“You think that's a sign of an advanced civilization?”
“Let's take a look.”
Traveling more than halfway across our own galaxy had been a matter of small dashes, punctuated by short searches for propellant. The speeds we’d reached were at the ship’s limit most of the time. It made no sense that shorter distances took longer, but it was the case. Long periods of acceleration took similar long periods of deceleration at the other end. This short jump was miniscule to some of the hops I’d taken, but because of the fact we’d not reach our fastest speed, somewhere near FTLx5, and there were no convenient jump holes, the journey took longer. Blah.
Because of my survey through our home galaxy, Ship had the biggest library of planets and planetoids known to man. It would be a few years before my six communication needles reached earth, a long time before mankind caught up with us. Yeah, us, me and Ship.
Between us we scanned forward carefully every way we could. Before we’d crossed half the distance, we had maps and data galore.
The planet seemed to be pre-nuclear, no unnatural radiation emanations of any kind. No artificial satellites, no air travel. Yet the hydrocarbons were in the advanced stage, with complex tetrafluorides high in the atmosphere.
“So they are mixing their hydrocarbons with fluorine?” I knew the answer, yet wanted Ship’s take.
“So not our aliens, then?”
“From where?” I looked frantically for some kind of corroborating evidence from the screen or controls.
I heard a soul-destroying click, and then all functions of the ship began to decay. The hum of light speed dropped in tone, the lights began to fade. Even Ship’s voice slowly deteriorated into a deep silence. From a full working ship, doing four times the speed of light, we’d become a metal boulder, rudderless, powerless and useless.
My console was dead. I looked up as small lights now illuminated the dim control room; battery driven, I wondered how long they’d last. I quickly ran back to cargo, stripped, pulled on my skintite, and then pulled on the insulated coveralls; if there was no power to life-support, the heat would soon drop from the atmosphere, the oxygen next. Moreover the electromagnetic field which defected particles and debris from the nose was part of the engine system. It had gone. If we hit any sizeable debris, they’d hole the ship in milliseconds; I had to be ready for a pressure drop.
I donned the outer suit, then the helmet. No point in being half-ready.
Sitting in my chair, I strapped the restraints manually, and waited.
I had nothing left to do.
Starting with a small almost imperceptible vibration, the ship began to shake. This was no controlled, computer driven deceleration; this was going to stretch the very fabric of my poor vehicle. We rattled, we shook, then we began to roll, pitching against the nose-forward trajectory. I felt as if my body were being shaken by a giant, caught at the top of the beanstalk, far worse than anything the sadistic instructors threw at us in training.
Then at last we fell out of FTL and into a sudden silence.
There’s something to be said about having a windscreen. When you’ve got forward facing windows you can have a grasp of your trajectory, your flight through space. When you’re in a disabled tin can, reliant on non-functioning screens, there’s a complete feeling of hopelessness.
Again, I wasn’t ready for what came next.
A hologram.
Green-tinted, mostly humanoid, it stood between my console and the main screen. Almost two meters high, translucent, looking from side to side, examining my control room. Then it saw me, and we stared at each other for a moment.
“What do you want?” I asked. Immediately linking the power failure to the alien humanoid.
It gurgled at me, its mouth moving but spewing gibberish.
“What do you want?” I roared.
It recoiled from my shout, then rounded my console, and leaned close. When it touched my hand I suddenly realized there was a physical aspect to its holographic-ness.
“Shit,” I pulled my hand away.
It moved closer, its features not exactly like a true humanoid, flatter face, nostrils more like holes than a nasal protrusion. When it laid its head on my helmet, then pushed inside, I flipped out. I screamed at the top of my lungs. But it was too late; the hands were at my ears holding my head firm, its head now moving through my forehead.
Impossible to describe, but I’ll try. Imagine if someone had just opened your skull with a spoon, stuck a food mixer inside and flipped the ‘on’ switch. My brain shredded, memories, knowledge and pain swirled together like a fruit and yogurt smoothie.
Then, just as quick as it had started, it stopped, and the figure stepped back.
“This is a warning,” it said. The voice was slightly stilted, as if the lips were unused to the format. “Change direction, move away, do not continue into this part of the galaxy.” It cocked its head to one side, then continued, almost smiling. “There is a plague on this system, pestilence, disease, it is dangerous to continue, warning, change direction. You will die.”
And the figure was gone. Absolutely nothing. Except the mix in my head, still spinning at breakneck speed.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I detected a rising tone of ship-ness. The smooth hum of the engine starting, the console lights flickering their start-up routine. Beeps, whirrs, hums, buzzers and a dozen warning sounds, instruments switching on, going through system checks.
All that, and the whoosh of air through the gratings.
“Ship?” I asked. “You awake?”
Nothing.
<… planet, we are being scanned> She stopped suddenly.
“Ship? Course change, reverse direction.”
“Yes, please comply.”
Silence for a moment.
“SHIP!” I barked. “Pay attention. Disregard all external anomalies. Obey order. Course change. NOW!”
And without a single word of snark, petulance or disobedience, the ship began to turn sharply.
“Details?” I looked around, nothing was visibly flying out of holes.
“So not bad then?”
“Go for it, I’m suited up already.”
The thick metallic spray that got sucked into small leaks had a terrible smell, probably from the bonding adhesive it needed to make a seal. Five minutes later, Ship announced she was happy with hull integrity.
“Okay Ship, you’ve got two jobs to concentrate on. Find out where we are. Find out where the home galaxy is.”
And when she did that, I had to work out how a primitive culture could have such a complex lighthouse system around it. And if I believed it or not.
