First Contact (Galactic Axia Adventure) (16 page)

∞∞∞

The repercussions of receiving signals from the inhabitants of the closed planet were felt most keenly among the personnel aboard the mothership. Commander Tess called a meeting of those most closely involved in this unexpected development.

“So what’s your analysis of the signals?” Commander Tess asked the head of the Comm department. “Are they legitimate or did they somehow acquire Axia or Red-tail communication equipment?”

“As far as we can determine, the signals are being sent by native equipment,” the comm officer answered. “If they were using Axia or Red-tail equipment, we could readily identify it by its frequency signatures.”

“Do we have any idea how they managed to pick up our comm signals?” she asked the supervisor of the watcher ships.

“No ma’am. We’re still exploring that. The best theory we have so far relates to that new radio telescope they just finished.”

“So you’re saying this new equipment is capable of listening to our signals?” the commander asked.

“Not exactly,” the supervisor replied. “What we suspect happened is they somehow picked up a harmonic of our routine comm traffic. Their equipment is not able to directly access our signals because they have no grasp of faster-than-light technology.”

“I still don’t understand.”

The watcher supervisor started to say something when the comm officer raised his hand. “If I may,” he said. All eyes turned toward the officer. “It’s really quite simple, ma’am,” he said. “I believe they intercepted harmonic bleed over.”

“A bleed over?”

“Yes ma’am. A bleed over. Like a spill.”

“A spill?”

“Yes ma’am.” The comm officer picked up his cup of coffee and began to swirl its contents around. Although the coffee stayed in the cup, centrifugal force caused small amounts to spill out over the lip of the cup and onto the conference table. Commander Tess realized what the comm officer was demonstrating.

“So what you’re saying is that we’re sending out so much information so fast that our cup can’t hold it.”

“That’s exactly what’s I’m saying, ma’am. Some of it is bound to spill.”

“I guess we’re going to have to be more careful.”

“In any case,” the comm officer volunteered, “they now have equipment capable of directly accessing a few of our comm frequencies.” The commander nodded.

“What about them translating our language?” Tess asked. “Does anyone have an explanation?”

“We’ve been looking into that,” said the officer who headed the Linguistics Department. “In reviewing all available records, we’ve discovered that one small sub-culture on Maranar has a dialect that is readily traceable to the Axia. Apparently after this planet fell into barbarism during the Dark Times, one group held on to the language of the Galactic Axia for religious or cultural reasons. Comparing this dialect to the grammar common several thousand years ago readily explains the odd diction in the signals the natives developed and sent our way.”

“So,” the commander stated after a moment’s consideration, “we have a workable understanding of how they are able to call us. As to whether or not we should reply I think it is obvious. We should eventually.” Several others nodded their agreement.

“The real problem facing us then is how we should proceed from here,” the comm officer said. “And what we should say when we answer their call.”

After pausing a moment, Commander Tess stood. “I think that’s all we can accomplish here,” she said. “I’ll forward this information and our recommendations to the Watcher Service headquarters on Shalimar to see what they have to say about this. In the meantime, stay on top of this situation and keep your eyes open for the unexpected. If they can do this, who knows what might surprise us tomorrow?”

∞∞∞

The reply from Shalimar arrived faster than even she expected. Commander Tess was on the bridge when the comm officer handed her an incoming message slip. She read its terse message.
Proceed as you deem prudent. You are the most knowledgeable team present. We defer to you.  Watcher Service Headquarters

“Well that’s that,” she said to the comm officer. “It’s in our lap now for sure.”

He looked up at her and smiled. Truth be told, neither were terribly surprised.

∞∞∞

For many time cycles now the Red-tail pilot of the small craft had managed to elude his pursuers. Four times he’d observed their black ships pass over his small planetoid in their fruitless search. Apparently, something in the mineral make-up of this hunk of rock masked his presence from their sensors.

It had been a total disaster when the enemy force had raided their staging area. Many ships were in the process of being resupplied when they’d first detected the incoming raiders. From that point on, everything was confusion. Everywhere the pilot looked there appeared to be enemy ships and blossoming explosions as enemy rays torched the trapped Red-tail vessels.

