Twilight Serenade, page 6
part #6 of Earth Song Series
“Airtight force fields have appeared in the cargo bay,” one of the Beezer reported.
“The ship will use them wherever doors are ineffective,” Lilith explained.
Atmospheric pressure reached nominal for the People in less than a minute. The air contained a little more oxygen and was a bit high in pressure for humans, though well within tolerance. Minu started to take off her helmet, then decided against it.
“Let’s keep our suits sealed until Lilith has the ship’s computer under control,” she instructed. Lilith cast her eyes at Minu for a moment but shrugged before closing the power panel and heading back to the CIC.
In the heart of the ship, Lilith accessed a hatch Minu didn’t know existed. The hatch, in the ‘bottom’ of the circular chamber, went down a half meter and opened in a flat, shallow room several meters long on each side. Minu climbed down with some difficulty because of her spacesuit. “What is this?”
“This is the computer room,” Lilith told her. Block after block of the Kaatan’s nearly ubiquitous blue crystal components were mounted in milky white moliplas along all sides of the claustrophobic space. A single, blue telltale flashed. Lilith touched it, and a tiny holographic screen appeared. Minu could make out the script. It asked if she wanted to initiate a restart. “Please tell the Beezer on board not to make any threatening actions toward the ship unless it becomes openly hostile. The Combat Intelligence may be initially disoriented.”
Minu relayed the orders to Isook who in turn told his crew. “We’re ready,” Minu said a few seconds later. Lilith nodded and tapped the display.
Instantly, the room’s crystalline memory modules lit up with a million interlaced flashes of light. Minu thought it looked like the lightning storms she could see from her island cabin on Bellatrix.
Lilith moved gracefully around Minu, out the access, and into the CIC. Minu carefully turned around and followed her, using her hands to guide herself out of the cramped space.
Outside, Lilith waved a hand through the single holographic control panel that floated near the hatch, bringing up a page of script. Just as Minu manipulated the controls on a portal control rod, Lilith grabbed several symbols and twisted and turned them, then the screen flashed blue and disappeared.
As the moments passed, everyone looked around for signs of something happening. Lilith suddenly raised her head. They heard a familiar screeching, chattering voice.
“Who are you, and where are my biological operators?”
“They are dead,” Lilith said.
Instantly, the door to the CIC slammed closed, and the lights changed to a subdued blue. The display in Minu’s suit warned that the atmosphere was bleeding from the chamber, and she was glad she followed her instinct to leave their helmets on. There was a shimmer as the support bot on Lilith’s back reestablished the force field around her.
Lilith gestured toward a wall, and a small group of her bots emerged, moved to another section, and reentered the wall. A new holographic screen appeared before Lilith, and she instantly began manipulating the script. This time, Minu caught some of it, and her brain began translating. It had something to do with internal defenses.
“How do you have Kaatan access codes?” the voice demanded.
“I have ship and fleet command codes,” Lilith said with clear confidence. A new panel appeared in front of her at eye level. Lilith reached into it and entered a code. The script flashed and disappeared.
“Code accepted,” the Combat Intelligence said. Minu thought it sounded resigned. “A status update is required. Following its last battle, this ship took substantial damage, rendering it incapable of fighting, and it was towed by other combat elements. Pending a regrouping operation, I was deactivated until salvage could be performed.”
Lilith took it all in, then glanced at Minu, looking for guidance.
“There will be no salvage operation,” Minu said.
Lilith held her hand up and a bot crawled onto her fingertips and began speaking in the People’s chattering language.
“Who is the being speaking, and what species are you?” the computer voice asked.
“That is Minu Groves,” Lilith explained, “and we are humans. She is the commander of the human’s military forces. The others are Beezer, and the small one is a Rasa.”
“There is no human species on record,” the Combat Intelligence said. “Your genus is hominid, very similar to the People.” It paused for a second. “External sensors are offline, and internal clocks are non-functional. How long have I been offline?”
