A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  But it wouldn't be a Varnar victory, Sally thought, as the shuttle slowly descended to the landing pad. The Tokomak would have won the day.

  She gritted her teeth as the Viceroy came into view. The Tokomak were a tall, inhumanly thin race, with light yellow skin and large eyes. She – Sally’s implants identified the alien as female – was surrounded by alien attendants, each one brain-burned to be totally loyal to its mistress. Beside her, the Varnar looked small, almost child-like. They bowed and scraped in front of the Tokomak as if a single word from her could destroy them, which it probably could. The battle squadron that had escorted the Tokomak Viceroy to Varnar would have no trouble reducing the planet to rubble, on her command. It was quite possible the local defences would refuse to fire on their ships until it was already too late.

  If it’s possible at all, Sally thought. The Tokomak could easily have hidden backdoors in the planetary defence systems they sold the Varnar.

  She smiled at the thought, then sighed as the Viceroy was flattered endlessly by the Varnar leadership. No human really understood how the Varnar governed themselves – it was a form of communist democracy, she’d been told – but it was clear they were doing all, but kissing and licking the Tokomak’s feet. And perhaps they would, if they thought it was necessary. They knew they were losing the war.

  The ceremony finally came to an end, allowing the crowds to leave the giant stadium and retreat back to their normal lives. No one would have been permitted to leave ahead of time, Sally knew, no matter how long the ceremony took. The Tokomak might have seen it as an insult. They were, according to the files, a deeply formal race, with a love of ceremony that left even the most hidebound human government in the dirt. The idea of even a minor race shunning them would have seemed inconceivable.

  She saved her recordings in her implant, then started to walk back towards the office. As always, the alien crowds both fascinated and oppressed her, pressing in around her as she walked. The Galactics didn't really have any concept of personal space, at least in the multiracial areas. In their own private sections, the rules tended to be different, more focused around the needs of one species. Unless, of course, the Tokomak were involved. They tended to disregard the rights of every other species when the shit hit the fan. Or just when they wanted to make a point.

  “Sally,” Mr. Ando said, when she walked into the darkened office. “You have a visitor.”

  Sally blinked. She wasn't very sociable on Varnar, if only because there were few people interested in socialising with a human. The handful of humans living permanently on the planet had little to do with her. They found it odd that a human would work for an alien – or so they said. Privately, Sally suspected they doubted her loyalties. Most of them were probably spies involved with the war.

  “I do?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Ando said. He passed her a datachip. “He is currently staying in the Pan-Gal Hotel. You will take this to him personally, then take the rest of the day off, if you wish. Report back to me tomorrow morning.”

  Sally remembered, suddenly, the odd group who had visited, nearly a year ago. Mr. Ando never gave samples of data for free, not now he had a proper reputation. For him to break his rules, even on a small scale ... it suggested there was something important about it, something he had yet to share with her. But there was no point in asking questions. She’d be told what Mr. Ando wanted her to know, when he wanted her to know. Instead, she took the datachip and nodded to him. The alien nodded back, then retreated into the shadows.

  Kevin, she thought, recalling the older man she’d met. It has to be.

  She placed the datachip in a sealed pocket, then walked through the streets to the Pan-Gal, recalling their last meeting. He’d been staying on a starship then; this time, he’d splashed out for the Pan-Gal. An offer to her, she wondered, or merely a case of picking a place he knew on Varnar? There was no shortage of places rated suitable for human or humanoid accommodation, but it could take hours to sort through the datanet and pick somewhere that was actually decent. Sally had stayed in enough apartments, before finding her current home, to know that ‘humanoid accommodation’ covered a multitude of different requirements.

  The robotic valet checked her ID, then proffered a file for her to download, showing her how to walk through the giant hotel to her destination. Sally thanked the robot – a habit she had never been entirely able to break – then followed orders and walked up to the elevator. The Pan-Gal was larger than any hotel on Earth, although it only held six thousand suites and used the remainder of the space for life support and staffing requirements. Holograms flickered around her, showing what the hotel managers thought were views suitable for humans. There was no way they could hope to meet all of the requirements without using holograms, she knew, but it still seemed fake to her.

  The Galactics clearly like it, she thought. The Pan-Gal didn’t have any problems attracting visitors, year after year. They must feel right at home.

  Sally stopped in front of a sealed hatch and tapped the bell. It opened a second later, revealing a surprisingly large suite, bigger than her apartment on Varnar. She stepped inside and smiled as she saw Kevin sitting on a chair clearly designed for someone a little larger than the average human, reading a datapad. He rose to his feet, took her hand and bowed to her, then kissed the air just above her skin. Sally honestly wasn't sure if she should be charmed or amused. There were races that actually communicated by licking each other’s hands.

  “It's good to see you again,” Kevin said. “And I hope I can treat you to dinner this time.”

