Star System Urue Aih / Planet Ulann / Contact -1 Month
A lone Satellian trundled across a verdant clearing, surrounded by huge, tall, exotic plants on all sides. A glowing blue-green sky hung overhead, streaked with red-pink clouds. The heavy gravity made her move awkwardly; she was still trying to find her rhythm, even after many hours on the surface. She startled a small, furry creature. It moved too fast to see clearly, except for the dazzling blue stripes on its tail. Within seconds it had leaped out of sight. Her awareness returned to her wider sensory receptions, muffled as they were by the enveloping environment membrane - a breathing filter would have been more than enough, but the survey team leaned towards caution. This world was just so,
green, she thought to herself. Even from orbit, this whole planet seemed to positively glow with life - emerald continents and turquoise waters, sprinkled with fluffy clouds; there was only the slightest hint of desert and glaciers, hidden between small mountain ranges, or tucked away at the poles.
A tiny, graceful flying creature landed on one of her vision lenses. It didn't make sense; here was a world teeming with diverse life - the first complex, diverse alien life they had encountered. It was truly amazing, beyond all expectations - the survey team had already identified hundreds of unique animal groups, and the plant analogues were too diverse to even begin classifying. It was a large planet, with moons of its own. It didn't have a parent gas giant. Its climate was overwhelmingly warm and gentle. There were no big storms; the Sacred Reapers did no work here. It
should have been a stagnant world, covered in nothing but bacteria and algae. What could be driving evolution here? Perhaps just a handful of massive impact events, over hundreds of millions of years, could be enough to -
Shhnk!
"Naah!"
She was hunted.
Hmmaiaa, the Satellian homeworld, had few extant large animals, none of which were predatory. But some rare fossils showed that large predators had existed in the past. Thanks to imaginative writers and animation-ists, the common image was one of raging beasts, bellowing and stomping, as if they were trying to frighten their prey to death. This was a nonsense, of course. A true predator does nothing to alert its prey. A predator wants to keep you unawares until your internal organs are already being chewed on.
The harpoon-like object fired from the predator had pierced her environment membrane and several layers of skin. Apparently it was not designed for such armoured targets. The predator extended its barbs and tried to reel in its alien prey, but the harpoon had become lodged awkwardly, tearing and deforming the Satellian's skin in grotesque fashion. The hit was on her back, dangerously close to her spines. It would be a difficult enough spot for her limbs to reach, even without the sudden spasms creeping along them.
Zap!
A massive electric discharge set fire to some plants in the distance.
Zap!
Huuurl!
The unseen predator made one last attempt to reel in its prey, tugging hard on its hapless victim and dragging her a few metres across the clearing. Then the harpoon's connective sinews slackened and fell to the ground. Something big moved away through the outlying undergrowth, as attested by the alarm calls of unknown animals. The sounds soon faded into the distance.
She stood still, pulsating, trying to calm herself, until finally the fellow Satellian shuffled into view, his head covered with oversized camera mounts and air filtration gear. An electric shock device was mounted on his back, glowing red hot and making a whining noise.
"You OK?"
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Star System Jumm Aih / Planet Ahrmm / Moon Hmmaiaa / Contact -1 Day
The Adjutant Director rested on his back four legs (Satellians did not really go in for furniture) and plugged his front two limbs into the computer console. Thereafter his radial digits did all the work, slowly pressing on concealed key-pads, brining up 3D-images of the wondrous new world they had recently found, tentatively named 'Ulann' after one of the old goddess-spirits of Springtime. He reviewed a random montage of images, from orbital scans down to those taken by ground teams. Initial reconnaissance had detected a bewildering array of life - a greater biomass and diversity than all the other life-supporting worlds encountered so far, put together. And it was a tranquil world... there was little sign of the vast deserts, glaciers, mesas, and sawtooth mountains which were familar to Satellian eyes. Yet several members of the scout teams had come close to being killed by giant animals; several others had been infested by microscopic lifeforms, their outer skins literally turning green and sprouting strange outgrowths. This world was just
too alive. Analysis of native plants and fruit suggested they would cause a kind of anaphylactic shock if eaten by Satellians; perhaps Hmmaiaan plants could be gene-worked to grow there, or maybe it would be better to leave the whole planet in its natural condition. In any case, investigation would continue - there were many unanswered questions. It was truly fascinating. If the recent years had a common theme, it was one of old ideas were being turned on their heads...
The Adjutant Director dialled up a new set of files, this time on Ulumm-Bukk, his adoptive homeland, which so far remained the only major exo-colony of the Satellian race. It was a barren, frosty world by comparison. But to Satellians, it was much more homely. Undercities were already taking root there, and one electromagnetic launch tube was already operating on the surface. Industry was steadily expanding, but more importantly, the Agreement had an early hold on the society of the colony. Most colonists were, after all, members of the aerospace kinships. The whole planet had a subdued sense of excitement. It wasn't like the old colonies of the home system, with their entrenched cultures. And unlike Hmmaiaa, the lifelessness of the surface prevented the growth of outdoor kinships and their traditionalist ideals. With every trip back to the homeworld, he was constantly reminded that only a small portion of his race were actually participating in the new Great Adventure. The Adjutant even dared to imagine Ulumm-Bukk as the new capitol of the Agreement; if things kept on course, this could become reality within a few decades.
