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

by Don Foxe

  “I know what a bumpkin is, Kennedy. Just surprised at the usage.”

  “I thought it appropriate, sir. While Genna, and I have the ability to adapt to unique experiences rather quickly, you may find it difficult to adjust once you are aboard the alien ship. As you are Earth’s first representative to at least two advanced species, perhaps you could try and act more diplomatic. You should attempt to make a good first impression.”

  The avatar was not the only intelligent being developing a distinct personality. He was definitely having an effect on his crew, and one Space Fleet may not appreciate. Treating Genna and Kennedy as both crew and individuals had created a bond between the three of them, and ultimately that was what any crew had to have to function as a team.

  “Got it. Less bumpkin, more diplomat. Cooper, out.”

  Angel 7 was a small ship compared to PT-109, but in comparison to the alien cruise ship, she was a gnat.

  Cooper moved his ship around to pass port-to-port to the smaller sphere, which held the command center. He dipped beneath the huge second sphere, and found a ramp lowered and waiting.

  “Kennedy. Genna. I am about to enter the Star Gazer. Once I’m in and settled, I would appreciate it if you would head for Mars. Nothing more you can do here, and the sooner you leave, well, the sooner you get back.”

  “This is SFPT-109.” Kennedy’s voice resonated clipped and formal. “While Captain Cooper is off this ship, Kennedy has disembarked.” Cooper choked up. There was once a naval standard the ship’s captain was the ship. In the past, he, as Captain, would have held the designation KENNEDY. The AI was paying him a great respect, and he recognized the gesture, but before he could comment, Genna added:

  “This is acting Captain of the SFPT-109, Genna Bouvier.” Cooper smiled even wider. The avatar had given herself a formal last name. Bouvier was the maiden name of President John F. Kennedy’s wife, Jacqueline.

  “To the commander, the crew, the people aboard the Star Gazer, you have possession of our Captain. You are responsible for his care and wellbeing. I will personally hold you responsible for his safekeeping.

  “Captain Poonch, do you understand?” she asked, knowing the airwaves were being monitored aboard the alien ship.

  A hesitant Osperantue captain replied, “I understand Captain Bouvier.”

  Before he choked up. On hearing Genna addressed as ‘Captain Bouvier,’ he nearly choked.

  “No, Captain Poonch, you do not understand. If anything happens to my Captain, you will think of the Zenge as warm and cuddly compared to me, this ship, and Space Fleet. Do you now fully understand?”

  “Fully, Captain Bouvier,” Poonch replied. “I only wish my crew felt as strongly about my good health, as Captain Cooper’s crew cares for his.”

  Coop listened to the back-and-forth as he employed lower thrust rockets to lift him into the belly of the cruise ship. Once Angel 7 cleared the deck, the ramp raised, locked, and sealed. In front of him, inside a clear lucite ball, an alien in a dark blue one-suit waved.

  “This is Commander Cornitsch, Captain.” The Bosine in the ball waved again. “Please follow me into the hold. I have a bay prepared for your ship.”

  The lucite globe rolled backward, but the officer inside remained upright. It was an interesting, and fun-looking way to travel within a hold after the venting of the atmosphere.

  Cooper used his maneuvering thrusters and eased Angel 7 forward. He followed Cornitsch’s hand signals, pivoted his ship, and allowed it to hover within a docking space that provided walls on three sides.

  Angel was compact for a space-worthy ship, but still roomy enough to carry a crew of three, as well as two power plants, armaments, and storage. Her airframe design similar to the stealth bombers of the twenty-first century. A giant wing painted in scan-resistant blues, grays, and whites. The pellucid cockpit canopy made from a type of acrylic-titanium able to withstand as much pressure as the thickest part of her hull. She had two entry and exit points. The rear ramp could be deployed for loading or unloading supplies, armaments, repair parts, or personnel. There was a drop-down open elevator beneath the fuselage used by the crew for easier access.

