First Contact

Chapter Two

Sleemas limped across the command deck before settling into the Captain's Cradle. The air still smelled of scorched metal, lubricants, and organic compounds but the smoke had cleared, meaning that damage control had gotten the fires out and environmental system somewhat repaired. Sleemas coughed, feeling his barking-sack swell, pulling at the recently regenerated skin on the side of his neck, then looked around.

Most of the original bridge-crew was either dead or injured. Nearly a fifth of the ship's crew was dead, a third of the rest in heal-sleep or being attended by medicos in the infirmary. The ship, judging by the viewscreen, was still dead in the water, slowly tumbling on all three axis through the depths of space. The trailing wisps purple and blue 'glitter' that was slowly leaking into space from the damaged jumpspace engines gave a spiraling testimony to the face that they were still moving at a decent speed.

At least, if they'd been in a solar system.

Sleemas gave a burbling sigh. They were in between stars. Which meant, no chance for help and any planet that might sustain them until they could repair the ship's engines was too far away to reach in a dozen lifetimes.

Of course, a jumpscorched ship wasn't bad enough. Neither was a dead captain and first mate. Of course not. The universe just had to urinate on Sleemas's tail and the tail of everyone on the ship.

"It's confirmed, Acting Captain Sleemas," the former weapon's technician hissed, looking up. "I managed to get a clear picture with an optical camera, but it's not any ship I saw in training."

Sleemas sighed and looked at the data-screens surrounding the Captain's Cradle. They were all cracked and discolored from the jumpscorch. "Throw it on the main screen, I guess we should all see what's come to step on our tails."

The weapon's technician, so low ranked he didn't even actually have a name, bobbed his head in submission.

The screen, a third of it not working and discolored, wavered for a moment then showed an image of the ship, concentric sensor rings, and a line that started at a circle a little ways away and was slowly approaching.

"It dropped into realspace just over thirty cycles ago and immediately headed straight for us. I thought at first they were locking us with weapon ranging systems but after they started blinking a laser in the low red range at us, I realized they were scanning and then trying to communicate," The weapon's tech said.

"What do we know about them?" Sleemas asked.

"Nothing. The dedicated scanners are offline. I pointed one of the docking cameras toward them but they're too far way. What scanning I can do shows a dead ship approaching. Not even enough power for weapon's tracking despite the fact they are scanning us with a low-red laser," the nameless one said. He pointed at a window on the screen that showed a faint glimmering speck. "That's it, right there."

"And their approach?" Sleemas knew the answer, just looking at the screen.

"They're pulling extremely high acceleration still. At their current rate of acceleration they'll overshoot us in six cycles. At their current rate of speed, if they were to cease acceleration, they'll overtake us in nine cycles. There's no way any sapient we know of can survive the kind of deceleration that they'll have to undertake in order to slow down to match velocity with us," the weapon technician said.

"An attack run?" Sleemas asked.

The unnamed tech flicked his tail in a motion to signify that anything was possible.

"Can we reply? Communicate?" Sleemas asked. "Request the Rite of Surrender?"

The only other 'officer' on the bridge made a sign of negation. "No, Acting High One. With the power-plant damaged and our computer systems damaged, we cannot spare the power or the computing cycles from repair, life support, and medical to attempt to contact them."

"Alert the crew. Sing our death songs. I will pray to the Forgotten Ones that they are not here to attack us, but let our souls be prepared," Sleemas said.

The other two 'officers' looked grateful and left the bridge to return to their quarters to sing their death songs and perform death rites.

Sleemas sat and watched the steadily approaching dot.

He had nothing else to do.

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Sleemas watched the alien ship get closer. After five cycles it had suddenly decelerated as if it had began sliding on thick syrup. The twinkle had grown steadily larger as the alien ship approached, until now, almost a full cycle after it had begun to slow down, he could see plenty of details.

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Whoever made it didn't care about aesthetics. It was anodized black, with protrusions and a thick hammerhead foredeck. It had four massive engines held away from the craft by swooping struts, the engines glowing and thrumming with such power that Sleemas could swear he felt in his bones.

