“Until we speak again,” Hatsepsit said, touching the tablet in her hand.
Her image vanished, leaving only the true space image of her seven ships. On either side were the system graphic and the overhead Bridge view. The vanishing of the orang-beings left me feeling eager. And exposed. While the captain had liked my NATO of the Stars idea, I had spoken before the entire ship. For sure Lieutenant Commander Nehru would have something to say about me being a “show off”.
“PO Stewart.”
I looked back to the Bridge image. The captain was looking up at the overhead videye. I gulped. “Captain? Uh, sir, how many I assist you?”
The man’s thoughtful expression did not change. “You will leave with Doctor Murphy and Doctor Bjorg for the trip to the Melanchon ship. Along with Lieutenant Morales who bring some Farm Deck stuff for our new friends. Chief O’Connor can handle the Alcubierre upgrade chat with this Haktoken without your help. I want you over on that big ship as my eyes and ears. And to alert me to anything unusual you may see there, or any tech devices we might need beyond this fast Alcubierre device. Get moving!”
That order meant I had to rendezvous with the two star geeks at the ship’s midbody hangar, where the four GTO shuttles were stored. “Sir, yes sir.” I stood up. “Captain, may I suggest a Marine or two accompany us? It would give our people a chance to learn a few things about how these Melanchon people fight. And the kind of ship weapons they possess. Sir.”
He frowned. “So you want another of your lunch friends to go with you besides Doctor Murphy? Fine. Grab Corporal Johnson.” The captain looked down. “Major Owanju, go with these people. And take Chief Rutskaya of Intelligence with you. Might as well have another Mother-To-Be on this visit!”
The Marine boss unsnapped his straps and stood up. He faced the captain and saluted. “Sir, heading out! I’ll grab the people you mentioned.”
I unsnapped my accel straps, stood up and looked over to my boss, whose beady eyes had been watching me the whole time I was shelling out my NATO scheme to the captain. “Chief, may I leave my post?”
“Of course you may short-circuit your shift! I’ll get Heidi to monitor the antimatter containment fields. Get moving! The captain expects performance over jawing.”
I turned and ran for the gravshaft pillar. There was a recording tablet I wanted to take with me, along with a change of clothes, a snack and a bottle of water. Who knew how long I would be over there? I just hoped I could repay the captain’s faith in my off the beaten path ideas. Which brought to mind another idea. The reason our ship could not directly contact EarthGov via a ship-to-ship neutrino comlink frequency was because that frequency was changed on a daily basis by EarthGov, to avoid hacking or jamming of our communications by remnants of the Asteroid Belt rebels or by roaming pirates. Well, maybe when we got back to Earth we could get EarthGov to always listen in on this NATO call-out frequency? That would allow other starships to warn Earth of events like the discovery of this Empire of Eternity!
The red bar of the gravplate rose up and up until it hit Residential Deck. I ran through the open slidedoor, turned left and headed for my cabin. While running I wondered if Cassandra would be appreciative enough of her inclusion in this trip to have a dinner date with me? But it would be just like my bad dating luck to have Oksana insist on joining us, thereby minimizing my chances for a kiss. Assuming Cassie even thought of me in those ways. Well, being with her on a strange alien starship might loosen her up. I hoped so. It was great she was one of my four closest friends. Having some romance in my life would be even better!
♦ ♦ ♦
The shuttle seemed crowded. There were only nine people in the ten meter-long cargohold. Me, Cassie, Oksana, Warren, Major Owanju, Bill who had been grabbed by the major, Doctor Bjorg, Lieutenant Morales from Farm Deck, and a Science Deck evolutionary biologist by the name of Evelyn Kierkgaard. But we all wore orange and white-striped vacsuits with our globular helmets sealed to our neckrings. Also filling the cargohold were two large cartons of fruit, which represented a week’s worth of fruit normally served in the Mess Hall. The cooks had complained loudly, according to what Bill told me as we boarded. Clearly they had been overridden by the Farm Deck lieutenant, who had met us in the hangar bay with two floater cartons, smiling and eager for this visit to a new biome.
