In Earth's Service (Mapped Space Book 2) Page 7

  The silver prisms were the productive base of the Tau Cetin Civilization in this part of the galaxy, synthesizing everything they required with automated efficiency. A handful of human ambassadors had toured similar creations in the Tau Ceti system itself, the epitome of the model followed by the Pelani System, only on a vastly larger scale.

  “Three thousand, four hundred and sixty one orbitals,” Jase said impressed, “and over eighty seven thousand high velocity visual contacts.”

  “That we can see,” I added, certain their system defenses were invisible to our sensors.

  A powerful signal suddenly blanketed the Silver Lining’s comm system. There was no image, just a terse audio message that blared from the speakers.

  “Access Treaty provisions governing probationary species prohibit entry to inhabited systems class two and above. As no exemption has been provided, you are required to withdraw immediately. Failure to do so will result in relocation of your ship to the nearest human system and a formal protest being lodged with your government.”

  “Not very friendly, are they?” Jase said.

  “They’re not friends or enemies. They’re Observers.”

  Observers were the arbiters of interstellar law, the supreme representatives of the Galactic Forum and the greatest technological and military powers in the Galaxy. They were meant to be impartial in all matters, although sometimes I wondered if the Tau Cetins didn’t bend the rules just a little when it suited their interests. And with Earth only twelve light years from Tau Ceti itself, the TCs had more of an interest in us than if we’d been at the other end of the Orion Arm and we had no option other than to seek good relations with them. Proximity to such a powerful civilization made some nervous, but there were undeniable advantages in progressing from the stone age to the stars under the watchful, generally benevolent gaze of a galactic superpower.

  “They’re half a click above us,” Jase said, orienting our optics toward them.

  A sleek, silver dart appeared floating in perfect synchronization over the Silver Lining. It was small by their standards, hull polished to a mirror sheen with no visible sign of weapons or shields, but that meant nothing. Whatever armament it carried would be formidable, making this a very short conversation if I couldn’t convince them to change their minds.

  I switched off the ship’s intercom. It was normally open so Izin knew what was happening on the flight deck, but any electrical signal would be easily read by the Tau Cetins. “Go tell Izin to stay in his stateroom. He’s not to use the intercom or anything electromagnetic.”

  “Right!” Jase said, sliding off his acceleration couch.

  Izin’s ancestors had attacked the Tau Ceti System over two thousand years ago. If there was one species the TCs had cause to dislike, it was the aggressive and ultra-advanced Intruders – although that wasn’t why I was ordering Jase off the bridge. Trying to hide Izin’s presence from the Tau Cetins was pointless, as they would already know everything about us. What I wanted was to talk to them in private.

  When Jase was gone, I transmitted a tight signal at the patrol ship. “I request diplomatic entry to Ansara. My recognition code is as follows…” I said, then recited an ambassadorial code from the vast array of security clearances stored within my bionetic memory.

  The perimeter guard’s response was immediate. “Ansara does not accept interspecies envoys. Diplomatic contacts can only be made through the Tau Ceti System.”

  “I understand, but this is an emergency. If I have to go to Tau Ceti, it’ll take eight months to get there in this ship. I need help now. Today. It’s an Access Treaty matter.”

  “What is your emergency?”

  At least he was prepared to talk, which meant he could grant exceptions.

  “I’m investigating a possible Treaty violation for Earth Council. I request Tau Cetin technical assistance to help me assess the scope of the potential breach.”

  “Access Treaty matters are the responsibility of the Observer Executive in the Tau Ceti System.”

  “In that case, I request a full exemption for any Treaty violations that occur in relation to this matter while I spend the next eight months going to Tau Ceti.”

  I threw that last bit in to tweak his beak, knowing the Tau Cetins would never provide mankind with a get out of jail free card – I wasn’t even sure they could do such a thing – but they also couldn’t ignore that I was trying to meet our obligations within the limits of human technological capabilities. It was a sneaky way of roping them in and they’d know it, but they’d have to swallow it because Observers never ducked their responsibilities.

  The perimeter guard fell silent, presumably communicating with his masters on Ansara even though the planet was many light hours away. After several minutes, he said, “Temporary diplomatic entry is granted pending assessment of your request.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. What flight path should I follow to Ansara?”

  “None. Your ship’s spacetime distortion drive will not function inside the Pelani System.”

  No bubble? “Why not?”

  “Ansara is protected by a system wide suppression field. We will move your ship to the planet, Ambassador. Standby.”

  Confirmation that the TCs had a means of collapsing spacetime bubbles on a system wide basis was a tantalizing piece of intel, even if it would be a very long time before we could replicate such technology. That wouldn’t stop the EIS assembling a team to try to figure out how they did it.

  The flight deck’s wraparound screen distorted to white noise momentarily, then a garden world appeared below us. It looked the way Earth must have tens of thousands of years ago, before mankind had begun transforming its surface. Ansara’s four continents were covered in temperate and tropical forests, vast islands of green surrounded by pristine blue oceans. White capped mountain ranges dissected two of the land masses, although there was a peculiar absence of barren regions. More strangely, there were no cities, no farmlands, no pollution, none of the indicators of civilization.

