Dadr'Ba

by Tetsu'Go'Ru Tsu'Te

  Dadr’Ba is an ark bringing a huge collection of the biology of Or’Gn, frozen in sealed containers nearly forgotten near the outer shell of Dadr’Ba, shielded from radiation by Dadr’Ba’s artificial magnetic field, and tens of meters of compressed cometary material, kept almost as cold as interstellar space.

  Or’Gn, whose real name the CA banned from Dadr’Ba’s lexicon centuries ago is long forgotten, erased from the records and databases. It’s another one of the CA’s many secrets, that carries the threat of capital punishment, this particular one endorsed (though not the punishment) by the Church.

  Dadr’Ba has always been focused on the future and forward motion, most notably since the Touch of God event. It was then that the instantaneous communications link with Or’Gn (as the old world, the old home world, became to be called) was lost.

  The Touch of God corrupted and destroyed the QECS (Quantum Entanglement Communication System) that provided instantaneous communications with Or’Gn. At the time of the communications loss, it’s said that the news from Or’Gn was the worst. The situation had gotten much worse in the thousand plus years since Dadr’Ba’s departure. The predictions came true and all that remained of Or’Gn were survivors of an apocalypse living in bunkers buried beneath a charred landscape.

  The loss of communications, aside from being viewed as a further act of God was the end of a continuous stream of bad news. Now without the QECS, it would take over a hundred years to get a reply from Or’Gn and any attempt was deemed worthless.

  Now with the discovery of intelligent life, the microbiology has become of secondary importance. The timetable for working through the microbiology had always been considered to be relatively long, and they could stay in orbit indefinitely while the terraforming and biology issues are resolved. The problem of how to deal with IL raises a multitude of questions that have no answer yet and has much more severe implications for both the IL and the people of Dadr’Ba. Time is running out, Dadr’Ba’s journey is nearly complete, having completed over ninety percent of the overall distance to reach O’M, with approximately a hundred years remaining.

  Though Chn’Gi searched, she could find no record, speculative notes or discussions on what they would do if they found IL on O’M.

  Chn’Gi had no idea how fast the aliens’ technology might develop; she didn’t even have any information based on their own history of development.

  The CA prohibits anything to do with Pre-Touch of God history and knowledge of Or’Gn.

  Chn’Gi and her team were told that they must work with the worst case. They are to report what the “O’Mi’s[60]“ as Chn’Gi and her team have come to call them, are expected to develop, in the hundred years remaining before their arrival. Will the O’Mi’s develope advanced enough technology and multiply enough in numbers to pose a serious threat to Dadr’Ba and its people.

  The CASC’s (Central Authority Security Council)[61] precautionary security crackdown is probably warranted, to avoid rumor escalation and possible panic of the crew. But shouldn’t the decision-making process involve more than the Commander, the four Sector Commanders, and the security chief?

  Chn’Gi knew that the Council would grow tired of her first weekly then monthly, NSTR’s (Nothing Significant to Report). She had hoped that the time distortion that often affects the crew, that loss of days that sometimes leaves the crew wondering where the last ten days, or years, or twenty-five or even fifty years have gone, would affect the Council.

  But the Central Council is not like the regular crew. Their jobs keep them on guard, far from being a team they constantly compete among themselves for stature, status and position. Chn’Gi couldn’t tell if it was friendly or belligerent, it didn’t matter, it kept them sharp, on guard, always looking for an edge or a point to make.

  These people, the Central Council, would never get lost in time, never be a cog, gear, or another component of the system of systems that makes up Dadr’Ba.

  Dadr’Ba runs continuously. It’s long work days divided equally and overlapped between the ships five sectors, ensured three sectors active at any given time, with the other two sectors on crew rest. No weekends to break up the routine and only three annual events and ceremonies; Graduation Day, Touch of God Day, and Memorial Day. These are Ceremonial Events only, not days off, nothing interferes with the carefully orchestrated operation of Dadr’Ba, never a day off to break up the continuous cycle. Nothing is allowed to interfere with the continuous mechanized clockwork cycle that marks the relentless progress of Dadr’Ba.

