The Chronicles of Henry Harper

by Jacen Aster

  The sound of weapon fire interrupted his reassurance. Henry and Irene whipped around. Si'fillian was standing over the stunned body of the station’s weapons officer, furiously working the weapons console controls. They both lunged forward in horror but were far too late. They covered only half the distance before Si'Fillian stabbed his finger down. “Ha! That'll show those bastard whales what for. We'll just scare the dumb animals off.”

  The station shuddered as its primary mass driver fired off a round in the general direction of the whales. Henry froze, but Irene didn’t. “You great blundering buffoon! You've killed us all,” she raged as she drew back and launched a wicked haymaker at her boss. With a meaty thump, the man flew a solid meter before hitting bulkhead and dropping like a sack of ill-used potatoes.

  The whole station was silent. Too silent. The whalesong had stopped.

  Then a new noise, one of which almost no record has survived, filled the station. A painful writhing, angry screech ripped through the station on a wavelength and with a potency that sent many straight to their knees. Hands clapped to ears, and three Rashanta, with their over-sensitive hearing, collapsed outright, adding their pained howls to the murderous cacophony.

  Then the noise stopped, but there was no relief. The stations shields, still on full to bleed power, nearly buckled as the “guardian” whales of this pod slammed their bulk into the station at high speed. Another crewman reached for the weapons before Henry kicked him.

  "No! Don't attack them. Normal weapons barely hurt them. This CAN'T escalate."

  "What else can we do?" The officer snarled, stabbing past Henry for the missile controls, only to be caught from behind by a chair wielded by an enraged Irene.

  “ENOUGH! Henry, what do we do?”

  "Wait, hold on. There was a story...."

  The station shook as it was struck again.

  "Harper!"

  "I'm trying to remember! Hold on. Hold on. Music! That's it." Henry darted over to the comm console, physically manhandling the officer attending into the secondary seat as he snapped, "Give me the ten highest and lowest ranged frequencies on the FTL band that the station can manage. Now!"

  Responding to the pure authority in his voice and the direness of the situation, the comm officer's hands moved almost on autopilot, punching up the requested frequencies. Meanwhile, Henry madly tapped on his portable and the main comm console both, transferring something with one hand and adding code with the other.

  "Sir, the frequencies are live. What are we transmitting?"

  Henry finished and stabbed a button. "That! Transmit that."

  Staring in confusion at the seeming nonsense, the officer nonetheless complied.

  Everyone held their breath. The station shook again, and then....

  "They are backing off," Irene whispered into the silent room, pure disbelief thick in her voice. Turning, she asked, "Henry, what did you just transmit?"

  "Beethoven's Fifth."

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  One can, perhaps, imagine the disbelief that followed my statement all those years ago. How had an ancient symphony turned aside the rage of several thousand tons of pissed off Imeric whale? Some of you might know that now, in fact you might even know this story already, if you follow that sort of thing.

  It was curiosity that turned them aside for a time. Nothing but pure curiosity.

  You see, I had remembered a story told to me by a fellow traveler once. We were traveling together on a passenger liner, he to some party and I to a new job, when an Imeric whale had pulled up and traveled alongside our ship. In the nature of such things, and with little else in common, we had exchanged a few tales of previous encounters with them. It was one of his stories that had tugged at my mind in that moment on Station 7.

  It was a second hand tale, a story of a young comm officer on a lone duty shift aboard a small, slow freighter that had attracted the attention of a young male Imeric whale. The bored comm officer had, like many before him, tried to match and broadcast the whalesong back to it. To no effect whatsoever, of course, just like everyone else who had ever tried. Only, on a bored whim, this officer had proceeded to broadcast on dozens of high and low frequencies, far from those the whale itself used, eventually amusing himself by making patterns in the sound waves using old music clips. To his shock, the whale seemed to hear something he did. It had been drifting away when suddenly it returned and sang with such a power, and on such frequencies, that the ship shook with the resonance of it. The comm officer was terrified and woke the captain, who immediately fled from the whale. It followed them, but not far, as they deviated to an inhabited planet they had intended to pass by.

