Shock Diamonds

by E. R. Mason

  In keeping with the challenge of understanding our Nasebian benefactors, be advised the Nasebian representative has conveyed his government’s sentiments that this trip is being made to their satisfaction and they have requested support be provided you in any way you deem necessary.

  Additionally, GSI Council members have requested you be cautioned to represent Earth in the most conservative manner possible as sensitive diplomatic negotiations are currently underway with representatives from the Enuro conglomerate. Any controversial missteps at this time could affect said negotiations in a very undesirable manner. I have advised the council that such a contemporary posture is typically not in your nature and for that reason they should keep expectations at or near the baseline. Please advise us as indiscretions occur so that we may intercept any ramifications as they arise.

  Office of the Global Space Initiative

  Bernard Porre, senior advisor

  End of Transmission

  R.J. looked up with a wrinkled brow. “The man simply worships the ground you walk on, doesn’t he?”

  “He is an ogre in a Space Systems uniform.”

  “Must’ve killed him having to approve all that.”

  “He’s a bit late, seeing as how we’re halfway there, don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, and I believe he was comparing you to Don Quixote, was he not?”

  “And you to Sancho Panza.”

  “Well, on that note of confidence, I believe I’ll return to my sculpture. Perhaps some day I should do one of Bernard in some less than flattering setting.”

  “Here, here.”

  As our Don Quixote quest continued, the galaxy became new murals of stars and stellar matter all the way to Enuro. It was an astrophysicist’s dream. The view out the forward flight deck windows was so profound our duty shifts became like movie tickets. Even the Christmas tree lighting of the flight deck just could not compete. Someone was almost always hanging out in the right seat when it was available.

  The navigation computers had done their job well. Enuro was orbiting on our side of the solar system upon arrival. No big arcs around a strange sun were necessary. We had no idea what to expect of this new system. One sun, four times larger than ours, a host of colorful, sparsely documented planets, most of which appeared as diamonds in the sky. One happened to be particularly close to Enuro. It had a purple-blue surface aura. Its composition escaped us, even through the best telescope. We ran scans and stored the data for later analysis.

  As we approached, my party crew finally became slightly nervous and very professional. No one had to be called to their station. Approach procedures were read out and performed without being called for. I could have sat back with my hands behind my head and let the Griffin park itself. Begrudgingly, Danica let me drop the Griffin into high orbit around our destination ball. It too was a strange and unfamiliar terraform. That label seemed appropriate since it did not appear that any part of Enuro was uncultivated. There were many forests, but all seemed manicured and designed. There were mountain ranges, but all were checker-boarded with architecture. Rivers seemed routed by design. Two oceans were barely large enough to be called that, and formed shorelines that complemented civilization. Even the cloud cover seemed somehow controlled. The surface was awash with well-distributed bright color, and much of it appeared to be artificial light.

  We sat back for one orbit to let the ship’s navigation and collision avoidance system map Enuro’s orbital corridors. About the time I began to wonder who to contact and how, a strangely scripted machine message appeared on our com screens.

  Welcome to the Earth ship Griffin and crew. Please enjoy a landing when you are excited at: 29*58’45.03”N, 31*08’03.69”E.

  Wilson laughed out loud at the poorly translated message and keyed in over the intercom. “Well, I for one am excited.”

  “Nav has given us an OMS and gravity repulse descent to FL100,” said Danica, ignoring his attempt at humor. “It’s showing a .88 gravity.”

  “We will be Olympians here,” said R.J.

  “Atmosphere is O2 rich just as promised,” added Wilson.

  “Coming around, everyone.” I replied. “Engaging descent profiles to the flight director. Here we go.”

  A moment of suspended pause was rewarded with the kick of OMS engines slowing us down, bringing the familiar sinking back in our seats as Griffin decelerated to the speed of falling. With gentle taps on the side stick, I coaxed her back around and we watched Enuro slowly rising up at us in the lower windows.

  Danica spoke in her usually businesslike tone, “Gravity repulse has it. Descent grid onscreen. We are five-by-five.”

  As we monitored our descent, something unusual happened at FL100. Yellow warning lights flashed on our status indicators. Before I could ask, Danica explained. “It’s a tractor from the surface. It’s not overriding our thrusters, but it is making small corrections in our attitude. Did you expect a tractor beam assist in the landing, Adrian?”

  “Nope. It must be an Enuronian amenity they just consider to be customary. I don’t see any harm in the stress profiles. Just let it be and we’ll keep a close eye on it.”

  “It’s a new one on me,” said Danica.

  “They must not want any drunken sailors landing on top of somebody’s roof,” suggested R.J.

  We descended in quiet awe at the sight of a never-before-visited planet rising up beneath us. The spacecraft’s instrumentation clicked and whirred reassuringly.

  At 10,000 feet, Danica remained her usual businesslike self. “The environmental controls and pressurization systems have finished sampling the outside atmosphere and they like it. Cabin pressure is adjusting and outside air is being introduced.”

