by Jean Johnson
Three of the technicians, two males and a female, burst into laughter. Even the commodore grinned. He shook his head. “For all we know, the local lobster on their homeworld is six feet tall and takes home as many crabbers as the crabbers take. Keep listening. The Katherine G will be here within half an hour, maybe a little earlier. They’re trying to outrun a chunk of CME.”
“Coronal mass ejection,” the tech opposite Jackie explained. His accent was Scottish, like her grandfather’s, though he was short and stocky, not tall and lean. The curly light brown hair was similar. “The new insystem thrusters are a bit picky about how they kick back the particulate matter. Better for the ship to be on our side of the CME, aiming it away from us, rather than bombarding the Array with high-temperature, high-speed molecules as she comes in. Ceristeel can stop it, but it can still damage the sensor panels.”
“Which are currently wide open. This is not the only project we have,” Mokope reminded the others. “Just one of the most important right now.”
“Hang on, what’s that?” the female asked, lifting her blue-dyed hair. From the rather faded state of it, she had dyed it long before the V’Dan had come to the Sol System. She lifted a hand, pointing at the hologram monitor. “That object—holy!”
The hologram flickered; the image was definitely being seen by only one sensor array, not two, making the feed program struggle to compensate. Mokope squinted. “Which is that coming from, the Aloha, or the satellite?”
“Satellite, sir,” the Scots tech replied. “Switching to monocular view. The system will continue to record in parallax on the main channel, don’t worry . . . There.”
The blur slowed over several seconds, drifting into close view. A magnified view, Jackie realized, as the image backed up a bit under the third technician’s touch. Either way, when the lenses finally focused, when the ship slowed enough to recognize it, the configuration was very much V’Dan.
“Major?” Commodore Mokope asked.
She nodded, her attention more on trying to translate the name she saw than anything else. “Imperial War Fleet. You can see the nameplate there; it’s barely lit by the stars at this distance, but it’s there. V’Cotse T’aranguul . . . ‘The Coastline Whirling Bladesman’? No, that can’t be right . . . coastline . . . border guard? ‘The Whirling Border Guard’ is probably the closest translation for that name, since ‘dervish’ has a religious slant to it. Let me contact the prince . . .”
“Considering they’ve found our satellite, I suggest you do that fast, before they try to pick it up and look inside,” Mokope warned her. “Try to get some sort of contact protocol out of him. MacLeod, is that half-assed audio broadcast program uploaded yet?”
“Uploaded and checked,” the Scotsman confirmed. “You can broadcast when ready. Kaampe—ah, good, you already got the headset. Getting her patched in?”
The tall, dark-skinned male nodded. He handed the headset to Jackie, who absently hooked it over her ear with her physical hands. Her mind was busy reaching mental hands toward her partner. (Li’eth?)
(Almost there. I think I shall break the normal sort of stuffy Imperial protocol and just hug . . . wait, what’s going on?) he asked, sensing her thoughts. (You’ve found something?)
(The V’Dan have found something, rather. Just under an hour ago, Aloha 31 made it to the system we think is the V’Dan homeworld,) she told him. (Unfortunately, while we were sitting beyond the second belt, getting oriented, a V’Dan midclass cruiser spotted the hyperrelay probe and is now drifting up to the unit. Is there any call sign or code word that’ll get their attention swiftly but peacefully which I could use?)
(Everything I know is out of date, and I don’t have the current codebook. That was destroyed the very instant the Salik first boarded our ship, as per standing orders,) he revealed to her.
“You are live to the system,” Kaampe murmured. He swiped a control-pad program into reach on the table console. “Standard comm keys, press that button to activate the link or to mute it.”
(Give me what you can,) she urged.
(Give me a moment to think,) he retorted. (It’s been months since I memorized the last set of protocol codes.)
Lifting her chin at Mokope, she asked, “As you are the seniormost officer within reach, Commodore, and this could end up in a rather one-sided firefight if we stay silent . . . permission to open communications with the encroaching vessel?”
“Permission granted, Ambassador.” Mokope braced his hands on his hips. “All hands, keep your eyes to your boards, your thoughts on your tasks . . . and your ears open to history being made.”
Nodding, Jackie checked the controls. Thanks to her training for working on the Aloha 9, she was able to open six different frequencies. Hopefully, one of them would catch the cruiser’s attention. A check of the time stamp showed they had a good three seconds one-way of communication lag. Switching to V’Dan, she spoke into the mic on her headset.
“Attention, Imperial Warship V’Cotse T’aranguul, you are approaching the Aloha 31 Alpha, a satellite probe transported to your system for the purpose of peaceful communication. Please respond on one of these channels. I repeat, attention, Imperial Warship V’Cotse T’aranguul, you are approaching the Aloha 31 Alpha, a satellite probe transported to your system for the purpose of peaceful communication. Please respond on one of these channels.”
It didn’t take long for them to respond. The audio was a bit scratchy, but otherwise intelligible. “This is the V’Dan Imperial Warship V’Coste T’aranguul to the unidentified object. Who and what are you, and why have you entered V’Dan sovereign space?”