Whoever had built that craft had made sure it was constructed to deliver a simple message: "We don't like you, we don't like your burrow, and we don't like your eggs."

He'd ordered the nameless one, who he'd begun referring to as Slinner in his own mind, to switch off any kind of targeting system and to only observe it through the visible spectrum.

"I thought you said it didn't have power," the Communications "officer" snapped at Slinner, growling and flaring his ruffles. "I can see light coming from it."

"We can detect that, but no power aside from that and my instruments claimed it was stellar light reflecting off of debris," Slinner answered.

"Then you are as stupid as your instruments," The Communications "officer" snarled.

"Easy, easy. He can only tell us what his instruments can detect," Sleemas said.

"The engines produce no power I could detect. The ship itself radiates no power. According to the instruments, before I switched them off, there is nothing there despite what our eyes see," Slinner replied, staying unruffled.

"We can see the lights from it," the Communication Officer snarled. Sleemas had begun thinking of his as Snapjaw and wished there was someone else who could run the communications software.

"And my instruments, except for that camera, do not see the lights. Must I record that statement and play it on a loop for you to understand?" Slinner asked.

"That is impossible! Are you incompetent?" Snapjaw started to rant.

"You're blinky," Slinner suddenly said, pointing at Snapjaw's data displays.

Snapjaw turned back to his display, frowning. It was an incoming communication request and an incoming datalink request.

Snapjaw hissed his frustration, working the unfamiliar menus until finally the lights stopped blinking.

Sleemas sighed, a rattling sound in his throat, and swiped the icons on his screen to bring up the communication window on what was left of the main viewscreen, replacing the concentric rings that merely showed that the foreign ship was practically on top Sleemas's inherited vessel.

The screen flickered and showed the image of, at first glance, what looked to be some kind of bipedal construction robot. It took Sleemas a second to realize that it wasn't a robot but rather some kind of armored vac-suit.

"Jumpdrive failure, huh?" The figure asked in perfect Hashenesh. Captioning ran across the bottom and in the upper right there was an image of his own ship with the drive exploding and a query mark over it.

"Affirmative," Sleemas answered.

"I'm going to scan you. Is that permissable?" The armored vac-suited figure asked.

"Affirmative," Sleemas answered.

"Stay on the image. I want to make sure I don't boil you alive or something," The figure said. "Man, it's been a long time since I dealt with the living. Hang on."

Sleemas expected the scan to take a long time but it was less than a few breaths before the figure suddenly started moving again.

"You've got a damaged jump core, your computer system is electromag shocked, you've got structural damage and a lot more," the voice said. Sleemas found it odd to not be able to see the other sapient's face but was willing to ignore that if this sapient was willing to help his injured crew. He just nodded and the figure nodded its head. "All right, I can get you going again."

There was silence for a long time and the figure made a mechanical sighing noise.

"You have to invite me onboard, those are the rules," it said.

Sleemas nodded. "I invite you, strange one, onto my humble vessel."

The figure nodded back and cut the image.

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It was bigger than Sleemas had thought it would be. It moved mechanically, its joints hissed and purred, he could hear it using sonar and high frequency. Its body seemed to be full of machinery and tools. It had a quadruped following it, some kind of industrial robot with four legs and a strange looking head that often made weird sharp staccato noises.

For nearly fourteen cycles it worked tirelessly. Sleemas learned that the quadruped robot was called "Fido" and that the figure was called "Daxin" in its own tongue.

At one point Sleemas approached the figure, who had just exited the jump core, slapping its hands together.

"Are you...artificial?" Sleemas asked.

The figure shook its head. "Nope. Clinically immortal but originally biological," it said.

Sleemas pondered that answer for several cycles, unable to come to grips with what it might mean.

"All right. This should get you back home. I took the liberty of checking your astrogation files for the closest system. You're lost by about twelve-thousand light years, but you should be all right now that your jumpdrive is tuned," Daxin told Sleemas at the airlock. "You've got food, water, and enough power to get back, but not much more."

