CONTACT AND CONFLICT. ALIENS & HUMANS.: Book One in the Space Fleet Sagas

by Don Foxe

  “When are we scheduled for return to natural space, and distance from the alien ship at that point?”

  Cooper was surprised when it was Genna, seated at the pilot’s station, who answered, and not Kennedy.

  “We will drop out of fold in two hours, beyond Neptune’s gravity influence. Two-billion sixty-five million miles from the ship, assuming it remains at the event gate.”

  “That would take one year at maximum primary engine speed,” Kennedy informed them. “If we engage the crystal array at maximum, we can fold space and arrive in forty-three hours.”

  Decision time for the Captain. An alien ship now flew inside the Earth’s solar system. A harmless traveler, or trouble? There was no way of discerning the intent, or the capabilities of the aliens. He could return to Earth, and at max fold speed, arrive in four days. Could the aliens get there first?

  He commanded a fully armed warship. He led a semi-sentient AI and an avatar for a crew.

  He spent much of his adult life hoping for this moment. Extraterrestrials with the intelligence to navigate space within reach.

  “Kennedy, can your sensors follow that ship’s movements?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Increase to maximum possible fold-speed. Monitor the movements of that vessel. I want to exit folded space 100,000 miles in front of the alien ship.”

  “Genna,” (The avatar swiveled to face him) “as soon as we exit into natural space, engage the primary engine and move us toward that vessel at 50,000mph. I don’t wish to appear too aggressive, but I want our sonic force field functioning.”

  “Yes, sir,” came the smart reply, as she returned to her pilot’s board to pre-program the actions into the navigational computer. If she was not physically at the helm when they re-entered natural space, the Captain’s orders would proceed.

  “Once you complete the navigational orders, please move to tactical [the chair and console on the port side of the bridge], and load four torpedoes into tubes. Make sure both laser cannons are unlocked and ready for action.”

  Kennedy could perform these tasks, and Genna could have silently asked the AI to complete the orders, but by accomplishing the work, the young woman remained occupied and engaged. Kennedy, without needing orders, completed a pre-engagement checklist of ship systems. One pre-programmed into her software should an extraterrestrial encounter occur.

  The SHD screen changed from starry space to grey fold. Cooper opened a compartment in the right arm of his command chair. He pressed a simple green button. That action ordered the ship’s current data, including the alien arrival, copied and dispatched towards the communication catch arrays on the Mars and Earth space stations. The information could not actually be sent until they dropped into natural space. No way for anyone to countermand his decision to intersect the aliens. By the time the data drop reached Space Fleet, first contact will have occurred. Satellites and telescopes would inform people there of the wormhole event, and the arrival of an alien ship. Until the 109 re-entered natural space, they were unreachable.

  In forty-three hours he would make first contact in one form . . . or another.

  Chapter 6

  Two hours before the planned return to natural space, the klaxon blew again. 2:00pm, and Cooper had been expecting the warning. He forewent eating lunch in the mess for a protein bar. When the alarm sounded, he ceased working on various outlines for potential events, left his office, adjacent to the bridge, and took his Command Chair.

  Kennedy’s voice closely followed the echo of the klaxon: “We will exit fold to natural space in one-hundred twenty minutes. The alien ship has been traveling at 40,000 mph and is 1,320,000 miles further inside the solar system than their original entry point from the wormhole.”

  “At which time we are programmed to precede at 50,000mph, and at an angle which will intercept the alien ship in four hours,” Genna reported from the pilot’s station.

  Without comment, Captain Cooper nodded his approval for his crew’s readiness reports. He left the bridge to prepare himself for first contact.

  Two hours later, dressed in black combat fatigues with no insignias, Coop returned to the 109’s bridge. Not exactly battle dress for a ship’s officer, but past habits were hard to break. He relaxed in his command chair before the 109 re-entered natural space.