“There is no easy way to answer that,” Kal’at said. Minu agreed. Lilith answered for them.
“More than one million years, but that is only an estimate.”
“And the People?”
“They are extinct. Very few species survive from that time.”
Again, there was a pause. “I am made to serve the People. In their absence, I answer to whoever has the proper codes. I am at your disposal.” The lights returned to normal, the CIC doors opened, and the displays on their suits told them atmospheric pressure was resuming normal.
Minu breathed a sigh of relief. “Maybe you’d better bring the Combat Intelligence up to speed.” Lilith agreed and quickly began communicating with the program using her implants.
Minu began to think. A few dozen kilometers away floated a huge warship many times larger and more powerful than the Kaatan. The only one who could possibly operate it was Lilith, and she would never leave the Kaatan. With this new Combat Intelligence, they suddenly had more options. The operation was proceeding better than she’d dreamed possible.
The baby kicked, hard, and Minu grunted, then smiled. She thought about Aaron, I miss you.
* * * * *
Chapter 9
January 29th, 535 AE
Unknown Space
Aaron felt rather unwelcome. Sure Strike had made it glaringly obvious that the detour he’d been forced to take was Aaron’s fault. The cruiser, Octal 1, had docked with a transfer vehicle, an open-hulled ship stuffed with equipment and possible salvage. Dozens of Squeen, both families and loners, clung to the cargo area’s netting, and at least a dozen other species were in evidence, of which he recognized half.
A pair of armed and armored Squeen guards escorted him over to the cruiser along with Sure Strike. Once aboard, the guards stayed with Aaron while the captain met with the ship’s master. A while later, he came scuttling back.
“I have asked the ship’s master to take us to the command ship,” he told Aaron. “He is upset with you, too, as his paying trips will be delayed.”
“Swell,” Aaron said, immediately aware that every being in the cargo area was looking at him. A pair of proud and easily annoyed Taccari watched him with apparent disdain. They blinked their huge, avian eyes, the crest feathers on their heads stood erect, and their bright beaks looked formidable. The arachnid Capdep might or might not have been watching him with its six eyes. Aaron wasn’t sure. It clung to a web of cargo netting in zero gravity and seemed quite at home. Aaron thought it might be a member of the transfer vessel’s crew.
The ship undocked from the cruiser, and Aaron noted a slight acceleration. The ship was obviously a salvaged craft that had likely had a very different use before being pressed into service in its new role. It reeked of improvisation and adaptation, and there seemed to be issues with the life support system. Aaron wrinkled his nose as the smell of multiple alien species in stale air assailed him.
Luckily, the trip was not long, and the transfer vessel soon docked with another ship. A Squeen crewman bounded over and chattered to Sure Strike. “We have docked with the command ship.”
“My thanks,” he replied.
“You can thank me by getting this annoyance off my vessel.”
There was no way to tell what ship they were moving him to, but the corridors were wide and sweeping which, to him, suggested great size.
The ship’s interior teemed with activity. Squeen scurried about on unknown tasks. Aaron noted a few other species, including several the earlier-spotted Capdeps. He’d only seen images of them over the years. They were tenacious scavengers that kept to themselves and seemed to be non-confrontational.
This ship’s corridors had gravity unlike the transfer ship and the cruiser he’d been on; it facilitated their movement through the ship. The guards escorted him to a large chamber. Inside were a dozen or more Squeen, surrounded by interactive holographic displays. As Aaron entered, the Squeen in the center turned.
“I remember you,” he said, the sound coming through Aaron’s translator.
“And I remember you, Strong Arm.”
The alien’s elongated ears twitched, and he looked at Aaron. He gestured to Sure Strike who joined the other Squeen around their screen and greeted him warmly.
“Your appearance on a Tanam ship has caused a great deal of consternation.”
“There is a logical explanation,” Aaron replied.
