Return to Dakistee (A Galaxy Unknown, Book 8)

by Thomas DePrima

  "But we don’t have the authority to board a ship in space."

  "Damn the authority. I'm declaring this a planet-wide emergency and invoking martial law. I want the ass of everyone involved with this slaughter, and I'm not particular how we get it. Understand? I'll worry about authority and protocols later. I'm gonna catch hell for this one way or the other, so I might as well go down swinging."

  "Yes, sir. I understand. We'll find the people responsible."

  * * *

  Chapter Eighteen

  ~ October 25th, 2285 ~

  Christa set Madu up with a temporary ID that gave her privileges to perform searches into the sleeper database and save the results but that wouldn't permit her to awaken anyone.

  "Roughly two hundred hits," Madu said, "on the parameters I entered.

  "Only two hundred engineers out of thirty thousand sleepers?"

  "No. I only searched for mechanical engineers who specialized in water systems and even omitted purification specialists. We're just interested in getting the water flowing, right?"

  "Initially," Christa said. "But once it's flowing, we'll need people who can test it for potability."

  "I made a list of the purification specialists as well."

  "Okay, lets wake up a dozen of the engineers and get them working on the problem. I'm glad this stasis system of yours doesn't require extended time for recovery. Our people wouldn't be able to go to work for solars after a stasis sleep of just a few annuals."

  "I hope that when our population is awakened we'll be able to show we have much to offer the Galactic Alliance if the GA can solve our sterility problem."

  "That's my hope as well," Christa said.

  A few hours later, the awakened sleepers had been examined by the medical people and then eaten a hearty meal before beginning efforts to find out why the water wasn't flowing in the facility. Christa was praying that with the enemy attackers waiting just outside the door the problem was not an external one.

  * * *

  "All non-essential personnel are now in stasis beds and the entire ship is depressurized except for the bridge and the officers quarters here at the center of the ship. The enemy fighters are no longer following us, Excellency," Gxidescu said when he reported to Vejrezzol.

  "Did they turn around and return to the planet?"

  "No, they just halted and remained where they were. We watched until we traveled beyond a point where the DeTect system could see them."

  "Halted? Why?" Vejrezzol asked.

  "My best guess is that they're waiting for their ship to come pick them up."

  "Then change course immediately while they can't see us."

  "Yes, Excellency."

  * * *

  Since the entire planet was placed under martial law, the protestors at the three warehouses melted into the population centers. The Marines had recorded images of everyone at the demonstrations, and, when the alert was over, the intelligence people would track down every last protestor to determine if they had any culpability for the massacre.

  "No joy, Major," Captain Edward 'Shooter' Conlon said when his squadron had completed its search. "I don't know where she disappeared to, but I know she's not in orbit over this patch of dirt anymore."

  "Roger, Shooter. Bring 'em home."

  "What now?" Lieutenant Hollister asked. "Shooter was the last to report in. The cargo ship must have left orbit."

  "That in itself makes it suspicious. They might have done what they intended and then bugged out. Send an announcement notifying all Space Command ships in the deca-sector to keep an eye out for that bucket. And be sure to tell them it might be heavily armed. Shit, I've got to report this to the old man now. He ain't gonna be happy."

  * * *

  "Commander, is the rumor true or not?" Dr. Peterson asked.

  Christa had come up to the Housing level because the sentry there reported that the scientists were demanding to see her. She dreaded the meeting, but she went. And she could see no way of denying the question she knew would be put to her.

  "Yes, Doctor. It seems that this planet is not unpopulated after all."

  "You're telling us that someone has slept for twenty thousand years and been awakened successfully? That's extraordinary. We must be allowed to interview this person immediately."

  "Doctor, we're not talking about an ancient artifact. We're talking about a living, breathing person. You don't get to demand an audience. The Ancient will make the decision whether to speak to you or not."

  "Yes, yes, of course. I'm sorry, Commander. My enthusiasm got the better of me."

  "Didn't we decide yesterday that you were going to be more careful with that enthusiasm of yours?"

  "Commander, you're a scientist. You have to realize how exhilarating a discovery like this is. No one, and I mean no one, has ever spoken to a twenty-thousand-year-old person before."

  "That not exactly true. I've been talking with her for days. And the medical staff has examined her from her toes to her head, several times. They don't speak Dakistian, but I was happy to interpret."

  "You know what I mean," Peterson said with obvious irritation. "Nobody has spoken to someone that old before this week. And we have a number of people who speak Dakistian like natives."

  Peterson was naturally referring to Drs. Vlashsku and Djetch and their clones. Since their native Nordakian language was derived from Dakistian, it wasn't difficult to master the slightly different phonetics.

  "I'll speak to Madu and ask her if she desires to speak with you. If she says yes, I'll arrange an interview. If she says no, I'll respect her wishes."

  "Yes, yes, of course. How many others are there if she's not willing to speaking with us?"

  "There are a few others. No more than a hundred eighty thousand, I would say.

  "A hundred eighty thousand? And they're all in this facility?"

  "No, thank heavens. We only have thirty thousand here. The others are in other locations around the planet. However, location information will not be shared until the proper time."

