Nearspace Trilogy

by Sherry D. Ramsey

  The Lobor came forward and extended a hand, and I pulled my attention away from Yuskeya and Viss. The professor had come here with no personal belongings, so her clothes were not the flowing shirt and billowy trousers favoured by Lobors. Instead she wore a pale, narrow tunic like Yuskeya’s and a long purplish skirt. I wondered if she’d had trouble finding clothes, considering the differences in Lobor and Relidae physiology. As Luta had told the story, Cerevare Brindlepaw hadn’t had time to retrieve her things from the Tane Ikai when she’d made the decision to stay with the Relidae. It struck me again what a remarkable choice she’d made.

  I shook the offered hand, mentally preparing myself for the unnerving heat the wolf-like aliens radiated. “No difficulties, Admiral?” she asked, her voice carrying a pleasant lilt that both the hastily recorded message and our recent communications had hidden.

  “None, thank you, Professor.”

  “Come and meet our host,” she said, and turned her soft-footed, almost bouncing gait to return to the lone Relidae who had followed Cerevare partway and then stopped to allow us to greet each other.

  Bemused, I followed. It was all so natural, so casual—I could have been meeting a foreign delegate from any Nearspace planet. And yet I was about to meet one of the most feared creatures ever to have haunted a Nearspace child’s nightmares. The Relidae who awaited us stood a little taller than my six feet. Light washed out of the windows, revealing pale mauve chitinous plates that molded the alien’s face, creating an alien geometry of linear planes and angles. These morphed into a sweeping, almost crenellated bone crest. The head was hairless. Deep-set blue-green eyes with diagonally slitted pupils watched us approach, unreadable in shadowed eye sockets. They—no gender was obvious—wore plain dark pants and a blue thigh-length tunic with slitted side seams. White symbols proclaimed something over the right breast of the tunic, below a crest that looked a bit like an elongated yin/yang.

  As I neared, the alien stepped forward and held out a hand in greeting—I assumed Cerevare Brindlepaw had taught it the familiar Nearspace handshaking ritual. I took it solemnly, careful not to flinch from the odd combination of soft, fleshy palm and the harder, chitinous plates my fingers brushed on the back of the hand. The Relidae chatter-whistled something completely unintelligible as it squeezed my hand in a firm grip before releasing it. Then, to my surprise, they smiled.

  Professor Brindlepaw came to my rescue. “This is Den-Aldar. He is one of the first Relidae I met, and has been so much help to me in beginning to learn their language. He says,” she hesitated only a moment, “you are welcome to Tabalo, and an honoured guest of the Relidae.”

  The Relidae must have understood the Lobor, because his smile widened and he gestured toward the building with a hand.

  We followed him into the building. Yuskeya and Viss dropped back to walk beside me.

  “Viss says everyone from the Tane Ikai is all right,” she said in a low voice thick with relief. “When you didn’t mention anything to Cerevare—”

  “Dio, I’m sorry,” I said. “It didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t know. Yes, everyone’s fine. They made it back to Nearspace safely, and that’s how we knew to come for you.”

  Yuskeya smiled. “I wouldn’t have been surprised to see the Tane Ikai coming back for us herself.”

  I chuckled. “Luta would have, but I dissuaded her. The Council wanted an official but unobtrusive ‘rescue’ mission anyway.”

  “I wouldn’t blame Luta for not wanting to come back here too soon,” she said. “Her last visit wasn’t exactly fun.”

  We’d arrived at the door to the building, a cathedral domed shape that echoed the larger building’s outline. I was surprised when it did not slide or swing in any direction, but merely dematerialized when the Relidae put a hand near it. I threw a glance at Yuskeya and she nodded.

  “Their tech—some of it is amazing,” she said. “We have to find a way to keep the other Chron from getting to Nearspace, sir, because we won’t stand a chance against some of it.”

  Inside, the entryway opened into a large space on the left, obviously used for social gatherings. Bench seats covered with soft-looking fabrics, in muted shades that echoed the Relidae skin tones, offered seating. Long, tapering spindles glowed dimly above the room, suspended from the high ceiling by gossamer filaments. In the low light, the glass front wall offered a shadowy glimpse of the outside world.

