A Bellicose Dance

by Patrick M J Lozon

  "Good choice of words, Gem," replied Ryan, barely hearing her. He attached the lifeline to the outside anchoring point and with a deep breath, pulled himself out of the safety of his ship – only to look down at the stars below his feet. His stomach flipped end over end. Below him, above him, nothing – an expanse of space - the black vastness of the universe. There was no up, no down, and everything seemed endlessly far away.

  But everything was moving, swirling, churning, even at acroluc the movement was apparent. It was mesmerizing. His grip on the handhold seemed the only thing between him and insanity. He wondered if he let go, would he fall forever? Would he crash into a planet, come too close to a distant star?

  Like a momentary case of vertigo, he was overwhelmed with an urge to let go, but then there was the lifeline, he'd not forgotten about the lifeline.

  Calm down. Enjoy the view. You're OK.

  The helmet stats looked good, although the vitals monitor showed he was breathing a little too quickly. He had to slow down, be careful not to hyperventilate. He looked down the length of the ship. It seemed to go on forever.

  "Tell me, Gem. Do you ever get nervous?"

  "I do not believe that is an emotion that I am overly familiar with."

  Ryan edged his way along the ship's hull, grasping each handhold successively. "Of course not, that comes with self-doubt which I know you are a bit short of, but you could use some self-reflection.”

  “Possibly… I do not always feel I will be successful at everything I attempt.”

  A long pause followed.

  “If you can keep talking, it helps me to stay calm."

  "Oh, very well. To explain further, I have the ability to realize when the odds are not in my favor and can determine with high probability when I am in danger. I must say that I do not wish to be exterminated, of course."

  "Right. Perhaps we modify the conversation slightly?" asked Ryan. "I'm nervous enough out here."

  "Yes, that is perfectly understandable. One slip and it may lead to you moving uncontrollably away from the ship. I have been monitoring your thoughts. You are constantly revisiting images of quite dire circumstances. I can assert, however, that you are wrong in your prediction that you would float on forever in the case where you did stray too far away from the ship. Of course, I would react as quickly as possible, correct this situation. As a matter-of-fact, I would even shut down the shielding to ensure you would not be vaporized at its horizon, at the advanced risk to the ship and myself. The truth is, in your present atomically excited state your chances of survival would be extremely slim. At such velocity, you would literally decompose as external gravity wells you pass by tug at your body. Most certainly, a dust particle passing too close would simply rip you apart."

  "Enough already, Gem! Change the topic why don’t you?"

  "I am just attempting to point out, as you are looking for reassurances, you can be guaranteed that I will do my best to retrieve you in such an event. I would immediately deploy Ziggy. Of course, there are timing factors involved, and if you were to somehow stray behind the main gluon disrupters..."

  "Just stop. No more talk, OK!" yelled Ryan.

  "Very well," replied Gem in a hurt voice.

  "Alright, I've reached the first shield deployment projector."

  He pushed the arm control and the rear tool rack swung around on projecting arms to rest on his right side.

  "Disabling the projector node,” announced Gem. “The others are compensating favorably. Ready for unit replacement."

  He pulled the tools from the rack and went to work on the first node. It came off with some effort. He replaced it with the new updated unit.

  "Here goes. Gem, run the diagnostics."

  "Testing. Tests are complete. The new projector node functions correctly.”

  "Good. Activate it.”

  “Shield energizing rebalanced.”

  “Onto to the next one. Only 233 left to go."

  The work continued for over half a day. Ryan found himself becoming adequately comfortable out in space, though not necessarily confident. Regardless, he was incredibly relieved upon re-entering the airlock, enjoying the returned freedom through escaping the confines of his suit.

  He was soaked to the skin with sweat, and he felt weary to the bone. Regardless, he had little time left, and he knew what time he had would not be enough to complete a full testing cycle of the new shields. He managed to arrange a link to the Xeronian colony and reported in to Tsaurau.

  "Everything is in place and working. It'll take a couple of days to charge the secondary capacitors.

  "You will have reached your destination by then. Do you not plan to test the new shielding before you encounter an enemy ship?"