  Without a glitch, a hitch, or a shake the 109 exited space-fold. She ran at 50,000mph toward the ship on the screen in front of the Captain and bridge crew of one. Genna sat the pilot’s chair, dressed in her variation of Space Grays and, eliciting a slight smile from her commander, vintage Adidas tennis shoes. Cooper wore light kevlar-composite combat boots in matte-black, and made a mental note to have Genna issued a pair.

  “The alien ship has come to a complete halt,” Kennedy informed them.

  “Genna, ahead at 25k, and keep the engine engaged, even if I call a stop. That should maintain our sonic force field. Not as dense, but it should give us adequate protection.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied. Cooper was about to come face-to-face with the first non-terrestrial anyone ever met. At the moment he also assessed the young woman’s personality and demeanor. Both evolved in little more than a week.

  What if aliens did not have faces? The stray thought came and went.

  A blinking green light on his console informed him the copied data was now being dispatched to MSD and EMS2.

  They were nearing the end of the ninth day of the trial. What better test for a space ship, than an encounter with another space ship?

  Chapter 7

  The alien ship floated in the void 50,000 miles away, but the zoom on the SHD cameras brought it close enough for inspection.

  It looked, basically, like a black baseball connected to a black basketball by a rectangular tube two-thirds of the way up the basketball sphere. The baseball faced the 109. Antennas of various types, sizes, and styles placed around the baseball sphere. Scorch marks, a third of the way up, streaked the port side of the basketball.

  “All forward speed stop,” Cooper ordered. “Keep the engine humming, but in neutral. Any indication of weapons?” he asked.

  “Nothing obvious,” Kennedy replied. “Insufficient data regarding what an alien weapon might look like, nor its capability.”

  “Any attempt to scan or contact us?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Genna said, as she moved to the tactical station, where an amber light flashed. She tapped an icon, and cocked her head to one side, as if listening to someone whispering. Cooper assumed the AI and the avatar were having a private discussion.

  Becoming impatient, Cooper asked, “Genna? Scan or contact?”

  “An attempt at contact using video and audio feeds coming from two of the umbrella-style antennas on top of the first sphere. It is similar to video signals on Earth prior to the invention of sound and pictures being embedded into light pulses. They are transmitting across multiple bandwidths. Kennedy is attempting to reconfigure the receptors that feed the bridge’s viewing screen. She is also attempting to match our audio receivers to their signals. Captain, it could take several hours before we find the configuration necessary to facilitate interaction.” She turned to face the SHD screen.

  In fact, it took nearly nine hours. Cooper and Genna had fallen into light sleep; Coop in his command chair, and Genna, head down on the pilot’s console. Kennedy woke them. “Captain Cooper, Genna, I have established contact with the alien ship.”

  An image faded onto the SHD. The picture a bit grainy, but there was a face, (thank goodness) and a body from chest up. Symmetrical features. Two eyes, larger than human, without eyebrows, and set further to the sides of the face. A wide nose. Not a snout, but wide from bridge to tip. Thin lips, and a slit mouth. Large ears, and short, spiky hair. The being wore what could have been a kaftan of light brown material. The mouth moved, but no sound from the speakers.

  “Sound, Kennedy?” Cooper inquired. Trying to determine anything about sex, or intent from the facial features of the al
ien. He could not.

  “Working on it, Captain.”

  Coop detected exasperation in the reply. Of course she was working on the problem. Kennedy’s personality was developing nuance.

  “If we move closer, we might improve reception,” Genna said, once again in the pilot’s chair (her obvious comfort zone).

  “Ahead at 10,000mph. At any sign of aggression, maintain speed and direction until I tell you otherwise.”

  Genna did not reply, but the ship on the screen began to grow. Within a few minutes the video cleared, and muffled sounds emerged, not quite matching the mouth movements of the alien. Then the sound became clear.

  It did not help. There was a rhythm to the sounds, and it came in at the lower registers, but made no sense. The alien was attempting to communicate. Seemed appropriate to return the attempt.