  In response, we all suddenly became aware of the air we were breathing, concentrating to see if anything unpleasant was about to occur. Slowly there came a faint, cedar-like smell as our ears began to pop from the pressure adjustments.

  “That’s actually quite nice,” remarked R.J.

  “Coming down to four thousand,” remarked Danica.

  “Let’s still hover at fifty and hope their tractor beam doesn’t get upset.”

  “Tractor beam energy level is within the passive range, Adrian. It must be designed for backup.”

  “I see that.”

  We paused at fifty feet, took a good look at the colorful lights of the apron below, then stole a glance at the Enuro world around us. It made Las Vegas look like a watered-down imitation. Neon, or something similar, was everywhere. The colors were much deeper and seemed to invoke a pleasant sensation when looked at directly. It was possible some of the buildings were made purely of light. No entrances or windows deemed necessary. Pedestrians, many of unfamiliar heritage, passed directly through walls guided only by paths indicated by colored walkways. Vehicles traveled on elevated roadways of many different levels. At ground level, all traffic seemed to be pedestrian only, although some were using Segway-like devices in designated areas.

  “Wow!” said Wilson. “What the hell is this place?”

  “A city of the future, I dare say,” replied R.J. “I am disappointed to see that nature seems to have been eliminated entirely, just as I have always feared.”

  “Gear down, Danica.”

  “Gear coming down,” replied Danica. “Three green. Down and locked.”

  “Engaging touch down sequence.”

  The Griffin slowly lowered us down to ground level. We jerked about slightly as the wheels took the weight. Danica and I had to willfully ignore the busy city around us as we went through the shutdown checklist. R.J. and Wilson wasted no time in signing off their engineering stations and unbuckling to go aft and look out the portals.

  At the end of the checklist, Danica looked over at me. “Flight deck power breakers to off.”

  I switched off the power and the cabin went cold and dark.

  “What now?” she asked. “I have no idea what we’re in for.”

  “Me either. Guess we may as well go find o
ut.”

  From the pristine white carpeting of the habitat module, by the portal closest to the conference table, I could see three individuals standing outside waiting to greet us. Two of them were dressed in dark, skin-tight suits that looked like Spider-Man-wear. They were no more than four feet tall and had big round blue eyes similar to those frequently seen on Earth cartoon characters. Tiny noses, tiny mouths, and not a hair on their heads. Their skin tone was light, with a faint blue glow to it. Their expressions suggested that it was great just to be alive. The big eyes were scary. It was undeniable evidence that this was to be extensive, direct contact with aliens. A slight pang of fear forced me to wonder if I was up to it. Of the last two alien contacts I had made, I had become intense friends with one, and had killed the other.

  Though the two big eyes seemed perfectly suited to the strangeness of this land, in contrast, the third individual was completely out of place. He was of comparable height, but there the similarity ended. He was dressed in something that made him look like a circus ringleader, complete with plaid tuxedo, black boots, and a glowing wand taking the place of a crop. He appeared to have slicked-back black hair under his derby cap. Squinty eyes, proportional nose, and red smiling lips over a double chin. The group waited patiently for us to open up.

  “I don’t know about this,” said Wilson, and he looked at me as though he expected a change of mind.

  “Phasers on stun, Captain,” joked R.J.

  “I’d better come with you,” said Danica.

  “Better we should invite them aboard, I think,” I replied.

  And that was what we did. As we opened the forward airlock door, to my surprise and before the ramp could deploy, escalator steps rose up out of the landing apron and aligned perfectly with the ship. The ringmaster rode up, bowed, and spoke, “Ne na na, ne ne na na na na ne ne ne, ne ne na ne.”

  I waved him on board. He saluted and marched in, seeming pleased to have been invited.

  Once aboard, he looked around the ship with great interest, and having established me as the one in charge, came up and stood directly in front of me, staring up with a big smile, if that’s really what it was. He held out one tiny hand, palm up, tapped it with his wand, and two small, intricately decorated plugs appeared in his hand. Though he did not appear to have ears of his own, he pointed to the plugs, and then to the spot where ears would have been on his head had he actually possessed them, then looked at me and waited.

  I hesitated at the thought of plugging something into my head directly in line with my brain, but decided there was no real alternative. I took one, carefully inserted it in the left ear, jumped a tiny bit as I felt it worm its way into the proper position, then with great trepidation inserted the second one in the other.

  “Greetings, Commander Tarn. On behalf of my staff and me, let me extend a warm welcome.”

  The effect was one of the oddest sensations I had ever felt. I was aware of the ne’s and the na’s faintly in the background, but I was hearing plain English as though it was actually being spoken. I rubbed my left ear for no reason at all. “Wow. These are amazing.”

  “The translators? Ah, yes. I have one other set so that we can communicate with someone at all times while the work is in progress.”

  “You are the one who will oversee the artificial gravity installation?”

  “Yes. I am Lotho. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Commander Tarn. My team also installed the stellar drives and other accessories during the Griffin’s previous visit here. We know the ship quite well.”