  "Exactly. I'll test it in battle. Gem's run a number of internal simulations already. It'll work."

  The alien’s reaction was constrained, his face reflecting placid uniformity. Ryan could tell the Xeronian was studying him, trying to sort out of his behavior.

  "Also, I almost forgot to tell you. I have learned some information about the Ancient Ones. Gem has managed to reconstruct some of the damaged core memory, and I've found out something that no one cared to mention to me. The Ancient Ones were humanoid."

  "Yes."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "We have our reasons."

  Ryan hated it when Tsaurau did this, keeping him in the dark until the ‘proper’ time came. "Alright, I've heard this all before. I warn you I’ll be looking forward to you filling me in when I get back on these so-called reasons. And another thing, why was there no mention of this in any of your libraries?"

  "That information was deleted intentionally. It is too dangerous to keep. I must ask you now to delete all details that you have uncovered."

  "Why?"

  "I must caution you, it is for your own good to ensure this information does not fall into the wrong hands."

  Ryan found himself irritated by the mystery Tsaurau seemed so bent on not sharing. “Your advice is duly noted. Now, since I am less than two days away from Xilo, there will be no more communications from now on. Take care of yourself.”

  “Dancing Queen out."

  * * *

  Tsaurau reflected in silence. Would he ever see Ryan again? The Earthman was well within Xi-Empire controlled space now. If discovered by a patrol it could prove fatal. Such a strange creature, this human, to risk everything on the slimmest chance of finding this female, of which he had only the briefest of relations with. Perhaps it was his biological drive, a need to procreate, to bring forth generations as a counterbalance of mortality, or possibly this was an obsession brought upon by internal chemical reactions, of which he refers to as love.

  He recalled in vivid detail Ryan’s experiences after he had consumed the contents of the vile. The human’s feelings had been so intense. It conveyed, in that brief moment, what it was like to be human. Such raw emotions, anger, happiness, fear, love and hate, all so overwhelming. He scoured his memory for the Earth-term Ryan had once mentioned: passion. Passion drove men to greatness or ground them to dust, but its poison was never avoidable.

  Perhaps that is why Ryan was the chosen one. There were other, much more suitable races, that could have fulfilled the role of a soldier. Indeed, a human was nearly as frail as a Xeronian. He could only hope they had taught him enough to remain alive.

  "Take care, my friend," he said out loud, voicing into nothingness.

  * * *

  Even at this distance, Ryan was already picking up numerous ships on the tracing scans. Ironically, the closer he moved in, the odds of being attacked were actually decreasing. He found that he was all but ignored. Other vessels stayed to their courses, and no attempts were made to hail him. No one expected a lone enemy ship to be on approach to the Xi-Empire capital planet. No one would be foolish enough. His arrival generated nothing but disinterest, if not a passing curiosity that was mistaken as a Torzon private yacht. Regardless, the approach of an unidentified vessel was
a matter for Xi-Empire security patrols.

  Ryan came out of acroluc and pulled the Dancing Queen within the spartan safety of an impact creator bored deep within a large asteroid. He deployed the grav lines to bring the ship flush to its surface and then proceeded to power down. To other ships, he would be all but invisible, unless they drew too close.

  He was a fox awaiting a rabbit. He would lie in waiting for another Xi-Empire ship to pass by, close enough to engage in a limited communication. Since he was in the shipping lanes of Xilo proper, it did not take long.

  "We have a candidate vessel. By the analysis, looks like a merchant trader. Gem, you ready?"

  "Yes. I have managed to create an image of Captain Gick from the Joahack’s logs. There will be a slight delay in retransmission."

  "That's OK, it'll hold up the illusion that we are far away. Keep the link on wide dispersal and as weak as possible and hail the merchant."

  The Captain of the ship was Txtian. He was a shrewd and ruthless trader known as Katar. He was surprised to be hailed so close to Xilo. The image on his viewscreen was that of a Xilozak named Gick, Tarvok of a slaver called the Joahack. One look and he could tell this one was of limited intelligence, as most Xilozaks are. He despised them all.