  Tripod landing gear lowered, and came to rest on the floor. Fully extended they provided ten feet of clearance to the bottom of the frame. Magnetic conduits extended through the three legs. When Cooper hit the switch, Angel 7 locked onto the metal deck. No matter what, his ship would not move again until he keyed the code to release the magnetics.

  “Atmosphere has been returned, Captain,” the storage commander informed him. “You are safe to exit your ship anytime.”

  Cooper was not comfortable in the full flight suit, helmet, and oxygen re-breather, but the plan was to keep it on until he completed decontamination. Through the canopy, he watched the two Fellen enter the hold through a starboard-side hatch. They walked toward the fighter.

  They now wore tight black bodysuits. Decidedly female and more impressive when seen from head to toe.

  ASkiilamentrae stood a couple of inches taller with less distracting curves than the other female. Poonch called the second one AStermalanlan. ASkiilamentrae walked with determination. AStermalanlan was smiling, more bounce to her walk, and waving up at him. Actually, more bounce to her. He waved in response before he released the body restraints designed to keep him secure in the pilot’s seat.

  On his way to the elevator, he grabbed his GO bag, set the security systems to ON, and took a deep breath. This was truly first contact.

  Keying his mike before entering the elevator; “Kennedy. Genna.”

  “Yes, sir,” came the reply from both.

  “I’m on board. Everything appears fine. Please make final preparations and get underway for Mars.”

  Kennedy replied: “Preparations completed while you were between ships. The 109 is ready for travel. Be careful until we return, Captain Cooper.”

  From Genna: “We will return soon, Captain Cooper. Please, stay well.”

  “Take care of my ship, Genna.” On the open com, he said, “This is Captain Cooper aboard Angel 7. I’m coming down.”

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  Cornitsch stepped forward. “I am not sure of your customs for greetings.”

  Cooper extended his right hand and said, “We shake hands. I am Captain Daniel Cooper, commander of the United Earth Space Fleet ship, John F. Kennedy.”

  Cornitsch took Cooper’s hand in his. He allowed the Earther to move it up and down. “I am Commander of the Storage, Cornitsch.”

  The shorter, curvier Fellen stepped up, taking Cooper’s hand. “I am AStermalanlan of Fell. I am happy to meet you, Captain Daniel Cooper of United Earth.”

  She stood aside for the taller woman, who held her hand out, but made Cooper move closer to grasp it.

  “AStermalanlan, and I are your security detail while you are on board the Star Gazer. According to your Captain Genna Bouvier, we are to take good care of you, Captain Daniel Cooper.”

  “I am pleased to meet you in person, ASkiilamentrae.” He held her hand as he looked to the other two aliens. “And you, AStermalanlan, and you, Commander Cornitsch. I am positive intergalactic protocols will survive if you call me Coop.” He released the firm blue hand. “I need to go to decontamination.”

  First contact completed, the obligations of space travelers ensued. The initial duty, not make those you meet sick, or they you. No different from visiting a sick friend in ICU, sanitize and sterilize before fraternize.

  The following three hours were essential, and essentially boring. Coop followed his security detail to the medical section, located within the larger sphere. A lift delivered them from the hangar to the medical ward. He encountered no other beings until greeted by a pair of Bosine orderlies, both male, as he stepped from the lift. The Fellen handed him over, and the orderlies directed him to an examination room. Instructions included stripping, emptying his bag, laying everything he had on a metal table, and having a seat on the second table in the room.

  Nozzles
located in the ceiling sprayed the entire room with a mixture of decontaminates. His EVA, change of clothes, and body covered in a damp mist, which quickly dissipated. He dried within a minute, as did his belongings.

  Instructions came from an embedded speaker. He stood (nude); a medical scanner moved over his body, front and rear, and each side. He felt no sensation from the light playing across his skin. He was cool and assumed the area remained chilled due to the number of technical devices and computers medical facilities employed. That, or aliens preferred chillier environs.

  Two mechanized boxes on rollers, with mechanical arms, entered the room through a section of a wall. The doorway appeared, the boxes rolled inside, and the door closed.