  From high orbit, Ansara appeared to be a perfectly preserved natural environment – the opposite of what might be expected from the beating heart of an interstellar superpower. If I hadn’t known better I’d have been surprised, but I’d read enough diplomatic reports describing their ancient origin world in the Tau Ceti system to know this was a close copy. To the Tau Cetins, planets were places where they lived according to their avian tastes, not places to spoil with cities and pollution.

  The flight deck speakers sounded with the same synthesized voice that had greeted us at the Pelani heliopause. “Do not engage your reaction engines. Another ship is coming to transport you to the surface.”

  I swiveled the optics looking for the patrol ship, but it had already vanished. Instead, streaks of light flashed across the screen as TC craft went about their business, travelling at incredible velocities so close to a planetary mass. With their vehicles too fast to study, I focused on Ansara where millions of tiny, equally spaced gray dots were suspended above the endless expanses of green. Before I could investigate further, the screen filled with white noise again.

  The Silver Lining’s landing struts extended without me touching the controls, then the screen came back to life. We now sat on a circular gray platform high above a mist shrouded forest. It was one of the tiny gray dots I’d glimpsed from orbit, identical to thousands of others stretching as far as the eye could see. The platforms stood on thin, pole-like towers that rose through the trees to exactly the same height.

  “Skipper,” Jase said over the intercom, “the energy plant just shut down. One moment it was fine, next it was stone cold dead, like it had the life sucked right out of it.”

  No power, but the lights were still on? According to my console, life support, sensors and a thousand and one invisible machines that kept the ship going were all still functioning normally. Only weapons, propulsion and the E-plant were down. Somehow, they were feeding us juice even though there were no umbilica
ls attached.

  I couldn’t blame them for taking precautions. Human religious fanatics had detonated their ship’s energy plant on the Mataron homeworld in 3154, triggering a thousand year suspension of mankind’s interstellar access rights and turning the Matarons into our enemies – a big mistake considering the snakehead’s xenophobic culture flourished when they had someone to hate. The Embargo had caused some human colonies to collapse, others to regress and had fractured Human Civilization for a millennium.

  “They’re just playing it safe,” I said, slipping off my acceleration couch. “Stand watch up here while I go talk to our avian friends.”

  “On my way.”

  I headed for the hidden smuggler compartment amidships, passing Jase in the main corridor.

  “How’d you talk them into letting us land?” he asked.

  “They couldn’t resist my charm and good looks.”

  “Now I know you’re lying,” Jase said, continuing on to the flight deck.

  After retrieving the alien-tech canister, I headed down to the cargo hold’s belly door. Once outside the ship, I found the landing platform was shielded from high altitude winds by invisible pressure fields. Just as I began wondering how I was supposed to get down, a synthesized voice sounded from the center of the platform.

  “Remain where you are. A liaison is being synthesized.”

  Unsure how long I had to wait, I paced the platform, peering over the edge. A thick forest canopy obscured the ground below, while a tremendous variety of birds soared above the trees. If not for the landing platforms visible in all directions, Ansara would have appeared to be uninhabited.

  A slender, highly reflective craft soon flashed down out of the sky, seemingly coming to an instantaneous stop as it landed. There was no sign of thrusters or exterior sensors or even an airlock, but moments after it touched down, an oval opening dilated in the hull and a beautiful, human female emerged. She had blue eyes, dark hair and perfect features, definitely not what I was expecting. I glanced back at the Lining, knowing Jase was cursing that he was stuck up on the flight deck instead of down here with me.

  She approached me and smiled. “Ambassador Kade, I am your liaison while you are on Ansara,” she said, offering her hand.

  “I wasn’t aware there were human diplomats on Ansara,” I said, finding her touch warm and soft.

  “There aren’t,” she replied in a cultured Unionspeak accent.

  Her demeanor was professional and feminine, yet in spite of her beauty, I felt no rapport with her. That fundamental connection eliciting everything from love to loathing which all humans felt toward each other was missing, then I realized they’d meant exactly what they’d said: synthesized.

  “You’re an android?”

  “I am. As you know, Tau Cetins are incapable of producing human vocal sounds. I will act as translator during your stay. If this form is unsuitable, we can synthesize another.”

  “No, you’re fine,” I said, adding, “they really made you since we arrived?”

  She nodded. “Ansara has no facilities for dealing with human diplomats, so I was created for that purpose. I have a full understanding of human customs, culture and languages for your convenience.”

  I whistled softly, not because she – it – was a flawless piece of engineering, but because they’d produced her in one of their prism orbitals in a matter of minutes. “Fast work. Do you take requests?”

  “Galactic Forum protocols prohibit transfers of advanced technology to less developed species, Ambassador, with some exceptions of course. Unfortunately, your civilization does not qualify for any exceptions at this time.”

