“Everything feels new?”
“That’s it exactly. Everything is new. It makes you feel that anything is possible. You will see that for yourself when we land at Zuleika.”
Shima flicked her ears in agreement. She was looking forward to it. She would miss Harmony, but her studies were complete and it was time to use them on Child of Harmony. This was their last cycle before the ship took them to their new home.
“Your mother and I worked on a project that we hoped might give our people the stars. Oh, we didn’t design it, but we helped build and test it.”
“Test what?”
“A new kind of drive,” Tahar said staring into the distance at only he knew what. “We were all very excited. Your mother and I were tasked with designing a process and implementing it for the construction of the prototype. It was a massive coil assembly.”
She leaned forward eagerly. “How did it work?”
“It didn’t work. Oh, we built it to specifications all right, and within deadline too, but the drive fused solid the first time it was tested. The second was the same and the third. Your mother thought it might be the phase lock.”
“Phase lock?” Shima recognised the term, anyone would. “You mean you worked on the FTL project?”
“Yes.”
She stared at her father hardly able to believe what she was hearing. The faster than light project had been the culmination of Shan space development, and a complete failure. FTL had been proven an impossibility and the project was shut down.
“Your mother published her theory and was asked to join the design team. She accepted of course, it was a very great honour. The fifth prototype was built. I was so proud of her, Shima. Nidra’s ideas seemed to work. Computer projections were almost exactly as predicted, but she was concerned by the slight difference in her calculations. She stayed aboard the ship to supervise the initiation of the drive. I found out later she had feared a core failure. The drive was activated and the core failed as Nidra predicted.”
“And mother?”
“She was injured, but she healed.” Tahar sighed unhappily. “We didn’t know, Shima. We couldn’t have known.”
“The project was abandoned wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Prototype Seven blew up on activation and destroyed the ship. The entire crew was killed—all two hundred. Your mother cried for days. They were our friends, Shima. It was her design that failed and she felt responsible. The project was terminated and we returned to Harmony. We wanted to start again. We thought that having cubs would help us forget the past, but we didn’t know.”
“Know what?”
Tahar’s voice was very low. “Nidra gave birth to six cubs the first time, Shima. You had five sibs, but all except you were born… wrong. They died. The kin mothers said it happened sometimes and that we should try again. So we did.”
Shima stared at her father in pained disbelief.
She had asked her mother a long time ago why she had given birth to only one cub. It had happened not once but twice. Two litters with only one cub each was very rare. Five cubs was average. She had feared another genetic fault might have been passed to her like her weak eyes. When her time came to have cubs, would she also be cursed with small litters? She had nagged her mother and her mother’s kin to send her for tests. They had tried to reassure her, but at her insistence and with the blessing of Elder Kerani, they had sent her for genetic testing. The results were both good and bad. Bad for her sight, but good for her future cubs—it was very unlikely that she would pass on her deformity to them. As far as anyone could tell, her litters would be normal in every way.
She shouldn’t grieve for her five lost sibs—she had Chailen, and Chailen had her, but she did. Why hadn’t they told her?
“Nidra wanted to try again straight away, Shima, but I said wait. That’s why you are three orbits older than Chailen. Nidra had four cubs the second time—it was horrible.” Tahar swallowed and went on in a voice choked with grief, “Nidra nearly died and Chailen as well. The other three were… malformed. They couldn’t have survived.”
She clutched her father’s paw. “Was it the accident?”
Tahar’s ears struggled erect. “Yes. The FTL drive is unlike others. It… I cannot explain it so that you can understand, but when it is activated it uses space itself to create a gateway to another place. When the core failed, Nidra was exposed to that other place for a tiny moment, but that is all it took. When everyone realised what that meant, it was already too late for your mother. Orbits later she died still believing a way could be found to survive in that place, but the elders disagreed. The project was terminated. The other place is just too dangerous, Shima. No shielding known would be adequate to protect us from it, and without it FTL is impossible.”
“You should have told us, father. Why didn’t you tell us?”
Tahar looked down. “Guilt. Chailen is lucky to be alive. All the tests say she is perfectly healthy—a miracle the healers said.”
“And me?” Shima said softly.
She knew what he was going to say. She had known for a long time that she would be blind long before her middle years. It was a genetic disorder. Little was known about such things, though research was ongoing. What she did know was terrible enough. She had a degenerative disease of the inner eye—the part healers called the retina.
Tahar squeezed her paw. “Your mother died from the effects of the accident, and your sight is poor because of it. I hope you can forgive us… forgive me for not telling you the truth,” he finished in a whisper.
Shima hugged him while inside she shrieked in anger. It was not him she blamed. It was fate. Even now she would not say that the FTL project should have been abandoned. She was its victim, yet she believed the elders were wrong to cancel the project. What did the future hold for her people if not the stars? Where would everyone live? Would there be feuding among clans like before the Great Pact? Her hackles raised and a shudder ran through her.
“You’re cold, Shima. Let us go now.”
She did not want to stay here any longer. Child of Harmony awaited her. “Let us go.”
