to join Tsaurau for a tour of the construction area and was not enjoying the delay. He turned quickly as the door slid open with a quiet hiss.

  "Well, it's about time, I was about to go by myself."

  Tsaurau ignored the comment. He knew Ryan was excited. "Are you sure you want to go?"

  "Yes, of course, I do. Are you joking or something?"

  "I do not believe so, but it is possible if I were to employ sarcasm. Your humor is difficult to master..."

  "Never mind, let's get going."

  They walked to the bay very quickly, Ryan in the lead, Tsaurau following patiently behind. The Earthman had to stop more than once to wait for the Xeronian to catch up. When they arrived, Tmaurau met up with them. The old Xeronian was very happy to meet the future pilot of his vessel. They shook hands vigorously.

  "So, you are the one. I envy you!"

  "You won't when the Xi-Empire sics its cruisers on me," replied Ryan.

  They both enjoyed the off-color joke, Tmaurau's temples bobbed with obvious pleasure.

  Ryan's smile grew wider. A Xeronian laugh was a unique spectacle. "It is good to see you have a sense of humor."

  "Yes, it is an attribute my son seems to lack."

  "I don’t know about that. He has his moments. As for the others, well, everyone else seems a little dry."

  "You have not spent enough time with the aged. We have learned to appreciate such things."

  Ryan's tone turned serious. "I have been studying the project. I would like to review the construction plans for the ship. Will that be a problem?"

  "No, they are accessible to you as of now, your vaskpar server should be able to retrieve the required information immediately."

  A small voice in the back of Ryan's mind provided confirmation.

  "Yes, they are accessible, thank you. I would also like to be involved in the design and construction phase. I would like to join the engineering team."

  The two Xeronians looked at each other, their faces flushed with dark gray, both surprised at the request. Tmaurau spoke first. "That is quite a request. You must realize the engineers may not wish to have you involved. They may even regard it as an insult."

  "I doubt," interrupted Tsaurau, "that their reaction would be so severe. However, I do foresee a problem with this interfering with your training, Ryan."

  Ryan had prepared his argument carefully. "My vaskpar implant is superior to all others in the colony. Because of this, I have learned all the required sciences and technologies that are needed. I should be an integral member of this team. After all, I am the recipient of this vessel. I know if I don't step in now, you'll have this thing built for a Xeronian, not for a human being. Besides, I am ready for this and I should be involved."

  The two Xeronians stepped away from him and engaged in a private discussion over the Par.

  At least they were considering it.

  They finally broke from their huddle and returned. "You are now part of the team," announced Tmaurau. "Although, I must ask that you discuss your ideas with me first."

  "No problem with that. When do I start?”

  "Now. You may review the design."

  * * *r />
  Gulin, newly promoted Charvok of the Gohk II, requested entry into the Tarvok's cabin. He waited nervously, biting down into his lower lip with his upper left fang. The news he was about to bring to his Tarvok was not good. The door slid open slowly, grinding noisily. The room behind it was saturated with an array of items, most of them very valuable, but some worthless. It was the spoils of piracy. Zorlog sat in its midst, behind a desk buried in the same manner as the rest of the room, working furiously over his interface tablet.

  Gulin cleared his throat, and said flatly, "My Tarvok."

  Zorlog looked up, his face flustered, obviously annoyed at the intrusion. "Gulin! Tell me why maintenance has not repaired that door yet."

  "I did not know of the issue until now. I will arrange repair right away, my Tarvok."

  Zorlog went back to his work. Gulin remained standing, at full attention.

  "Well, what is it?" growled Zorlog, his eyes never leaving his work.

  "During our last grounding, I met with a few contacts. I was informed of some news, too strong to be rumor."

  Zorlog looked up from his work, now interested, but still annoyed at being diverted from his planning. He glared at Gulin, although secretly impressed.

  "There is talk, my Tarvok, that the Emperor wishes to see you!"

  Zorlog snarled at Gulin, "Yes, I already know that.”

  Perhaps he expected too much of his Gulin. A new piece of information was too much to ask for.

  Zorlog turned his attention back to his plans.

  “The question is, Charvok, do I wish to see him?"

  “But it is the Emperor."

  "It is most likely a trap. He would be pleased to see my head mounted on his lance."

  "My Tarvok, if we do not heed his word, he could send the whole fleet to look for us, and that is one battle we could not win."

  "Only for now, Gulin. We are getting stronger every day. You do not realize the resources we have available. The Emperor is not as powerful as he once was. His Txtian blood runs as venomous poison through his thick skull. He is a half-breed, a mutant. I do not take orders from his kind."