  “Where will the work be done?”

  “In this very spot, Commander. Why waste time bringing you in anywhere else?”

  “Will we need to get off the ship while you work?”

  “That will not be necessary, sir. Most work will be done in the underbelly. In some cases, when we require access to the floor panels, you and your crew will need to remain out of the way; otherwise you are free to stay aboard while the work is underway.”

  “Do you have a time estimate?”

  “Five Enuro days. We will be working twenty-eight hours a day.”

  “What do you need us to do to get started?”

  “Commander, panels are being removed around the landing gears, as we speak. We are already underway.”

  “Wow. Okay then. I’m sorry. It was Lotho, you said?”

  “Yes, Commander. May I say, I feel a bit as though I already know you. I will remain your consul during this installation.” He dug in a vest pocket and pulled out a gray button with a clip attached. “Simply press this tiny device if you need to speak to me. I will come to your aid shortly thereafter.”

  “Are we allowed to visit your city?”

  “Commander, the city is available to you and your crew, as you wish.”

  “Is it safe for us to travel out there?”

  “As safe as any city. Security is everywhere should you need them.”

  “What kind of currency is needed?”

  “All currencies are accepted. Earth’s is highly unusual, but that makes it somewhat more valuable, not less.”

  “So you have another set of translators. If I give those to one of my crew, they can also act as a translator for my people?”

  “Certainly, Commander. Or you may procure additional sets, if you have equitable resources to trade.”

  “What would be considered equitable resources?”

  Lotho looked around, for the first time appearing slightly nervous. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the others, pausing momentarily to look at the flight deck as we stepped away from the airlock hatch. “Commander, this is a delicate subject, but your Nasebian benefactors might view it unkindly if I neglected to discuss it with you.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Do you have music on board?”

  Sensing this was some sort of delicate negotiation about to begin, I leaned down close and spoke in a low tone. “What kind of music do you mean?”

  Lotho looked around nervously. “Any that has a beginning and stops at the end.”

  “You mean a complete song.”

  “Yes, a complete musical piece.”

  “Like country and western or rock and roll?”

  “I do not know what those represent, but yes, as long as there is a beginning and an end.”

  “We do have some MP12 players onboard with songs on them.”

  Lotho continued to speak in low tones. “Do you have art on board?”

  “What do you mean by art?”

  “Original works done with paint or sculpture. Not video or photographs.”

  “Can it be digital storage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well then, we do have some of that sort of thing.”

  “You are a fortunate human, Commander. You come from one of the richest planets in this sector.”

  “I don’t understand. Enuro is centuries ahead of Earth technologically. How can Earth be wealthier than your planet?”

  “It is because we do not possess the attributes necessary to create music or art. The people of Enuro are the greatest anywhere when it comes to technology, but we were not graced with the kind of creativity and insight necessary to formulate music or art. We are unable to understand where to begin, what should follow, and when a work is complete, yet we are profoundly sensitive to music and art. There’s no sense to the creation of it that we can detect, yet when it is complete it is a thing of inspiring beauty. Therefore, we are forced to obtain it from other species. And so many other species are obsessed with wealth, or power, or war, there are surprisingly few that take the time to create or appreciate art and music, even when they are capable of doing so.”

  “Can’t you program computers to create art or music for you?”

  “Certainly, but art or music is not what we get. We see the program in our minds even before it plays. There is nothing. All computer music or art is a progression of logic combined with random chance. To us, it is a simple string of mathematical p
rogression. Real music possesses a creativity that cannot be anticipated. Therefore we are forced to obtain our art from those who are true artists.”

  “Well, what I’d really like to have is a dozen translators. How much music would you need for that?”

  “How much can you spare?”

  “How about one hundred songs, including four MP12 players?”

  “Oh my! Done! And you will need to sign a certificate of authenticity that these items came from you, otherwise we could be accused of stealing from someone. Fortunately, these do not fall under the prohibited technology exportation laws so no violations exist there.”

  “No problem.”

  “I will make the necessary acquisitions and meet you here later.”

  “By the way, how do I get them out?”

  “They are thought-recognition devices. You simply tilt your head and concentrate and they will extricate themselves.”

  “How many languages do they translate?”

  “All that we know of.”

  “How long do the power cells last?”

  “Indefinitely.”

  “Do they need to be serviced periodically?”

  “Never. They are constructed with a static superconductive coating that never actually touches the body’s tissue. They also repel or dissolve any invasive particles. Most individuals never remove them unless they expect no further contact with other species.”

  “Well, thank-you again, Lotho. We appreciate your hospitality very much.”

  The little man gave a slight bow, looked around, and drew a cloth from his back pocket to wipe his brow, suggesting our negotiation had been so intense it had stressed him. He nodded to me as though the barter was our secret and stepped back to the airlock door. His voice returned to normal pitch.

  “I will return within the hour, Commander. Once again, it is a pleasure to host you and your crew.” He ducked out the door and was carried down the steps.