* * *
5~Survey
Aboard ASN Canada, inner asteroid belt, Shan system
Captain Colgan stepped out of the lift onto Canada’s bridge and paused just inside watching his crew with pride. Months spent hiding in an asteroid field belonging to an alien species, and they were still as excited and as dedicated to the task as they had been on day one. He could feel their excitement and shared it. It was a heady feeling, knowing he was doing something important, and yes, momentous. The anticipation they had all felt upon emergence from foldspace had not gone away or even lessened. They were learning new things at every turn.
Colgan was eager to be on with his day, but the dimmed lighting warned him that he had a few minutes yet before the watch changed and Canada’s day cycle began. He was early, something he normally avoided so as not to appear like a mother hen. If there was anything spacers liked less than a captain who didn’t trust them to do their jobs without supervision, he didn’t know what it was.
A minute or so passed and slowly the lights came up full. Behind him the lift doors opened and day watch personnel filtered onto the bridge. Colgan smiled and nodded greetings as they murmured their good mornings. He had never been one to insist on formalities like saluting, certainly not on his own bridge, but some did have their place and good reasons behind them...
“Captain on the bridge!” Lieutenant Ivanova announced precisely on time, informing everyone she had passed command authority to him.
Like that one, Colgan thought wryly. “Carry on,” he said heading for the just vacated command station. Anya removed her helmet from the rack and Colgan replaced it with his. “Anything to report, Anya?” he asked as he took his seat.
Ivanova grinned and rolled her eyes at the chuckles from the others as they handed over their stations to their opposite numbers of the day watch. “Well yes, Skipper, now that you ment
ion it, there are a few small things.” She leaned over Colgan’s shoulder and with a few deft keystrokes displayed a summary on his number one monitor. “It’s all there, sir; nothing to report—no malfunctions or incidents shipside, but plenty about the Shan as usual.”
Colgan smiled. There was always a raft of knew intelligence about the Shan every morning. In fact, so much data was flooding in that his crew couldn’t keep up. Over ninety five percent had to be archived for later study, but what else could they do? They needed an entire university of researchers to keep up with things. Instead, they had a couple of hundred eager sailors to help Canada’s small but perfectly formed science department. Most of the crew had little to do with the actual day to day survey work that was Canada’s mission, most were concerned with running and maintaining the ship’s systems.
“Thanks, Anya, have a good rest.”
“Thanks Skipper, but we thought we would head over to the rec-room for a few hours and watch the feed.”
Colgan nodded. Shan watching had become something of a communal pastime amongst the crew. The big screens rarely showed anything else these days. The crew could access data about the aliens and their planets from any terminal on the ship of course, and the ones in the rec room were always busy with people doing that, but for generating a buzz there was nothing better than watching a live feed from the remotes. Colgan did it himself on occasion, but for entertainment, he preferred to study the Shan alone in his cabin. He would have to announce another lecture soon. He had more than enough new stuff already, and his last lecture was two weeks ago.
“Have fun then,” Colgan said.
“Thanks, Skipper,” Ivanova and her merry band said, as they left the bridge together.
Colgan watched them go with a smile, then touched a control to turn his command station to face front again.
The main viewer had a tactical overlay of the entire system displayed; the many coloured icons monitored and updated by Canada’s computer represented Shan ships and stations. The system was a rich one, something that pleased Colgan on behalf of the Shan. It meant they could trade and compete with member worlds of the Alliance when they joined, but more importantly, they could maintain their independence if that’s what they chose to do. It wasn’t Colgan’s job to protect the Shan from his own people, he was here to learn about them and encourage them to join the Alliance, but he felt a responsibility to do it anyway. He honestly believed they would benefit greatly from membership, but he also knew there were downsides. There were sharks in the Alliance—member worlds with economies based upon exploiting others—who could do huge harm here. He was determined to arm the Shan with knowledge of these dangers, and others... like the Merkiaari.
Compared to many Alliance systems, this one had very little space traffic in the outer system. That was because Shan ships preferred to work closer in. With two habitable planets, something that still amazed and excited Colgan, much of the space traffic clustered in that region would be freighter traffic. There was plenty of it. More than an Alliance system would use in similar circumstances, but that was understandable—Shan ships were slower. They made up for the lack with numbers.
Further out and the system became the almost exclusive preserve of the Shan navy, and it was to these ships that Colgan’s attention was drawn. They were beautiful and deadly. White hulled and sleek, they looked built for speed, but again that was deceiving. Colgan knew they were much slower than Canada and his ship wasn’t by any means fast. The Exeter class cruiser was an old design and most had been decommissioned or converted into survey ships just like Canada years ago. Slow or not, the Shan ships were still a threat to the mission and had to be watched. Normally that would be his XO’s job at Tactical, but Colgan had decided after a couple of months in system without being detected to allow Canada’s computer to handle it while the officer of the watch, himself on this occasion, monitored the situation ready to intervene if necessary. That was why the tactical overlay was prominently displayed on the main viewer. Francis meanwhile, was having fun learning about the Shan by overseeing the current survey operations of the Shan colony world. Colgan had a deal with her to trade places in a few hours so that they could both keep current with the ship’s operations and the Shan.
