by Isaac Hooke
“Goddamn it, tell them to stand down.”
Grayson bent over his terminal, fingers flying over the keyboard.
The XO leaned close. “Captain?”
Farris worked her jaw, teeth grinding. “Goddamn it, Ben, I can’t stand by and not do anything.”
The Commander’s eyes scanned the bridge as he spoke. “I agree with you, but we can’t just flip a coin here.”
“I’m fully aware of that, Commander.”
Shaking his head, Able said, “This is so beyond what I imagined.”
“I wasn’t so naive to think that we wouldn’t encounter conflict, but genocide?”
“You think that’s what this is?”
“Both their messages were pretty clear about that, I thought.”
“Maybe, but I’m not entirely convinced that vegetable down there is infallible.” Able jerked over his shoulder.
“UEF disagrees with you. If we sit back and do nothing, they wipe out a race. I’m not going to take part in genocide.”
“How do we know they aren’t lying? We don’t know anything about them. What if they’re manipulating us?”
“But what if they’re not?”
Able took a long breath, staring at the plot, his frustration obviously. Farris didn’t blame him, she didn’t much care for the situation either; however, they couldn’t change it now. They were committed.
Trajectory lanes snaked across the plot, the three Uniform contacts gaining on the lone Sierra. Without knowing their engagement range, the longer they waited to act, the shorter their list of options, not that they had many to begin with. If Sierra truly was the last of their race…
“Commander Able, all fighters target the Uniforms.”
Able hesitated, giving her a sideways look, then said, “Aye, Captain.”
“Destroy them.”
The Deltas flashed red as they unleashed a torrent of deadly fire. Harbinger’s crew watched as the Mark-VIII torpedoes streaked across the void. Seconds later the Uniforms flashed out of existence.
“All targets destroyed, Captain,” Able said, his tone terse.
Farris nodded. “Thank you, Commander.”
“We’re receiving a second transmission from Sierra-One, Captain.”
Once again the audio came through as gibberish, and a second later the translated message appeared on Farris’ display.
The Twelve rejoice in your presence. I shall present myself to you in the way of my people.
Able gave her a look, one eyebrow arched.
“Captain,” Lieutenant Presley said. “Sierra-One is decelerating and changing course. They’re moving to intercept.”
FIVE
The size of the alien craft surprised Farris. The conical ship sat in the middle of the Harbinger’s flight deck, only slightly larger than one of the transport shuttles. Her eyes swept over the strange vessel, noting bulbous extensions along the hull, no actual weapon emplacements that she could see, and really no sign of an engine of any kind. It barely looked spaceworthy.
“Doesn’t look like much of a ship,” Commander Able said, speaking softly so only Farris could hear him.
“No expectations, Commander,” Farris told him. “Isn’t that what command told us?”
He grunted.
Grayson, hovering in his chair opposite the Executive Officer, looked up from a data pad and spoke under his breath, “Sensors can’t penetrate the ship’s hull, Captain. We’re getting absolutely nothing on Deepscan.”
“So you can’t tell if someone is standing just inside the door getting ready to blow us all away,” Able said, more a statement that a question.
“Hell, I can’t even see if there is a door.”
“I think if they wanted to shoot us down, they’d have done it already,” Able said.
Grayson shot him a glance. “You don’t think they follow the old ‘you saved my life, I’m indebted to you’ bit?”
The XO shrugged. “Not every culture’s moral compass points the same direction. For some, war is a perfectly acceptable way of life.”
“Well,” Farris said, wondering not for the first time, if she’d made the right decision. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I’d kind of like to make it home.”
The Commander nodded. “You’re not the only one.”
The Harbinger’s reception party consisted of Captain Farris and her command staff, four security personnel, and the three remotely operated plasma cannons mounted on the fore and aft bulkheads, waiting for any sign of hostilities to reduce the alien vessel to so much slag.
A two-tone alert sounded as a hatch appeared in the alien ship’s slate grey hull. It folded out and down to the deck, touching down with a clunk. A silhouetted figure stood at the top of the ramp, just inside the hatch, backlit by orange and yellow interior lights.
Grayson grunted and muttered, “Not dramatic or anything.”
Farris didn’t disagree, but remained silent as the alien moved down the ramp.
Long purple robes flowed around the creature. It seemed to be bipedal, but it was hard to tell under the robes. A matching purple helmet spanned almost the entire width of the alien’s shoulders, its mirrored face shield reflected the Harbinger’s expectant crew.
The alien stopped at the base of the ramp, helmet turning as it took in its surroundings. In one of the very first First Contact Federation briefings she’d attended, they’d had made it a point to remind the participants that first contact goes both ways.
With her heart pounding in her chest Farris counted to sixty, then stepped forward and introduced herself.
“I’m Captain Carol Farris, of the United States Air Space Force. On behalf of the officers and crew of the Harbinger, and all of humanity, I welcome you and greet you in the name of all humanity. This is a momentous moment for both our species.”
The translation, gibberish and whines from Grayson’s mobile terminal, echoed around them. A tense silence fell over the flight desk as Harbinger’s crew waited for something, anything to happen. The alien just stood there, seemingly staring back at Harbinger’s crew.