Desperately, he and a number of others had managed to fight free of the surrounding onslaught only to be pounced upon by small, extremely fast attack ships. He’d never seen enemy ships that could fly and turn so fast! Their fleeing group had scattered, hotly pursued by those same ships with their incredible speed. He’d ducked down close to this small planetoid and backed his ship into a deep crevice in the rocks. Moments later one of those fast attack ships flew over his hiding spot without detecting him.

From this vantage point he watched the enemy vessels as they madly searched this region of space for him or the other hunted ships. Strangely, his sensors were able to pick them out from the background of the two larger planetoids nearby, but apparently they still couldn’t detect him.           

Being in the role of the hunted was contrary to his nature and he watched their actions intently. Any minute now he expected them to discover his hiding place and blast him out. But then, just as quickly as they’d appear, the pursuing ships disappeared from both his sight and his sensors.

For the next two time-cycles his sensors remained clear of enemy activity. He knew his hiding place was safe but he couldn’t stay there indefinitely. Having been caught along with the others while waiting to have his ship’s supplies restocked, he’d fled without his much-needed stores.

A check of his vessel showed that both weapons and the propulsion system were still in good shape. It was his food supplies that were critically low. Inventorying his remaining provisions, the pilot determined that he could wait maybe another two cycles before he’d run out completely.

Under normal conditions he would arrange to rendezvous with a supply vessel. But this certainly was not a normal situation, which only allowed him one other option—hunting. Command allowed scout vessels to resupply their food lockers by raiding unsuspecting enemy ships, but this always involved certain risks. Reluctantly, the pilot decided to wait another cycle before venturing out and risking detection. If his sensors remained clear of those enemy attack ships for one more cycle, he would slip out of his hiding spot and go hunting. The very thought of fresh human meat made his gut tighten with anticipation.

∞∞∞

“What’s the latest news on the moon mission?” Dr. Spenser asked Dr. Oren as he entered the makeshift lab. He could hear the background noise of the transmitter sending out another prerecorded message toward space. The silent but ready receiver sat nearby. He set down the two cups of coffee on the table where his colleague was sitting and grabbed an extra chair for himself.

Oren took his coffee cup and nodded his thanks to Spenser.       “Oh, it’s going pretty good,” Oren replied absently to the question. As exciting as the moon mission was, it paled in comparison to what their team had learned in the last few weeks. “They’ve already completed their first refueling and are now busy mapping the far side of the moon.”

“Have they found anything interesting yet?” Spenser asked, glancing toward the video monitor on a stand in the corner. Its screen displayed the live pictures being relayed from the spacecraft orbiting Maranar’s largest moon.

“Nothing that they’ve mentioned publicly,” Oren answered. “There have been some brief interruptions in the live feed but I think they were probably the usual glitches rather than some sort of cover up.”

Spenser chuckled at the reference to the running joke in the lab. Rumor had it that there were alien cities on the far side of the moon inhabited by little green three-eyed creatures. The government was keeping it secret because these creatures had a society without taxes and bureaucrats.

Oren sipped his coffee and nodded toward the silent receiver. “Nothing there either,” he said without emotion. “We’ve been sending out the signal for so long now that discouragement is beginning to be a real problem among the younger team members.”

“Well, someone is bound to answer sooner or later,” Spenser replied with false enthusiasm. “If anything, they’ll answer just to shut us up!”

∞∞∞

Far out in the star system some people were even then listening to the signal from Maranar. “They’re still playing the same message loop,” the comm operator reported as he turned around to face Commander Tess.

“I guess that means they’re listening for a reply,” Commander Tess said from where she stood behind the operator. “Did you ever pinpoint the transmitter site?” she asked the officer overseeing the scout ships under their command.

“Yes ma’am,” the head of the watcher ships replied. “It wasn’t far from that new radio telescope.”

“That fits in with your theory about how the two tie together,” the commander mused. “Any chance they may have also found a way to spot our ships?”

