Jeopardy Chap 7

“I always wanted to fly interstellar,” the captain overheard Ensign Rougeau telling Lieutenant Lee. The S. S. Maria Mitchell maintained its course to the planet with the Zlōger ship in tow.

“I would have been okay with inner-system shuttles, cargo runs, moon routes, tourist cruises, but it was hard to resist applying for this mission.”

“Regrets?” Jackson kept an ear focused on their conversation but continued to examine some documentation on a portable.

“If I did, I wouldn’t talk about it where the captain could hear me,” the young man said with a nod to Jackson and a glance at Lee. Jackson smiled but still didn’t take his eyes off the reader.

“Estimate to planetary orbit, Rougeau?”

“Two point two hours remaining.”

“Did you ever consider Earth Orbitals Retrieval? There’s job security.”

“Space junk? Catching old orbitals for scrap? No thanks.”

“Lucrative business opportunity,” Jackson said. “Last I heard Musk, Inc. was looking for independent contractors. I think there's still a reward out for the car.”

“I wanted to join the Space Corps,” Rougeau said.

“Captain,” Watson interrupted. “I’m getting a transmission from the Zlōger ship.” Now Jackson looked up.

“Put ‘em on.”

“Captain Thomas Jackson,” the robotified voice began. “Some of my crew hope for an invitation to tour Maria Mitchell, and offer gratitude for assistance.”

Jackson didn’t immediately answer. He remained seated and formulated a reply.

“Commander Gug-nich'-a-crik? Thank you for your interest,” he began, looking at each officer in turn. He didn't want to butcher the alien's name. “I would be happy to give you a tour of the Maria Mitchell, if you would be willing to offer the same opportunity for my crew. My engineering team and officers are understandably curious.”

“Exchange of technology welcomed,” the alien said. Jackson hadn’t mentioned an exchange of technology, but that only meant condoned espionage. “We have nothing that hides.”

Where had Jackson heard that before? If it had to be declared out loud, he was certain there was, indeed, something to hide.

“Commander, we would be able to escort three of your crew. Do you have a working shuttle?”

“We have, and we thank you for invitation. We arrive in one-time unit.”

From the doyen’s office Jackson called the armory first, then the galley, and finally sick bay.

“I don’t carry side arms, Jack. Don’t ask me to.”

“You don’t have to keep it on you, but I want you to have resources available.”

“If you think they are so dangerous why did you invite them over?”

“Well, Doc, I’m trying to be friendly.”

“Why let them come here? Can’t you send the Osprey to get them?”

“I don’t want to waste resources and personnel.”

“Why not go to their ship?” Jackson closed his eyes then sighed.

“I can’t show them our ship if they don’t leave their ship. Do you have a problem with laser firearms? You’re still qualified, aren’t you?”

“No, I let that lapse years ago. But tell Wagner to drop one off; I’ll put it in a drawer.” That was probably the best Jackson could hope for from the medical staff.

“Just get shot with your own weapon, now. Oh, and Doc, don’t forget to alter the environment in our common areas. I’d hate for them to, uh, well, whatever you call it when a fish is out of water and can’t breathe.”

“Respiratory distress? Asphyxiation?” Jackson snapped his fingers in agreement.

“I’ll drop by sick bay before they get here,” Jackson promised. He shoved a laser pistol into its stiff holster, and put the belt on.

Jackson and Wagner stood at the airlock listening to the Zlōger ship docking with the Maria Mitchell’s hatch. From the reverberating clatters and clanks, Jackson surmised the blue guys didn’t have a lot of practice docking with another space object. The captain kept his eyes on the barber pole and green light. After the first try, surveillance showed their ship backing away from the hatch, then making a second attempt from scratch.

With a small bump and bang the barber pole snapped, locked, and a red light lit up. The pressure gauge indicator slowly rose until it reached 1000 millibars pressure, the red changed to green, and that time the doors unlocked and opened. Gugnichacrik, Pekeena, and an especially tall Zlōger they’d not met stood in the airlock.

“Captain Thomas Jackson,” Gugnichacrik said with the voice box. Jackson thought of the early, rudimentary artificial voices of AI robots from the Musee de Technologic. The voice had no accent but pronouced all the words with identical emphasis on the syllables.  “You remember medical zlo Pekeena, and this Codenayak, our engine mechanic.” Commander Gugnichacrik held a large box in two of his multiple appendages and offered it to Jackson. “Iridium.”

“Thank you, Commander. And welcome aboard. My ambassador, Mr. Wagner. Come this way.” 

Jackson led the small party toward the observation lounge where the technology was limited and the view unsurpassed, especially compared to a rectangular prism with no windows.

“You have respectable vehicle,” Commander Gugnichacrik said. The other two produced high-pitched sound directed at each other.

   

“Thank you for noticing. I’m pretty proud of her.” It seemed to take forever to get to the lower decks with the hexapedal Zlōgers in tow. Tom wondered why they moved so slowly when a tiny spider could out run him in his mother’s kitchen. “It’s not my personal vessel. It belongs to the people of my planet.” Jackson didn’t want to share too much information.

“I understand. We are private co-op.”

“Tell me, Commander, how did your ship become damaged?” Jackson asked, opening the door, and ushering his guests into the observation room. As each took a seat near the windows, no one spoke.

“We are not certain. We suspect a small space object.” Jackson couldn’t help but raise his brows in surprise that although they originally said they needed medical supplies, but then mentioned needing the tow. They’d not disclosed a cause or description of the damage.

“I would be happy to send one of my engineers over to examine the damage, perhaps get a better idea?”

