by Wilson Harp
“I don’t think so, Captain,” said K-man as they entered the room. “If he were a Pelod, he wouldn’t have willingly ran straight into a mosar field.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
K-man pulled up the secure communication code and sent a message. A few seconds later, Carl Williams’ face appeared on the screen.
“Williams here.”
“Doctor Williams, this is Kiskaliski.”
“Good to see you, K-man. What’s the emergency?”
“Have you ever heard of a human with mosar in their body?”
“You mean, like if they ate some alien food? Yeah we’ve run into that before.”
“Not like that. I mean, has a human ever had mosar as part of their body?”
“No, don’t think that’s possible. Why?”
“I think we have evidence that it has happened.”
Chapter 2
“Sergeant, you are ready to board,” said the clerk.
Alex took his ID card back from the young man and nodded to him. It had been months since Alex had been off of Earth and he felt restless. This trip to Iltia would be refreshing even if he would have to attend a bunch of boring meeting.
“Alex, where do you want to get seats,” asked Mantriq.
“Up to you, Manny. I’m going to nap and read for the most part,” Alex said to the large Iltia’cor standing beside him.
Manny picked up his luggage and went up the boarding ramp. Alex shook his head as he walked behind his alien friend. Manny had strapped a piece of firewood from Alex’s cabin to the outside of his pack to take home as a souvenir.
When Alex had asked Manny why he had chosen that particular souvenir, he said that the piece of wood reminded him of the peace and tranquility of the secluded lake. It reminded Alex of the hours spent chopping firewood with his father. Not a pleasant thought twenty years before, but a comforting thought at present.
The Iltia transport they were boarding was one of the perks that Earth had after conquering their former enemy. Chancellor Thomas had been adamant against severe punitive actions, but it was widely expected, by all parties, that Earth would have access to some of the Iltia technology and resources.
Faster than light civilian transports were one of the benefits that Earth used on a regular basis now. The Iltia system was a major destination for many Earth travelers. The majority of those travelers were military like Alex, or scientists working with the Earth government, like Manny. Businessmen and entrepreneurs also took advantage of the fairly inexpensive trips back and forth between Earth and Iltia.
The Iltia transport was laid out like a Vegas lounge. What Alex would normally call the cockpit was in the middle of a basically round room. It was a raised area where the crew sat and worked. The passenger seats were in clusters of three to five around dozens of consoles that served as dataports, tables, and storage units. Most of the seats themselves were facing the outer edge of the ship where various display screens would show data or entertainment.
Alex remembered the first time he had taken an Iltia transport. He had been happy to discover that he could still watch a movie on an interstellar flight. He had been disappointed that the quality of airline movies had not been upgraded, though.
“Manny, there’s one,” Alex pointed to a console with three seats around it. He wished there was a place with only two seats, but often two people sitting with only one open seat discouraged someone from intruding. Alex just wanted to catch up on some reading on this trip. It would be nine days until they reach Iltia and he hoped to get through four mystery novels along the way.
Manny sat down and slid his pack into the storage area under the console. Alex slung his backpack onto one of the seats and sat in the remaining one. Manny looked at him with a puzzled expression.
“Aren’t you going to store your bag?” he asked.
Alex smiled at him and shrugged. “When we get ready to go. In the meantime, it might persuade anyone who thinks about joining us to move on.”
Manny smiled back at him. “Very clever, Alex. Using social customs to create a desired result without appearing rude.”
Alex settled back in his seat with a self-satisfied smirk and pulled out his reading tablet.
“Gunnery Sergeant Ramirez?” a voice behind Alex said softly.
Alex twisted around to see an army private standing a few feet behind him. The soldier had a duffel bag at his side and was holding his beret in his hand.
“Yes, I’m Sergeant Ramirez. May I help you?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, Sergeant. I thought I recognized you in the boarding area. My name is Barry Mitchell. Private Mitchell, that is. Wow. I can’t believe I am meeting you.”
“Have a seat, Private Mitchell,” said Manny as he moved Alex’s backpack off of the seat.
“Thanks. Thank you, uh…” Mitchell was clearly at a loss on how to speak to an alien.
“His name is Mantriq, and he is an Ilita’cor. His friends call him Manny,” said Alex, as he took his backpack from the Iltia’cor.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mantriq,” said the young private as he extended his hand.
Manny smiled and gratefully shook hands with the human. He had expressed to Alex several times how he was surprised at how many humans were willing to greet him as a friend and not as an enemy. Almost three years before, an Iltia’cor fleet had bombarded Earth from orbit. After the bombardment, they had landed tens of thousands of soldiers in an attempt to capture and enslave the planet. Humanity had fought them off with a ferocity that the Iltia’cor had never experienced.
Manny was not one of the soldiers, nor even one of those who would have had contact with the enslaved humans. He feared that most humans wouldn’t understand that he was of the osalg, and not of the mintur.
Manny had explained that the Iltia’cor society was divided up along six lines of responsibility. Alex had assumed it was like the Indian caste system, but there was a complexity and flow to the system and not a rigidness that he had expected.