  "Commander, I remind you that this is an archeological dig site and the entire planet has been placed into the custody of the Archeological Expedition."

  "That was true, Doctor. But now that we know this planet was not uninhabited, I would be very surprised if all contracts aren't immediately nullified by the GAC. Or, at the very least, modified with the provision that the Ancients must agree to let you stay. I suggest you tread lightly with the legal inhabitants of this world if you wish the Expedition's privileges to continue. In other words, from this point on, be on your best behavior. If your enthusiasm gets the better of you while in the company of the Ancients, the Expedition Headquarters may order that you be shipped off planet in a cargo container on the next transport available."

  * * *

  "As expected," Admiral Moore said to the assembled Admiralty Board, "the GAC has decided to immediately suspend all previous agreements with the Archeological Expedition regarding rights on Dakistee pending verification that the sleepers reported by Commander Carver really are the original inhabitants. The agreements provide several standard boilerplate clauses that allow this, and, in fact, mandate it. Anthius must immediately halt all shipment of artifacts off planet. The warehouses will be seized and held until the proper authority is identified. The dig sites may continue to operate for the time being, but the extension of that privilege is only for six months, or until a Dakistian authority is established and ready to assume a leadership position. If an official authority is not available by that time, the GAC may extend the privilege in additional six-month increments.

  "We have been ordered to assist the Dakistian sleepers with food, clothing, and temporary shelter until the proper aid agencies can gear up and support the Dakistian effort to become self-dependent."

  "Who will we put in command of our effort on Dakistee?" Admiral Burke asked.

  "We're fortunate to have one of the three foremost experts on the Dakistee people, who also happens to
be a senior Space Command line officer, already on the planet."

  "No," Admiral Hubera said. "No, no, no. We can't put Carver in command of that effort."

  "Why not?" Admiral Moore asked.

  When Hubera didn't respond right away, Admiral Hillaire said, "Yes, Donald, why not? Is it because you don't like Admiral Carver?"

  "I never said that."

  "You haven't had to, Donald," Admiral Platt said. "We all know it. Everybody in Space Command knows it."

  Admiral Hubera just mumbled something unintelligible and ground his teeth.

  "Does anyone else have a better candidate to recommend or wish to voice some reason why Commander Christa Carver shouldn't have this temporary duty assignment?" Admiral Moore asked.

  After a few seconds of silence, Admiral Moore said, "No? Then all in favor, signify by raising your hand." After a quick glance around the table, he said, "Let the record show that the vote is nine yeas and one nay."

  "I suppose you also want to give her a medal for finding and awakening the Dakistians," Admiral Hubera said.

  "Are you making such a recommendation, Donald?"

  "Me? Of course not."

  "Then I think we can dispense with any discussion on that topic. Commander Carver will be notified as soon as possible of her new posting as Commander of the Dakistee Outpost. Now, on to other business."

  * * *

  Christa, Madu, Carmoody, and Madu's assistant were seated at one end of an enormous table in a large conference room on the Administrative level when two Marines escorted the Loudescott scientists into the room. Madu immediately jumped to her feet. Her assistant stood up quickly as well.

  "What are those?" the director said in horror as she pointed to the Nordakians in the group who'd had to bend low to get through the doorway without banging their heads on the frame. Fortunately, eight-foot ceilings were the minimum height in the facility, and most common rooms, such as this one, had ten-foot ceilings.

  "I realize you're unfamiliar with greeting alien species," Christa said calmly as she also stood, "but you should remember to remain cordial at all times. These gentlemen happen to be your kinsmen. They are the descendents of the dissidents who left your planet twenty thousand years ago."

  "Surely you're joking," Madu said. "Their skin keeps flashing different colors."

  "I'm perfectly serious. The speculation is that the spaceships weren't adequately shielded, and the generations who lived and died aboard ship before it reached Nordakia suffered mutating effects. Fortunately, the main effect is abundant height and variable skin chromaticity. Their color is normally a soft aqua, but they can adjust the color to almost any shade unless they're excited. At that time they lose control over the color and it reflects their mood."

  "And they're all bald?"

  "Ah, yes. That is another deviation, but it's a minor one. It's only hair, and it's limited to the male population. The women have full heads of hair."

  "I won’t speak with them," Madu said adamantly. "They're part of the dissident group who destroyed my planet."

  "Madu, the people who caused such grievous harm to the population on Dakistee were small in number and died two hundred centuries ago. I realize that for you it seems like last solar, but the Nordakians are a peaceful race of people who want nothing more than to get to know you and have you know them. You must put aside your past feelings and judge these people not on what some long dead psychopaths did but on their own merits. If you do, I think you'll be surprised to see how much you have in common. To begin with, there's your common heritage and a common religion."

  "We don't have a common religion. They want to follow some perverted version of the Almuth that elevates their priesthood to almost god-like status while completely subjugating women. They preach hate and death to anyone who doesn't believe as they do while telling everyone dumb enough to listen that their religious doctrine espouses only love. They will smile and say, 'I love you, my brother,' as they push a meter-long Skree through your body. My Almuth decries all violence, not just violence against people who share your parochial religious beliefs."