  Perhaps it was reckless, but I gambled all our fates on that second hand tale. Praying that the whale of that story really had heard the young officer and had been intrigued by the ship. Of course, on the other hand, as we would have been destroyed utterly even if we had fired everything we had, it was perhaps an excusable gamble. At any rate, the gamble was one that paid off. As the scientists found out once they studied (and communicated with!) that very breeding gathering off Station 7, the Imeric whales actually “hear” and “sing” to each other on a far higher set of FTL frequencies. The “song” we hear on our ships is actually a sort of echo. They knew we could hear them, but could never figure out why we didn't respond. Eventually, the research done on Station 7 would see them listed as a sentient species, one which we are still struggling to understand decades later.

  As for the station, our little hydrogen fix worked just fine, and the station refits began under Irene, with myself consulting until the end of my contract. Si'Fillian was arrested and forced by the powers that be to sell the station. It was purchased by a science committee thrown together and heavily funded to make contact with and study our new friends. Probably with the hope of sorting out just how it is they travel FTL without any means we understand...which still hasn't happened.

  Irene, as far as I know, is still the head of Station 7's engineering and technical departments. It is my understanding that she got quite the raise from the new owners and was thrown at the problem of getting the station working at peak condition. To this day, it is primarily a research station, with a secondary role as a diplomatic outpost of sorts. For the latter reason, there is now a near continuous presence of Imeric whales there. The only place in the known galaxy that you are effectively guaranteed to see them. Quite a tourist draw actually. In any case, it all turned out best for everyone. Well, everyone but Si'Fillian.

  Chapter 8 – The Transient Planet

  This particular story is unusual both in its content, as is the case with many of my previous chapters, and in its relative relevance. Relative that is, to current events. Many of you have undoubtedly heard of late, and perhaps even of old, the story of the Transient Planet. I have previously been silent regarding these events as I was, until just a week ago, under a standing non-disclosure agreement concerning the events involved. The recent end of this NDA has seen a mad scramble by media across the galaxy for details regarding the recent, and not so recent, events surrounding this former myth.

  Sadly, despite the lifting of the older NDA, I cannot yet tell the complete tale. It will be some months yet before the dissolution of the agreements covering the more recent happenings, those events that have dragged this legend into the light. Despite this, I can at least bring you to the place where it all started and perhaps pull back the curtain on the mystery just a little bit.

  On that note, let me introduce to you a place that, until a mere seven years ago, was considered the merest tall-tale bandied about on the very edges of known space. Welcome, my friends, to The Transient Planet.

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  Henry was startled from his reading as his comm alert broke the silence. He frowned, a bit annoyed at the priority signal chirping from the comm console. What in the galaxy? Yawning and abandoning his nightcap, he heaved h
imself to his feet and padded barefoot across the room to the console. Ignoring the persistent chirp a moment longer, he scanned the ID stream and did a double take. Robel Denten? Huh, he hadn't seen that name, let alone the Blavian administrator it belonged to, for years.

  Half-hardheartedly straightening his hair, he finally accepted the call. The flashing screen and annoying chirp rapidly resolved into the orange-skinned face of his old friend. Following the Blavinian custom, Henry waited for his friend to speak first. He didn't wait long at all.

  “Henry! Sorry to bother you out of the blue, my friend, but I've just gotten on board with something you'll be interested in and its majorly time sensitive. Glad you're in range, actually. Hope you can pry yourself free. Someone of your caliber, that I know I can trust, would be a Godsend with the piecemeal nature of the group we're tossing together!”

  Henry raised his eyebrows, exaggerating the expression slightly. Blavian's didn't have eyebrows and often found them hard to read on species that did. “I'm free. I’m enjoying a bit of downtime, actually, after my last disaster of a trip.”

  Robel's face showed his humor. He shook his head and asked, “Oh? Don't tell me you got yourself blown up again, Henry?”