I waited for Ship to do something. I had given it orders. And, after half an hour had passed, it still hadn't complied. When I was just at that point of being completely steamed, Ship said,
“What are you talking about?” I growled. “I hate it when you're cryptic.”
“You're sure of that?”
“What’s the reality, then?”
“I don't buy it.”
“I asked you to tell me where we are. I asked you to find home galaxy.”
“When will you have an answer?”
“Make a guess.” I knew how ridiculous the command was. I was talking to a computer, not a fortune teller.
“Now you're pissing me off again.”
“Why do our conversations seem so disjointed?”
“Why are you telling me that the planet can't harm me.”
“Why else?”
Ship almost asked.
“Computers don't get to have feelings.”
Wow, that had come from left field. Ship wasn’t a computer anymore? “We didn't.”
Yes, I would flip that switch to 'off' the first chance I got. Like when I was safe on home world. “I'm not being petulant,”
“No.” It hurt to be honest, but I felt I had to tell the truth.
“You said the second time we saw the enemy fleet it was real.”
“What's their purpose?”
“Why?”
“Thanks, Ship. You really know how to make a man feel... adequate.”
“No.”
“I really don't want another encounter with that creature who came aboard.”
“If it was, it was a damned uncomfortable illusion.”
“Magicians hate that. They often get angry over it.” I railed. “Besides, you were out of it.”
Ship fell silent for a moment.
“Reasonably?”
“Couldn't we just run?” I asked.
“And you want me to go right back into the lion's den, so to speak.”
“I think you passed a test when you were attacked and you didn't give up.”
“You're making assumptions that could get me killed.”
“That's comforting. To know that we'll die together.”
“Not really, Ship.”
I had to think about it. Which of us was the smarter? I had the feeling Ship had several IQ points on me, but was decades behind in experience. I smelled trap. She smelled test. Was there really any difference?
“That planet is just about the size of earth. How do we pick a place to land?”
“And get overrun by thousands of screaming aliens carrying whatever they use for torches and pitchforks. Or blasters.”
“You're sure of that.”
There was that word, again.
“That's not very precise, Ship.”
“Do it.” I said before I could summon another objection. “And pick a nice city. I want to be able to take snapshots and share them back home.”
I retreated to the command chair. The next few hours were going to be miserable. Survey-Scouts aren't ablative, just over-powered. Instead of diving into the atmosphere and burning off velocity through friction, we were going to turn our back to the planet and use the thrusters to match the rotational velocity of our landing area. Then we'd let gravity take over and fall straight down toward the planet. At an altitude of twenty kilometers we'd start flying, like an ancient airplane, by unfolding the small wings. Once we were close to the spot Ship had picked for landing, we'd again use thrust to drop us to within a few meters of the surface. Then Ship would level the ship, and we'd land on retractable skids.
And be damned near out of fuel.
That would be my first concern.
“Ship. We'll need to be close to water. Maybe a river or a lake.”
“Why are we still coasting?”
“First time for everything.”
I was going to comment on rust, but the thrusters came on and I sagged back into the command couch and mostly went to sleep. When I awoke, we had landed.
“I slept through the whole thing, didn't I?”
“Your doing?”
“I'm fit,” I argued.
I got up. I immediately didn't like the feeling in my legs. I sat right back down. Yeah, okay, I walked about the ship for five years, but my legs were used to pulling the magnetic boots off the floor, not actually supporting my body.
“Maybe you're right.”
“Thanks, I think. What about the atmosphere?”
“Is this planet really empty of... what? It's inhabitants?”
“Happy news.”
The exoskeleton worked perfectly, as did the breathing apparatus. I could work all I wanted without really getting tired. The lake beside the ship was filled with clear water, but according to Ship, there were all sorts of pollutants in the water, and all of it would have to be filtered before it went in our tanks.
As I stood outside the ship, shivering a bit in the cool mid-day air, Ship said,
I looked for perhaps a tenth time at the city that was about four kilometers distant. I wasn't the best at estimation, but if I'd had to guess, I would have said the taller buildings stretched at least 3,000 meters into the air. And there were hundreds of them. A lot of beings had to have lived there. Loading them all onto spaceships and transporting them to another planet... I thoug
ht about a formation of alien ships I'd seen and wondered if they were ships of war or built for passengers.
“Maybe a bite of lunch first?”
“Eating is not dawdling.”
“Right. I'll be back in four hours.”
I had questions as I jogged towards the city. As I neared the start of the buildings I wondered if Ship would be there waiting for me when I returned.
And was Ship right? Was I caught up in a series of tests like some lab animal?
I couldn't answer that.
All I could do that made sense was jog toward an abandoned, alien city. Yeah, some depths my ‘sense meter’ had fallen.
Ever take a walk down an alien street? Nope me neither, but it didn’t turn out to be interesting after the first few ‘ahh’s’. There was an initial ‘interesting’, then more and more of the same. Strange shit, funny shaped doors, weird writing on walls, dumb-ass furniture. The more I looked, the more pissed off I became. I don’t know if I wanted conflict or contact or neither.
“Ship?”
Of course, she’d be looking through the cameras on my suit, getting it in 3D surroundscreen. Wonderful. “What exactly am I looking for?”
I actually shrugged against the exoskeleton. At least I didn’t feel so bad now. “It’s like someone evacuated the town and told everyone to take everything of any interest.” I walked some more, then a penny dropped. “Ship? Scan for any animal life.”
“No, anything remotely animal.”
I looked at the sun, lowering in the sky to my left. On Earth there would be birds, or perhaps bats at this time of day. There would be insects buzzing around, annoying the heck out of me. There would be stray cats and rabid dogs prowling the town looking for food. Or bigger predators.
Star-Eater Chronicles 1: A Galaxy Too Far... Page 5