  “Mr. Ando sent me with gifts,” Sally said. She passed him the datachip and watched as he made it vanish into a sealed pocket. “And orders to take the rest of the day off, if I wanted.”

  She tilted her head. “Did you ask him for me?”

  “I asked him to send the data as soon as possible by courier,” Kevin said. “But I’m glad it was you.”

  Sally nodded, then sat down on the chair facing him. “I think they gave you the wrong suite.”

  “The chair? I think they may have an exaggerated idea of the human bum,” Kevin countered, dryly. “Or perhaps they just picked up some bad TV and thought all humans were that large and obnoxious.”

  “How right they were,” Sally mused. Years ago, there had been a rumour that the Galactics had monitored Earth closely enough to pick up and record the early broadcasts of some of the most famous TV programs in history. It had been false, but before it had been disproven anticipation had risen to horrifying levels. “When did you arrive?”

  “Yesterday,” Kevin said. “I would have contacted you earlier, but ...”

  “The Tokomak distracted everyone,” Sally said. “They’re likely to take control of the planet, aren't they?”

  “Probably,” Kevin said, absently. “I don’t know what they’re thinking right now, beyond concerns about the war.”

  Sally sighed. It had disappointed her to discover that the Galactics were just as warlike as humans – and that some of them had been fighting a proxy war for longer than any human had been alive. The whole war struck her as essentially pointless; neither side could score a knock-out blow, so the war would drag on indefinitely. Surely, after several hundred years of fighting, the Galactics would realise the fighting wasn't getting them anywhere and come to terms? But humans had fought wars over generations too ...

  “They might want to end it completely,” she said. “Do you think they intend to shatter the coalition?”

  “It's very much a possibility,” Kevin said. “Does Mr. Ando know anything more about their plans?”

  “I couldn't tell you, if he did,” Sally said. She liked Kevin – he was nicer than some of the other visitors she’d taken out for dinner – but she’d signed an agreement with the information broker. “You’d have to pay for it.”

  Kevin winked. “I could buy you dinner?”

  “Try buying Mr. Ando dinner,” Sally countered. The thought was enough to make her stomach he
ave. “But you’d find him an uncomfortable dining partner. He eats his food live.”

  “I’ve seen worse,” Kevin said.

  “Really?” Sally asked. “How many alien worlds have you visited?”

  Kevin made a show of counting on his fingers. “Thirty-seven,” he said, finally. “Several more than once, so if we counted each visit separately I’d have ...”

  “Thirty-seven,” Sally cut him off. “And did you explore the entire planet, each time?”

  “Of course not,” Kevin said. “But I did make time to visit more than just the tourist traps.”

  He paused in contemplation. “About the weirdest thing I saw was a race that was made entirely out of rock,” he added, after a moment. “They moved so slowly it was hard to see them as anything other than oddly-shaped statues. I could ask one of them a question, then return in a few days to hear the answer.”

  “I remember them,” Sally said. “Well, I’ve heard about them.”

  She coloured. Mr. Ando had taught her much, seemingly for his own enjoyment. The rock-creatures kept mainly to their homeworld, if only because they were at a considerable disadvantage in dealing with the quicker races. But they were smarter than they looked – and dangerous too. There were strange tales about what happened to people who managed to annoy one of the largely-emotionless creatures. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but there was no large colony of off-worlders on their homeworld.

  “Not the weirdest thing I’ve heard about,” Kevin said. “You must have some fantastic stories to tell.”

  “Maybe I’ll write an autobiography one day,” Sally said. She leaned forward, then hesitated. There had been no time for emotional involvement before, not when the few men – and women – she met had left the following day, sometimes without saying goodbye. Kevin was the only one who’d come back. “How long are you going to be staying?”

  “Maybe a week,” Kevin said. “My ship’s captain is currently trying to sell some Maple Syrup to the Galactics.”

  Sally had to laugh. Maple Syrup was an old joke, a term for something that had only a handful of potential buyers. There were Galactics who enjoyed foodstuffs from Earth ... but there were thousands more who were utterly indifferent to human foods, or could simply program their replicators to duplicate anything they might have wanted to eat. Kevin’s captain might have bought a white elephant, something he couldn't sell and yet couldn't simply abandon. It was never easy to know what would sell.

  “If it was real, I’d think about buying some,” she said. “Or is it something particularly unlike food?”

  “Mainly pieces of art,” Kevin said. “I doubt they’ll sell.”

  ***

  Not entirely to Kevin’s surprise, one thing led to another and so it was nearly midnight by the time he was able to sit up and inspect the chip. When he did, he almost swore out loud. The Tokomak were moving faster than anyone had expected, certainly faster than past experience had led him to suspect. They would be sending the squadron to Hades within the week, then start scouting nearby star systems. There wouldn't be much time to work.

  He looked down at Sally’s sleeping form, then cursed under his breath. If only he dared interrogate her openly! But he didn’t; she was smart, perceptive and working for an alien with uncertain loyalties. Shaking his head, he reached for a terminal and started to type out a message for the ship’s crew. It was time to start planning their departure.