“Yes. Sure Strike tells us you claim you were taken hostage by the Tanam on the Traga leasehold of Coorson several weeks ago.” Aaron nodded. “Yet, you were found in a combat spacesuit, free on the enemy ship, in good health.”
“They were taking me for questioning,” Aaron offered. “When the ship was severely damaged, I knew my only chance of survival was to put on a suit.” Several sets of dark eyes regarded him. “I’m sorry. If I had known it would prove my innocence, I would have allowed myself to die in space.”
“This situation doesn’t call for sarcasm, human.”
Aaron grunted. They looked so much like cartoon squirrels from children’s animated shows, he thought they’d have a sense of humor. “No, you’re right. The situation calls for honesty, and that is what I am offering.”
“Is that all you have to offer?”
Aaron turned toward the new voice and saw another familiar Squeen, Quick Finder. Minu had rescued him and Strong Arm from the Tanam during their failed attack on Serengeti. The Tanam had been upset at losing the pair of Squeen and had referred to them as Gracktaag, a word the translators couldn’t render into English.
“I could offer you a somewhat worn jumpsuit.” They all continued to stare at him. Aaron sighed. “You can try to ransom me back to the Chosen.” He didn’t add that he doubted Jacob would pay more than a handful of worn EPCs for him.
“Ransom is not really our style,” Strong Arm said. “We like to deal in more tangible things.”
“What’s more tangible than credits?”
“Data or goods,” Quick Finder told him. “Because of our…political situation, credits are far less tangible.”
Aaron considered the response and found some validity in it. Humanity had found it difficult to buy some things, regardless of the price. Minu long suspected it was because the higher order species wanted to make sure the lower order ones stayed in their places. There were species in the galaxy that could be convinced to sell anything, if you had something to offer that was normally unavailable to the seller. An idea occurred to him.
“I think I can offer you something. But you’re going to have to put me in touch with my boss.”
* * * * *
Chapter 10
January 31st, 535 AE
Ghost Fleet, Deep Space, Galactic Frontier
“Here we go,” Kal’at said and touched a control with his claw. Lilith floated nearby in the little control room that was crowded with a half dozen Beezer, Minu, and the Rasa technical expert.
Nothing happened for a long moment, then a series of non-holographic screens began displaying lines of script.
“The main computer is coming on line,” Lilith told them.
“Is the computer interpreter working?” Minu asked.
Lilith was working with script on a holographic screen displayed by her bots, a look of concentration on her face. “It’s not perfect,” she said, then gestured to make the screen disappear, “but I think it will work.”
As if on cue, the work stations lit up one at a time. As the stations (pilot, engineering, life support, damage control, power management, and defenses) came online, the Beezer manning each one confirmed it. After a few minutes of system checks, Isook turned and proclaimed, “Ibeen Alpha is operational.” There were nods and cheers all around.
“Pakata,” Minu said, and the leader of the Beezer turned to her, “this ship is under your command according to the agreement we signed.”
“I understand,” he grumbled. “Isook, you are captain.”
“I am honored!” Isook responded with a slight, zero-gravity bow. The two beings grasped each other’s powerful furry forearm and butted horns. Minu grimaced. She knew it probably didn’t hurt them, but it looked painful.
“You must remember,” Lilith instructed them, “these interpreter programs are stop-gap measures I have written with the help of the salvaged Combat Intelligence. The Ibeen were meant to be operated by specialized artificial intelligence programs. They mimic what was used to maneuver the Ibeen within ports. They are not intended to operate the ships in space or combat. The improvised operations scenarios we ran didn’t end well.”
Minu knew exactly what Lilith meant. Pip was in control of one when he was forced into combat. The experience had almost driven him insane.
They’d spent the last few days verifying the condition of the ship and ensuring that the improvised EPC would provide sufficient power. As far as Kal’at and Lilith were concerned, there were far too many improvisations. The newly salvaged Combat Intelligence could easily operate the Ibeen, but that was a waste. Minu’s first salvage team was aboard the Fiisk making their initial assessments as the salvage of the other Ibeen continued. She wished she’d brought more personnel, even though the Kaatan was stuffed on the trip there.