“That’s always a possibility, but I think a remote one,” the man replied. “To be on the safe side, I’ve had our watcher ships move away from the planet itself. The natives still have their moon mission going. I don’t want to risk having an eye witness account of us.”

“Good thinking,” Commander Tess said. “Well gentlemen,” she continued, nodding toward the comm equipment, “I think it’s time we answered their call.”

∞∞∞

The video monitor had just switched to a commercial break when the beeping of the jury-rigged faster-than-light receiver startled the two scientists. For several seconds they both sat too shocked to move. Then chairs and coffee cups flew as they both ran to the receiver. The blinking light indicated an incoming call.

“I’ll start the recorder,” Oren said nervously. Spenser nodded and reached for the controls of the receiver.

“I’m putting it on the speaker,” Oren said, making the necessary adjustments with trembling fingers. At a nod from Spenser, Oren activated the receiver.

After a moment of space-generated static, a woman’s voice came through clearly, and in their own language. “Residents of Maranar,” the female voice said in friendly tones. “We have received your transmission. How may we help you?”

The two Maranar scientists were momentarily too dumbfounded to answer.

Chapter Eleven

With a final tug on the rope of the block and tackle, Robert Hassel tightened the fence stretcher one last little bit. The barbed wire vibrated as it pulled taunt along the section of fence.

“That’s it!” Agnes hollered from where she was standing by a new fence post. Robert watched while his wife took her fence hammer and pounded in the fence staples. As soon as she was finished with that fence post, she moved along checking the others. Using her hammer, she pounded down loose staples on several posts and added extra staples as needed to others.

Several minutes went by before she reached her husband. “I think that about does it,” she said, looking up into Robert’s face. Robert nodded and released the brake on the block and tackle. The rope went slack and they watched the fence line for any sagging wires. It remained tight.

Robert was about to speak when he saw the mail flitter landed at their mailbox out on the road. Without a word, Agnes slid her hammer into a loop on her tool belt and turned toward the road. Robert fervently hoped there would at least be a postcard from Delmar. It weighed heavily on him to see Agnes’ disappointment grow with each passing day without word from their adopted son.

Robert watched Agnes take out the usual bundle of mail and thumb through the stack of envelopes and magazines. When she finished, her shoulders slumped and Robert knew that another day had passed without word from Delmar.
The boy must be pretty busy
, Robert thought, watching Agnes hide her feelings and make her way back to where they’d been working.

“We got letters from the Senders and Stan,” Agnes reported, disappointment coloring her voice, “but nothing from Delmar.” Robert wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they walked slowly toward the house. He’d come back for the fence stretcher after lunch.

Robert was beginning to worry about the boy. Delmar had been fairly regular in his correspondence all through his training at survey school. But he also knew things would be pretty hectic the closer Delmar got to the final tests and his check ride. Even accounting for that, it was still disheartening they’d not heard anything from him lately.

Entering the house through the back door, the couple stored their tools in the utility room. Agnes dropped the mail on the kitchen table and started going about the routine of preparing lunch. Robert washed up and joined her in the kitchen.

“Get the roast beef out of the fridge and slice it up, would you hon?” Agnes asked as she put a pot of water on the stove to boil some potatoes.

“Sure,” Robert answered. He opened the refrigerator, set last night’s roast on the cutting board, and reached into the drawer for the good carving knife. While he sliced the roast, Agnes scrubbed a few red potatoes and dropped them into the water. Robert finished slicing beef onto a plate.

“Would you like a salad?” Agnes asked without enthusiasm.

“I didn’t think we had any more tomatoes.”

“There are a few ripe ones in the garden.”

“On those Early Girls, I bet,” Robert said, referring to the tomato plants Agnes had planted on the sunny side of the house. Robert had been skeptical about the hybrid tomato vines when Agnes planted them. He was pleasantly surprised when unlike the regular vine tomatoes, these hybrids shot up and developed blossoms within a couple of weeks. The plastic sheeting Agnes rigged over them to protect them from late frost had helped keep them warm and augmented their development. Now here it was, barely a month since she planted them and already there was early fruit.