"What caused it?" Sleemas asked.

"Jumpspace rapids. They must have shifted since the last time you surveyed that section of jumpspace. I'd have your government run probes on all the major shipping lines," Daxin said. "I put my estimations and data on a file."

Daxin paused halfway out the lock. Sleemas had gotten used to how Daxin would just exit the lock, use a reactionless drive to move back to his own ship, and then return as if space was his natural element.

"Look, Acting Captain Sleemas, it's either you hit what my people call rapids or..." he squatted slightly and put his helmet near Sleemas's ear. "Or sabotage."

He straightened back up. "Anyway, good luck. Try not to let anyone step on your tail, all right?"

"Wait," Sleemas asked. "I have one request."

"Sure, my scaly brother. Ask away," Daxin said.

"May I see your face? So the crew and I may pray to the Forgotten Ones for you properly?" Sleemas asked.

"Not a good plan, my friend," Daxin said.

"You said you are alive. My religion and beliefs..." Sleemas started.

"All right, since it's your religion. Remember, my scaly friend, you asked for it," Daxin said.

The faceplate opened and Sleemas found himself staring at horror.

Liquid bubbled in a dura-glass tank. Inside a lower mandible floated beneath a pair of blue eyes that were attached via the optic nerves to thickly furrowed cerebral tissue that was embedded with electronics and wires, all of it floating in the tank.

Sleemas rapidly inflated and deflated his barking sack to keep from fainting as the plates closed at the front of the helmet. He heard 'Fido' make those same noises and looked down, to see the armored plate had retracted, showing the same horror inside Fido's head, only the mandible longer and sporting conical teeth.

The plate closed.

"You asked, buddy," Daxin said. "Let's go, Fido."

Sleemas watched as the thing cycled the lock and left. He staggered to the bridge, the appearance of his crew's benefactor burned into his mind. He collapsed into the Captain's Cradle and stared at the viewscreen.

"He's hailing us," Snapjaw said.

"Put it on," Sleemas said.

The armored figure appeared again. Now that the screen had been repaired he could see "Fido" was folded up in the wall behind him, the head detached and sitting nearby.

"I'm gonna go slow till I'm away from you. You guys go ahead and go first, I'll tag for a ways in jumpspace then head on out, all right?" Daxin asked.

Sleemas bobbed his head. Before the feed could be cut, Sleemas slapped his tail, almost wincing as he got Daxin's attention. When he realized he had the alien's attention he asked the question that had been bothering since the airlock.

"Why... why do you keep the jawbone and eyes?" he asked.

"Because it's funny."

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Sleemas testified to the Unified Exploratory Council that the creature he had encountered has claimed to be "clinically immortal" and had "required permission to board", working without any apparent rest.

The Council met for an emergency meeting.

Two separate species being encountered in the same rough region, deep in the Dead Zone, within the same time frame of a handful of great cycles, was cause for alarm.

If there were two xenospecies, there could be more.

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FROM: DAXIN FREEBORN

TO: CONFEDNAVINT

Encountered a new xenosapient in need of assistance. Rendered assistance according to the Clinically Immortal Code of Conduct. Repaired their vessel and sent them on their way. Attached is a financial statement of the remuneration due to my descendants for providing this aid as a representative of the TerraSol Confederacy.

Attached is schematics for a light frigate of a previously unknown xenosapient. Also attached is medical data gleamed from the ships own computers. Attached is a copy of their library core. Copying information in such a matter is permissible under the Clinically Immortal Code of Conduct.

I haven't really gone over the datafiles because, honestly, I don't care.

The Captain seemed nice.

Try not to glass his planet or something stupid like that.

No reply is required.

Just leave me alone.

------NOTHING FOLLOWS (IN MY FOOTSTEPS)-------------

FROM: FIDO FREEBORN

TO: CONFEDNAVINT

They were lizards. I don't like lizards. A lizard bit my foot when I was still squishy. New lizards did not bite my foot. Daxin is still goodboi. Fido is still goodboi.

We hunt further in the dark.

------NOTHING FOLLOWS------------