The Blue Gem, page 18
Har-Lih’s breathing flaps flickered nervously. An aroma of fear hung about her like a garment.
The Good-Child continued to coast onward, closer and closer to the Blue-Gem. Time lay heavily on their limbs.
Not-Joh knew her orders were to stay hidden from the Others; she also knew they had been discovered. It was time to do something. “Har-Lih, I am going to send a greeting to the object in front of us,” she said.
“We must not reveal our presence to the Others.”
“They already know we’re here. They know our size, our distance from them, and our exact location, for they have touched us several times with electromagnetic pulses. I want to try to communicate with them. It may be our only chance.”
“Why?”
Not-Joh exhaled noisily. “If we try to flee, we can only defend ourselves from one of them. Since they approach from two directions, we can’t align the ion drive laser at both of them. We would lose that fight.”
“I see.” Har-Lih’s breathing flaps sank.
“We need to buy time. If the Others join forces, together, in the same vicinity, we would stand a chance in that fight, for we could then use our ion drive laser.”
“You think it will come to a fight?”
“It would be far better if it did not.”
“I don’t understand these things, Not-Joh. You have command. Do as you think best. I will keep a record of your efforts.” Har-Lih wagged her breathing flaps submissively.
“Computer, direct a standard hailing message to the alien object and orbiting space station in front of us. Tight-beam communication.”
Blessed Spirit-of-the-Mother, Not-Joh thought. I pray I am right.
The message contained their identity and a request for the recipient to provide the same identification.
The computer flashed the message in a holo-image, confirming transmission of the standard greeting. Not-Joh watched the holo-image, wondering if there would be a response.
Time passed slowly. The holo-image flashed the icon that indicated reception of a radio signal. She ordered it played.
“Hoo-Lii.” came the greeting, followed by the same low-pitched sounds they had previously heard.
“Spirit of the Mother. They are trying to communicate with us. Computer, start a detailed analysis of their language patterns. We must learn to understand them.” She hesitated a moment. “Repeat their message back to them.”
Moments later, the aliens transmitted more of their strange-sounding language.
The holo-image flashed a warning yellow.
Not-Joh stared at the rapidly scrolling display that showed the nearby object had started to move closer to them. Something was wrong, for there was no radiation from a fusion flame.
“Verify change in relative velocity.”
The numbers disappeared momentarily. When they returned, they were the same as before—it was inching closer, very slowly. “Analyze for propulsion means.”
A spectral analysis appeared in the holo-image. It was the same as before, except it now showed the presence of helium.
“Helium with no heat?” Not-Joh said. “What kind of drive is that?” The object was barely moving. “It has to be maneuvering with gas jets,” she said.
The scrolling display became still. The object ceased closing upon the Good-Child. It was close enough for the optical scanners to show it was cylindrical object with several short quill-like antennae plus an object with a round shape. Weld marks scarred its surface. Wiring and metal tubing connected components.
“It is primitive,” Not-Joh said. “It is made from many parts, crudely fashioned.” As she spoke, a stubby mechanical arm unfolded and pointed a boxy device directly at the Good-Child.
“Amplify image on movement,” she said. “Spectral analysis.”
The image expanded to fill the holo-image. The shape appeared dark and grainy, and now looked like it was round and just barely reflected light. It wavered momentarily.
“What is it?” Har-Lih asked.
“I’m not sure.” Not-Joh stared at the data scrolling across the bottom of the image. Aluminum, silicon, and oxygen, combined … “It may be an optical scanner,” she said. Or the sighting device of a weapon.
A yellow line flashed in the holo-image.
Not-Joh flinched, but the data showed it was only faint traces of laser light reflecting off the object. Something was sending messages to it.
The object hung motionless, its glass eye staring at them.
“Radio transmission received. Source is asteroid ship,” the computer said.
“Put it on audio,” Not-Joh said.
The frequency of the sounds emitted from the speakers was so low that it was almost at the limit of Not-Joh’s hearing.
The noise ceased and then the sound came again.
“Spirit-of-the-Mother,” Not-Joh said. “It must be.”
“Why do they make such different sounds?” asked Har-Lih.
Not-Joh turned to stare at Har-Lih. How did she rise so high in the Council of Hive-Mothers’ esteem? she thought. She must have talents not visible to one as humble as myself, other than her ability to report on the actions of others as she abases herself before the Hive-Mothers.
“Because they are aliens from two different Hives.”
Chapter Forty-Three
“The Others are communicating,” said Not-Joh.
“How do you know that?” Har-Lih’s breathing flaps rose as though she smelled something dead.
“The Others’ ship, the big one, just sent a radio transmission, perhaps to the space station orbiting the Blue-Gem.” Not-Joh paused and touched the controls. In the holo-image, a red line extended from the asteroid ship’s depiction in their direction. “Their course is similar to ours. They may be coordinating an attack on us.”
The moment of hope the Others might try to communicate faded. Fear blossomed. It could be the jaws of a closing trap. “Warriors, prepare your weapon,” she called. “Await my orders.”
Throughout the ship, warriors squeaked acknowledgment.
