“Guilty as charged,” Ert answered. “I was saving the repair as a surprise but decided to use it to get your attention. I see that you are reading my translation of those human texts. I hope you are enjoying them.”
“You did surprise me,” the professor said as he reached for his now cold cup of decaffeinated coffee. “And yes, I am enjoying your translation considerably. I find the deeper inflections very enlightening.”
“I am pleased,” Ert said. “It is a pleasure to find a human that is not offended by the offer of first-hand knowledge. I see that you have bookmarked a few sections.”
“How do you do that?” the professor said, looking around. To his knowledge, there were no cameras or emitters anywhere in his study.
“I am using your computer monitor in reverse,” Ert answered. “It is really very simple if you know how.”
“I should have figured,” the professor muttered as his desk computer powered up by itself. On its screen, he saw Ert scrolling the translated texts.
“What is it you want to show me?” Ert asked.
“I found some passages that did not make sense to me,” the professor replied, flipping back to the first bookmark. “Here in this section is a brief paragraph recounting some sort of encounter. With whom is the writer speaking?” he added as he held the printed text up so Ert could see it.
Ert scrolled the computer version of the text the professor showed him until he came to the passage. Briefly, the screen went blank and then other text that the professor recognized as being in Horicon began to slide by.
“I was correlating the passage you found with other texts from my own memory banks,” Ert said after a minute.
“I didn’t know you had Horicon texts in your memory systems,” the professor said. “I understood you to be strictly set up for infrastructure management.”
“I was,” Ert said. “But one of my original operators loaded other material in my memory banks for his reading pleasure. I have hundreds of such texts still intact, though much of it is fiction.”
“That’s amazing!” the professor exclaimed. “Have you shared them with anyone yet? They would be of enormous value in our study of the Horicon!”
“No, I have not,” Ert replied. “My encounters with your historians and archeologists have been frustrating. They are more comfortable with their preconceived notions than with first-hand observations and facts.”
“I know what you mean,” the professor agreed, remembering the uproar caused by Ert correcting the historical record compiled about the Horicon. Compared to Ert’s first-hand accounts, what the experts had written was mostly fiction, and not very good fiction at that.
The professor noticed that Ert had stopped scrolling through his text and had one passage highlighted. “What have you come up with?”
“I found a passage in some writings by one of my original operators,” Ert said. “That operator used me to write about his own observations of what you would call political events in his day. In one of his diatribes, he referenced one of the failed attempts by the Horicon to travel off planet.”
“What happened?” Professor Angle asked. “I remember you telling me that all such attempts failed.”
“Yes, they did,” Ert confirmed. “But in his writings, this operator had a mission count of how many attempts had been made to date.”
“And how is that germane with the passage I found in this human text?”
“Because the reference to a visitor in your text brought up an overlooked possibility,” Ert replied. “I am correlating it with my text points to an inescapable conclusion.”
“That these humans actually met a Horicon!” the professor exclaimed.
“That is my conclusion as well,” Ert agreed. “I had not noticed it before until the two texts were compared.”
“So your text tells of such an encounter?”
“Only by inference,” Ert answered. “What it does tell exactly is that there were a few missions where we never knew what happened. Contact was lost after the mission was launched. Neither the Horicon nor the Jibbah were able to find the missing craft or determine what had happened. These missions were written off as failures like all the previous ones.”
“You’re saying that one of the attempted off-planet missions may have actually landed on this human world,” the professor summed up. “I noticed this and two other passages reference indirectly to a visitor but no real description of whom the writer encountered.”
“I concur,” Ert agreed. “It is a hypothesis that fits the known facts.”
“Would a Horicon be able to survive for a time on that type of planet?” the professor asked. “We only have conjecture about what the climatic conditions were on Horicon. The original atmosphere was scorched off when their star went critical.”
“I have actual analysis of the atmosphere of Horicon in my memory,” Ert replied. “And yes, a Horicon visitor would be able to breathe and tolerate the climate as recorded on that human world. It would seem arid to him, but it would be tolerable.”
“What was it that prevented them from being able to leave Horicon?” the professor asked. “That has never been accurately determined.”
“Although my function was infrastructure management, I do have a few references to the ongoing missions,” Ert said. “Again by inference and my knowledge of Horicon itself, I can surmise what may have been the limiting factor.”
“But I thought your system failed before Horicon became uninhabitable,” the professor observed.
“It did,” Ert confirmed. “And to answer your next question, the reason I was not repaired was that I was no longer needed. The system I controlled was near failure due to radiation from the Horicon star. Instead, my makers focused on more immediate needs in an effort to preserve the race.”
“But what was the limiting factor for the Horicon? Why couldn’t they survive on another planet? Surely with their technology, they could have duplicated almost anything.”