  One requested a urine sample, handed him a cup, pointed a metallic finger to a semi-private area behind a curtain. When done, and the cup given back, the second box, a metal hand holding a syringe, stopped a few feet from him.

  “Captain Cooper, this is Doctor Coptonitsch.” The physician stood behind a transparent panel. Coop was certain the window not there previously. “I would appreciate a sample of your blood. The needle needs to prick your skin for what I need. I promise this is nothing more than making sure there are no pathogens within your body that would prove harmful to those on board, or that we carry any type of bacteria, or virus natural for our species, but potentially harmful to you.”

  Cooper allowed the needle to puncture the meaty part of his palm. It quickly pulled away, the needle retracting inside the box. No blood on his palm. No puncture mark obvious.

  “Captain, please make yourself comfortable. Get dressed if you like. It will take about an hour for the results.”

  True to his word, an hour later the door to the containment room opened. The two Fellen entered, followed by the doctor. None clad in protective clothing.

  Cooper sat on the examination table, changed into black fatigues. No emblems, lots of pockets. He wore his composite combat boots. Unshaven for a few days, the scruffy beard and hand-combed hair presented a visage of menace. The shorter Bosine physician stayed strategically behind the two women.

  “I assume we are compatible,” Cooper said.

  AStermalanlan, the curvy one, smiled, showing her fangs. Her golden eyes a hint of a mischief. She replied, “In every way that matters.”

  Dr. Coptonitsch decided it safe to talk. “We appear to share many physical, chemical, and genetic similarities. This is true of scores of species throughout the known galaxy, so not entirely unexpected. Some organs are not the same, or not located in the same place. Nothing medical will preclude our species interacting.”

  “And sexually compatible,” AStermalanlan said. Blueberry lips parted for her smile. “But unable to have children. We are not compatible for children.”

  “Yes,” Dr. Coptonitsch said, and coughed, put aback by the Fellen’s comments. “Genetically, Earthmen, the two Osperantue species, and those from Fell cannot mate for the purpose of breeding. Physically, males and females can have sexual intercourse, but for pleasure only.” The Bosine’s skin grew pinker as he spoke, obviously embarrassed by subject, despite being a doctor. It appeared Bosine were a bit prudish, where Fellen were not. But this was a tiny sample.

  ASkiilamentrae said nothing during the conversation. She had no interest in the topic, and interjected a more serious issue.

  “We need to move to our cabin in the command sphere,” she said. “We need to teach you as much as we can about the Zenge, and their battle tactics. You need to let us know what weapons your little ship has. What assistance we can expect if the Zenge decide to enter the system before your Kennedy returns with reinforcements.”

  He was having no difficulties understanding the aliens. The translation ring worked. The wordiness of their conversations, and word or phrase choices a bit stilted, indicating the need for more samples. His brain already accepted English with the movement of alien lips, syncing them so he no longer felt he was watching a dubbed foreign movie.

  He understood, but was not about to inform them the 109 would return alone. Space Fleet’s ships were at different stages of construction, from hulls to half-completed. Reinforcements remained months, or years away. He considered the Osperantue and the Fellen trustworthy, but not fully, not yet.

  The Earther hopped from the examination table, grabbed his bag, now filled with his flight suit, retrieved his helmet from the floor, and indicated the door with a nod of the head.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “The more we teach each other, the better for both sides.”

  AStermalanlan actually giggled. Cooper decided she was younger, and less focused on current problems. But every time he let his eyes wander, over her, or her companion, his focus became laser sharp, only not on extraneous matters. The clothing was tight and filled nicely.

  ASkiilamentrae took control. “AStermalanlan, you lead. Captain Cooper, next. I will follow. Captain, please keep moving. We have to go through several levels, and passed thousands of Osperantue before we reach the command sphere. Captain Poonch will also expect you to stop by the bridge, and while it is a side-trip, I understand its importance.”

