by C H Gideon
The Telluride led the way inside the hall. More of their kind stood on the street and in the doorway, smiling and waving at the newcomers.
Caught up in the spectacle of it all, the crew failed to see Ka’nak sitting at one of the tables.
“I see you tracked me down,” he complained, his voice a harsh bark after the melodic tones of their Telluride hosts.
“Ka’nak!” Geroux cried out, racing over to hug him.
“I thought you were in the guest chambers,” Maddox told him.
The Melowi shrugged. “Got bored and hungry.”
Jiya grinned. “There appears to be plenty of that going around.”
The crew joined Ka’nak and plopped down beside him and his Telluride companion.
“This is San Roche,” Ka’nak introduced. He pointed to the crew and named each in turn.
“My pleasure to meet you, my friends,” San Roche replied, smiling all the while. “Ka’nak here is an interesting companion. You must be proud to adventure with such a prolific and powerful warrior.”
Jiya burst into laughter. “Oh, we are quite proud of our warrior,” she said, reaching over and pinching Ka’nak’s cheek. “What a good little warrior you are.”
Ka’nak smacked her hand away. “Hey now, don’t kill the messenger because you don’t like the message,” he told her.
“Does that apply when the messenger creates the message all on his own?” Maddox asked.
“It is still true,” Ka’nak argued.
“That it is.” Jiya smiled, resting a hand on Ka’nak’s shoulder. “So, how’s the food here?” she asked, spying the handful of empty plates littering the table in front of the Melowi.
“It is amazing,” he admitted, going so far as to lick his lips.
The crew got a chance to say that for themselves when servants fluttered out and put plates before them, setting up a small buffet for them to pick at.
Takal stuffed a piece of meat into his mouth and groaned, juice dripping down his chin. “This is fantastic,” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe all this is manufactured.” He loaded his mouth with more food, making it so full that he could no longer speak. He simply moaned and ate more.
Jiya sampled the meal and felt the same way. If they could get the agroprinters installed in the SD Reynolds, that would be a major accomplishment. We need this, she thought.
She hoped Reynolds managed to work things out with Gorad, although she knew both of the AIs would go out of their way to get the most from the negotiations. Reynolds would be forced to abandon the agroprinters if the price Gorad demanded was too high.
Jiya took a bite of a succulent fruit she’d never tasted before, and a jolt of energy filled her. It was better than any cup of coffee she’d ever had. She hoped Gorad was reasonable.
She needed more of this fruit in her life.
“What do you call this?” Jiya asked.
“Rushfruit,” L’Eliana answered. “It is quite delicious, is it not?”
“So very much,” Jiya drooled as she ate another piece, once more feeling her body fill with energy.
“I would suggest you eat no more just yet,” San Paget chuckled. “It can be quite overpowering until your system is used to it.”
Jiya grinned, already feeling the effects of the fruit. She could barely sit still, squirming in her chair and feeling the strange urge to run a marathon or twelve.
“I love this stuff!”
Geroux took a bite of one of the fruits and grinned maniacally. “Oh…wow!”
“Right?” Jiya agreed, her trembling hand wanting to grab another piece. She restrained herself.
Barely.
“I wonder if…” she started, her mind running a million miles an hour. She struggled to keep up with her thoughts. “I wonder if there is something we can do to help share our various cultures with you and learn about yours in the process.”
“We could teach them?” Geroux asked, eyes gleaming from the fruit.
“That’s a fantastic idea,” Jiya exclaimed. “We could show you some of the things we know and give your people a glimpse at our cultures. Show you something you’ve never experienced before. We could begin right away.”
L’Eliana and Sans Paget and Roche smiled.
“That would be perfect,” L’Eliana replied.
“Though,” San Roche interrupted, “we would be required to do this elsewhere.”
San Paget nodded. “Yes. Gorad would wish to witness such a transfer of knowledge, as would the Grindlovians, no doubt.”
“I don’t see an issue with that,” Jiya replied slowly, frowning because of the inevitable delay before any action.
It wasn’t as if they carried the kind of information Reynolds did. Nothing they would show or explain to the Telluride or Grindlovians would be a life-altering intelligence coup like letting the Telluride in on the most destructive Federation technology. Besides Takal and Geroux, no one else had an inkling of how it all worked.
No, what the crew had to offer the alien species would be more of a cultural thing, a piece of each of the worlds that made the crew who they were.
“We could split into groups,” Jiya suggested, “each of us showing the Telluride a different aspect of our individual skill sets.”
“I could teach them to fight!” Ka’nak exclaimed, squeezing San Roche’s muscular arm. “They would make amazing warriors, these people.”
“And we could teach them more about the sciences,” Geroux explained, motioning to herself and her uncle. “But not that crap that Reynolds and Gorad were babbling on about,” she finished with a laugh. “No, more realistic stuff they can use to better their day to day lives around here.”
“I don’t believe there is anything we need,” L’Eliana countered. “Gorad takes care of all our needs, but I am still interested in learning.”
“That’s the spirit,” Jiya replied.