  Den-Aldar gestured across the room to an open doorway, and motioned for us to follow him.

  “His office is there,” Cerevare told us. “Den-Aldar is the administrative head of Tabalo. They govern by a modified sortition, so his title doesn’t have a direct translation. The closest I can come is ‘Legate.’”

  I nodded as we entered a roomy office with plenty of seating. There was no desk, although a credenza stood against one wall, littered with what I assumed was the Relidae version of office clutter. Den-Aldar took a chair and gestured for us to sit. He said something to Cerevare and she relayed to us.

  “The Legate wants me to explain about Ambassador Andresson,” she said. “She was injured just before we left the Corvid station—while we were getting on the ship to take us out of there. The station took a heavy hit and she fell, and a section of wall toppled onto her.”

  “How is she?” I asked. “I wondered what had happened when you said she couldn’t travel right away.”

  The Lobor looked discomfited, her ears tilting back. “Perhaps I should have explained more. She is recovering well under a doctor’s care here, but the doctor advises another day or two of rest before she’s moved.”

  The delay was disappointing, but I nodded. “Of course, if that’s what’s best.” I was suddenly very glad I’d sent the message to Regina via the Corvids.

  Den-Aldar chirp-whistled another few sentences to Cerevare, who nodded.

  “In the meantime, you are welcome to stay in accommodations here, or return to your ship,” she continued. “Den-Aldar hopes you and some of your crew will attend a reception tomorrow afternoon. He has several matters to discuss with you, but since it’s late tonight he thinks it can wait until then.”

  “Please give the Legate our thanks,” I told her, nodding to Den-Aldar to acknowledge his offer as best I could. “I think Commander Drake and I should return to the ship so I can let the crew know the situation.” I looked to Viss, who sat next to Yuskeya, holding her hand.

  “He’ll stay here, with me,” Yuskeya said, not waiting for Viss to speak. “I want to show him around tomorrow.”

  I smiled. “Sure. I’d like to visit the ambassador tomorrow, if I may. Professor Brindlepaw, would you message me when it’s appropriate to come?”

  The Lobor smiled. “I’ll be happy to. You’ll want to see Emar and Jolah, too.” Obviously, their shared adventure had made friends of the professor and the Protectorate officers she’d helped rescue.

  With little else that needed discussion, Linna Drake and I soon found ourselves lifting off in the launch alone. As the sparse lights of the city disappeared below us, she blew out a sigh.

  “I still can’t believe that I just met a Chron. And he seemed like a nice guy,” she said.

  “He did. And I think they deliberately just made it him and us. Casual, welcoming.”

  “The professor knows how anyone from Nearspace is going to feel about them at first. She’s probably advising him, and he’s listening. Smart guy.”

  I looked down at the lights disappearing below us. “But I don’t like this delay. I thought we’d make a quicker turnaround.”

  She looked across at me. “You think there’s something they’re not saying?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not that. Fleet Commander Holles will be worrying when we’re not back. The run into the Corvid system should have been a couple of days at most.”

  “What about the message you sent her? Did you tell her we had to go into Chron space to get them?”

  I felt my face warm and hoped the semi-darkness inside the launch cabin
masked the flush. “I told her they’d been taken to a nearby planet for safety. I didn’t exactly say, ‘Chron space.’”

  Linna Drake grinned, not looking at me. “Wow, withholding information from a superior officer. And Regina Holles, at that. At least you got to visit an alien planet before your court-martial.”

  “Just drive, Drake,” I said, but I could still feel her smiling all the way back to the Cheswick.

  I WAS READY in the morning when Cerevare’s message came in. We had a small group of officers on board who had either diplomatic training or experience, so I’d briefed three of them to come down to the surface with me. Linna Drake would pilot us again, since she’d been there last night. The whole thing made me nervous, though—this was not the mission we’d set out on. The rumour of PrimeCorp’s hand in starting the first Chron war cycled through my mind at annoyingly regular intervals. I didn’t want any misstep on our part to put the Cheswick in the same situation.