Now, we all sat silent, our eyes on a holo that floated in the middle of the cargohold aisle. It showed the cluster of seven red pencil ships that we were approaching. We could talk over the vacsuit radio comlink. But such was discouraged by the shuttle pilot. Who was not the rating normally assigned to this shuttle. Instead, Hilary Chang had somehow gotten leave from the captain and now flew us the 900 klicks to the giant pencil that was Hatsepsit’s ship. Clearly the Tactical chief wanted a first-hand view of the outside and inside of an alien starship. Which made sense given her Tactical role. Me, I didn’t care. While the woman from San Francisco had been courteous to us as we boarded, she was not someone I had ever spent time with. Nor had I spent time with Major Owanju. Hanging with the Bridge crew was just not done by enlisteds, NCOs and civilian geeks. But now, here we were, a strange mix of ranks, expertise and hopes.
“Doctor Murphy, did you scrub the RA and Galco coordinates from our star list?” called Bjorg over the vacsuit radio.
“Of course!” my friend said, clearly irritated. “I know as well as you that Right Ascension and Galactic Coordinate numbers for each star are based on sightlines from Earth.” Cassandra sat across from me on the bench that ran parallel to the starboard side of the shuttle. She crossed arms over her belly, a frown on her pretty face. “Instead I substituted numbers based on angle and declination relative to the Sagittarius A radio source at the galaxy’s center. Would you have done otherwise?”
I looked right to where the Swede sat at the end of the line of people on the starboard side. The man had his thick blond mane pulled back into a ponytail. The hair detail reminded me of decades-old images I’d seen of people from early this century. Then, lots of men had ponytails, both genders had piles of tattoos on their arms and bodies, and their music was a grinding roar that hurt my ears the last time I had listened to it. My Mom and Dad had belonged to the Natural generation that rejected such additions to the basic human form. No tattoos for them. No artificial hair colors like purple, green or blue. No ponytails for the men. And women had gone back to ankle-length dresses, despite the functional utility of pantsuits. Thank the Goddess my generation was more sensible. People my age often had a small tattoo or two. Some men wore earrings of precious stones. A few women dyed their hair green or blue using food dyes. Women wore pants and shorts as they wished. But no one my age deformed their ear lobes with the giant rings that had been favored by the people called Gen X. Whatever that term meant. Bjorg’s arms and upper chest were clear of tattoos, based on what I’d seen before he put on his vacsuit. Same for Major Owanju, although the Marine did have an anchor and trident tattoo on his left bicep. The chief of Science Deck looked toward Cassie, his expression impatient.
“Doctor Murphy, using Sag A as the coordinate reference point is what I would have done. I’m sure you did a fine job of filtering out location data relevant to Earth.”
Cassie pursed her lips, still looking bothered. “Thank you, Doctor Bjorg. Now shall we discuss something new?” She pointed at the holo in the aisle. “I note the seven red pencil ships are all rotating about their central axis, like spindles. Do you think that means the Melanchon do not possess gravity plates?”
“Most interesting,” the chief geek murmured as he leaned forward against the seat restraint straps, peering at the holo. “The image of their bridge showed them moving about as if they had normal gravity on that deck. Which reminds me, do we know what their normal gravity level is? One gee? Less? More?”
“Nine-tenths gee,” interjected Hilary Chang from her pilot bubble. “And if case you have forgotten the basics about visiting new biomes, I confirmed their hangar has sterilization chambers that we all
have to enter before we meet any live Melanchon. Check the holo.” In the holo, one red pencil ship grew larger. Our vector track curved toward its front end. A big black hole showed in the middle of the rounded end of the ship. Clearly it was the intended entry point for us. “They do not want to take chances with any Earth bugs. They do the same as we do when anyone arrives from a colony planet, or someone visits a colony orbital station.”
“Well,” called Bill from my left. “Has there ever been a case of any colony world germ hurting a human? Or vice versa?”
“No such case exists,” Oksana said from my right side. “But standard precautions make sense. For us and for them. They are the last survivors of their species. They surely do not wish to die from a human bug!”
“Shut up!” called Chang. “Time for me to link in with their hangar control. You can chatter later in the decontam chambers. That way you can pretend to not notice each other’s flabby bodies!”
