War Dog Page 15

  ***

  Several hours later the Tas armada was almost within weapons range. I have to admit, sitting with systems powered down was a bit of a gamble. I was betting that the Tas would take a look at our posture and at least grant us a moment to talk. In my mind, conversation was the only way we were going to win this. I tried to live by the old maxim; the best battles are the ones never fought.

  “Mitty, open up a channel to those ships. Let’s see if they’ll talk.”

  “Attempting to open a channel, Admiral,” the hologram replied.

  And now we wait, I thought to myself.

  A few moments later Mitty announced, “They are not responding, Admiral.”

  “Unfortunate but expected,” I said. “Signal the lead Roharian ship to attempt communications.”

  “The Roharians are reporting a communication link has been established. The Tas are asking if the Rohar have joined with the ‘Defilers’.”

  “Patch me into their conversation,” I ordered.

  As Mitty complied I heard the end of an exchange between the Tas and the Rohar. The dragon was attempting to explain that neither his command vessel nor the other ships from the Galactic Order were, in fact, in league with the unknown enemy which the Tas were calling the Defilers.

  “Mitty, is it audio only or can we get a visual?”

  “The Tas are only broadcasting audio.”

  I nodded as much to myself as to anybody else. It seemed the Tas were intent to remain enigmas. I decided to join the conversation.

  “Attention, Tas commander,” I said as I interrupted their conversation. “My name is Admiral Riker. I am a human from a planet called Earth that has only recently aligned with the Galactic Order. If we are going to stop these Defilers, we need information.”

  An electronically generated voice emanated from the bridge speakers.

  “We are not familiar with a race called ‘Human’. Our analysis indicates a high probability that the Defilers are also an unknown race.”

  “I see where you are going with this. I assure you that we are not your enemy. What can we do to convince you that we are not a threat?”

  The electronic voice replied almost immediately and with no emotion. I had no way of knowing if the lack of feeling in the voice was a result of the translation or a reflection of the fundamental differences between the Tas and humans. In either case, I found their response less than comforting.

  “You can allow us to destroy you.”

  “ADMIRAL! They’re firing missiles,” MacDonald reported.

  “Target?”

  “One moment, Sir… Target confirmed. They are targeting the ghost ship.”

  Barely a minute later, a pair of neutronium-tipped missiles struck and passed through the holographic clone of the Gilboa. The computer geeks had rigged the hologram to flare a fake set of shields to make it appear like the ship had weathered the attack unscathed.

  The Tas tried three more times to kill our ghost ship. When two missiles didn’t do the trick, they fired four of their little neutronium gems at it. When that didn’t work, they tried twelve. Each time our fake shield flared and when it cleared, the Gilboa’s doppelganger would still be there.

  I began to worry that they would take a potshot at the other battleship, so I decided it was time to talk again.

  “Tas commander, you can fire at us all day or you can allow us to have a conversation. Know this, we will not fire back as we have no desire to hurt potential allies in our fight against our common enemy, the Defilers.”

  No more missiles were launched. It seemed the Tas were evaluating their options for moving forward. The fact that they had stopped firing was a good thing, but it filled me with a certain amount of dread. It meant that we were going to put the next part of my plan into motion. This was the part of the plan that even I didn’t like.

  ***

  I launched my one-man personal shuttle from one of the smaller hanger bays on the Gilboa. This particular ship was of human design. It used old-style VASIMR thrusters that were far less powerful than the ones we had powered by Galactic Order power systems.

  This was deliberate on my part. I wanted to let the Tas know that I was completely at their mercy. Of course, the downside to this plan was… I was completely at their mercy.

  The Rohar, who seemed to be on better speaking terms with the Tas, informed them that I was meeting them half way. That my shuttle was unarmed and unshielded. They would be able to destroy it and its sole passenger easily. This was being done as a sign of good faith.

  For untold centuries humans had been saluting other humans. Many believed the custom evolved from the time of the Romans. A raised right hand meant you were not carrying a weapon and were, therefor, safe to approach. I didn’t know if the Tas had a similar concept of presenting oneself as a non-threat in order to parley. I was hoping that they did… or at least were open to learning one.

  Somehow, I knew that the Tas were going to be more willing to talk with me one on one than they were across tens of thousands of miles of open space. Logically it shouldn’t have made a difference, but I had learned over the years to trust my gut.

  To my delight, a small transport exited one of the Tas Talons and headed in my direction. Given the vastness of space and the distances involved, I didn’t see any of this but Commander Shelby on the Gilboa had Mitty send me updates from their much more capable passive sensors.

  The small Tas ship was still several times the size of my vessel. It was possible that they didn’t have smaller crafts, or it could simply be a matter of wanting to have a conversation from a position of strength. It didn’t really matter to me. We were talking. That was the important thing.

  After about twenty minutes our two ships neared each other and began breaking maneuvers. Because the Tas ship had a far more powerful set of thrusters, we were actually much closer to the Gilboa then we were to the Tas armada.