  "What do you want, Tarvok?" he said hastily. He wished for this discussion to be brief.

  "I am trying to locate a slaver called the Xabuntz II."

  “You’ve forgotten your protocols, Tarvok? I am Torzon and shall be addressed as such.”

  “Very well, Torzon. Do you know of this vessel?”

  "I am not Xilo Port Authority. Ask them. Do not bother me with your mundane inquiries, slaver."

  "We are transmitting from the Platzick quadrant. We were supposed to rendezvous with the Xabuntz II three sadii ago. I cannot reach the Xilo Port Authority to ask them if they have located this ship."

  "Seems quite strange, that you can reach my ship but not the Port Authority. We are barely a parsec away from Xilo, most certainly you can reach them directly. What are your coordinates?"

  "As I stated, we are within the Platzick quadrant. It is truly amazing that we have managed to reach so far. Probably due to some natural phenomenon amplifying the signal."

  "Yes, possibly," the Txtian replied with a slight skepticism. He considered the story for a few seconds and decided it was plausible. Damn Xilozaks couldn't navigate through a star system without help.

  "Very well, I will relay a message to the Xilo Port Authority if you wish," offered Katar, wishing to cut the correspondence short.

  Gotcha you sonofabitch. Ryan smiled.

  “Yes, my Torzon, and quickly, I must insist.” He had to be careful not to seem too nice. Xilozaks were by nature, miserable creatures. He suspended the link, not wanting to view the Txtian’s repulsive features any longer.

  “Communications, hail Xilo Port Authority, ask them about the last known location and course of the Xabuntz II, and that Tarvok Gick of the Joahack is requesting it."

  A moment passed. The Avok reported back in. "The Xabuntz II left Xilo port a little over one zanii ago, last reported in the Ceros quadrant on a slave raid to Shawma. Additional info coming in: The Joahack is overdue at E-0017. End-of-message, my Torzon."

  "Put the fool back on," ordered Katar dryly.

  "Gick, the Xabuntz II is on a raid mission to Shawma, Ceros quadrant. You do realize you are overdue at E-0017?"

  "Really. Tell them I’ve changed my plans. Thank you, Torzon."

  “Gick, I will not…”

  “Link dropped, my Torzon. Shall I attempt reconnection?”

  Katar pondered momentarily. Something seemed suspicious, not quite right. "Did you get a fix on the source of that transmission, Avok?"

  "Too dispersed, seemed like it was coming from our quadrant, but that signature doesn't make sense. Could be Platzick though. I've heard of this phenomenon before."

  "Fine. The gehrzick doesn't even know his own schedule. Log this correspondence, include all transmissions. We'll pass it to Xilo Port Authority on our return. They can deal with him."

  The Txtian ship continued on its journey. It was not scheduled to return to Xilo for another four zanii.

  Ryan gave a big sigh of relief. He was lucky. He had made no mistakes and managed, somehow, to glean useful information. Time was of the essence now. He had to find that ship. Even when or if he found it, she may no longer be on board.

  He waited for a lull in the traffic and powered up the ship's drives. Gem calculated the course. It came up on the tactical. The Shawma system was at least three weeks away at maximum. He broke from the asteroid, aligned the Dancing Queen, and jumped.

  * * *

  Was he dreaming?

  Inside the ship, everything was where it should be. He leaned back in his seat and flipped open the cockpit shields. They seemed to move too slowly, curving around and past him like a ray of light through rippling water. He felt the heat of a thousand suns on his face as the heavens glowed through the transparent quartz. The universe was so full, billions of galaxies containing billions of stars, too numerous to fathom. Out here, they seemed painted against a backdrop of black velvet, many swirling rich in color: the anger of red, the calmness of violet, the sharpness of blue, the softness of yellow, and the piercing purity of ebony white. Every star beckoned him, like the mythical sirens of ancient oceans, they called to him.

  He was dreaming.

  Reality slipped over him like a cold glove, quenching his hopes with a crushing strength. He sat up on the edge of his bed, holding his head in his hands, only one thought on his mind.