  Chn’Gi looked again at the summons on the screen. This was to be a video teleconference from her office that would afford her the luxury of comfortable surroundings and easy familiar access to her data in case she needed it.

  At the appointed time, Dr. Chn’Gi sat at her desk as the wall across from her desk disappeared, and she suddenly appeared to sit at a much larger conference table. Seated at the head of the table across from her, sat the Commander, to his right, the Vice, her new boss, (that used to be her boss’s. boss). Since the IL discovery and security crackdown, the SIL program was moved from the navigation department to report directly to the Vice Commander.

  At the time of discovery, Chn’Gi was only able to get intermittent slices of antenna time from the array of antennas arranged at the end of tethers attached to one of the observation rings that girded Dadr’Ba. In order not to put too much stress on the antennas, the ring the antennas are attached to rotates at a much slower rate than Dadr’Ba’s gravitational rotation. Otherwise, the antennas on the end of the tethers kilometers away (to provide a large aperture) would be under so much stress that they would tear from the ship.

  Additional antennas, operating together and opposite one another, had finally been constructed and connected to one of the other observation rings and had operating time allocated to Chn’Gi and her team.

  The explanation provided to the rest of the crew is that these antennas were auxiliary antennas used to aid in navigation and object avoidance or eradication, whose frequency is expected to increase since they’re beginning to enter O’M’s Oort Cloud.

  Everyone was sitting at what Chn’Gi assumed to be a virtual conference table. Most likely, no one actually sat next to each other, they were seated as she was, comfortably at their own desk.

  Chn’Gi suddenly spotted and then, as nonchalantly as possible picked up several cartoonish alien figurines made of hardened modeling clay given to her by her staff, made by their children in art class. She placed the figurines in her desk drawer.

  She went on acting as if she was straightening out her touch sensitive virtual desktop, flattening the heads up monitor into the table and looked up. All eyes were upon her.

  She focused her attention on Commander Di’Zo. He sat at the head of the conference table across from her. She awkwardly said “Master Commander Sir” then remained silent, there was a hint of sarcasm in her comment. Chn’Gi inwardly kicked herself for not being better prepared. She reprimanded herself for allowing what she perceived as a scrap of contempt towards the Council show that she still resented the rough treatment she and her team received at first discovery.

  The Commander, a thin man with fine dark hair, stony, expressionless face and cold piercing eyes. He wore a crisp military uniform with emblems that clearly showed his rank. He didn’t seem to breathe as he glanced around the table at the other, equally stony, expressionless faced, uniformed officers around the table. Before speaking, he paused, then his eyes narrowed as he focused his attention on Chn’Gi.

  Then in a cold flat voice, “Dr. Chn’Gi please tell us the latest status of the intelligent life you discovered on O’M and be as detailed as you can about these invaders” then after a slight pause added “and it had better not be, nothing significant to report.”

  Chn’Gi gulped, instantly recalculating her earlier decision to begin with “nothing significant” then go into what she deemed, “insignificant” but now trying to make it sound “significant.” It’s o
nly been a week, or has it been a month since her last report to the Council? Oh my God! Am I getting lost in time? O’M technology doesn’t seem to advance very fast, but if I say that, I’ll get questioned: “fast compared to what?” I’ve got nothing to work with, nothing to compare or extrapolate against, what do they expect?

  Then she decided, give them a thorough review of the latest findings and let them judge for themselves that nothing has significantly changed. Chn’Gi quickly rolled up a tally of the amount and kind of data collected, hoping to spit out some numbers that would fill the void and save her career from getting chewed up like official papers through an ancient document shredder.