Thinking about keeping current brought Anya’s list to mind, and he turned his attention to his station’s number one monitor. While his crew worked quietly and efficiently around him, Colgan used his control wand to highlight items of interest on the display, and open the associated data packets on his number two monitor. Splitting his attention between the two displays and the main viewer, he worked undisturbed for almost two hours, when Baz Riley interrupted him with coffee.
Colgan took a sip and sighed. “God that’s good. Thanks, Baz.”
“You’re welcome, sir,” Baz said and moved to supply the others with their mid morning coffee.
Colgan finished his drink and then turned his attention back to the main viewer. Another Shan exercise was underway, and he was struck once again by how familiar it was all becoming. Their ships were always training or running fleet exercises in the outer system. They sometimes used asteroids in the outer belt for target practice, just as Alliance Captains would. It was all very normal, and Colgan shook his head at the thought. It made him wonder about things. Fundamental things, like what it all meant that a Human ship could travel all this distance to find alien beings doing the same things as people back home. He was no philosopher, but he thought it boded well that he could see similarities between the two races on the ground and in space.
There were many differences of course.
Shan, like Humans, were mammalian but unlike them, they had evolved from felinoid quadrupeds into a race comfortable walking on two or four legs. On four legs, they were faster than a cheetah, but unlike a cheetah’s max range of about two hundred metres, Shan could chase prey for kilometres before tiring. They had reasons for evolving such a turn of speed. Their prey was even quicker in some cases, and some had serious defences in the form of horns and fangs. Seeing a Shan chasing something so fast was amazing.
Outwardly, Shan were as different as could be from Humans, but they were alike in other ways. They built cities and spaceships, formed relationships and had children, laughed and cried just as Humans had always done. They had different expressions and language, different philosophies and dreams, but despite it all Colgan had very high hopes they would kindle something great for his own people, something that could dispel the fear of non-Humans that the Merkiaari had fostered in mankind—a pan-species Alliance.
It could happen. It really could happen in my lifetime... if I don’t fuck it up. Please, don’t let me fuck it up!
The Alliance had to grow; it had to throw off the lethargy and gloom inspired by the fear of the Merki. Over the last two hundred years the Alliance had been inward looking, its exploration of space half-hearted at best. Consolidation had been the watchword for two centuries, and yes, it was important to safeguard what they had, but expansion was the only cure for what ailed the Alliance now. The infighting and mini wars between member worlds had to stop before they got out of hand. They had to look outward again.
The Merkiaari were a terrifying foe, but Humanity had beaten them once and would again, alone if it had to, but what if it didn’t have to? If they could only do this right...
Colgan took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. They wouldn’t screw up; he wouldn’t allow it and neither would Francis Groves. His XO was of similar mind where the Shan were concerned. When President Dyachenko learned what they had discovered here, Colgan was sure he would see the possibilities and get the Council to offer the Shan people membership in the Alliance.
He must.
The first drones should be arriving at Sol any day now. Depending on the response and how quickly a follow up mission could be put together, Colgan estimated he had four to six months before another ship could possibly reach him with new orders. He had no idea what those orders would be. There w
ere many possibilities. He might be ordered to return to his previous survey mission, or to hold here and assist the contact team he hoped would be sent. No way to know for sure, but he hoped Canada would be ordered to stay.
Commander Groves entered the bridge a couple of hours later to relieve Colgan so that he could go play. He smiled wryly at the thought, and removed his helmet from the rack.
“You have the con, XO,” Colgan said heading for the lift and tucking his helmet under his arm. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Aye sir, I have the con. Have fun!”
Colgan looked back trying to look stern. “I am embarking on serious study, Commander, not having fun.”
“Oh, of course you are, Skipper. Silly of me,” Groves said and the others laughed.
Colgan grinned and waved as the lift doors closed. “Deck two,” he said and the lift jolted into motion.
* * *
Centre for Agricultural Research, Child of Harmony.
Shima bent to examine the damaged plant and her ears flicked in puzzlement. She glanced up toward Adonia and asked again. “And you’re sure this field hasn’t already been tested?”
“I already told you, it was assigned to us. No one has been out here since sowing Area Six.”
Shima’s tail rose and waved briefly over her shoulder in annoyance before she forced it to be still. It wasn’t Adonia’s fault that she sounded like a grumpy elder talking down to a particularly difficult cub. Adonia was senior in years and experience, but Shima had been placed in charge of evaluating Area Six, a position Adonia felt was rightfully hers. Shima sympathised, truly she did. Adonia was part of the team that had pioneered the variants of grain currently being grown here, and as such knew more than Shima how much work and time it had taken to get this far. Adonia felt there was no one more qualified than herself to evaluate the crop, but there were rules. Child of Harmony might not be Harmony, but it still followed the Homeworld’s rules and regulations and they stated that no one involved in a project was allowed to evaluate their own work. Those regulations held true in all forms of research, not just in genetics. Shima believed they were proper and good, but they were almost designed to cause ill feeling between researchers. Shima’s own projects would have oversight when the time came, and knowing her luck, Adonia would be assigned to write the report.
Merkiaari Wars: 01 - Hard Duty Page 8