“Did that translate?” Farris asked. “Did it understand me?”
Grayson checked his data pad. “Everything is functioning normally, Captain. Babel shows green across the board.”
The alien’s visor flipped up with a series of audible clicks that echoed through the quiet hanger bay. Blood pumped in her ears as Farris waited to see what was behind the mask. Two panels folded aside and the Captain’s breath caught in her throat. Grayson grunted and Commander Able stepped back, cursing under his breath.
The alien’s helmet folded back onto itself, disappearing behind its head. Its purple skin had a sheen to it, almost as if it was wet. Three black eyes, arranged in a row from the crown of its head, to just above several slits where a human nose would have been, stared back at them. All three were different sizes, the middle being the smallest, the top slightly larger, and the bottom almost twice as large as the top. Its upper jaw folded over the lower, extending back to either side of its head. Thin, six-inch horns extended out from its skull where human ears would have been. The top of its head appeared to be several layers of bone covering soft flesh back to the base of the neck. Tendons and veins were visible beneath the purple skin of its skinny neck.
The alien tilted its head, all three eyes blinking simultaneously.
“Do you understand me?” Farris asked.
The bottom eye rotated by itself, focusing on the captain. Tilting its head again, it spoke in a soft, almost musical tone. The words “cap tan” came through her earpiece a second later.
Farris let out a breath. She raised a hand to her chest. “Yes, Captain. I am Captain Farris. What’s your name?”
Several guttural clicks emanated from the alien, and the translation came through the earpiece. “Name.”
“Yes,” Farris said. “Name. What do I call you?”
When the alien spoke next, the clicks were accompanied by several multi-toned w
hines. A second later the translation came through.
“Cap-tan Far-is,” the next word came through as an incomprehensible mess of syllables and vowels, then, “plas Trilus.”
She shot Grayson a sideways glance. “Babel?”
The specialist’s fingers danced on his terminal, not looking up from his terminal.
Farris gritted her teeth, attempting to quell her frustration. “Lieutenant.”
“It still reads within normal parameters. Functioning at one-hundred percent.”
“I apologize,” Farris told the alien. “We are having some difficulty with our translation protocols.”
One of the horn-ears flicked slightly and all three eyes blinked simultaneously. “Yours is advanced. Defeat Plyst to aid, Trilus. The Twelve bless you.”
The alien tipped its head back slightly, bringing both hands came up, held inches from its face, and the alien let off a series of clicks and whines, then returned to his sides. No translation came through the Captain’s earpiece.
Infallible my ass, Farris thought, giving Commander Able a knowing look. The Commander returned her gaze wide-eyed, obviously equally confused as she was. She kept her annoyance at Babel buried, reserving her thoughts about the project locked away for all the scientists and technicians who said the program was perfect. They might as well be drawing pictures in the sand with sticks.
Finally, because it was the only thing she could think of, Farris said, “Thank you.”
“Farris preserve life. The Holy Twelve’s Mandate is fulfilled. The Tarekdo is complete. The Fardaas people are safe. Trilus gives thanks to Farris, bestow Tarekdo honor.” He bowed at the waist to Harbinger’s crew.
“We are from a planet called Earth. We are human. We have travelled far to contact you.”
Trilus’s head cocked to the side. “You seek the Fardaas?”
“Yes,” the Captain said. “A great evil threatens our galaxy. Our leaders have sent us here looking for allies in the coming war.”
Save for several barely audible clicks, Trilus didn’t respond right away. Farris shot Grayson a look. The communications specialist lifted his hands, obviously frustrated. “I don’t know, Captain. Everything is green.”
The translation came through, words almost hesitant. “The… Star.”
Farris couldn’t tell if it was because of the program or if it had been purposeful. Either way, the mention of the Star race sent a chill down her spine.
“That’s right,” Farris said. “The Star. Our mission is to forge alliances to fight the Star.”
The alien cocked its head, as if it was processing what Farris was saying. “The Twelve’s Holy Message shall spread throughout galaxy. You save Trilus, to spread Message. Trilus forever in debt.”
Two small hands appeared from the many folds of the alien’s robe, purple fingers covered with thin metallic strips. Trilus took a step forward and the translation that followed twisted the pit in the Captain’s stomach.
“Twelve shall bless passage on your people to Haven beyond. Trilus thanks Farris.” The alien lifted his hand up, its four fingers spread, palm facing her. He held it there silently, as if waiting for something, and she was afraid she knew what he was waiting for.
The last thing she wanted to do was to touch the alien’s outstretched hand, but she didn’t see any way around it. She was here as a bastion of mankind, to find new worlds and new civilizations. What she did in the next few moments could very well set the tone for the rest of history between their two races.
Commander Able leaned close, the tension in his voice obvious. “You don’t have to do this, Captain.”
Farris wanted to agree with her Executive Officer; however, she knew she didn’t have a choice. This was her job. This is exactly why she and the crew of the Harbinger had been sent so far away from home, so far into the unknown. First contact had seemed like an easy thing, such a simple concept. Of course, sitting around a table planning and talking about meeting alien races is completely different from actually doing it. Harbinger’s crew had a duty to themselves and to the rest of humanity to carry out their mission, and that mission started with her here and now, with this simple gesture.