  I had instructed the Rohar to discontinue the holographic ruse if it became clear that the Tas were going to agree to a face-to-face. I noticed our second battleship had disappeared as the small Taserite vessel made its way to me.

  My viewscreen flickered and a dark grey worm appeared on the screen. I saw something that looked like it was what the Tas used for a mouth. It was a circular orifice with hundreds of thin, undulating cilia. I flicked a switch and sent a video feed from my cockpit to the Tas vessel.

  I knew from what I had been told by Mitty and Shella that the Tas were quadrupeds, but I didn’t see any indication of those appendages in the limited view I had on my screen.

  The cilia began to move in a rhythmic pattern and I heard the same mechanical voice speaking to me.

  “You are a human?”

  “I am.”

  “You come from a world called Earth?”

  “I do.”

  “Your star has eight primary planets with four rocky worlds orbiting closest to your star. Between the last rocky world and the first of your gas giants there is an asteroid field.”

  The first statement had been a question. This last was an expression of fact. The question was; How did the Tas know about the makeup of Earth’s solar system?

  “What you have said is true. May I ask how you knew this when you had never heard of humans?”

  The cilia stopped moving. In a few moments they began to undulate again but in a much different pattern.

  “This attack was not necessary. You are the lost children of the Ancestors.”

  Chapter 22: A Dog’s Pedigree

  “You don’t say?” I responded. “Can I assume there is more to this story that you can share?”

  “You are unaware of your heritage?” The Tas asked.

  “That’s an interesting question. If you had asked me yesterday I would have said yes. Given what I’ve just heard from you; I’m no longer sure. You seemed to recognize my species and you correctly identified my home system. That convinces me you have access to knowledge from a source I don’t understand.”

&nbs
p; “Return to your ship, Admiral Riker. We will no longer attack you. The hive has much to consider before we talk again”

  Before I could say more the Taserite closed the channel. I watched as his ship turned around and headed back to his Talon.

  In the end, our meeting was less than I had been hoping for but better than I expected. What I hadn’t expected was to walk away with yet more questions.

  ***

  I piloted my small shuttle back to the Gilboa. I had to admit, I liked seeing her landing bay. A set of undulating landing lights indicated where the Hanger Master wanted me to set the small craft down. As the runners kissed the deck, landing clamps extended out of the floor and locked the shuttle down to the deck firmly. It was a pleasant and reassuring clunk. There had been a time when the ship had seemed very alien to me. Now, it seemed like home.

  My wife joined me at the landing bay. To say Lori was pissed with me really doesn’t do justice to the word ‘pissed’. The only upside to this type of anger was the making up later… My wife was very passionate when it came to ‘making up.’

  Officially, she was not happy that I had put my life at risk. In reality, she was upset for two reasons. First, I had put my life at risk. Second, and perhaps more importantly, I had done so without talking to her first.

  In my defense, I knew I was going. Had I consulted her first, she would be mad that I went and even madder that I had ignored her. Doing it the way I had allowed me to claim the time-honored ‘accidently inconsiderate defense.’ While this was bad; it was not as bad as blatantly ignoring her concerns.

  Fortunately, I was able to extricate myself from a more intense grilling by declaring we needed to have an emergency staff meeting and I wanted her there as the head of medical.

  ***

  “So,” I said after I had played the ships automatic data recorder for my senior staff, “we have another series of questions. How did the Tas know about the Sol system? Why did they react to seeing me in the way that they did? And, what is this stuff about ‘lost children of the Ancestors’?

  The Roharian ambassador walked around the conference table and picked up a bowl of water from the beverage dispenser. The dragons had no use for cups and preferred to drink by lapping water from a deep bowl. As he returned to the table he spoke.

  “There is a legend, perhaps more of a myth, among my people. The Ancestors left our region of space after several of their exploration vessels had gone missing. A great darkness was said to have found them. Perhaps humans are the survivors of one such expedition.”

  Lori leaned forward and spoke.

  “I’m not sure I can buy that,” she said. “There is a substantial fossil record to support the notion that humanity is from Earth.”

  Shella looked over at Mitty as if asking for permission to say something. It was the first time in the many months that I had known them that I ever seen any type of deference between the two of them. Mitty nodded.

  Shella wrinkled her nose.

  “My people have a similar story. The Ancestors where explorers at heart. At various points, their passion for exploration resulted in the loss of some of the explorers. As the story goes once such loss cost the Ancestors their very soul. In the language of the Ancestors, child and soul are synonymous.”

  We were suddenly getting theological which I wasn’t sure was going to be helpful in our current discussion.

  “The Ancestor’s concept of a soul is fascinating but is it germane?” I asked.

  Mitty’s wife did that nose-wrinkle thing again.

  “You misunderstand me, Admiral. You humans use the phrase ‘my family is my heart and soul’. You do not mean to infer your families are your ‘actual’ heart or your ‘actual’ soul. You simply are indicating that your family is very precious to you. We believe the same is true about the ‘lost children of the Ancestors.’”