  “What do we have to do to qualify?” I’d thought galactic law prohibited advanced civilizations from accelerating primitive societies, but I shouldn’t have been surprised there were exceptions. In a rules based pan-galactic civilization that had evolved over millions of years, there seemed to be a law and an exception for everything.

  “A compendium of technology transfer protocols endorsed by the Forum could be sent to your ship if you like.”

  “Is it a quick read?”

  “With addendums, annotations and case histories, it would translate to forty three million words.”

  “Tempting, but no thanks. I won’t be here that long.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Do you have a name?”

  “My design designation is ‘Artificial meta-human species liaison’.”

  “Hmm … it’s a bit dull, no offense.”

  “I understand. Human emotionalism has a need to anthropomorphize inanimate objects. I could adopt a simpler name if that would make you more comfortable.”

  “What’s a meta-human?”

  “A human-like abstraction that is beyond human.”

  “Beyond?”

  “Millions of years beyond,” she said simply, “from an engineering perspective.”

  It was typically Tau Cetin. “OK, how about I call you Meta for short? That satisfies my human emotional need to anthropomorphize you.”

  “As you wish, Ambassador. I will respond to Meta.” She motioned for me to follow her. “This way.”

  She led me to the center of the platform, then there was a momentary blur of gray metal around us as we were transported down through the tower to the ground. I found myself facing a large round room with lounge chairs laid out in quarter circles at the center. Floor to ceiling windows surrounded the room revealing a dark, misty forest beyond.

  Meta led me through a rounded doorway to a tiled patio where a solitary Tau Cetin sat by a small table. He looked like every other member of his species I’d seen: almond green eyes, pale dappled skin, a wide face with a small mouth, pointed chin and a tiny ridge-like nose. He rose to greet me, speaking in short sharp clicks that rattled off his tongue with machine-like speed.

  “This is Jesorl,” Meta said. “He will advise you.”

  “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

  Meta didn’t translate what I said, only Jesorl’s clicking response to me. “What is it you require, Ambassador?” she asked on his behalf.

  “I’d like to talk to an Observer named Siyarn.”

  Meta again translated for Jesorl, confirming this was how we were going to communicate. “Observer Siyarn is unavailable.”

  “When will he be available?” I’d counted on contacting the one Tau Cetin I knew. Last time we met, he’d left me with the impression that he was favorably disposed toward mankind.

  “There is no possibility of contacting Observer Siyarn at this time,” Meta replied. “Intermediary Jesorl has been assigned to advise you. Please state what you require of us.”

  Taking that as final, I removed the alien-tech container from my jacket pocket. “I want you tell me what this is.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it relates to an impending Access Treaty violation. If you can help me understand what it is, I hope to prevent it occurring.” Technically, stealing alien-tech and kidnapping its owners was already an infringement, but the Tau Cetins didn’t need to know that – not yet anyway.

  Jesorl took the container and turned it over slowly before replying. “We will do as you request. Do you wish to return to your ship while we conduct our analysis?”

  “No, I’ll wait. I know you guys work fast.”

  Meta showed me around Jesorl’s estate while the Tau Cetins figured out what was in the cylinder. The house comprised a circular hub containing family living areas and three spokes for sleeping quarters and work spaces. It felt like a secluded country lodge hidden deep in a tranquil, mist shrouded forest. Similar houses were visible in the distance, each with their own landing tower and manicured paths, although none had gardens. Tau Cetins may have loved trees, but clearly had no particular affection for flowers.

  “Does Jesorl live alone?” I asked, as we strolled along a path leading away from the house.

  “There are seven inhabitants, including the Intermediary,” Meta replied. “Two are away with the Ans
ara Squadron. One is quite old.”

  After Jesorl’s white walled house faded into the mist, a small round vehicle barely wide enough for one passenger raced silently through the trees, reminding me Ansara’s nature reserve appearance was a carefully crafted illusion.

  “Why no cities?”

  “They are not to our liking.”

  “But you had them once?”

  “A long time ago,” she conceded. “Ansara’s population density is low by Earth standards, but its inhabitants are more closely connected on a planetary scale than on any human world.”

  “How many live here?”

  “Eight hundred million.”

  “That’s more than I expected.”

  “Eliminating agriculture and industry from the surface creates a great deal more room for habitation, and of course, agricultural and industrial production is more efficient in controlled, microgravity environments.”

  “When did you make the switch, from cities I mean?”

  “We have lived this way for millions of years, Ambassador.”

  When I’d first received my EIS briefings on the Tau Cetins, it had seemed strange that such an advanced society had evolved beyond urbanization, had abandoned cities to return to a simpler way of living. Now that I was seeing it for myself, I understood why. They’d overcome every challenge the universe had thrown at them only to adopt a lifestyle paralleling their distant evolutionary origins, when their ancestors had roamed vast forests in small groups foraging for food. It was their natural state, now invisibly integrated with an all pervasive technology that served their every whim. What at first seemed strangely regressive was in fact a triumph of their genius and individuality. Technology no longer dictated how they lived, but served the ideal of who and what they were. It was a lesson humanity had yet to learn.