  The weather was auspicious as we arrived back in the city, however. The buildings that had looked mysterious under the shroud of night still appeared alien in bright sunshine, certainly—but no more different than any of the various styles that cropped up around Nearspace. We set down in the same courtyard as the night before, and Cerevare, Yuskeya, and Viss were there to meet us.

  “Admiral, it’s good to see you back,” the professor said as I stepped down out of the launch. “I’ve arranged to take you to see the ambassador, and Yuskeya will show your crew members some of the city. Then we’ll meet back here. Is that all right?”

  “That sounds perfect,” I said, although I felt a momentary trepidation at being separated. I told myself that was silly. I could trust Yuskeya to look after everyone else.

  Cerevare and I crossed to a smaller, flitter-type vehicle parked at the other edge of the courtyard. Its vaguely insect-like shape, with a long sloping front and twisting, spindly-looking legs, gave me another of those gut-twitching moments of revulsion. When a side door slid open and a smiling Relidae motioned us inside, however, it dissipated.

  We lifted off smoothly and flew low over the city. Raised monorails, which I hadn’t noticed last night but had seen as we descended this morning, sped their passengers along at extraordinary speeds. Below on the streets, other vehicles moved at a more leisurely pace, and pedestrians filled sliding walkways. We passed a few other flitters as well. It was all so utterly like any Nearspace city I’d ever visited that I began to relax.

  We touched down on the roof of the medical building, and Cerevare led me to an elevator. I could say if you’ve seen one hospital, you’ve seen them all, and it wouldn’t be far wrong. The smells were different and yet still suggestive of antiseptics and medicines. The hallways were characterized by muted colours and voices. Relidae medical personnel wore pale green uniforms as they hurried about and consulted one another. I wished I could understand their clicking, whistling language. It was the one thing that kept me at bay and made me feel like a true outsider.

  Cerevare knocked on a half-open door and stuck her head inside. “Feel like visitors?” she asked.

  A faint female voice from inside said in welcome Esper, “Certainly! Come in, Professor!”

  I followed Cerevare into the room. A pale blue light suffused it, although a window in the far wall allowed sunlight to pool on the floor inside as well. The bed was set at a full-body slant, partially covered by a clear half-dome on which readouts and statistics flickered. On the wall above the bed, a full electronic panel displayed much more information, in the curving symbols of Chron script.

  I knew Ambassador Bele Andresson by sight, with her slight build and fall of dark hair, now spread across a pillow. Her skin, always pale, looked almost translucent in the room’s lighting. I wondered if her condition was worse than Cerevare had intimated. No wonder the Relidae doctors were advising against moving her. Tiny electrodes on thin, hair-like filaments scattered along her hairline and along her bare arms, which lay atop a daffodil-yellow sheet. A smaller panel curved up from the side of the bed and covered her midsection.

  She smiled when she saw me. “Admiral . . . Mahane, isn’t it? Excuse me if I don’t get up.”

  Although her voice still sounded frail, she looked cheerful enough, and her blue eyes were bright.

  “No need, Ambassador. I can see you’re a little busy. Professor Brindlepaw tells me you’re on the mend.” I smiled, and she lifted a hand for me to shake. Her grip was firmer and stronger than I’d expected.

  Ambassador Andresson nodded. “That’s what they tell me. And I believe I have your sister to thank for that.”

  “Luta?” I didn’t catch her meaning. “In what way?”

  Before she could explain, though, a tall alien entered the room. Dressed in the green uniform of the medical personnel, this one had camel-coloured skin and a ridged and knobbly parietal crest. It smiled at me, deep brown eyes examining me closely. Then it spoke to Cerevare in a quick series of whistles and chirps. She nodded.

  “Admiral, this is Doctor Chy-Loren. She’s the doctor who helped Luta when we were on the Relidae station. She says to please give your sister her regards when you see her.”