  ASkiilamentrae handed Cooper an open translation ring. He placed it around his neck, and the clasp fastened. If he came upon an alien who did not wear their own device, they would be able to communicate.

  “A question, first, if you don’t mind,” Cooper addressed ASkiilamentrae. “This is an Osperantue ship, with, I assume, an Osperantue captain and crew. You are Fellen, found, and rescued in space by the ship. Why are you my security detail, and not an Osperantue team?”

  “Captain, if you will follow AStermalanlan, I will explain as we walk,” she replied, pointing at the open door.

  Leaving the doctor, and the decontamination room, bag in one hand, helmet in the other, and eyes on AStermalanlan’s delightful, round ass, Cooper walked as the other woman from a planet called Fell, spoke to the rear of his head.

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  They exited the medical ward and entered a lift. They started up. ASkiilamentrae explained their presence as his security detail.

  “The people of Osperantue are largely docile. There are the Bosine, like those you have already met, two other races within the same species, and the Fray, a separate species living on Osperantue. Pursuits include agriculture, travel, trade, and what we consider the softer sciences, like medicine, and astronomy. They are also an artistic species. The Posine are similar to the Bosine. Differences are mainly physical. One race, the Woolifer, have an affinity with technology, and produce most of the engineers on Osperantue. The Fray are a more secretive race. There is not a lot known about them collectively, or as individuals.

  “The Osperantue began exploring space centuries ago. The species among the first to visit other planets and make alliances. They are as they appear. Very much not to be feared. As merchants, they saw the opportunity to create trade routes between Osperantue and the worlds they visited. Other systems were doing similar business, and, in time, trade routes between several worlds led to a multi-system trade alliance.

  “Fell is a planet once consumed with war. Our ancestors fought among themselves for any cause. Land. Power. Minerals. Any reason was reason enough. In order to improve their chances of victory, they began to create technologies to help improve chances for victories. Our ancestors invented long-range scanners, targeting computers, battle-wagons that were self-propelled, and, as you have seen, superior means of communication.

  “The growing obsession with technology actually saved our species. Tribes began cooperating to create computers, machines, and systems that allowed every Fellen a chance to live a productive life. That exploded when traders from other worlds visited Fell and discovered our technology was far superior to what they used. Communication technology, for example, evolved, and our trade-goods include items like our self-learning translation rings.”

  They exited the lift and turned left. The hallway ahead filled with people. Adults and children loitered in the corridor. A
s AStermalanlan walked ahead, they parted, moving up against the bulkhead to provide room to pass.

  Cooper noticed they wore heavier clothing than he would expect aboard a ship, but he had already noted the Osperantue cruise ship quite a bit cooler than comfortable for him. He had thought it natural. Seeing people bundled against the chill, he changed his opinion.

  Murmurs rose around them as they walked the hallway. No one tried to speak with any of the three.

  They came to a halt. AStermalanlan addressed a microphone placed in the bulkhead, and a door opened. They entered the shaft connecting the main sphere to the command sphere. When the door closed behind them, Cooper could see outer space in front of him.

  “The walls and ceiling are a type of material able to reflect inside what is actually outside.” ASkiilamentrae explained as they walked through space. She returned to her story.

  “The Fellen never forgot our history. Even though we found an inherent ability to imagine and create a number of highly technical inventions, we remained a predatory species. Males and females on Fell, to this day, are taught how to fight. When visitors came from space, we were prepared to hold on to our technology.

  “In trade for our inventions, we gained the science of space flight. We began to trade our technology for food, engines, information, and supplies not found on Fell. Because we could, and would kill to protect ourselves, and our planet, we also received respect.

  “On this ship, with over 240,000 people, there are only two true warriors. That is why we have been assigned as your security, and your guards,” she finished. Finished in time for another com-mic addressed, and the entrance to the Star Gazer’s command sphere opened.

  Coop took note of ASkiilamentrae’s use of the word guards. The translator might have misused the word, or the Fellen were security, and there to make sure he was contained, if needed.

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