“That’s just it, L’Eliana,” Geroux went on. “Just because you don’t know that you need something doesn’t mean that there isn’t something you could actually use.”
“I cannot picture anything,” San Paget said, “but I agree. We do not know what we do not know.”
“Wisdom,” Takal said, raising his glass in cheers.
The Telluride simply stared at him.
“See?” Geroux giggled. “You’re proving our point.”
She reached out and clinked glasses with her uncle, grinning all the while. The Telluride tentatively followed suit.
“Then we’re in agreement?” Jiya asked.
“I believe we are,” L’Eliana told her, reaching out and taking Jiya’s hand in hers.
Jiya grinned, loving the easy-going nature of the Telluride.
They laughed and smiled and weren’t afraid to show their feelings or express their joy. They were the exact opposite of the Grindlovians, who had apparently retreated into themselves so much so that it had impacted their physical state.
While both species relied on Gorad to take care of them, each did so in their own way.
The Telluride, although they were fed and sheltered and maintained by Gorad’s systems, reveled in the things they’d been offered. They absorbed them, made them a part of their lives and world, embracing them yet never letting the things overwhelm them.
They just lived and let nothing get in the way.
The Grindlovians, however, relied on their tools to the point of apathy.
Rather than take a tool and enrich their lives by using it, they let it do all the work, separating them from the action. Their method of elevation was to allow the tool to act in their stead, relieving themselves of the task.
Jiya grunted as she contemplated the difference between the two species and wondered how those differences would play a role in her plans to share cultures.
Would the Grindlovians learn anything from this? she wondered.
She realized that they would, although maybe not as directly as the Telluride.
The Grindlovians relied on their Telluri
de servants to do everything for them, much like they did with Gorad when the Telluride were not around.
By showing the Telluride new skills, and by default showing Gorad, what the two species learned would leak into the Grindlovian world through the others.
While Ka’nak might show San Roche how to fight, and Jiya knew the Grindlovians would never use or need such a skill, they would be better served by San Roche’s increase in strength and disciplined mindset.
Jiya grinned.
She might not be able to teach the Grindlovians any sort of self-sufficiency, a trait they clearly deemed beneath them, but she had no doubt she could help advance the culture as a whole by helping the Telluride learn more about the world beyond the main city on Grindlevik 3.
And it would certainly help the crew to pass the time while Reynolds and Gorad hashed out their agreements, and it might even help persuade the alien AI to be less hawkish with the negotiations.
He would be learning much more than what Reynolds was willing to let slip by watching the crew and their interactions with the Telluride and Grindlovians.
She smiled as another thought danced across her brain.
Plus, I won’t have to listen to Reynolds and Gorad argue.
Bonus!
Chapter Seven
“I truly wonder if your purpose here is to benefit from our knowledge at all,” Gorad told Reynolds, clearly exasperated.
Reynolds wasn’t in much better shape. He thumped his metallic fists on the table and leaned back in his seat, groaning.
“We’d get a lot farther if you would make an effort to be reasonable,” Reynolds complained.
“I am being quite reasonable,” Gorad argued. “Simply because you cannot identify reason is not cause for you to blame me for not availing you of it.”
Reynolds chuckled.
“Your offer to dredge databases doesn’t even resemble reasonable,” he complained. “I can’t and won’t let you trawl my systems. We need to come to an equitable trade of information here.”
“Perhaps our creators used different dictionaries,” Gorad said, “since it is clear we do not speak the same language.”
“Hence the negotiations, Gorad,” Reynolds countered, trying not to lose his temper along with his patience.
He was suddenly envious of Jiya and the crew, wandering off and finding something else to pass the time while he was stuck here arguing with an intellectual giant of a moron.
“You want the agroprinters, yes?” Gorad asked.
“You know I do,” Reynolds replied. “But you do realize some of my crew are technical geniuses, correct?” he challenged, pushing the other AI. “While they might not know the specifics, I can assure you they are contemplating how to adapt the technology they saw into reality.”
Gorad shrugged. “If it were it as simple as that, neither of us would be in this room, now would we?”
Reynolds grunted. He didn’t appreciate the other AI being right.
“The concept of the agroprinters is quite simple,” Gorad admitted, “but the nature of foodstuff source and its composition and makeup are quite another thing. You could spend an eternity attempting to align the recipes perfectly and never manage anything more than a gruel with which to slop animals.” Gorad chuckled.
Sadly, Reynolds knew Gorad was right. Reynolds suspected Takal could figure it out eventually. The male was beyond a genius, but Reynolds couldn’t picture Takal having the time to dedicate to it.
With their journeys across the universe and Takal’s age factored in, the old scientist simply couldn’t spend all of his efforts on the foodstuff creation process.
And knowing what Reynolds did of Takal’s inventing process, he couldn’t imagine anyone—except maybe Geroux—following him and making any sense of what the old male had drafted.
He was as unique in his efforts as he was a person, Reynolds realized. That didn’t leave the AI much room to negotiate.
“Do you worry that I might learn more of the Etheric?” Gorad asked, surprising Reynolds with the question.