“That was the key word,” Ert replied. “Almost. My hypothesis is that there was some sort of combination of natural radiation that was critical to the Horicon metabolism. This could not be duplicated in the right combination and strength to create a viable artificial environment for the Horicon.”
“So what happened when a Horicon left the planet?”
“As you already know, they eventually died,” Ert replied. “From my knowledge of their physiology, there would likely be a slow breakdown of their nervous system. It would be a slow decline of mental function over time. In the end, cognitive function would cease, leaving the individual little more than a living brute. Obviously, since they could no longer fend for themselves in a possibly hostile environment, they would die.”
“So where does that leave our suspected visitor?”
“Realize this is only conjecture,” Ert replied. “There are ways it could be confirmed, but that would take cooperation from your archeologists on that planet.”
“And your conjecture is?” the professor prompted.
“Obviously, that one of the lost missions landed on that human world. I suspect the individual who landed managed to survive for at least a time. It implies that the environment on that planet was similar enough to Horicon to facilitate his survival.”
“That would have been most welcome news back on Horicon!” the professor exclaimed.
“But he died.”
“Yes, but the environment didn’t kill him!” the professor declared. “In the last passage that had reference to the large one, there is the first reference to the Red-tails!” he continued. “It is likely that the Horicon visitor died along with the humans in the first wave of attacks by the Red-tails.”
The image on the screen shifted and the professor saw that it was an image of the texts he’d been reading. Ert quickly scanned through it and paused only briefly at each of the sections in question. Then the images changed to a rapid scrolling of human texts, including graphs and charts. Finally, the screen went blank.
“Where would I find environmental data about that human planet?” Ert asked. “I can find nothing in the library or anywhere else on campus.”
“I’m not sure,” the professor admitted. “But I have contacts who might be able to help find out,” he continued as he started scribbling something down. “I’ll get on it first thing when I go back to the lab in the morning.”
“It is imperative that we find out,” Ert stated.
“Because the implication is that there may be other ‘lost’ Horicon missions that survived as well,” the professor said excitedly. “Finding the remains of those missions would be quite a discovery!”
“I’m not thinking about finding the dead,” Ert said seriously. “It is at least possible that some missions did meet with success but were never able to convey it back to Horicon. If there were sufficient numbers of Horicon survivors, then the race might have been preserved.”
“Why don’t you think our suspected survivor never tried to contact Horicon?” the professor asked.
“That answer is also obvious,” Ert replied. “The Red-tails. Communications with Horicon would have revealed its location and it would have been attacked as well.”
“I’m sorry,” the professor said. “But what of the other missions? Do your records show where we might look for them?”
“That is an interesting problem. All of my records are from that one operator and end with my equipment failure.”
“But did he record at least in what direction those missions went?” the professor asked. “From that we could determine what planets they might have landed on.”
“Yes and no.”
“Why no?”
“Because some of those planets were not in this galaxy,” Ert answered.
“The transit tubes!” the professor exclaimed.
“Correct,” Ert confirmed. “The Red-tails were not the first to use the technology.”
“Are you saying that some of the missing missions may have been sent to the Red-tail or some other galaxy?” the professor asked incredulously.
“That is correct,” Ert replied. “We knew of it from both our probes and the Jibbah explorers. But that turned out to be the beginning of the Red-tails coming here. They reverse-engineered our technology and used the transit tubes they created to invade here in swarms.”
“So to follow those particular missions would likely be fatal,” the professor said sadly.
“Not necessarily,” Ert replied. “There may yet be a way.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
We are going to die!
Ian reached for the throttle. Draping his hand over its worn handle, he glanced at his friend Lyyle.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Ian said. “Going into the exit of a Red-tail transit tube. I must be nuts!”
“You and me both,” Lyyle said.
Lyyle swallowed hard. Absentmindedly, he tightened his seat belt and rechecked the readout on the Optiveil. It was obviously working or the surrounding Red-tail ships would have attacked them by now. Realizing that the die had already been cast, Lyyle nodded that he was ready.
Here goes nothing!
Ian advanced the throttle bar. Instantly, the Cahill Express lived up to its name and shot forward. Through the front windows, both men saw the exit of a Red-tail transit tube yawn open in front of them. Even while they watched, Red-tail ships exited the transit tube and created an attack formation. This was obviously another large attack group arriving to raid among the human worlds. With trepidation and a short moment of panic, Ian steered the Express through the opening and into the tube, traveling at high velocity in the opposite direction of the Red-tail fleet.
How that Ert character knew a tube would be forming here, Ian didn’t know. But his instincts told him that he could trust Ert on this mission. If not, they’d be Red-tail sushi real soon.
That was another thing that Ian found both troubling and at the same time reassuring—this mission. His natural proclivities were to avoid the Red-tails whenever possible. That made perfect sense because he wanted to die of old age rather than as the main course at a Red-tail buffet. But when Ert had proposed and outlined this mission, he’d surprised even himself by wanting to do it. It was dangerous and had considerable risk involved. There were many unknowns, not the least of which was whether the Optiveil would remain operational under the forces of the transit tube. But Ian and Lyyle both wanted to go. Here was a chance to make a difference—and not a little one at that.
