Rise of the Forgotten

by Rebecca Mickley

  The doors slid open to reveal a type of honor guard of Corvaldians. They were lining the path to their great council chamber just beyond. They were all singing and swaying in unison, welcoming me to their home. We proceeded down and away and that is when I beheld the Choir.

  The room roared with the din of birdsong. Upon our entrance though, it grew as silent as the grave. The room was massive, and I noticed that it was packed with Corvaldians. There were at least one thousand present. The light of their star streamed through the crystalline structure, and it seemed to diffuse the light into multi-chromatic prisms that lit the chamber. It was hotter than I was accustomed to, and I felt my ears grow warm as my body tried to adapt to suddenly finding itself in a more humid climate.

  “We of Corval welcome the humans and the human delegation,” Etrana said. It was the first time I heard her use that particular pronoun. I quickly realized she was speaking for all of Corval Prime.

  “Snow Dawkins will remain by Etrana’s side. Come come!” she said, and strode confidently to the center of the room.

  She began to call out in her indecipherable but beautiful bird song, and it came back to her in waves, rocketing down the length of the Choir and then returning. It was a beautiful display of call and response. As I listened, I would occasionally pick out words of English, the first of which was my name.

  “Snow, Snow, Snow, Snow,” traveled the room in a wave.

  “Fear Fear Fear, Buy Buy Buy,” was the next thing I could pick out a few minutes later.

  “Dance, Dance, Dance, Dance,” was the next.

  “Shiny, gleaming bright!” was the final thing I heard that I could recognize before it fell to a choral song.

  I sat there for half an hour as Etrana briefed her people and spoke in their wonderful tones. I beheld the beauty of the Choir and fell in love with its harmonies.

  It was the first time in ten years that I had felt truly grateful to be an ambassador.

  The song stopped, and then, in unison, the choir said three times in perfect English.

  “Most Shiny! Most Gleaming! Most Bright.”

  Etrana extended a wing and drew it around me, drawing me close. The room erupted into cheers.

  “The Choir is most impressed and most intrigued! The Choir is eager to begin formal relations!” she chortled.

  “What exactly were you saying?” I asked, and Etrana regarded me curiously.

  “Saying? Etrana did not say. Etrana sang! Yes yes! Etrana sang with Choir. Most shiny,” she said.

  “I meant, what did you sing?” I asked, and I waited for the light to dawn.

  “Etrana Sang of everything,” she warbled, content with her explanation

  “Everything?” I said, not getting it.

  “Yes yes! Etrana sang of her travels with Snow! Etrana sang of Space News, most dim not shiny! Etrana spoke of chasing out fear together! The Choir agrees! The Choir is most bright with the news.” Somehow, she had compressed the last three weeks into thirty minutes of beauteous song.

  “Come come! There is still much to see!” she chortled out happily, then bowed to the Choir. I did the same and we left the main chamber.

  The roar of the song of the Choir rang in my ears, and my body thrummed with rapture. Everything felt so overwhelming in both beauty and scope. Just outside the council chamber, we looked out from the deck and I could see forest stretching from horizon to horizon. In the bright light of day, off in the distance I could make out, just barely, other great spires. This was a world full of beauty and harmony.

  “Snow is most quiet! Etrana will fix. Tell tell!” she said, obviously excited.

  “Everything is fine Etrana,” I said, trying to assure her. “I am just so overwhelmed by all this.”

  “Overwhelmed?” She cocked her head and let out an inquisitive chirp, she needed more information.

  “I have never seen anything quite so shiny in these ways,” I told her, trying to speak in terms she was familiar with. “Your planet, your whole culture is amazing. I find myself awe struck, and robbed of proper words. ”

  “Etrana is pleased that Snow feels this shiny so deeply! Corval gleams! Shiny jewel!” she warbled again. She wasn’t bragging, she really did have a reason to be proud.

  Etrana began to take me through the city. There was an abundance of food, and no real clear ownership. It seemed that if a Corvaldian was hungry, they would simply take. Some of the bird people seemed to be happily cranking out food or crafts, but I never saw anything like currency change hands. What I did see was all manner of dance and song, especially before goods or services changed hands.