She stepped forward and pressed her palm against the small, four-fingered hand. The purple skin was cold and prickly to the touch, like a rough animal hide. “On my behalf of my crew and the whole of humanity, I extend our thanks to your people and welcome a long and prosperous relationship between us.”
“Twelve bless Farris,” Trilus said, lowering his hand.
Farris stepped back, giving Able a sidelong long. She whispered, “Too much?”
Able gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “It was good.”
“The Twelve will hear of Farris,” Trilus said. “War with Plyst has lasted long and cost much, Trilus shall return, advise Twelve of Farris’s honor.”
When the alien finished speaking, the helmet closed around Trilus’s head and it turned to move back up the ramp.
“Wait,” Farris said, stepping forward. Trilus stopped, helmet turning almost 180 degrees to look back at her and her crew. She hesitated, the sight of the reversed head making her slightly queasy.
“Our mission is to recruit allies in the coming war against the Star. If you’re returning to your people, would it not be prudent to return with you and solidify our alliance?”
Farris stared at her reflection, in the alien’s mirrored faceplate, for several moments. Trilus stood motionless, seeming to consider what the Captain had said. Farris prayed Babel hadn’t fouled the translation.
Finally, Trilus said, “Blessings of Twelve are sacred. War makes Fardaas uneasy, reluctant. Farris honor will move Twelve. Twelve will learn and know. Farris and Fardaas meet.”
Grayson’s terminal chimed. “Captain, I’m getting some kind of data transfer from its ship. It’s coordinates.”
Farris examined the data, then said, “Meet here?”
“Yes,” Trilus said, bowing his head.
He turned, then disappeared into his ship, leaving Farris and her crew in stunned silence. The door closed silently behind him, ramp retracting into the hull. An audible hum reverberated around the hanger bay and the alien ship lifted off the deck.
“Able to Control, the alien craft is preparing to depart, keep track sensors up, do not lock on.”
The forcefield separating the Harbinger’s hangar bay and the void flared as the alien ship slipped through it, ripples of orange and red spreading out from where the ship penetrated the field.
Able turned to Farris, eyebrow raised.
“That was very…abrupt,” Grayson said, gravchair sliding forward across the deck.
“So much for protocol,” Able said, crossing his arms.
Farris couldn’t help but laugh as the tension fell away. “You’re telling me you’d actually enjoy eating with that thing?”
“Well, no, but that’s not the point. I mean that was hardly an effective meeting. I mean we don’t even know anything about them, which is what we were sent out here to do in the first place.”
“It’s hard to learn about someone when they’re on their way out the door,” Farris said. “It was so odd, though. Don’t you think?”
Able chuckled. “What? More odd than a four foot tall purple alien with three eyes and horns growing out of the side of its head?”
“I mean the way he acted. He didn’t seem to want to stay and learn anything about us. You’d think that first contact with another species, gaining more knowledge and data would be at the top of your list. It is for ours.”
“Like they told us in the briefings, we can’t anticipate how alien races will react to us, if they even want to meet us. We almost take for granted that life will be like us.”
“I guess you’re right,” Farris said. “I feel like there should be something more, I just had a conversation with a being no other human has ever seen before, I should be more excited, instead I’m more suspect than anything. And the fact that we’re going hom
e with what amounts to nothing…” She trailed off, growing more frustrated.
“I wouldn’t say it’s nothing, Captain,” Grayson said. “I mean we did make a contact, and the computer will be chewing over the data we’ve collected here for months.”
Farris stood there, staring out through the orange hue of the forcefield at the alien starscape beyond, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Despite wanting to explore the rest of the system, maybe even scavenge some of the left behind technology, the news of warring races and genocide was something the First Contact Federation would need to have. The fact that other races were aware of the Star was both intriguing and worrisome.
“Do we continue in-system?” Commander Able asked.
“No, Commander,” Captain Farris said. “Now we go home.”
SIX
Farris padded barefoot across the cold metal floor, tying her dark hair into a ponytail, then stopped and checked the status on her cryotube for the third time. Even having successfully completed three prior cryo-runs, she hated crawling inside what was essentially a coffin and trusting it to keep her alive.
“What a waste of time,” she said to no one.
She lowered herself down onto the memory foam pad inside, and sat there looking down the rows of tubes around her. The rest of Harbinger’s crew were already hibernating; when next they woke, their time in his desolate, barren system would only be a memory. She couldn’t help but feel as though she’d failed somehow, despite her executive officer’s arguments to the contrary.
She lay back, then tapped a series of commands into the control panel which extended from the end of the pod above her head. The tube beeped as it connected with the Harbinger’s main computer, ensuring the pod’s internal clock was synced correctly. It wouldn’t do to wake up three or four years before the ship’s arrival in Sol System.
Farris felt a slight tingle on the back of her hand and reached down to scratch it. As she did, the tingling spread up her arm. She looked down, inspecting the affected skin and almost jumped straight out of the pod.