  She began with the antenna time used, the number of transmissions detected and the frequencies; then attempted a summation “the intelligent life shortly after the initial broadcasts have successfully started two-way communications, which was to be expected. The original signals were in quite broad bands, which made it easier for us to detect them. They’ve successfully begun to narrow the bandwidth of their transmissions, an indication of the advancement of their technology and the quality and quantity of transmissions has increased steadily.”

  “They have yet to begin to broadcast video, which is essential in breaking the language code. The signals have all been a series of long and short pulses, the combination of long and short pulse length along with the absence of a timing signal indicates it’s not binary but rather a rudimentary code of approximately forty characters.”

  “Our analysis has not been able to detect a key or a pattern that we can identify. Without a key or pattern we cannot begin developing a translation of their language or languages. The IL doesn’t seem to be aware that others, such as ourselves are picking up their signals and are not broadcasting a key, therefore, they are broadcasting for their internal use.”

  “As you should be able to see, they are pretty far from being able to transmit video or an image which, aside from sending a pattern or key that we can recognize is the only way we will be able to begin to understand their language.”

  “The advancements needed from where they are now to where they need to be to transmit images or video is substantial. My team and I have no anthropological data or comparables to work with or examples from even our own history of technological development. It would be helpful, may I ask, that my team and I be given access to our own history of technological development on Or’Gn?”

  As Chn’Gi spoke the last sentence, that was later erased from the official meeting report, the room grew deathly quiet. The look on Commander Di’Zo’s face hardened, and the others shrank back from the table almost as if anticipating an explosion. But instead, with an expression as cold as ice and a voice louder than normal speaking tone, but not shouting, sounding almost robotic, very controlled coming from someplace deep within him. He only said, “No, it’s forbidden, and don’t ever ask again unless you want to suffer the consequences.”

  It took the longest time for Chn’Gi to respond, but no one seemed to be in a hurry, the virtual room appeared to have been frozen, freeze-framed, it didn’t even look like anyone, even the other officers around the table breathed.

  Commander Di’Zo continued to stare directly at Chn’Gi. Finally, Chn’Gi managed a weak, distant but audible “yes, sir”, then broke eye contact with the Commander and glanced down at her notes, flustered beyond belief and trying to regain her composure.

  Finally, she continued, haltingly at first, “Once they begin… transmitting video… we should be able… to decode, or develop a translation of the language or languages. That is the significant event that my team and I are waiting for because besides translating their language we will be able to see what the O’Mi’s look like.”

  The assembled group seemed to go along with Chn’Gi’s reasoning until the last, and looked at her in surprise; the Commander visibly stiffened and glared first at his vice then back to Chn’Gi, this time, level toned but shouting “What’s an ‘O’Mi?”

  Chn’Gi couldn’t bear to look at the Commander. She dropped her eyes and focused on the smart table in front of her. Sensing that she was on the edge of a precipice, summoning all her strength in a soft, meek apologetic tone replied: “that’s what we’ve taken to calling IL on O’M.”

  The Commander responded this time in a calm even tone, almost as if making up for his earlier outburst “These things are not ‘O’Mi’s’ they’re invaders, they are a pestilence that has laid claim to our world and are undoubtedly poisoning it.”

  “Thousands of years ago, before they even had a brain to think with, we chose this world to be our home. They are invaders and robbers and will have to be dealt with. In your reports, refer to them as “IL” and I never want to hear the term O’Mi again, understood?” Chn’Gi, barely audible “understood.”

  “Now, you will be expected to keep me, and the council informed about how fast these invaders are developing and what we can expect concerning other forms of technology they may be developing. That’s all.” The meeting ended.

  Chapter 16, P’Ko’s Friend Tn’[62]

  As P’Ko turned the corner on his way to school, He spotted Dan’Zu and his gang across the street in one of their regular hangout spots, where the surveillance cameras didn’t have a very good view. Not unexpectedly, they were tormenting a new kid.

  P’Ko could tell by the marking on the To’Ta’s uniform that the victim was a fifteenth-year student. P’Ko was already in his eighteenth year and hadn’t seen the kid before.