  I put out a hand and the doctor shook it. The sensation of those smooth, seemingly jointless fingers was a bit unsettling, but I didn’t pull away. “Tell her I’m very grateful to her for helping Luta.”

  The doctor didn’t wait for Cerevare’s translation, but nodded as if she understood me.

  “This is what I meant about Luta,” Ambassador Andresson said. “Because Dr. Chy-Loren had treated Luta on the station, she knew much more about human physiology than she would have, otherwise. That knowledge allowed her to quickly figure out what internal injuries I’d suffered, and how to treat them.”

  The doctor chirped something to the ambassador, who laughed and said, “Indeed.” I stared, not understanding how they could possibly communicate so easily. The ambassador had been with the Relidae for even less time than Cerevare had, and the Lobor had intimated that her command of the language was still rudimentary.

  My confusion must have been evident, because Cerevare said, “Oh! I forgot to give this to you.” From a pocket in her skirt, the professor withdrew a small disc, with a short tube, perhaps six inches in length, attached. It looked like something a techdog hacker might put together—functional, perhaps, but not polished or mass-produced. She offered it to me and explained.

  “It is a rudimentary translator,” she said. “We began working on them soon after I arrived, because we could see the future necessity for a way to communicate with Nearspace folk. They already had the trans-cymatics sound library and the language database from . . . from long ago,” she said delicately, obviously loath to mention the Chron war. Perhaps they were sensitive about it. “So, with my help and the files from Jahelia Sord’s datapad, we’ve been able to correlate and update the translator so it works reasonably well. It was not a full database to start with, and both languages have certainly changed over the course of a century and a half, but it will allow you to converse with a minimum of difficulty, and without the need for my stumbling translations.”

  I accepted the gadget and immediately thought to attach it somehow to my ID implant, but Cerevare put a warm hand on my arm. “It actually goes in your ear,” she said. “The disc can adhere behind it, and the flange on the end of the tube should fit reasonably well into your ear. Don’t push it in too far,” she cautioned with a smile. “The disc contains a pickup device, so it will ‘hear’ what’s being said and feed the translation into your ear.”

  I noticed, now that I looked closely, the clear tube running from the ambassador’s ear into the dark hair behind it. So that explained her ready conversation with the doctor. Since the Relidae had no obvious ears, I wondered how it worked in reverse, and asked Cerevare.

  She said something to Dr. Chy-Loren, and she smiled and bent her head forward. I spotted a similar disc tucked inside the hollow of the bone crest, near the back. I assumed that the
vibrations must resonate through the hard crest via bone conduction.

  I tucked the small, flexible flange inside my ear and jumped. The murmur of whistles and chattery noises forming the hum of the hospital’s background noise resolved into conversation fragments—all in Cerevare Brindlepaw’s voice. I caught only bits of the dialogue, but suddenly it was like being in any Nearspace building, with an added background of bird and small animal sounds. I looked back at the professor in surprise, and she grinned.

  “I forgot to tell you, Admiral, that mine is the voice you will hear. Naturally, there are no other Esper speakers to provide the translated words. It will likely be a bit disconcerting at first, but I hope you’ll soon get used to it.”

  I chuckled. “I hadn’t thought of that. Yes, it gave me a bit of a start. But it makes sense.”

  The doctor had moved to examine the information on the wall display, occasionally tapping one or another of the lines of data. “The professor tells me you should be up and about in another couple of days,” I said to Ambassador Andresson.

  She nodded. “The doctor confirmed that this morning, so long as nothing else crops up.” She motioned me closer, and when I leaned over her, she whispered, “Between you and me, I’ll be glad to get to the galley on your ship, Admiral. The care has been wonderful here, but the food is not to my taste.”

  “I’ll see that we have something particularly good for your first meal aboard, then,” I said with a grin.

  “Admiral, we should get underway,” Cerevare said. “The reception will be starting in a bit, and I believe Den-Aldar wanted to speak with you privately first.”

  I gave the ambassador my hand again. “I’ll see you soon, Ambassador. It looks like you’re receiving excellent care.”