We all shut up. But Tactical’s sarcastic comment reminded me this would be my first chance to see Cassie naked. Oksana too. I liked that. But what would they think of me? I was tall, had adequate pecs from stacking hay bales in our barn, and a bit of chest hair. No one at Great Lakes had ever teased me as being a skinny geek during our swims off the beaches of Chicago. Course the waters of Lake Michigan are cold no matter the season. Which had interesting effects on parts of both female and male anatomy. I told myself to stop being a voyeur. I’d shared mixed showers after unit marches at Great Lakes. It was something I could handle. But I’d never seen any of my lunch table friends without clothes on. Well, there was a first time for everything.
“Entering hangar now,” Chang said, her radio chat with the Melanchon hangar people finished.
The holo showed us entering a very large chamber of gray metal. It had scattered portals on each wall that gave a view into the hangar, and a cluster of small oval craft that were about the size of our shuttle. They sat on one side of the hangar floor. Their support legs were clamped down to the deck by grapples that looked strong to me. Our shuttle moved on short spurts of chemfuel toward an empty spot with a ring of flashing yellow and green lights. The ring enclosed a cluster of grapples. The grapples were attached to chains, which would allow them to adjust to our shuttle’s different shape. Our view of the hangar became steady. We’d landed. The hull’s external videyes showed a ground level view. The inner wall of the hangar had a cluster of clear portals, behind which moved a dozen or more red-furred Melanchon. Their hangar control booth looked very similar to our midbody hangar booth. The outline of an arching door showed to the left of the booth portals. That door now dropped down on a hinge that connected the door to the metal deck. Out from the airlock now walked three Melanchon in bulky, padded vacsuits. Clear globular helmets covered their hairy heads. The three headed for our shuttle. I felt thumps through my boots as the grapples outside moved to latch onto our landing legs. Clearly the Melanchon automation was the equal of our own. Chang appeared in the open hatch from the pilot bubble. She was slim, trim and had short black hair that had no curls, unlike the hair of Cassie and Okie. Or the curling red hair of Kierkgaard, whose freckled face looked eager for our adventure.
“Up!” called Chang. “Major, perhaps you can be first out our airlock to say hi to our greeters? Or, sorry ma’am, Lieutenant Morales you have the rank in this group. Do you wish to take the lead?”
Morales stood up from her starboard seat as Owanju did the same. She shook her head, tight black curls bobbing inside her helmet. “Nope. Anyway, a major in the Marines is an O-4 rank, while my Navy lieutenant commission is an O-3 rank.” The middle-aged woman gave a smile to the major.
“Chief Chang,” called Bjorg as he stood up, exceeding her in height by a good foot or more. “The Melanchon are an obvious matriarchy that follows polyandry. As in a single male in a relationship with at least four females, as we saw in the group led by leader Hatsepsit. I suggest a female be first to leave our shuttle. In this case, Lieutenant Morales would do nicely.”
The Marine major gave a sigh. “Goddess protect us from academics! Lieutenant, please, take the lead. Marines have no trouble following anyone, so long as we are first on the beach!”
Morales laughed brightly, her smile big and engaging. “Thank you, Major Owanju. Guess I will lead this crowd out to meet our first group of friendly aliens!”
The Farm Deck boss walked past Cassie and Owanju to the two large cartons that held apples, oranges, pomegranates and other fruits from her deck. She grabbed the front carton’s leash and walked to the cargohold’s inner airlock hatch. The two cartons, floating on gravplate repulsors, followed after her like little pups following their mother. She tapped open the hatch, entered, pulled the linked cartons in with her, waited for the major and Cassie to join her, then the hatch closed. The rest of us stood in the aisle, watching the holo. Floor vibrations told me when the outer airlock hatch opened and deployed its flexible ramp. The holo image showed Morales leading Cassie and Owanju down the ramp and out to the group of three waiting Melanchon. Which appeared to be made of two large and bulky females, with a single male of shorter stature and moderate build. I followed after Bjorg and Oksana as they walked toward the airlock hatch. Others followed behind us. We all heard the first words spoken by Morales.