The mintur, for example, were the protectors. Soldiers and guards were mintur, but also those who cared for the land, animals and children. The osalg were those who acquired. Merchants, researchers, miners and explorers were osalg. Whether wealth, knowledge, or resources, it was the osalg who were responsible for bringing it back.
Scouts in the Iltia military were osalg. They gathered information and gave it to the mintur.
When Alex pointed out that the soldiers gathered territory for the Iltia’cor, Manny looked at him as if a child had made a ridiculous comment. It was complicated and Alex still didn’t understand the structure at all.
“Alex?” asked Manny.
“I’m sorry, my mind was drifting. What did you ask?”
“I asked if it would be acceptable to you if Private Mitchell sits with us on the flight,” said Manny.
“Yes, that would be fine,” said Alex. He had hoped for a quiet trip to Iltia, but he really didn’t want to be rude. And with Manny there, maybe Mitchell would want to chat with him instead of asking about Alex’s role in the war.
Alex was proud of his service, but he was tired of telling wide eyed kids stories of his adventures. Mitchell seemed a nice enough young man, but he really hoped he stayed fixated on Manny.
Alex saw the crew walk to their stations, which meant that they were about to leave. A couple of humans sat beside the Iltia crew, obviously in some sort of training. Alex expected mixed crews eventually taking over the trips between Earth and Iltia.
Even though most humans were curious and respectful of the Iltia’cor that came to Earth on occasion, they still felt uncomfortable flying on a vessel crewed exclusively with their former enemies.
The passenger cabin was almost empty, which surprised Alex a bit. There was room for sixty passengers, but he could only count around twenty. He thought about going over to one of the empty stations and claiming it for his own. It would seem rude to Manny, though, and Alex was
working hard to build up relations through this partnership. Even though he had told General Kitch and Ambassador Thomas that he would agree to be part of the mentoring program, he loathed the idea. But Manny had turned out to be a fine companion.
The first time they met was on Iltia where Manny took him to dinner. The food was interesting but a little bland. When they came to Earth, Alex took Manny to a little pizza joint. It went over poorly with the Iltia’cor. He did not like it.
When Alex took him up to the cabin, though, Manny loved the food. Fresh bass and walleye straight from the lake to the grill, fresh vegetables and plenty of beer. Alex didn’t know if Iltia’cor could get drunk, but he knew it would take more than two cases to make Manny tipsy. They tested that theory three nights in a row.
The engines on the transport started up and the lights came on around the outer wall indicating that everyone should be seated and their items stowed properly. Alex shoved his backpack into the station and secured the latch. He had never once felt the slightest bobble as they had lifted straight up into space, but he guessed that a bit of turbulence would probably toss everything around.
“Alex, Private Mitchell is from Los Angeles. Isn’t that wonderful?” said Manny.
“L.A., huh?,” asked Alex. “Why is that wonderful?”
“That’s where they make movies. It must be great to see all of the actors.”
Mitchell looked over at Alex with a confused expression.
“There are millions of people in the Los Angeles area, Manny. They rarely see the actors.”
“Oh, that is disillusioning. I wanted to take a trip there to meet them,” said Manny.
“My Dad once got a drink thrown on him by an actor,” said Mitchell.
“Really?” asked Manny. “Which one?”
Alex pulled out his tablet and pulled up a book to read. The windows on the transport revealed that they had left Earth’s atmosphere. The low hum of the warp engines as they came online signaled to the passengers that they would be in warp within thirty minutes.
The quiet conversations around the cabin coupled by the comfortable seat lulled Alex into a relaxed state of reading. Williams had turned Alex into an avid reader. He bought him hundreds of classic books for his tablet and pestered him mercilessly until Alex started reading. Once he had started diving into the great works of literature, he was hooked. Now, wherever he went, he made sure he had a few books available on his tablet.
Manny was fascinated that Alex could have the responsibilities of a protector and yet found enjoyment in a knowledge acquiring task like reading. When Alex asked about movies, which he was surprised to find out the Iltia’cor had a long and rich history of motion pictures, Manny gave him another one of those looks that said he pitied Alex. Apparently watching entertainment was a passive pastime that all Iltia’cor enjoyed, while reading was an active task that only Osalg would participate in. When Alex quipped that a book was merely a movie in convenient written form, they had taken that moment to discuss the human humor concepts of sarcasm and irony.
The deep hum of the warp engines shifted to a high whine. Alex braced himself as he felt the warp field form around the ship. He was sure that he couldn’t actually feel it, but he could sense it somehow. Everyone he talked to described it the same way. He shifted in his seat to get more comfortable.
The ship lurched and Alex was tossed out of his seat into the station in front of him. Manny’s huge body was tossed aside like a rag doll and Mitchell hit the console at an angle.
Alex started to look at the ship’s crew, but the lights went out as soon as he was able to get his bearings.
The sounds and hum of the warp engines had cut off when the transport lurched. Alex reached for where his bag was stored. He had a pair of nightvision goggles in the left side pouch.
Before he could get the latch on the station open, he felt frigid air sweep into the cabin.