  “Etrana, I am curious, how does all this work?” She regarded me with a tilted head and an intrigued click.

  “Work? What does this mean? How does what work?” She replied, confused.

  “We have been walking about the city for hours, and I’ve seen craftsman of your people creating shiny baubles, and what looks like cooks preparing food, but I’ve seen no money change hands. I’ve seen no evidence of a complex economy. How do you do all of this?” I said, my tone full of wonder.

  “Corvaldians have enough,” she warbled. “Plenty for everyone, much shiny!”

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  “How does Snow define money?” Etrana asked with her inquisitive chirp.

  I puzzled this over for a moment. “Well, money is a medium of exchange, in the forms of physical or digital units,” I replied, trying to be helpful.

  “Etrana wonders, why must money be physical or digital?” she replied, chortling.

  “I don’t follow,” I said, truly lost.

  “Come come. Etrana will show. This way!” She warbled, charging up a ramp with no guardrails, spiraling up into the city.

  “We go. Not far now. Come come,” Etrana said, plowing forward in her normal dedicated manner.

  We continued to climb a spire; the height growing more and more dizzying until it opened up on a large platform. There I beheld the most ancient Corvaldian I had yet seen. His feathers were streaked with white and his gleaming silver eyes bore the burden of great age. He was singing and the other, younger Corvaldians joined with him in the song. Again, my ears picked up the pattern of call and response.

  “What does Snow Dawkins see?” Etrana asked, curiously.

  “I see what appears to be an elder Corvaldian singing to a group of younger Corvaldians,” I said, confused.

  “Snow sees, but does not perceive. Most dim! Snow does not understand Corvaldian. Most dim, indeed. How to say?” she said, her clicks took on a more frustrated tone.

  The small choir fell silent. The elder had heard Etrana’s clicks and tones and moved over towards us.

  I bowed reverently to the elder, wanting to show respect, and Etrana chortled happily when she saw this. She too made a deep bow to the Corvaldian and then they began to converse in their language, the traditional call and response, but then something interesting happened. Etrana began to sway and then their songs synchronized. It was almost as if she was connecting to something deep within the song itself, like a data transfer.

  I did my best not to move, or do anything to disturb their interaction. Gradually their songs began to slowly separate, again becoming two distinctive melodies before Etrana opened her eyes.

  “Money is sharing yes? It regulates. It controls,” she warbled, intently focused. The elder watched curiously.

  “I suppose you could put it that way. We give money in our culture in exchange for goods or services,” I replied, eager to see where this was going.

  “Corvaldians do not have money. Corvaldians have the Song. Corvaldians share. Corvaldians dance! Etrana is one of many. Etrana is of the flock and of Etrana!” she chortled. It was beginning to make sense to me.

  “But what of shiny? What of gleaming things?” I asked, curious as to how a society could function on such nebulous ideas.

  “We grow shiny! Very easy, very simple. Shiny abundant! We grow platforms! Very easy, very simple, very
abundant! We share.” It seemed she only used that pronoun when she was speaking for all of Corval Prime.

  “Etrana, I have a basic understanding, but I must admit I feel it is too alien a concept for me to understand.” Humans had tried systems like this in the past only to have them go flaming into the dust bin of history. I thought I might be beginning to understand what the Galactic Council saw in the Corvaldians.

  The elder bowed, and returned to his work.

  “Etrana, I understand the Corvaldians speak through song, but there was a time when you were acting almost as one. A time when your song joined the elder’s,” I said, still curious, still trying to understand exactly why she had brought me here.

  “Of course. Etrana knows this. Etrana joined with the elder. Our songs joined,” she replied, chortling. It was beginning to dawn on me as I noticed her use of new pronouns.

  “You…interface through song. It’s not just language; it’s total information transfer,” I said, feeling as if I had it.

  “Etrana became Elder Janota, Janota became Etrana. One through song! Most gleaming, most shiny, most bright,” she said, and then it dawned.