  I looked over at Lori. Her questions as to the origins of humanity had gone unanswered. I decided to bring that back to the table as it seemed important in putting this question of where humanity came from… and were we, truly, some type of Ancestor offspring?

  “Lori’s concerns still seem valid. There is strong evidence that Humanity arose from the dust of the Earth. The idea that we were somehow dropped off or stranded on Earth doesn’t seem to mesh with the archeological record.”

  “I might be able to speak to that,” Mitty said. “One of the oldest rumors about the Ancestors is that while they came from the core worlds of our galaxy… they did not originate there. It is remotely possible that humanity was the progenitors of the Ancestors rather than the other way around.”

  ***

  It took the Taserite Hive three days to deliberate. I was just beginning to think our trip had been a wasted one when my comms officer announced an incoming transmission.

  “Open a channel. Audio and video.”

  A moment later the holographic image of a Taserite appeared about ten feet in front of my command chair. The system was designed to display a life-sized version of the being on the other side.

  The creature appeared to be the size and height of a very large dog… say a Saint Bernard or similar large breed. Of course, the Tas looked more like a massive shell-less snail with four very squat legs and a front-facing proboscis capped with the previously mention mouth orifice. They seemed to communicate with each other using rhythmic undulations of the thousands of cilia surrounding that orifice. It also seemed they used their proboscis to manipulate objects much like an elephant uses their trunk.

  “Admiral Jeremy Riker,” the now familiar mechanical voice said.

  “This is Admiral Riker,” I responded.

  “The hive seeks to speak with the one known as Admiral Jeremy Riker.”

  “This is he,” I answered again. It seemed the Tas had trouble understanding our concept of names. Perhaps they did not use them as such.

  “You will forgive me. We struggle with the labels you use for the yet living. Our people lack the full sense of individuality that you do. This has presented us with a difficult and painful choice.”

  I looked over at my two Ambassadors to see if they could provide any insight. Shelly shook her head. She had become a master of ‘human body language.’ The Rohar Ambassador just drooled. He caught himself and used a darting tongue to capture the spittle before it hit the deck. It seemed obvious they had nothing to add to the conversation, so I was going to be on my own.

  “Please explain this difficult choice you are needing to make,” I asked.

  “The hive must respond to the Defiler threat and yet we are ill-suited to do so. The lost children of the Ancestors are a far more suitable choice, as the gifts that were placed in our care were left for such as you. We are sending with you a redundant pair. We ask that you do not allow them to become lost children as we grieve their separation from us and yet take comfort in the anticipation of the reuniting. We are a social race. To remove any part is to remove from the whole.”

  “I think I understand.”

  “With no disrespect Admiral Jeremy Riker, who is also Admiral Riker… it is unlikely that you do. Nevertheless, the hive appreciates your attempt at understanding. It speaks well of the compassion the Ancestors are known to possess.”

  “I thank you for sending us these Ambassadors. We were also hoping that you might give us access to a supply of your neutronium missiles. The Defilers seem to have access to a limited amount of Ancestor technology. Our purpose in coming here was to see if we could even the odds a little when we attempt to engage them.”

  “We will give you unfettered access to all of the gifts that have been left in our care.”

  I looked up quickly.

  “Everybody currently on the bridge. You are to consider the current conversation with the Taserites a class-one secret. Talk to no one about what was said here today under the harshest possible penalties.”

  As one the bridge crew acknowledged my orders.

  “Mitty, you stay. Everybody else clear the bridge.”
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  When they had gone, I turned to face the Archon hologram.

  “This may likely be the most important order I ever give you. The fate of the Galactic Order and the fate of my people depend on you keeping it.”

  “I understand, Admiral. I will seal the previous conversation and the one we are having under an executive lockout. Only you and any you designate will be able to retrieve it.”

  I nodded and turned back to the Taserite who had been waiting patiently.

  “Humanity, and very likely the member worlds of the Galactic Order, would tear themselves apart should such technology come into our hands. Even the knowledge that it could become available… would be devastating. Our societies are not sufficiently advanced to handle the power this technology represents responsibly. It is imperative that you limit our access. The Ancestors trusted you to be guardians. I am asking you to retain that role. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  “The hive appreciates and acknowledges your request. That you recognize and accept your own limitations bodes well for your future. We will respect your desire in this matter. Our ambassadors are ready to transport to your ship.”

  ***

  It turns out that the Taserite Ambassadors always travel in a pair… and when I say ‘always’ that’s exactly what I mean. The Gilboa had received technical specifications for creating living quarters and a mobile environmental unit (MEU) that would allow them to travel throughout the ship.

  Their MEU reminded me of those strollers you see in the mall with a set of twins in them. In this case the twins were a pair of two-hundred-pound slugs surrounded by an especially dense transparent shell that enclosed a high-pressure air mix.

  That atmosphere contained in both their quarters and the MEU had far more sulfur dioxide than a human could have tolerated even if they could have survived the nearly one hundred bars of pressure. For those that are counting, one hundred bars of pressure is like being a kilometer deep in the ocean. Fine and dandy if you’re a sperm whale… a little rough on us homo sapiens.