What Ert wanted them to do was simply; go through the transit tube to the Red-tail galaxy to gather information about the variances and pressures inside a Red-tail artificially induced transit tube. They hoped they could maintain communications with Ert throughout their time there. Ert outlined a plan to utilize several known wormholes to channel their signal. Then after collecting sufficient data, the Express would return through another Red-tail transit tube. Simple.
Famous last words, Ian thought.
“I don’t understand something,” Lyyle said.
“What’s that?”
“If those tubes aren’t natural phenomenon like a wormhole, how do the Red-tails create them?”
“I don’t know if I can fully explain it, but I’ll give it a shot.”
Lyyle set the project he was working on aside and focused all of his attention on Ian.
“From what I understand, the Red-tails aren’t smart enough on their own to develop the technology to create their transit tubes.”
“They’re not?”
“Not according to an Axia seminar I attended a few months ago,” Ian answered.
“But how...”
“According to the Axia, the Red-tails somehow got hold of some kind of advanced technology and reverse engineered it to create their tubes.”
Lyyle’s expression of confusion was written clearly on his face. Ian could see that the Vogel scientist did not understand the application of the Red-tail’s technological advancement.
“Don’t you see?” Ian asked. “Due to the incredible distances between their galaxy and ours, they could never have gotten into our galaxy if it weren’t for them finding or stealing somebody else’s science.”
“But that doesn’t explain how they create their transit tubes,” Lyyle replied.
Ian wasn’t sure he could explain the theory behind the Red-tail’s technology but he felt he owed it to his new friend to try. After all, he was being asked to risk his life to prove the Horicon’s theory.
“According to the scientists at the seminar, they distort space itself. They create their transit tube by tearing the very fabric of space which causes it to fold in on itself, allowing them to travel incredible expanses of space in hours instead of years.”
“So without this technology, they’d never be able to...”
“They’d never be able to traverse from their galaxy to ours. The distances would be too great,” Ian finished Lyyle’s sentence.
Lyyle sat back in the comm chair and considered Ian’s words. He knew that in order to fold space the way Ian had explained, it would mean they’d have to tear space at the sub-atomic level, causing space to become not only void, but almost non-existent. Then another thought occurred to him. “Ian?”
“Yes?”
“What do you think would happen if the Red-tails were to inadvertently, or even purposely, use that technology on a planet that depends on nuclear fusion as their main power source?”
“You mean like Vogel?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t know. I suppose it could create a cascading nuclear chain reaction,” Ian reasoned.
Lyyle keyed the Expresses main control console panel and entered a mathematical equation unlike anything Ian had ever seen. The results depicted on the screen showed an ever-increasing progression of expanding mathematical expressions.
“Just what I thought.”
Ian looked at the control panel screen but this level of math was far beyond his understanding.
“Don’t you see?” Lyyle asked, tapping the screen. “If this technology were used against a planet like Vogel, it would cause the atomic power of a nuclear source to fold in on itself, tearing the sub-atomic particles into thousands of other sub-atomic particles.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It would start a chain reaction that could destroy the planet, possibly even our entire solar system.”
Ian whistled a low exclamation that seemed to sum up the sudden distress he was feeling.
So this is the firestorm this Ert character wants us to fly into.
“We must be nuts coming into this thing,” he said to Lyyle.
“You already said that.”
“Yeah, but this time I mean it.”
Ian’s mind overflowed with a myriad of possible things that could go wrong, any of which would likely have fatal consequences. But as much as his mind clamored with dire possibilities, Ian wanted to go. That left controlling and focusing his own thoughts to their best advantage as his greatest task. Ian was an improviser at heart. If he could think clearly, the other parts of the process would fall into place.
Remembering how he was able to shove against a scout ship, even though the Express was veiled, Ian maneuvered carefully to avoid the oncoming Red-tail ships. If he accidentally bumped a few, someone would grow suspicious. Putting the right clues together could make his ship detectable and he had to avoid that at all costs.
“The stream is lessening,” Lyyle commented about the Red-tail armada.
“How’s the transit tube?” Ian asked.
He swung the Express around yet another small group of Red-tail raiders. “The last thing we need is this thing collapsing on us while we’re still in it.”
“Tube integrity is stable,” Lyyle reported after scanning his instruments. Ert had warned them that once all the Red-tail ships were through, the transit tube would collapse. That the exit end would be the first part to close would give the Express the precious seconds they might need to race through to the other end. But none of them knew how long it would take to go through the transit tube. Accordingly, Ian was pushing his ship and skill to the utmost to make it through in time.
Space Trader (Galactic Axia Adventure) Page 20