“For what purpose? Damage done.”

“So, you can avoid the same problem in the future?”

 The Zlōgers looked at each other then back at Jackson.

“You think you can help yes.”

“Wagner,” Jackson turned to the armory officer. “Make arrangements for Painter or Byrd to accompany Bowen to the Zlōger ship and analyze the damage.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Can we offer you something to eat?” Jackson said, about to tap his mouth but not certain if they understood humans eat and talk from the same orifice, whereas perhaps they didn’t. He’d only met one other species of sentient, space faring aliens that were not bipedal. Mistakes were made; it wasn’t a fond memory.

The blue Zlōgers exchanged glances with their metallic gold and green eyes, blinking and chirping soft sounds.

“We like thank you, yes,” Gugnichacrik finally said through the voice synthesizer. Jackson called the galley and asked for two kinds of food – bland vegetable matter and unseasoned fish. He couldn’t help it that they looked like sea creatures. Indeed, some sea creatures in Earth’s oceans were odder looking than any alien he’d ever met.

“Aye, Captain, just a few minutes,” Bailey promised.

While they waited, Jackson relented and opened a visual monitor on the rear bulkhead. He summoned a visual display of the local star charts for a 30-light-year radius in a sphere around their current position.

“Where are you from?” he asked plainly. Codenaya scuttled up from the table and chairs to examine the image more closely with his glossy eyes. Jackson watched the pupils expand and contract several times against the mottled golden irises. At one point its eyes were nearly all black but for a slender rim of color.

Finally, it lifted a forelimb and tapped an area near the outer edge of the sphere, below the ecliptic plane and beyond their current position, away from Earth, almost 28 light years. When it tapped the star, the computer easily identified it. 

"HYD G8V 1237."

“Hydra, 1237,” Jackson said. “Your star is very much like our own,” he said, tapping Sol, 57-light-years in the opposite direction. 

“No bipeds on our worlds. Some live in oceans and some live on lands.”

“We have both, as well. We have been exploring space for about 200 years. Years, um,” Jackson struggled. That might be harder than hours. The imager didn’t expand more than 50 light years in radius.

He tapped the Zlōgers’ star and the image zoomed to show the planetary system. The only planet in the habitable zone had two moons. He pointed at it, and Codenaya tapped it. Another dialogue box appeared with the planet’s statistics. Its revolution was four hundred three days. “Two hundred trips around the star.”

“We in space for six centuries.”

“And you’ve never come to Earth?”

“Your star isolated by several light years but for a single trinary system and many, dead, brown dwarfs. We have not had reason to travel to where nothing to see.”

Jackson considered they were honest. Many stars were clustered with others but not Sol. Excepting Alpha Centauri A, it was the only G type star for a dozen light years in any direction. Within 100 light years, however, more than 1000 had been mapped.

“Have you met many other space traveling species?”

“Yes, but most are outside of sphere,” Gugnichacrik told him. All eyes turned to the door when Bailey came in with a large round tray of assorted food items that appeared to Jackson something like the food on Cinco, what on Earth that North Americans called sushi.

“I wasn’t certain what you might like, but I asked our galley to make some basic, plain dishes for you to choose from.” While Bailey spread out the assorted bowls and plates, Jackson and Wagner herded the Zlōgers to tables. Commander Gugnichacrik examined the spread quickly and reached out for the garnish of Cinconian seaweed leaves. They conferred with sonar sound and all of them selected the garnish rather than the fish or rice.

Jackson turned his head so Bailey and Wagner couldn’t see the smirk busting out on his face. He actually covered his mouth with one hand to make sure he wouldn’t pass on the discourtesy the same way a yawn could be contagious at a humdrum party or a colorless lecture.

“This a good serving,” their commander said, placing another thick leaf in the opening at the end of what Jackson had originally thought was a snout. Behind their blue guests, the sparkling black view of space reminded him of why exactly he had signed up for space command. His deep fascination with sentient beings, from other planets, that revolved around other stars, drove him from point to point, and this was only the current stop in a never-ending string of discoveries.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jackson said, spearing a cube of white fish in drawn butter. It was almost comical, watching his guests eat the garnishes, but a few decades of working with alien species, not to mention falling in love with one, had given him the chance to perfect at least what an appearance of nonchalance should be when he was truly caught off guard.

“I wanted to ask you, Commander, why you fired on our ship. We really didn’t expect such a greeting. We simply didn’t have time to stop. We are on an urgent mission to stop an asteroid. This delay will reduce our chances of success.”

“We need medicine supplies.”

“Yes, you told me that, but it seems that you don’t. You do seem to want a lift to the planet.” The largest one, Codenaya, could have whapped Jackson into the deck with one good crack from one of his whip-like legs.

“Captain,” Wagner said. “I should attend to the repair party assignment.”

“By all means.” Jackson was alone with the Zlōgers; he speared another butter-slathered chunk of fish with a dual-tined fork.

“Captain Thomas Jackson, we had not other means to convey our urgency. We offer gratitude for not returning fire and offering help to us.”

“I only wish we had more time for this contact. As I mentioned, we are going to attempt to divert an asteroid and time is of the essence.”

“We would like to see how your propulsion mechanism operates. We often look on other species’ technology to improve our own.” Gugnichacrik didn’t have facial features to speak of that Jackson could read. Wanting to see the engine room was better than the armory or the bridge. He stepped to the intercom.

“Quixote, here.”

“Commander, would you be willing to escort our guests for a brief tour of your domain?”

“We’re somewhat occupied with repairs at the moment, sir, but a brief visit would not hinder us significantly.”