  “Your culture expresses everything in song, every impression, every feeling, every thought is conveyed through your language. Like the Link, but much closer a bond,” I replied.

  “Most shiny! Now Snow Dawkins understands why we are one! Etrana is Corval, Corval is Etrana. We are all Corvaldians!” she said, they perceived themselves as one large symbiotic entity, and their method of communication and culture that built up around it ensured it would remain so. I was amazed. Individuality preserved amongst a sea of voices, both distinct and joined.

  “Now the time of revelation is done. We go!” Etrana said, and charged off before me towards the Choral Spire.

  Chapter 11

  After the tour, and the initial reporting to the Choir, the real work had to be done. The United Earth Alliance needed a treaty to move forward, and Etrana and I had been working on one for the last few days on the Danube. The Corvaldians, not surprisingly, were very easy to work with, having very few demands; the largest problem was just the logistics, which we were busy hammering out.

  The news from home was grim. An emergency session had been called and the parliament was expected to vote on the Farthest Star Act soon. There is no way Earth First would have pushed for this like they had, unless they thought they had the votes, and that scared me.

  It scared the hell out of me.

  “Etrana brings news from the Choir. An embassy for the humans has been selected. Etrana will offer,” she chirped and chortled, snapping me out of my reflection.

  “Yes? I am sure anything your people offer will be more than enough,” I said, both honestly and diplomatically.

  “Yes yes! Etrana agrees! Most shiny! The humans will be given an embassy with the other races. Aboard the Council Sphere! One office for ambassador, two offices for aides, a conference room and quarters for each! Also, deck thirty-two, section zeta, will be assigned for any needed staff, as well as rapid docking clearance. We honor the humans,” she said, chortling happily.

  “That is more than acceptable. We will include those provisions in the final treaty and present it to our parliament. I do not have any direct concerns at this point regarding the treaty being approved,” I replied.

  “Most gleaming, most shiny, most bright!” Etrana said, chortling.

  My stomach churned. None of this was sitting right with me. The Corvaldians were more than ready to meet any reasonable request, but in truth, they weren’t the problem. Earth was.

  Parliament was being brought into an emergency session over a phantom fear that somehow 2.5 million races that had never meant any harm before were now suddenly posing a direct threat to Earth. The fear raced like wildfire through the news networks, and even the more moderate ones were beginning to reflect this awful mentality that was poisoning the world.

  I wasn’t worried about the humans in that moment. I was worried about the Corvaldians. Having been among them for weeks, I had witnessed nothing in them but innocence and wonder and I desperately wanted to protect that. I needed to. Something deep within me could not handle being the vehicle by which this race became a victim to the fears of my own people.

  “Etrana, the only requests your government has made has been for a non-aggression pact, the establishment of mutual embassies and assistance with quantum physics. Is there nothing else your government seeks?” I said, a light began to dawn in the reaches of my mind, I had an idea.

  “There can only be the one gift!” Etrana said resolute, clicking emphatically.

  “I propose that we unite our gift with your embassy. I will request that my government pull a ship out of our reserve fleet as a teaching vessel that will also serve as your embassy. There, our cultures can exchange technology freely.” This would pacify Earth First and almost ensure the treaty would pass; there would be no aliens defiling “their” earth, and the Corvaldians would benefit from seeing the implications of advanced physics in action.

  “The humans will give the Corvaldians a ship? Most shiny! Most shiny! Etrana agrees!” she chirped and warbled, hopping from foot to foot.

  “Remember, both our governments have to approve the agreement,” I said, respecting the flow of power.

  “Etrana remembers. The humans move most slowly!” she chortled, and I chuckled at the observation.

  “Well, we don’t communicate as well as the Corvaldians. These clunky noises you hear me make through my collar are all we have,” I replied jovially.

  “Yes! Yes! Etrana hopes one day all humans will join the Link! Then the humans can be more like Corval! Shiny shiny!” I shot a look at Jill and she struck it from the official record. A statement like that would set the world on fire.