Not-Joh watched the weapon system activate on the holo-image. One by one, the defense stations came to life. Now, she thought. The Good-Child’s spines are erect and ready.
A solitary voice started a chant and echoed through the ship’s communications web. It was the priest’s traditional prayer for the warriors before they embarked into battle. The well-known words asked the Spirit-of-the-Mother for protection as they stepped forward to meet their foe.
“Will we attack the Others?” asked Har-Lih, nervous.
“No. We must be ready to defend ourselves. If these are the same Others who destroyed Chud-Loo without warning, we must be ready. We will watch and wait.” Not-Joh felt exposed. Space lacked the security of life underground. There were no tunnels, no dark corners; there was no place to hide.
The holo-image flashed, indicating a change in status.
Not-Joh stared at the image of the Others’ asteroid ship. It had just shed a small shard of light, another separate source of energy emissions. Had it launched a missile? Or was it another ship?
“The Others’ ship no longer uses its fusion drive to decelerate,” she said. “It launched something.” Now what?
A point grew brighter, indicating a powerful source of radiation. “Computer, enhance image. Identify source of the radiation emissions.”
“A separate craft, heading toward us.”
“What’s its velocity?” Not-Joh said. “Plot its course vectors.”
The separate craft appeared in holo-image as a tiny yellow triangle and displayed its velocity as a small boxed number hovering to one side. The data showed it was accelerating toward them at about one gravity. Its energy emission, now small, was just barely detectable. The asteroid ship continued to decelerate as it approached them at a much lower velocity.
“Visual image of asteroid ship,” Not-Joh said.
The Others’ smaller ship grew large in the holo-image. It was a featureless dark mass, a backdrop for the plume of radiation from its drive. Its course would bring it toward the Good-Child. The computer listed its parameters in faintly glowing characters on its image.
“That craft is fusion drive powered. It’s probably a piloted craft,” Not-Joh said.
The holo-image flashed briefly to indicate a radio transmission had been received.
“Characteristics?” she asked. A faintly glowing message formed in the holo-image. “Its characteristics are similar to the signals sent by the orbiting spaceship. I don’t think it’s an attack.” Please, Spirit-of-the-Mother, make that true.
“Why do you say that?” Har-Lih stared at her.
“If they intended to attack with fusion explosives, they would have launched a missile with high acceleration. The ship from the asteroid approaches at a rate more typical of piloted craft. That makes it an easy target,” Not-Joh said.
“Warriors,” she said. “Do not harm the approaching craft.”
The deep voices of the aliens again filled the command center. It was more radio transmissions from the Blue-Gem and the orbiting space station. Icons flickered back and forth from safe red to warning yellow.
Not-Joh crouched lower, watching carefully.
An icon flashed insistently.
“Display changed parameter,” she said.
A short table of values scrolled down the holo-image. They attached themselves to the bright red line describing the course of the small craft that had left the asteroid ship. Its course changed to point directly at them.
“Warriors,” Not-Joh called. “The Others’ craft approaches. Do not fire unless commanded.”
Another icon began flashing insistently.
“Display,” Not-Joh said.
The parameters listed showed subtle differences in the optical reflectance of the approaching craft. It had done something to change its form or shape. Now what? wondered Not-Joh. “Visual, maximum magnification.”
A dark, slab-like craft appeared in the holo-image. It had no obvious openings, with two slender spines erected at right angles from its sides. It emitted little thermal radiation and gave off no radio transmissions. The course would bring it within four squared ship-lengths of the Good-Child.
It approaches slowly, thought Not-Joh. We will have time to examine its form in detail. So close, she thought. We could almost reach out and touch it. Will it shed more velocity?
Another icon began flashing.
“Display.”
The data appeared immediately. It was an electromagnetic pulse from the approaching craft, but not a radio transmission. It was more typical of a large surge of electrical power. Nothing appeared different on its surface. The craft drew closer and closer. Seam lines on its surface became apparent. The projections at the ends of the stubby projections from the main part of the craft carried tubular sections. Tubular sections pointing directly at the Good-Child.
Fear swept over Not-Joh like a sandstorm. Those look like weapons … She never finished the thought.
Two narrow tongues of energy flashed out. The Good-Child shook as a storm of relativistic particles raked the metallic ceramic composite guarding its nose. The shield’s upper layer ablated off with actinic brilliance.
Alarms sounded. Shapes in the holo-image flashed green, registering damage to the forward shield. Damage assessment confirmed hull integrity. The shield had held.
Not-Joh stared at the holo-display. Spirit-of-the-Mother, they’d struck without warning.
“Warriors,” she said, but the crack of the laser firing came at the same time. Lights inside the Good-Child dimmed momentarily from the power drain. The holo-image of the Others’ ship showed it flashed briefly into incandescence under their lasers.
The entire outer layer of metal from the Others’ craft had been volatilized, which gave it a smoother, shinier appearance. All of the surface protuberances on the ship had disappeared, including the weapons that had fired upon them.
Not-Joh stared at the Others’ ship. “We clipped its spines. Its course is changed.” Yet, she noted. The ship still has the same shape and configuration. The Others’ craft continued to draw closer and closer. It would pass momentarily.