  Henry half frowned, half snarled. “No, the bastard client was a chauvinist of the worst sort. Wanted to punch him on behalf of the female crew he kept hitting on.”

  Robel's expression shifted, his good humor shifting to disgust. “I'm sure you got him back, yes?”

  Henry gave a very nice evil smirk. “You do know me so very well, Denten. I set him up to piss off Lilandra right before the contract was over.”

  Robel visibly winced. “Lilandra! Oh man, poor bastard.” He paused, shook his head, then grinned. “Lilandra, huh? That's why you're lying low, isn't it?”

  Henry looked uncomfortable. “Er, yeah....”

  Robel gave a rich laugh, obviously deeply amused at Henry's expense. “She's still trying to get you to join with her and Sable, isn't she? You do know, two hot women at once is most men's dream don't you? Regardless of species even!”

  Henry just put his face in his hands. “Shut up, Robel. Now what's going on?”

  “Right! Get yourself on the fastest ship in port and head straight for Slevti Seven. Spare no expense. The expedition leader will reimburse you for it.” He made a spastic motion towards the comm, obviously intending to disconnect.

  Henry managed to interrupt him with a strangled, “Wait!”

  Robel paused, looking at him in confusion.

  “You haven't told me what's going on!”

  Robel looked startled. “Oh. Oh! Right. Sorry, Henry, I'm rushing more than a little to pull this all together. Starting to lose my head a bit. I was so sure you'd want in on this one that I quite forgot to give the spiel.” His chagrined look was quite expressive, even without eyebrows.

  Henry was pleased. This promised to be interesting if someone as composed as Robel was flustered over it. That he seemed dead certain Henry would want aboard just heightened the anticipation. As his comment about getting blown up showed, he knew Henry's tastes only too well. “Out with it then. Short version if you must.”

  Robel nodded. “Gotta be the short version. Lots of contacts to make still.” He paused a moment, gathering himself, and his smile shifted to a predatory grin. It was a rather disturbing sight on an herbivore. “Henry, the Transient Planet has been found.” He paused, waiting for that to sink in.

  “What!” Henry, half out of his chair, frowned and slowly lowered himself back into his seat. “But even I always figured that was just a spacer’s legend. I mean, a planet that moves?” He paused, and added, “In more than the normal sense, that is.”

  His friend chuckled and his grin widened. “I know. Amazing, isn't it? Until now, it's always been spotted in extremely remote systems out on the edge. Gone by the time anyone could get back to confirm the sighting. But not this time. This time it appeared in a colonized system. There's a brand new colony here in Slevti, only a year old actually. When it just cruised right into the system and parked, they called it in immediately. Fredrick Saint Claire was in range and started rushing this expedition together. Got me on board immediately and I'm calling in everyone I can who’s in the region. We don't know how long we have before it up and moves on, so it's all pretty time critical.”

  Robel grinned wider than any human would ever manage and his voice was rich with satisfaction as he continued. “Couldn't believe my luck when my VIM pinged my contacts and found you just two systems over. We'll slot you in as the leader of the engineering team. No way we'll find anyone with half your experience dealing with this sort of thing, or with managing cobbled together teams for that matter.”

  Henry didn't bother to argue. In this case, he knew Robel was right. “I'll be there. Fastest I can manage.”

  Robel just chuckled. “Knew you wouldn't pass this one up, Harper.”

  Henry looked affronted. “Of course not.” With a half-manic grin, matched readily by his old friend, they both signed off. Henry set about making the calls he needed to secure transport while thinking that he really did have the best friends. He was almost certain Lilandra wouldn’t find him on a mythical planet at the very edge of space. Almost.

  ♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

  The makeshift command center was buzzing with barely controlled anarchy. Gear and personnel were flowing in every direction, all prepping for load onto the pair of heavy shuttles they'd snagged for the operation. Henry stood at the central holotable with the rest of the senior team: Saint Claire, Robel, the shuttle pilots, and perhaps most critically at the moment, Saint Claire's specialist at “getting him into places he strictly speaking shouldn't be,” Vivian Longbridge. Henry had only been on site for forty-six hours and hadn't yet slept. If they solved their current issue, they'd be lifting off within twelve hours more. They were all running on stims, and worse, they seemed to be stuck.

  Vivian, manipulating the holotable, the only one they had been able to commandeer from the small colony, hissed in frustration. Leaning back and running her hands through long, black hair she said, “I just don't know, boss. This one might just be beyond me. Bypassing a planetary shield is no joke and I've never seen tech quite like this. The planet might be gone before I can crack it.”

  Saint Claire, a tall, thin, gray haired human with a slight Welsh accent and a fantastic mustache, looked disappointed and distressed. “Come now Vivian. You've never failed to get me in somewhere before.”

  She snorted. “I can find a way in, I'm certain of that. Just maybe not in time. Might have to sort it out at length and hope it pops up here again.”

  Saint Claire sighed. “Just try your best, Viv. That's all I can ask.”

  Henry frowned at the display. It was currently projecting the energy matrix of the shield and something was tugging at the back of his mind, like he'd seen it before. “Miss Longbridge? May I?” He gestured at the holotable.

  She started at her name. “It's Vivian,” she said abruptly, “and if you think you can make anything of it, be my guest. I doubt it though.” She negligently waved her hand, dismissing him, and collapsed back into contemplation of the problem.

  Henry stepped forward and began manipulating the data, trying to spark whatever memory was nagging at him. Fifteen minutes later, he had almost given up when it hit him. “Kalopei!” he cried, and began weaving more deliberate patterns while reaching for his trusty portable.

  His exclamation drew the attention of the others, who had, save for Vivian, moved on optimistically to sorting out various logistics issues. Saint Claire spoke into the sudden silence, “Mr. Harper? Have you found something?” His voice was hopeful but his face skeptical. Her boss's voice finally brought Vivian’s full attention as well. She looked down right dismissive rather than merely skeptical.

  “Maybe.” Having connected his portable, Henry was tapping through his personal archives. Making a satisfied noise as he found what he had remembered, he transferred it to the holotable.
A very similar pattern to that already displayed appeared side by side on the projection. “Here we are. Look at this.”

  Even to the untrained eye, the patterns were similar, but Vivian was immediately on her feet next to Henry, as if she had spontaneously developed the ability to teleport. Her face had morphed from dismissive to incredulous. “What the hell is this? Where did it come from?”

  “It's an ancient shield technology for the Kalopei. I thought I'd seen a similar energy pattern before and this is it.”

  “The water dwellers of Treseus?” Vivian asked, rather distractedly. “I've never seen any of their tech that looked like this.”

  Henry chuckled. “No reason you would have. This stuff is only in use by some of their ancient underwater temples. I only got entrance because their archaic shield hardware was failing and the prime Kapoless was able to vouch for me from a previous encounter.” He paused to grin at their incredulity. Waving it off, he continued, “But that's not important. The nature of the shield they had is. It's not military in nature at all, rather it's intended to protect against sudden water surges. The shields are permeable at low speed, letting normal water movement circulate, but against a sudden surge they are stupidly strong.”

  The lead pilot, Everand Tony, asked, “So what? We just approach at low velocity and pass right through?”

  Vivan and Henry were both shaking their heads. It was Vivian who answered, Henry deferring to her expertise. “No, that's not enough. The patterns are similar, yes, but also different. Different because....” She paused to tap a few commands. The image split again and the shield around the planet's image separated into two totally independent shield spheres. One was near identical to the Kalopei example, the other was far closer in design to a standard military shield. “This isn't really a single shield at all. Rather, it's two overlapping shields. It was obvious once I saw the model of that Kalopei shield.” She glanced at Henry with clear respect. “To Henry as well, I think. He had already separated out the patterns in the system, I just commanded it to display.”