“Greetings, V’Cotse T’aranguul. I am Ambassador Jackie MacKenzie of the Terran United Planets,” she stated. “You are speaking with me through a communication device with a turnaround time of approximately six V’Dan resting heartbeats. Please be patient and allow six heartbeats of time lag in all communications with this device. Do you understand?”
Several seconds passed while the Humans on the other end of the line no doubt consulted with each other. A new voice came through, male and deep. “This is Captain Superior Cha’kon V’kuria, commander of the V’Cotse. We do not know of any Teh-ran United Planets.”
“I am aware of that, Captain Superior. My people encountered some of your people on board a Salik vessel a little while ago. They were being held as prisoners of war. We liberated them, and have been hosting them while attempting to find your homeworld so that we can peacefully and safely return them to your Empire, along with an embassy to begin opening peaceful negotiations with your people.”
A bit of static made them all strain to hear the next question. No doubt the V’Dan on the other end were having the same problem. “Why is this communication audio-only?”
“We are still having difficulties translating the programming languages used for visual communication by your people. It takes time to reconstruct such systems. Please forgive the current poor quality of the translation program.”
Again, more than six seconds passed. “. . . You speak flawless V’Dan. How did you manage this?”
“I am what your Sh’nai faith calls a ‘holy one,’ gifted with the ability to learn languages swiftly and the ability to transfer them to others.”
“Yet you cannot speak the language of a simple communication system?”
She rolled her eyes. Non-psis didn’t always think things through. “Computer languages are vastly different from spoken languages, Captain Superior. It takes a very special gift to be able to communicate directly with machines. One that I do not have. My abilities apply strictly to biological beings only.”
(I’ve got it! Ten g’at dance with a double-spring moon,) Li’eth enunciated carefully in her mind. (And when he asks for confirmation, tell him Ten g’at dance with a double-summer moon.)
(Got it.)
“What are the names of the V’Dan you say you rescued?” she heard. Grateful for the lag delay, she reached for Li’eth.
(Oh boot me . . .
Li’eth, this Captain Superior Cha’kon V’kuria wants to know your names. Which one do I give?) she asked.
(Captain Li’eth Ma’an-uq’en. Do not use my title at any point,) he warned her.
(Right.) Out loud, she stated carefully, “We have rescued five V’Dan. Four are leftenants superior from the Warship T’un Tunn G’Deth. They are life-support officer Dai’a Vres-yat, logistics officer Shi’ol Nanu’oc, gunner V’kol Kos’q, and pilot Ba’oul Des’n-yi.”
“Did you say T’un Tunn G’Deth?” the unseen officer asked. “Who else survived?”
“Ten g’at dance with a double-spring moon,” she stated, guessing this was the moment to use the security code Li’eth had passed her. She waited patiently for the message to get there and a reply to come back.
“Did you say . . . ten g’at dance with a double-spring moon?”
“That’s what I said. Ten g’at dance with a double-summer moon . . . and yes, the person who told me to say that knows how old that code is. He is the fifth survivor, Captain Li’eth Ma’an-uq’en. Unfortunately, he is not available at the moment, as he is currently in transit to this location, but he will be available within the hour. We were hoping he’d arrive in time and be on hand before you discovered our communication device.”
“Where is your ship located? Our scans are looking for the sourcepoint of your broadcast, but it seems to emanate only from this . . . machine.”
Mokope moved off, muttering instructions into his own headset. “Get the 31 out of there now, Lieutenant Commander. You are not authorized for First Contact. Retreat to the fallback position.”
Jackie ignored that side of the table. “Our communication in your system is relying upon lightwave broadcasts. As there could be Salik vessels lurking in the system, passively scanning for any information . . . that information is Classified, and shall remain Classified for now. I repeat, ten g’at dance with a double-spring moon. Ten g’at dance with a double-summer moon.”
“So what do you want us to do?”
“Well, whatever you do, Captain Superior, don’t try to touch or take apart the device you’re looking at. Right now, it is the only way we have to communicate with you,” she reminded him dryly. “In the meantime, it would be nice if you could confirm whether or not the system you are currently occupying is the home system of the planet V’Dan.”
“Why do you need to know that information?” The static was a little coarse, but the tone was wary, almost belligerent.
“Captain Superior, please think these things through. We rescued Salik prisoners. Prisoners who had nothing on them, not even clothing, when they were rescued,” she pointed out. “We have no V’Dan devices with which to synchronize star charts, no ability to make measurements in V’Dan units, and until now, no contact with any of your people who do have access to clothing and star charts and V’Dan measurement systems. We have been searching star system by star system, at great cost and expense, tying up many resources with our fleet just trying to find the V’Dan homeworld,” she told him. “It would be nice to confirm we have reached the correct system so that we can turn that exploration fleet home, and start building up the resources needed to ship home the captain and his leftenants. Exploration, even when it is focused, is expensive.”
“I will have to consult with my superiors. That will take time. Hours, if not days.”