  And if they were lucky, he told himself, they could reach their destination before the Tokomak squadron had left Varnar for good.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Panic is sweeping through China following an ‘accident’ at a nuclear power plant that released clouds of radiation into a river. Local government officials were quick to deny that anything was actually wrong, but datanet reports and rumours spread rapidly, aided by the fact that no one believed a word the government said. Troops are reportedly being rushed to the area to prevent refugees from spreading panic further ...

  -Solar News Network, Year 53

  If there were two things Yolanda had discovered about Captain Singh, they were that he was both a good and demanding commander. He knew how to command a starship – he’d served in the Solar Navy for over thirty years – and, at the same time, he understood the limits of his people. Yolanda had been worried about the Captain showing favouritism or other forms of discrimination, but instead he seemed to judge his crew purely on merit. It hadn’t saved her from more than a few chewing outs, when she’d screwed up, yet they had all been deserved.

  And I learned from the experience, she thought, as she studied the sensor display. The Captain and the XO had moved the new officers around from department to department, making sure they had a good grasp of all the stations. Sensors weren't as exciting as either the helm or the tactical systems, but they were important. I never made the same mistakes twice.

  She frowned as an icon blinked into life on the display. Freedom was patrolling an uninhabited system thirty-seven light years from Earth, a system that was almost completely worthless without a great deal of expensive terraforming. There was no reason to expect anyone to join them out here, so far from any inhabited world, and yet the sensors were picking up a starship approaching at FTL speeds. It was possible, she told herself, that the crew were just taking a shortcut, but their course would take them right towards the system.

  “Captain,” she said. “I have an unknown contact approaching the system at FTL speeds. They will enter the system in thirty minutes.”

  Captain Singh stood and walked over to her console. “Show me,” he ordered. “Can you identify the ship?”

  “No, sir,” Yolanda said. “The drive signature is too common to isolate the exact make and model of starship.”

  “Unsurprising,” the Captain mused. He turned his head to face the tactical console. “Sound yellow alert, Commander, and take us into cloak. I don’t want to be detected out here.”

  “Aye, sir,” Commander Gregory said. There was a pause, then a drumbeat echoed through the ship. “Cloaking device engaged.”

  “Good,” the Captain said. He strode back to his command chair and sat down. “Ensign, continue to monitor the signature and inform me if anything changes.”

  Yolanda nodded, thinking hard. The Captain hadn't seemed surprised by the sudden appearance of the unknown starship, which meant ... what? Coming to think of it, why was Freedom so far from Earth? Her shakedown cruise could have taken place in the solar system, where help was available if something went badly wrong. Could it be, she asked herself, that the Captain had known they were likely to encounter an unknown starship? Was it a planned rendezvous?

  She pushed the thought aside as the unknown ship swept closer. There was no way she dared ask, even if she thought she’d get a reply. The Captain would reprimand her for asking the wrong questions, while the XO would assign her to life support or waste disposal duties. Instead, she watched her console and waited to see what would happen. Thirty minutes later, the unknown starship dropped out of FTL and coasted forward.

  “A small freighter,” she reported. “A standard Class-XXI design, but there are glitches with her power curves that suggest she’s been modified heavily.”

  “So she has,” the Captain said. “Transmit a standard greeting.”

  Yolanda blinked. “Sir?”

  “Transmit a standard greeting,” the Captain repeated, patiently. “I’ve been expecting them.”

  “Aye, sir,” Yolanda said. Sending the message would ensure they were detected, but if the Captain was expecting guests, it didn't matter. “Signal sent.”

  There was a long pause. “They’re replying, sir,” Yolanda said. “The message is for your eyes only.”

  “Noted,” the Captain said. “Drop the cloak, then prepare to take on guests. XO, you have the bridge.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Commander Gregory said. “I have the bridge.”

  ***

  Kevin couldn't help being impressed by Freedom, even if she was t
iny compared to some of the giant battleships he’d seen in orbit around Varnar. She was long and graceful, like a hunting eagle, bristling with weapons and advanced sensors. If Mongo – and Keith Glass – were correct, she could even take on a Galactic starship several times her size and win. But there was no way to be sure. The Solar Navy had been careful to avoid unnecessary engagements with the Galactics.

  Can’t let them see everything we have too soon, he thought. They have enough starships to trade a thousand for one and still win.

  “Remain here,” he ordered Captain Vanern. “I’ll signal once we know what we’re doing.”

  He sent a teleport beacon to Freedom before Jean could object. Moments later, he closed his eyes as he felt the teleport field shimmering into existence around him, a faintly unpleasant tingle that intensified to an almost unbearable degree, then faded away into nothingness. He opened his eyes and saw Freedom’s teleport chamber. Compared to the old freighter, it looked incredibly advanced.