  Must be a transfer P’Ko thought. P’Ko wasn’t surprised that Dan’Zu would be up to his old pranks, P’Ko had learned how to avoid Dan’Zu over the years, and lately, he’s done a pretty good job of it. For the most part, Dan’Zu and his crew moved on to younger weaker prey.

  This poor kid must feel alone, afraid, new school and all, and looks weak willed and immature, not so much different than P’Ko was when Dan’Zu began picking on him. P’Ko thought back to the times that he fell victim to Dan’Zu and his gang.

  Transfers don’t happen very often; the kid’s parents must have changed jobs or job locations to wind up here. P’Ko watched Dan’Zu and his gang laughing and shoving each other and the new kid. P’Ko knew that this roughhousing was experienced much differently by this kid, than for Dan’Zu’s gang.

  The kid was near the breaking point, hands shaking, arms brought up in a defensive posture, head down, staggering as the group shoved the kid around a rough circle.

  P’Ko’s blood boiled, he could imagine himself there. Years later yet still fresh in his memory this was P’Ko before he escaped and got so good at evasion that they left him alone. Now he’s older, more mature and confident that if he needed to, he could take on the whole gang and this hidden corner would be the perfect place. He too could play this slaphappy game of theirs.

  P’Ko went into action; he walked up to the group laughing and shoved one of the gang members out of the way catching the new kid just as he is about to fall and maneuvered the victim behind him, putting himself between the kid and the gang.

  The bully that P’Ko shoved cursed, but the rest of the group laughed along with P’Ko. Then P’Ko swiftly started to work his way around the circle of bullies. The first he gave a friendly slap on the shoulder, followed by a couple of quick diversionary moves, then ending with a light, open-handed slap to the face that left the bully looking bewildered.

  The second one got the same treatment but ended with an elbow to the midsection doubling him over. The others, including Dan’Zu, still laughed. P’Ko was behaving comically, but when the last one crumpled to the deck, the laughing abruptly stopped. The mood instantly changed, and Dan’Zu yelled “Hey, knock it off” but when P’Ko continued, called the gang to the attack.

  P’Ko ducked and dodged quickly and swept the legs out from under number three and shoved number one that had started to lunge into Dan’Zu. And turned to work on number four. Number four had been content to step back and watch began to back away. Dan’Zu yelled aga
in “don’t just stand there, get him!”

  P’Ko lightly slapped number four across the face three times in quick succession while batting down his attempt’s to block. Then grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, causing him to lose his footing and flop to the ground, he sat on the ground with a stupid look on his face.

  Dan’Zu shoved the gang member that P’Ko sent his way to the deck and losing all restraint wildly tried, to P’Ko’s surprise, a couple of rudimentary martial arts kicks and punches, forcing the rest of the bullies to step back in the process and watch with amazement.

  P’Ko dogged Dan’Zu’s failings easily, then stepped forward to Dan’Zu like nothing was happening and with one hand, took Dan’Zu’s arm and twisted it in an awkward angle and with his free arm, P’Ko wrapped it around Dan’Zu’s neck as if in an embrace pinning Dan’Zu so he couldn’t move.

  Then P’Ko said loudly “Dan’Zu, you’re such a kidder, this is fun.” Then, turning his head and whispering so that only Dan’Zu could hear “I’m going to let you keep your self-respect, but if you bother this kid or anyone else again, I’ll embarrass you in front of your friends to the point that no one will ever respect you again.”

  Then P’Ko dropped his arm from around Dan’Zu’s neck and shook loose Dan’Zu’s twisted arm. Then stepped around, reached out and shook Dan’Zu’s hand. With a sober, sincere tone, P’Ko thanked Dan’Zu for the fun, then saying, looking over at the new kid that they had been picking on, that it was “too much fun for little kids and that they should leave the younger ones alone. What d’ya say?”