  Aviore!

  From memory, he could picture her as clearly as it had been yesterday.

  But there are so many stars between them.

  He clenched his fists and fought off a rising feeling of hopelessness.

  No, he would find her. He had to believe.

  He sought out his clothes and dressed clumsily, then stumbled to the cockpit, still half-asleep. From his chair, he thumbed the switch to open the cockpit shields. They pulled back, folding over themselves, eventually sliding down into the ship’s hull.

  The stars were there, just as in his dream, in all their glory, but this time they were just cold and distant dots in the darkness.

  He checked his course, glanced over the multiple monitors, and reviewed internal stats. They were on course. The ship was running well as it raced through the immense span between stars, expending its energy precisely, pushing on without compromise. It had achieved a harmonious balance amongst the forces of the universe.

  But would he arrive in time?

  He knew the odds. A betting man with any sense would have folded by now. But he had no alternative, no choice but to follow the slimmest of leads. He was on an impossible task, in a starship that could cross the paradox of time and space in a blink of an eye. In a way, it all paled in comparison to the power that drove him on. It made the suns that boiled around him appear flat, featureless, and made time itself hold in anticipation. Somehow, he could still feel her touch. She persisted within his mind, softly, lovingly.

  I will find you, Aviore. I will find you.

  * * *

  10. Rescue

  T he days passed by quickly. Apprehension ate at him the whole time, creeping through his body, burning into his gut. He had slept no more than a few hours each night. The thoughts raced through his mind incessantly: Would he be too late? Was she still alive? Was she even still there?

  He had tried to keep himself busy by reviewing the War Spritzer's logs and conducting various tests on the new shielding. Other times he paced the decks or worked out in the lower gallery. Eventually, he would fade into exhaustion, lulled by the low, reassuring rumble of the main drive echoing throughout the ship, and would find sleep. And then the dreams would come.

  Planet Shawma was a welcomed sight, but he did not rush in, recklessly announcing his arrival. He chose to bide his time, move cautiously, bringing the Dancing Queen into a far orbit and hid
e within the remains of its long, wrecked moon, which was now just a string of broken rocks.

  Initial tracing scans showed a main relay satellite sitting in geosynchronous orbit around the equator, of familiar Xi-Empire signature. That would need to be disabled before moving in. No other ships were in orbit. If there were any, they had to be on the surface.

  He did a tracing sweep of the planet, systematically and carefully. He was not going to miss anything this time.

  In many ways, Shawma was surprisingly similar to the Kalmaka. Its surface, rich in vegetation, an atmosphere thick in methane, oxygen, sulfur, and nitrogen roiling in a constant state of forming or evaporating storm fronts. Bodies of water lay throughout, fed by a vast network of rivers and canals. The density of atmosphere interfered with the scans, distorting the tracing image feeds so badly multiple scans were required. It took some time for Gem to analyze them before they could be interpreted with some reliability.

  Ryan reviewed the images in a three-dimensional holograph from the cockpit. The planet rotated above the navigational console very slowly. Coded key areas revealed themselves as bright blue marks - the probable location of Xi-Empire base camps, and in red - the possible location of the slaverships.

  Five vessels had landed at various locations throughout the planet in a haphazard fashion, with no regard to base camp locations. This held no surprise, as these were independent slavers slipping in to collect their, more accurately stated, unsanctioned cargo.

  But which one was the Xabuntz II?

  He would have to move in close to each to know for sure.

  “The atmosphere can be used to our advantage,” offered Gem. “The shields can be modified to enhance our tracing imprint, essentially, make the ship look like a gaseous formation, which seems very abundant on this planet.”

  “So the trick is to act like a gas cloud, move slow.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then tweak the shields.”

  Ryan pulled the Dancing Queen from its hiding spot and promptly destroyed the relay satellite with one well-placed shot. The descent was quick and well away from the ships and the bases. He came in low, cutting over treetops, taking advantage of the dense atmosphere. The odd time a tall twisting branch would reach up and scrape along the belly of the ship.