  “Kennedy, can I send communications to that ship? Can we retransmit video along the same channel, wavelength, or whatever they are using?”

  “They are using a type of broadband in a longer wavelength. I am opening a return feed now, Captain.” There was a moment of silence. Even the alien’s ramble ceased, as his eyes grew noticeably larger, and his mouth formed a round ‘Oh.’ “They are receiving video,” Kennedy said. “If you speak, they will hear.”

  He sat up, and leaned slightly forward, trying to attempt an air of ease. (No threat here, Mr. Alien Being.)

  “I am Captain Daniel Cooper of the United Earth Space Fleet Patrol Ship, the John F. Kennedy. [He left out the Torpedo designation, in case they understood, and then misunderstood.] You have entered our solar system. We mean you no harm, but we must know your intentions. Who are you? Where are you from? What is your destination?”

  The alien kept shifting his eyes, and then his head to his left, as if imploring for help.

  Cooper continued, trying to keep his tone even and natural, as if meeting alien life-forms was an everyday occurrence.

  “Do you speak for your people?” People? Really? What else was he supposed to call them? “Is there a way we can communicate?”

  The alien waved at someone off camera to his left, beckoning them to join him. Cooper noted the alien’s thumb and two fingers, each digit the width of two human fingers. It reminded him of the ancient fictional Start Trek Vulcan hand sign for LIVE LONG AND PROSPER.

  The Kennedy continued to move toward the alien ship. That ship unmoving. Genna took the lapse in the conversation (?), and informed her Captain of a few facts:

  “The initial sphere contains their command bridge, and operational centers. There is activity, and a lot of technology signatures. Nothing appears weapons-related [guessing the Captain’s first question]. A lot of internal chatter is occurring.”

  She placed a smaller video box in the left lower corner of the SHD. She zoomed to the tube between the two spheres.

  “The rectangular connection is a corridor coupling the command sphere to the main ship. Captain, the main ship is 2.485 miles high at the center line by 2.36 miles at the equator. Scans indicate multiple storage areas, a huge hangar, and engineering sections at the bottom, with eight-hundred levels of mixed-use above those.”

  “The thing that looks like a ring, and circles the main sphere, above the equator?” he asked.

  “A rotational observation deck, currently not operating, but it can spin to circle the entire sphere,” she replied.

  “Our deep scans indicate there are 247,638 lifeforms aboard both spheres.”

  Cooper sat back, a bit overwhelmed. “Three to 247,638 odds,” he whispered.

  “Thanks for including me,” Kennedy said, making Cooper smile when he realized he had given voice to his thought.

  “We’re all crew now, Kennedy. And we’re in this together. Any ideas on how to bridge the communication gap?”

  Before the AI could respond, the alien on the screen was replaced by another.

  Female, and one nothing like the previous alien. The most arresting feature, her cerulean skin. Coop wondered if the color was a trick of video. He hoped not. It made her cat-shaped eyes of gold, tinged with burnt-orange more exotic. Gemstone eyes, set like a humans, over high cheeks. A straight nose he followed down to full lips. Blueberry flesh pursed in concentration. Hair thick, with waves and curls, and long, to below her shoulders. She kept pushing it away from her forehead to keep her eyes uncovered as she concentrated. Hair a deep, rich auburn with hints of dark brown and black.

  She wore a lycra-like top of a golden hue, similar to her eye color. Her arms were cut by diamonds, and the abs beneath the top defined. The form-fitted garment displayed full breasts. It was either cold aboard her ship, or she was excited. Or her species had naturally hard nipples.

  “Damn.” The word slipped out. Genna half-swiveled around to give him a full-on, eyes half-closed-in-rebuke squint. She returned to her console without comment.

  The blue-skinned alien manipulated a circlet in her hands, using a tiny tool. She looked up, smiled (fangs where the canines exist on a human), and said, in English: “Speak.”