  “Alright. I think we have the workings of a rough agreement,” I said, briefly stretching out, paw over paw. It had been a long day already.

  “Most shiny! Most gleaming! When can Etrana bring the treaty to her people?” she asked, exploding into a brief din of birdsong, hopping foot to foot.

  “This is an exceptionally simple treaty,” Jill said. “I would say I could have this officially created by this evening.”

  “Most shiny! Most gleaming! Etrana will return then,” she said, after which she rose, bowed, chortled then left.

  “She certainly knows how to make an exit,” Jill said.

  “That she does. I better let you work. In the meantime, I’m going to reach out to Jon, see what we can do about the Corvaldian teaching ship,” I replied, hoping my plan would work.

  “It was a good idea, Snow,” Jill said. She seated herself at my quarter’s terminal and began working away, while I took up my favorite spot in the window, letting my systems connect for me, remotely.

  >>Erebus Industries Ascension Protocols Online<<

  Welcome Ambassador Snow Dawkins, system ready.

  The familiar augmented reality overlay appeared before me and I held up a paw, as a communications window appeared in my vision. A sudden feeling of relaxation washed over me as I told the system to contact Jon Harper, UEA command on a secure channel. The window busily occupied itself while I pulled up external feeds and watched Corval Prime drift in the infinity of space.

  Nothing was ever instantaneous. The Gate at the edge of the system allowed for communication back to Earth, but Harper was still a busy man and he had to get to a secured console before he could talk to me. I settled in and relaxed after the days of negotiations, as Jill worked silently behind me.

  The edges of my overlay flashed red, snapping me back to awareness; a half hour had passed. The day must have worn on me, wherein I hadn’t noticed that I’d drifted. Acknowledging the communications protocol's cry for attention, I bought it to the forefront of my vision. I held up my paw again and it read my unique system codes.

  >>Secure Connection Established<<

  Harper's voice sounded as clear as if he were standing in front of me. “Snow! Good to h
ear from you, how goes Corval Prime?”

  “Jon, it’s amazing. Seriously, as soon as the treaty is signed, take some leave and bring the wife,” I said. He could use a break. In ten years, I’d never seen him take a vacation.

  “Ah, she left me fifteen years ago, you know that, and well the UEA would fall apart without me,” he chuckled, wearily.

  “Ah the mournful cry of the career soldier,” I replied.

  “I take it the negotiations are going well?” he asked, prodding me.

  “They just wrapped up actually. Jill is typing up the treaty and the Choir should have it ratified by the morning,” I said. Jon whistled slowly, obviously impressed.

  “Well that was fast. Seriously Snow, there aren’t any diplomatic speed records to break. You can slow down,” he remarked jovially.

  “The Corvaldians don’t want much, I wish the UEA was this easy to work with. All they want is a declaration of non-aggression, an embassy and help with quantum physics. They don’t really need us Jon, at least not for much,” I replied, being completely honest.

  “The embassy is going to be a bit of a sticking point right now. I know you haven’t been Earthside in a while, but you could cut the tension with a knife. I doubt the presence of a new alien race would really help matters,” he replied.

  “I actually already worked that out. The Corvaldians wish to establish their embassy in orbit. They have requested a mothballed ship that has a working Higgs-field manipulator to learn, hands-on, how our advanced physics work. It was my idea,” I said, with a hint of pride.

  “That’s a good one actually. Hold on, that might work,” he said, obviously accessing boneyard manifests.

  “You know they put the Three Swords out to pasture last year,” he said, referring to the three second generation flagships, the Masamune, his Excalibur and the Zulfiqar; one for each fleet, each representing the varying cultures of Earth. They were state of the art back in their day, but that was thirty years ago. Rumors were that the Gen V Dominion class was going to be entering service any day.

  “Yeah, and you have mourned for your Excalibur since the day they stuck you in that office.” Jon had been in command of that particular ship and the second fleet that had routed the coup and rescued Charlie and myself almost ten years ago. He loved her like his own child, and it was only the love of his country that caused him to willingly leave her.