“Alex, what is happening?” asked Manny. There were sounds of people talking and trying to get their bearings. The Iltia’cor crew was frantically speaking to each other in their language.
Before Alex could answer Manny, he heard the sounds of weapons being discharged. Tilsocs. Otina pirates used tilsocs.
“Stay down, Manny,” said Alex.
He finally got the latch open and pulled his backpack out. He cursed under his breath as he realized that he had obediently taken all weapons out of his kit before he left for the spaceport. He pulled the night-vision goggles out and slipped them on as he heard the shockers that the Otina used to take prisoners. Long metal poles, shockers were basically cattle prods with a much stronger burst of electricity. He guessed that the tilsocs were used to knock out the communications array and maybe flight controls.
The temperature in the cabin was absolutely frigid by the time that Alex had removed the aluminum framing bars from his backpack. There was a breach in the ship somewhere. He would start getting light-headed once the oxygen levels dropped.
“Alex,” whispered Manny. “Mitchell isn’t moving.”
“Stay down,” said Alex.
He looked up and scanned the room using the infrared view on his goggles. He assumed that the Otina were using the same technology, so he just made a quick sweep and then ducked back down.
He saw six Otina moving through the cabin. They had their shockers out and were moving from station to station.
Alex lay still and waited for one of the Otina to come closer.
He saw one of the Otina walk over toward the station he was crouched behind and waited for the small grey alien to commit to his action. The Otina saw Manny and reached down with his shocker to zap him.
Alex sprang to his feet and thrust one of the hollow aluminum rods through the throat of the Otina. He knocked the shocker away from his enemy as he spun him around. The Otina had a tilsoc strapped to his back. Alex ripped it off and took aim at one of the nearby Otina.
He had been part of the team that figured out how the tilsocs worked and he knew that he only had three shots before it would need time to recharge. The first two Otina that he disintegrated had not even moved from their position. The third had tossed his stun gun to the floor and was reaching for his tilsoc when the blue wave hit him and disrupted the mosar that held his body together.
Alex tossed the recharging tilsoc to the ground and hurled the second aluminum rod at another Otina. He turned to dive when he felt a sharp pain in his side and fell to the ground. An Otina with a shocker stood above him. He kicked out with his leg and was dismayed that his control and strength was so weak. But it was enough. The Otina stepped back and Alex rolled away from him. He picked up the discarded tilsoc and fired again. The few seconds were enough for another shot to get charged up and the Otina melted away.
Another sharp pain shot through him and he hit the ground again. When he rolled onto his back he saw two Otina standing above him with shockers. His vision was a quick closing dark tunnel that rapidly went black.
Chapter 3
General Diane Kitch did not like waiting. She never made anyone else wait and she expected the same courtesy in return. The problem she was facing was that Doctor Carl Williams was no longer a marine. He was retired, and though he still consulted for the Earth Forces, he was not under any military authority.
She smoothed her face and unclenched her hands. When he did return to his office, he would find her cool and patient.
“General,” he said as he hurried into the pile of papers he called an office. “I am so sorry to keep you waiting. We were getting some amazing data back on the nebula in the… never mind, that isn’t important today.”
“That’s fine, Doctor Williams. I thought maybe you were working on a time altering technology that set you back twenty minutes.”
Williams looked at the clock on his wall. “I am very sorry, General. I didn’t realize I was running that late. I should have sent someone to let you know about the delay.”
“Let’s keep the apologies brief, Carl. Tick tock.”
“Very well, here is what you need to see. Kiskaliski sent the data straight to me.”
“Why?”
“Because of the panic it would start if he sent it through the command structure.”
Diane furrowed her brow. She knew K-man’s reputation and how he would follow orders even if it meant sprinting to his own death. For him to bypass all security and protocol was a major concern.
“Why did I have to come out here myself? Couldn’t you have sent it to me?”
“No, General. I couldn’t. You need to see this and understand what it means. You do not want others to see it.”
Williams called up a data screen and started a video. It was an Otina scan of a raid. Diane had seen hundreds of them before.
“What are we looking at, Carl.”
“This,” he said, pointing with his pen.
One of the marines breaching the base had a few red flecks on his image.
“But that is mosar. Isn’t it?”
“Indeed, it is, General. Now watch this part.”
Williams moved the video up a minute or so. The marine with the red flecks was moving with the others. Suddenly, the red flecks disappeared and he stopped moving.
“What happened?”
“That was the moment that Captain Swanson died,” said Carl. “He ran through a mosar defense field and died.”
“Are you telling me he had mosar in him?”
“Yes, General.”
“Did he eat it? We have taken safeguards against that, haven’t we? No one is to eat alien food without clearance.”
“He didn’t eat it. If he had eaten it, the food in his digestive system would have just disintegrated. No lasting harm, just a week or so with serious gastric problems.”
Williams pulled up another video. This one was in a med bay on one of Earth’s cruisers.
“This was the examination of Swanson when his body was brought on board the Berlin,” said Williams.
Diane closed her eyes instinctively as the front seal of his combat suit was detached and thick ooze started flowing out.