“That’s alright. We are aware of your current level of communication ability and its logistics difficulties. If you feel you cannot inform us directly, then with luck, our V’Dan guests will be able to confirm it from what we’ve ascertained of your current system via passive lightwave readings. Once they arrive, that is. I was just hoping I could tell them with certainty when they do arrive that we have found their Imperial homeworld. But no matter,” she dismissed lightly. “It’ll get done one way or another. While we await their arrival, do you have any non-Classified, non-sensitive questions you’d like to ask?”
“. . . Not at this time, Ambassador. Will you keep this channel open?” he asked
She checked which frequency was being used. Two of them, technically. “We should probably reserve power, but if you send a signal on either of these two frequencies, it will open communications, and someone will be standing by to accept your call. For absolute certain, I will be back with Captain Ma’an-uq’en when his ship arrives and he has been settled on board.”
“The T’un Tunn G’Deth survived? Wasn’t it destroyed by the Salik?”
“Technically, he is on board one of our ships,” Jackie clarified. “His ship was indeed lost to the enemy. I apologize for being imprecise.”
“Then we will gladly await his arrival, and escort our soldiers home.”
Jackie bit her bottom lip to keep from grinning too much. So much for not having any other questions. As soon as she felt she had her voice under control, she said as smoothly as she could, “Captain Superior V’kuria, we are nowhere near your current star system. Nor can we immediately deliver them as you imply. As I said, we are still putting together the resources for an embassy as well as the means to return our guests to the V’Dan Empire. The distance between our two locations is vast, so for efficiency’s sake, we’d like to bundle everything together when we ship it all to you, all on the first try. Which takes time and planning, as I’m sure you’re aware.
“In the interest of First Contact, we have arranged for our five guests to have a tour of our own little empire here, after which—when we have confirmed the correct star system—we will see that they are escorted safely home . . . where they will no doubt be interrogated by your people as to everything they have seen and learned while they were here. Which we know you will do, which is why we’re giving them that tour.”
“Sir, the Katherine G has begun braking,” one of the techs at the edge of the room stated. “Their pilot estimates they should have a shuttle docked within eighteen minutes.”
Jackie nodded when Mokope glanced her way, indicating she had heard. (Almost here, I see.)
(I can’t wait. Did you get a reaction on the code I gave you?) he asked. She had a sense of him walking onto the shuttle that would make the transfer from the cruiser to the space station.
(Not yet, but I’m pretty sure he has to carry word all the way to your home planet before he’ll get a really big reaction,) Jackie pointed out.
(True.)
“You seem remarkably open on some subjects, yet very closed on others.”
“We are not prepared at this time to draw Salik attention toward ourselves. For now, the location of the ‘Before Time Motherworld’ will remain a secret,” Jackie explained.
“The Before Time Motherworld? You’re jesting.”
Jackie leaned her palms on the table. Today was a uniform day, not a civilian-clothes day, but not anything formal, just gray slacks and a matching button shirt. It wasn’t a slovenly outfit, but she felt it was a good thing the feed wasn’t set up for video yet, just audio. Between her lack of formality and the need to flex her legs to keep them and her feet from getting tired with all this standing, her current appearance was a bit too casual for something momentous. There had been too many cases of “joke” outfits ruining portentous moments in the past . . . but it wasn’t as if she could take the time to put on a full Dress uniform or a nicer civilian outfit. So long as the V’Cotse’s crew wanted to talk with her, she had to stay at her post.
“I assure you, I am quite serious, Captain Superior. I don’t know all the particulars, since our guests did not arrive with religious texts in hand . . . again for obvious reasons. But if you like—since I have a few more minutes before their ship docks—I can fill you in on a few things that we’ve pieced together since their arrival in our care.”
“. . . We’re listening.”
“The first revelation is one of great importance. I cannot stress this enough. We are the same species. I realize you may be doubting that, but I assure you, we are the same species. Our finest medical doctors have confirmed we are the same species
down to the molecules in our cells. And unlike your world, whose history begins just under ten thousand of your years ago . . . our history, our fossil records, stretch back for millions of years . . . so the planet our guests will be touring is the birthworld of our mutual species. We call ourselves Humans . . . and though we are the same species, we are not V’Dan. We do not have the jungen virus, we have never had it, and as a consequence, we do not have the jungen marks which your people bear.
“Please understand that this is very important, Captain Superior. To your eyes, we may look like children because of this silly lack of stripes and spots . . . but we are not children. Please do not overlook, dismiss, or cling to this notion. It has already caused one major diplomatic incident . . . which we in our maturity and generosity have decided to overlook. It would be best if your people do not cause any further such incidents. That takes forethought and care.
“On the bright side,” Jackie continued, watching the feedback of the V’Dan ship still slowly drifting closer to the probe, “this means your people have been properly fed, clothed, and are living in an environment well suited for our joint species. On the downside, as my people say . . . this means we will have to ship various vaccines and antigens to your world to help ensure your people’s ten-thousand-year isolation from our list of natural diseases does not cause massive problems among your people.
“We have already synthesized and distributed antigens for most V’Dan diseases among our own population, but we will need to ensure and stabilize your own people’s immunity to what we call the microflora that share space in and on our bodies. We are also interested in sharing medical knowledge on the ones our guests weren’t carrying when we found them. We understand that this may require quarantine procedures—”