“To be completely honest, yes,” Reynolds replied. “It’s clear you have some experience in it, some knowledge, but I’ve yet to determine exactly how much and from where it was gleaned.”
“Agreeing to my terms would answer that very question,” Gorad shot back.
“But at what cost?” Reynolds countered. “Should all your knowledge be conjecture and unverified hearsay, then I’m opening the door to your advancement in a way I’m not comfortable with. A way my people would not be comfortable with.”
Bethany Anne would kick my fucking idiot ass if I did something so stupid.
“Then the concern is simply the degree of my knowledge in the topic?” Gorad asked.
“That’s certainly the main one,” Reynolds told him. “I can’t hand you technology that would advance you beyond expectations,” he admitted. “To do so opens the universe and my people to untold risk. I simply won’t endanger them for knowledge I will eventually gain anyway.”
“So, you would risk walking away with nothing from our talks to stand rigidly on a point you’re entirely unsure of?”
Reynolds sneered. “Well, when you put it that way—”
“What other way is there to put it?” Gorad chided. “I know of the Etheric dimension and I have personal knowledge of the Kurtherians but, like you, I cannot willingly divulge the limits of my intelligence on either subject.”
“Then we’re at a stalemate,” Reynolds admitted.
“Perhaps not,” Gorad told him, letting a grin play across his android features. “I have an idea.”
“This should be good,” Reynolds muttered.
Ka’nak paced in front of the line of Telluride who’d volunteered to learn how to fight. Dozens of Grindlovians sat on the sidelines, watching impassively from their chairs as if staring at the wind.
The Melowi shook his head and looked away from the weak Grindlovians. He would never understand how someone could let themselves become so atrophied that they could do nothing but think. Raising their hands or feet was a chore for the frail beings, which sickened Ka’nak.
As a warrior he prided himself on his strength and prowess, constantly working to better himself in all aspects of the martial arts.
When he wasn’t picturing new moves and practicing them, he was honing his body to perfection. Without that, all his skill was wasted.
He needed his physical and mental aptitude to be on the same level or he would fail, and in Ka’nak’s world that usually meant death.
Of course, he’d been beaten now and again, but he’d never given up and, more importantly, he’d never stopped advancing. Even in defeat he’d grown and learned, and come back stronger and smarter and better than he had been.
There’d been only three battles in his life where he had not avenged himself on those who had beaten him.
In two of those cases, the opportunity to exact retribution and even the scales simply hadn’t coalesced. They would someday, and he would be ready.
The last defeat, his most distressing, had been against a foe he had yet to overcome.
Gilshu Rea flashed through his mind, and Ka’nak grimaced at the image of her.
She had defeated him more times than Ka’nak dared admit even to himself, but that did not stop him from bettering his skills and imagining yet another conflict with the warrior.
One day, he pledged, he would be victorious.
Until then, he had people to train.
He grinned again as he imagined the thrill of combat and what he could make of these stout Telluride.
He’d spent the morning showing them the basic stances, adjusting them through the moves slowly and helping to align and guide their limbs and bodies to facilitate the motions.
Ka’nak had been impressed. The Telluride were natural learners, which he’d suspected. They were willing to learn as well, which was even more important to the process.
“Okay, people,” Ka’nak called, “line up acr
oss from each other. We’re going to test some of what I’ve shown you by sparring. Light sparring, to be exact.”
The Telluride did as he asked, forming two lines that faced each other, randomly setting themselves against their friends and companions.
“Perfect,” Ka’nak complimented them, unable to stop smiling.
Maddox circled the group, making sure each was aligned and ready. “Good to go,” he called.
Ka’nak nodded before glancing at the assembled Telluride. More had joined the watching crowd, and a number of Grindlovians had too. All eyes were on the spectacle before them, and Ka’nak could almost feel Gorad’s presence in the throng.
He knew the AI would be watching despite still being caught up with Reynolds.
“I’d rather watch this too.” The Melowi laughed, picturing the sheer boredom of sitting in a room with two arrogant AIs who were trying to outsmart one another.
“Okay, let’s start,” Ka’nak said, clapping his hands.
The would-be warriors started forward with hesitant steps, scraping their feet on the dirt that filled the large empty lot they’d chosen to train in. Dust kicked up around their heels, and Ka’nak grunted his disappointment.
“Confidence is key!” he shouted, waving the combatants on. “To hesitate is to be left behind or to die alone.”
The Telluride sped up their advance. They were an eager people, if nothing else. Ka’nak eyed them critically, looking for those who would stand out as if he were selecting fodder for the games.
Maddox watched from behind the back ranks as the two lines collided.
Well, sort of collided, Ka’nak thought.
When the lines met, each of the hopeful warriors threw the exact same move at the exact same time. Fists thumped against fists, and the Telluride cried out in unison and staggered back.
Ka’nak sighed and waved them in again. Each of the fighters threw the next attack the Melowi had shown them, a simple lock kick, and again bone clashed against bone.
The Telluride hopped back, clutching their shins in agony.