“Warriors, you have blunted the foe’s spines,” Not-Joh made an announcement to the ship. “All hail the Warriors of the Good-Child. Spirit-of-the-Mother bless you.”
The crew repeated the cry.
Not-Joh flexed her breathing flaps and bellowed the cry again. She took her eyes off the holo-image of the Others’ ship.
Claaang! The Good-Child shuddered. Lights flickered and dimmed. Air screamed and dust filled the air. Alarms squeaked.
The entire holo-image flashed green, warning the hull was breached. Wind picked up, carrying dust and loose items out of the command center. Air leaked out in prodigious quantities. The alarm squeaks became fainter as the air pressure dropped. The Good-Child vibrated as the emergency airlocks slammed shut throughout its length. The holo-image flickered, some of the alarm changed from green to warning yellow. Damage status and operational control messages rose in the holo-image. The Good-Child had been holed in several places. Several exterior compartments were open to space. Icons warned both shuttles were no longer attached.
The awful clanging sound repeated.
Spirit-of-the-Mother preserve us. Not-Joh prayed. They’ve struck again.
The holo-image blazed into the brilliant warning green.
Once more, the Good-Child clanged and shuddered under the fiery beams from the Others’ weapons. The main lights failed. Pale orange emergency lighting panels brightened. Alarms squeaked continuously.
Not-Joh braced herself but no more attacks came.
She touched the controls, activating backup systems. “Computer, play recording of events that led up to the attack,” she ordered. The Others’ ship appeared in the holo-image. As she watched, new spines appeared to grow out of its smoothed exterior to replace those singed off. Without warning, fiery beams leapt from its spines. The holo-image collapsed as the tongues of energy reached the outside sensors.
It was not dead, Not-Joh realized. Only stunned. Our weapon dazed it for but a moment. And, now …
Chapter Forty-Four
“Status report.” Not-Joh broadcast her order throughout the ship. The holo-image did not record the injuries the crew had suffered. As the reports came in, it was worse than she had initially believed. Har-Lih joined her in the command center, observing the data in the holo-image.
Har-Lih’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Not-Joh, you misjudged the Others. The Good-Child is badly damaged. Half our crew are nothing but fodder for the digesters.”
Spirit-of-the-Mother, thought Not-Joh. I erred and now Har-Lih wishes to assert dominance over me. “You are right, I misjudged it. I did not expect its attack. When our lasers burned off its spines, I was sure we had killed it. I thought it was destroyed. It grew new spines, for its hide withstood our weapons.” She reviewed the battle in her mind’s eye. It was obviously a craft designed for war.
The computer showed the ship’s drive system was still operable. However, the Good-Child had multiple ruptures in its outer shell. That meant the radiation shield, which was also their main water tank, had lost most of its water. They had lost a lot of air, and without water they could not make additional oxygen. The air reserves—when supplemented with oxygen from the remaining water—would only last for about eight-squared-sleep-periods, even if it was recycled constantly.
Not-Joh realized they would not have enough air and water to return to the transfer point for their trip back to Hool. There was no way to get water from the Blue-Gem planet since both shuttles had disappeared. No water, no oxygen.
Not-Joh flexed herself into a position of abasement as she reported the ship’s status to the crew. I failed, she thought. I should have anticipated the Others’ attack. She begged the crew’s forgiveness.
“What do you propose to do now?” Har-Lih asked. Even though she could take command, she hesitated. She knew little about the ship’s technical features. Under these circumstances, it was unlikely the crew would obey her orders.
“Repair the Good-Child, then wait and watch. If the Others approach, we fight with every spine.”
The holo-image gave off a bright spark of light, indicating a powerful energy emission.
“Display source of energy,” Not-Joh said. It was the Others’ ship. “Replay events leading to energy discharge,” she said. The Others’ ship reappeared, larger and closer. As it retreated and grew smaller, it closed on the tiny object that had approached them earlier. Energy beams leapt from the Others’ craft, the one that had attacked them. The beams sparkled on the front of the small object, which exploded into a geyser of expanding gas and debris.
“What?” Not-Joh stared at the image. “The Others attack one of their own? I don’t understand this,” she said. “Now it wages war on the object before us. Did that not also belong to them?”
“Then it must be from another Hive.”
“Their Hives are not united. They, too, wage war among themselves. The Others are a warlike species and they’re armed with terrible weapons.”
The holo-image sported a flashing icon that called attention to a new radio transmission. The deep tones of the Others resonated through the command center.
Not-Joh looked up from the instrument unit that controlled a repair machine crawling over the surface of the Good-Child, laying down a new layer of skin. She watched the holo-image for a while, but nothing happened that seemed threatening. “I wonder what it means?” she said. She returned to the task of sealing the holes in the hull. In the background, the priest chanted the Cycle of Life prayer over the muted communication system, blessing those who died. Their bodies would be digested, and their water salvaged. Still, it wasn’t enough for their return.
The computer sounded an alarm.
Not-Joh stared at the flashing yellow icon. The Others’ ship—the one that had attacked them—had started its fusion drive. “Project vectors,” she said.