  Cooper repeated his earlier introduction, word for word:

  “I am Captain Daniel Cooper of the United Earth Space Fleet Patrol Ship, the John F. Kennedy. [Once again he left out the Torpedo designation, you know, in case.] You have entered our solar system. We mean you no harm, but we must know your intentions. Who are you? Where are you from? What is your destination?”

  “Speak more,” the woman on the screen requested. Not demanding. Just asking.

  “Kennedy, send an audio file to the ship. Play Wandering in Space and Time by Elliott Fairchild.”

  The attractive alien smiled, and nodded as Kennedy began playing the story of the Earther responsible for the discovery of the star ship which became the ancestor of the 109.

  “Captain, do you know what is happening?” Genna asked.

  “It appears,” he began, leaning on an elbow as he watched the woman work with the circlet, “she has a translation device, and it needs enough examples of our language to transform our words into their language and, I hope, the reverse.

  “It’s logical a space-faring civilization would invent a way to communicate with others they meet along the way. Somehow I don’t believe the first alien, and this one come from the same planet. They communicate, obviously. That ring, most probably a translation device. She’s attempting to adjust it to work with us.”

  As if waiting for the best time, she looked directly at Cooper, and said, “Exactly correct, Captain Cooper. I am ASkiilamentrae of Fell. The commander of our vessel is Poonch, a Bosine from the planet Osperantue. This is an Osperantue civilian transportation ship. It is not a warship.

  “I will turn you over to our Captain Poonch.” She handed the circlet to the original alien, who clasped it around his neck. Though she no longer had possession of the ring, he understood her clearly say, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Captain Cooper of United Earth Space Fleet.”

  Poonch took up the screen, smiling, and obviously happy.

  “Captain Daniel Cooper John F. Kennedy, I am Poonch. Hell-o.”

  Chapter 8

  “Captain Cooper will do, Captain Poonch. Welcome to our system.”

  “I am so very happy to find you are friendly. It is our unfortunate history to have recently been attacked by Zenge, who were most not friendly.”

  The translation circlet had work to do on grammar, but it was an ingenious device.

  “Is that why the side of your ship has burn marks?” asked Cooper.

  “Oh, that too,” replied Poonch. “Our world, Osperantue, was attacked by the Zenge. We are a trading people. We have many different [here no word came, but Cooper expected the circlet was looking for species or races] and we all get along. We travel to other systems, and we trade. The Fellen,” Poonch looked to his left at the blue female, “ . . . you have met ASkiilamentrae, she is Fellen . . . are the most wonderful people with technology, and they have made a fortune with their translation rings.”

  Now that the Ca
ptain of the alien ship was able to communicate, he seemed intent to use his newly found capability.

  “These Zenge, cold-bloodied meat eaters, attack many worlds throughout our systems. They send many ships, and mostly they kill. They came to Osperantue, and many fled to transport ships, and ran. We took the first [the word here was lost in translation, but Cooper assumed it referred to the wormhole effect which had brought Poonch to the edge of the solar system], and it was a short trip, and we popped out and, AHA! There was an escape pod with ASkiilamentrae, and AStermalanlan. We took them on board and AHA! Three Zenge warships come out of the [wormhole]. We jumped pretty quick, but they still got shots through our shields, and burned into side of the ship.

  “This was big jump to place we have never been. We have never used this [wormhole] before. It brought us here, and here you are, Captain Cooper.”

  “Captain Poonch, will the Zenge use the wormhole to follow you?”

  “Maybe. Probably not. Three is few for Zenge. Most likely they went back to finish Osperantue. Or they went to Fell to kill Fellen. Or they went to any of many other worlds they are killing.” Poonch teared up, and his ears actually drooped the way a Swiss Mountain Dog’s will do when sad or sick. “We are not fighters, Captain Cooper. We are traders, and travelers. We left billions of our people behind. We have thirty-nine thousand children on board. We have many animals in our hangars. We have little food left. We have nowhere to go. Captain Cooper of United Earth Space Fleet, I am Poonch, Bosine Commander of this ship. I ask for safe haven.”