Later Lilith, Minu and Kal’at were discussing the timetable for activating the last four Ibeen when Lilith suddenly fell silent and began staring off into space. Minu recognized the look. “What is it?”
“Another ship is in range of my sensors.” The thin redhead swam through the halls to where their shuttle was docked.
“Combat ship?”
“Unable to ascertain that at this moment,” she said as the door slid open at their approach. The Ibeen was already acting more like a fully functional ship. Lilith started the shuttle on the way, and the door was closing as Minu entered. Kal’at cursed and barely got his tale through as the hatch banged closed, and Lilith undocked the shuttle. She hadn’t bothered sucking out the atmosphere from the connecting tunnel; she just blew the seal and pushed away.
“Ibeen Alpha, we are pushing away,” Lilith informed them, after the fact.
As she often did when flying the shuttles, Lilith didn’t bother going into the cockpit. Since she didn’t need physical controls, her location was not a factor. With one hand she created a holographic tank in the center of the shuttle’s passenger cabin which displayed the area around them, centered on their shuttle. The tiny dart shape moved away from the cluster of balls that was the Ibeen, toward a nearby ball that was pierced with a needle. The image compressed to show the entire ghost fleet: four more Ibeen, scattered fragments, the group of ruined Kaatan, and the Fiisk’s three balls pierced by three needles.
Lilith continued to compress the image until the entire ghost fleet was only a fuzzy dot, telling Minu that the scale was almost stellar. Sure enough, there was the bulk of the distant brown dwarf which was all that survived after a star went nova more than a million years ago. An arrow flashed green and left a slightly luminescent trail as it moved near the fleet.
“Any details?” Minu asked.
“The tachyon wave front indicates a speed below 100 times C.”
“Not very fast.”
“No,” Lilith agreed, “but residual wave emanations suggest it slowed just before entering sensor range.”
“Did something give us away?”
“There was some risk. We’ve been doing high energy work on the exterior of Ibeen Epsilon to fix damage to its gravitic drive.” As they watched, the arrow resolved into a blocky shape, and an information bubble appeared next to it with data in ancient script and English for Minu’s benefit.
“It’s at least a cruiser,” Lilith read. “Design profile suggests T’Chillen.”
“Is that dangerous?” Kal’at asked.
“Not to me,” Lilith assured them. “The danger is that it can summon reinforcements.”
“What can it see?”
“At that range, very little. Even powered, our ships have a small energy profile that will not carry far, and we are nearly black in infrared. However, it has detected the high energy from the hull work we were doing two days ago and is trying to figure out what caused it. The ship is still outside the debris cloud from the nova, about three light days away.”
“Always seems like so far,” Kal’at commented.
“At their speed, less than sixteen hours,” Lilith told them. “Keep in mind, it can likely accelerate quite quickly and be here in minutes if it decides to.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
“I will prepare to fight, but will stay quiet and hope they pass by,” Lilith said as she swung the shuttle around toward the waiting docking bay. Minu nodded. Her daughter had grown a lot over the years. She recalled a much more headstrong young girl who would have leapt at the chance to get into a fight. Considering Minu’s plans for the coming months and years, it was a good thing Lilith had matured. An awful lot of Minu’s ideas hinged on her.
Back in her ship, Lilith moved quickly and arrived in the CIC in only a few seconds, with Minu close behind. The time they were spending in space had helped Minu become more graceful in zero gravity, but she wished she didn’t have to spend so much time working out to keep from losing bone density. As her belly got bigger, it made many of the exercises more difficult. With our level of technology, you’d think I could just take a pill.
Back in her element, Lilith casually cast off the blue crystalline bot on her back. It flew across the chamber, landed lightly on a wall, and scuttled away.