  "No, they follow the same Almuth as you. They embrace the One True Word."

  Madu looked at Christa with suspicion, then relaxed when she saw Christa was apparently being completely open.

  "You're sure?"

  "I give you my oath as a Space Command officer and a Lady of the Royal House of Nordakia."

  "A Lady of the Royal House? You never mentioned that before."

  "There's been little time for us to exchange histories."

  "What service did you perform to achieve such a honor?"

  "As you know, the reason for the award is often confidential. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you."

  "Something military, I suppose?"

  Christa neither acknowledged nor denied the prying remark. If Madu expected to learn through elimination of possible choices, she was going to be disappointed.

  Madu finally stopped waiting for a response and turned to the visitors. "Do any of you speak Dakistian?"

  "Nordakian is audibly close," Doctor Dakshiku Vlashsku said.

  "Audibly?" Madu said.

  "The dissidents who took our very gullible ancestors from this planet changed the written language so none of their followers would be able to read the original Almuth, but speech cannot be changed as easily. However, it has evolved over the centuries you've slept as technology mandated the need for new terms and old pronunciations blurred. But, because we read from the Almuth every solar, it has not strayed too far."

  "And which doctrine do you follow?"

  "Azula Carver, Lady Christa Carver, and Lady Eliza Carver discovered the original text on this world. They brought it home to Nordakia, where it was immediately embraced as the True Word of God by the Royal Family, the nobility, and most of the priesthood and population."

  Madu turned to look at Christa and said, "Azula Carver?"

  "Azula Jenetta Carver is the original from whom Eliza and I were copied," Christa said. "Jenetta also holds the rank of Admiral in both Space Command and the Nordakian Space Force, and you will often hear her referred to by that title."

  "I see," Madu said, turning to face Doctor Vlashsku again. "You said, 'most of the priesthood and population.' Not everyone on Nordakia accepts the Dakistee version of the Almuth as the One True Word?"

  "There's a very small faction who have refused to accept it as genuine. They've been growing increasingly distant from the rest of the population and we've heard rumors they might leave the planet and attempt to form their own colony somewhere else.

  "As your ancestors did?"

  "Apparently. The priesthood had so effectively masked the truth that no one on Nordakia even suspected our species didn't originate on Nordakia. It was only when Azula Carver and her sisters discovered the Almuth here that we finally learned our species originated on this planet."

  "The Carver sisters?" Madu said, glancing over at Christa.

  "Yes." Sweeping his arm towards the many clones in the room, Doctor Vlashsku said, "Following their example, we all now identify our clones as our brothers and sisters."

  "I see," Madu said. "Christa never mentioned that so many clones had been made."

  "It was an accident. My associates and I managed to open the cloning facility and the equipment was activated inadvertently. By the time Admiral Carver and her sisters were able to understand the process well enough to cancel it without harming any embryos, seventy-nine clones had been created."

  "Christa mentioned there were only seventy-nine citizens on the planet but never said that all were clones."

  "There can be no more," Vlashsku said. "Space Command disassembled the equipment and removed it long ago because it's a serious violation of Galactic Alliance law to produce clones intentionally."

  "Before we continue this discussion," Christa said to the group, "won't everyone have a seat?"

  The original scientists took seats at the enormous conference table and their clones to
ok seats around the periphery.

  "As much as this conference is an opportunity for all of you to meet Madu, it's also an opportunity for her to meet you," Christa said. "Please restrain your enthusiasm and give everyone a chance to talk and ask questions. It appears we shall be down here for some time, so there will be many more opportunities to convene if both parties wish it." Looking at Madu, Christa said, "I'll let you act as your own moderator. The floor is yours, Madam Director."

  "Thank you, Christa."

  "Commander?" Doctor Peterson said anxiously, just as Madu was about to speak.

  Christa held up her hand to Madu. When Madu stopped, Christa said, "Yes, Doctor?"

  "Could you please tell us what's going on?"

  Christa smiled slightly. In Amer, she said, "I apologize to everyone in the room who doesn't speak Dakistian or Nordakian. Doctor Vlashsku just gave Madu a very brief synopsis on the evolution of Dakistian to Nordakian, the creation of the clones, and the situation regarding the acceptance of the Almuth found on this planet." Christa turned to Madu and repeated her remarks in Dakistian.

  Turning back to the others in the room, Christa continued with, "It's unfortunate this conference room isn't equipped with translation equipment. The Dakistian culture had evolved to a point where only one language was spoken over their entire world, so there was no need for translation devices. And since most everyone on this planet spoke Amer prior to finding the Dakistians, people haven't typically carried a translation device with them. Until we can resolve this problem, I suggest that everyone who speaks both Nordakian and Amer pose their questions in both languages. Perhaps Doctor Vlashsku will interpret for the Amer-only speakers, and I will translate for Madu. Is that acceptable to everyone?"

  As everyone in the room nodded, Christa turned to Madu and explained what she had just said. Madu nodded in response.

  The next several hours were filled with statements of eye-opening importance for both sides. No one had any desire to break for lunch, and they might have refused to break for dinner if the Administrative level hadn't suddenly begun to vibrate from the sound of alarms whooping in every corridor.