“Greetings to all Melanchon!” she said brightly over her vacsuit’s radio. “I bring fruit from our trees. I am Mother Gladys Morales. Trees and other growing plants are my area of life work. Beside me are Father James Owanju, a member of our Marine protection family, and Mother-To-Be Cassandra Murphy, who holds the star information we promised you.”
The middle Melanchon leaned forward more than the lean common to all orang-beings. “Greetings to the humans from Earth. I am Mother Madamedura, sister to Hatsepsit. Beside me are Father Leksatok and Mother Yolomokden.” Briefly I gave thanks for instant radio translation by the Melanchon software. Then the boss female looked up as I came down the ramp with Bjorg, Oksana and Bill. Behind us followed Chang, Kierkgaard and Warren. “So you are half Mothers and half Fathers? Most interesting. Our elder in family patterns is Mother Yolomokden. I am sure she will enjoy discussing your human family patterns. Now, will you follow me to the decontamination chamber?”
Morales stepped forward and bowed slightly. “We understand the need to protect your people from any ailments that might be on our skin. However, I present to you Earth fruits from my Farm Deck, where I work. On it we grow food plants, trees, fruit orchards and shrubs which give forth small fruit like strawberries. Shall I leave the cartons here?”
Madamedura slapped the front of her helmet. “Yes, that is wise. Other Melanchon will take your special gift and serve the fruit to our family elders. I see your cartons float. You humans must possess the pull-down device. We use similar devices on our family leadership space, where you saw Mother Hatsepsit and her family members.” The big Melanchon, who was nearly as tall as me, stepped back and gestured toward the arched door they had come through. “Will you follow us to the decontamination chamber? You can leave your air clothing there. The clothing will be safe there. There are no small predators in that chamber.”
“We follow,” Morales said, moving to walk alongside Madamedura. “Mother Madamedura, we each carry small bags that contain our day clothing, water and some food. How do you wish to make safe those things?”
A low rumbled came over my helmet’s comlink. “There is an opening in the wall of the chamber. You humans may put all your possessions into that opening. They will be decontaminated by special light, with no use of liquids. You can rejoin your bags after your bodies are cleansed.”
Cassie held up her black tablet. “This is the electronic device that contains my star data. Will it be safe in this wall opening?”
“Hand your device to Father Leksatok. He will take it to a different chamber for safe cleansing,” the Mother leader said.
I pulled my tablet from my backpack. Around me others did the same. We all handed our tablets to t
he Father orang-being. Who looked surprised, if eye-widening was surprise among the Melanchon. But he quickly loaded the ten tablets into pockets of his vacsuit. We entered the arch door, walking over the metal of the door as it lay atop the hangar floor. I had been expecting a different kind of door. Other species would not automatically have doors that open on side hinges, or that slide into a wall. This entry door was different, but made sense if you considered how the Melanchon evolved in the trees and clearly valued them as part of their daily life. Having doors that drop down out of the way leaves the long arms of the Melanchon free to grab branches, limbs, vines and whatever else they use inside their own personal quarters. The three Melanchon led us down a short hallway empty of people. But a line of lights that ran alongside both walls now changed from black to green.
“The air of life has returned to this walkway,” Madamedura said over our radio comlinks. “Feel free to open your head protectors and breath the fresh air of Melanchon!”
“Thank you,” Morales said, sounding happy. “We humans always prefer natural air to the stored air of our small transports.”
“So do we,” commented the orang-being Yolomokden
We all did just that as we followed the three orang-beings down a side hallway. It ended in front of a wall with the outline of an arch door. Yolomokden touched a brown bar to the right of the door. The door top began coming down.
“Enter the decontamination chamber,” Madamedura said as she stood to one side. “The opening for your bags is to the left side of this chamber. After you have removed your air clothing, hang the clothing on a branch that projects from the right side of the chamber. In the middle of the chamber are round marks on the floor,” the leader said with a gesture from her long right arm. “When you are without coverings each human will stand inside a round mark. Water and cleansing liquid will rise up from the floor and fall from the ceiling. Then special lights will shine on you. You may close your eyes if you wish, though the cleansers and the lights will not harm you, based on the information provided us by your Mother Indira Khatri.”
Star Glory (Empire Series Book 1) Page 9