An annoying electronic buzz reminded him that he was late for the meeting. He disengaged from the console, slowly stretched and shook himself loose, then proceeded on his way with no great urgency. Autonomous, sphere-wheeled vehicles beeped at him for attention, but were ignored. Wandering the labyrinthine corridors of this part of the Great Undercity gave him time to think. He arrived at Central Hub #1 around five hours late, and spent another hour conversing with various colleagues on his way to the meeting chamber. There followed another delay as his identity was confirmed by armed guards; something to confer a little extra dignity on proceedings, but also a valid precaution; there was always the possibility of lunatics going on a rampage with power tools, like
that incident several centuries ago. When he finally entered the chamber, as he suspected, the process of the initial greetings had yet to finish.
The chamber was like a large, hollow, fattened sphere. Artificial light diffused in from all sides, casting no shadows. There was a circular table-like rise in the middle of the floor, surrounded by shallow pits where one could stand or curl up as one wished. There were flaps and grooves in almost every surface, concealing computer consoles, 3D projectors and liquid refreshment dispensers. A flowering Hulunnurr plant hung from the apex, in stark contrast to the metallic artificial-ness of the surroundings; its purpose was to gradually dispense narcotic vapours into the atmosphere, promoting the free exchange of thoughts and feelings. If the meeting didn't end within five days (and the Adjutant had been in longer meetings), then the participants would be completely intoxicated. The sixteen participants were all individuals of great reputation and esteem, representing numerous different kinships. The venerable Core Director spoke for the Agreement itself; seven centuries old, shimmering grey-purple skin hardened into thick carapace, with long antennae he wore like whiskers; he emanated respect and authority. But only half of the other participants were actually part of the Agreement. And two of them were actually hibernating; they had been carried in here so that they could subconsciously absorb the ambience, as was the custom. Their head-parts were sealed up by congealed mucus, while their skins assumed a grey, web-like texture. To the untrained eye, they might even seem dead - and in fact, such misunderstandings had occurred in the past; these days, twinkling vital-monitors were in place to reassure the other participants.
The first item on the agenda was the expansion of the Agreement. This was over fairly quickly; only the Cybernetic Kinship of Nannurra from the moon-world of Hesmue was to join. The Nannurran representative was easily recognisable, with a pair of robotic arms and computer interface tubes sticking out of his back, truncated rear limbs, and an oddly shrunken torso. Such body modification was not to everyone's taste, but it could be a valuable asset in deep space exploration. The other dignitaries merely explained why they were not joining - it was too early, they were content to observe, they had other concerns, etc. The meeting was not the time to try to argue them round - opinions were to be formed in private contemplation; anyone who could be swayed by another's words had clearly not thought enough about the subject to begin with.
The next item concerned the ongoing reparations following the great anti-matter disaster. Fifty years had past, but the destruction of entire kinships was not easily forgotten. In this context, it was easier to understand the homeworld's lack of enthusiasm for the Agreement - yet it was somewhat paradoxical, since the Agreement had been largely founded around the regulation of anti-matter. The Adjutant Director guided the participants through an overview of current anti-matter research, now confined to lonely asteroid bases in the Jewel Ring. A new generation of 'safe' reactors had been installed on the deep space exploration ships, and developments were ongoing. Still, only short-hop runners were allowed near Hmmaiaa; these ships used electron-matrix energy storage, which had to be recharged with trips to the asteroid reactor stations. A true and safe alternative to anti-matter had yet to be found. Most of the dignitaries did not seem impressed.
After a few hour's break for refreshment and meditation, the second day began. It was the turn of the Core Director himself to lead discussion, regarding the mysterious Signal. He confirmed the Agreement's findings that it was almost certainly a natural stellar phenomenon. Several other participants presented their own analysis, all of which agreed with the Agreement. Some of them were more scathing; the accusation was put to the Core Director, and the Agreement as a whole, that this was a case of deliberate manipulation of information - that they knew all along it couldn't be an alien signal, and that the whole craze had been engineered to provoke more interest in space travel, gaining artificial sympathy and support for the Agreement... This sort of thing had caused the decline of previous Agreements... This was no way for even the most immature Satellian to conduct himself...
The Core Director simply nodded slowly, a gesture of acknowledgement of another's attitude. But he said nothing in response. One of those awkward silences descended on the chamber, lasting several minutes. The Adjutant considered butting in, but finally the Core Director opened a control panel and began to dial a certain command sequence, very slowly and deliberately. After another minute of electronic bleeping and some bemused expressions, one wall of the chamber began to fold away, revealing a thick glass wall behind. And behind this, in an adjacent chamber, stood a large roughly-cylindrical object, sparkling with strange iridescence, despite the lack of lighting. An array of environment control equipment stood guard around it. The Artefact. Many of the dignitaries were struggling to contain their excitement - most of them knew about this, and most wanted to see it, but none wanted to put themselves in kudos debt by asking.
"Perhaps we were a little... slow... to announce our revised findings..." the Core Director straightened his posture, and lazily turned his head-parts towards the Artefact, "but here is something we have confirmed as... Alien. Contrary to popular belief, it is not a relic from any of the first Satellian civilizations. We have since travelled to the stars, but the Artefact remains beyond us. The fabrication of the outer casing alone is something we cannot reproduce. Our latest survey has revealed nano-scale technology of advanced order. Decades, perhaps centuries of work lie ahead before we can even begin to probe the interior."
The Core Director had succeeded in changing the mood of the chamber. The dignitaries were shuffling, slowly changing their body postures.
"Aliens exist in the universe, it is not just a probability. They have been to this world in the distant past, yet it seems they did not stop to colonize our planet, or interfere with our ancestors. Dignitaries, I propose that this confirms all our existing projections about intelligent aliens. They are older than us. They are wiser. They are waiting for us to find them. We have existed long enough in isolation. It is time we learned about the commonwealth of great galactic nations that must surely exist. I believe strongly that we can find them, and with their help, our species can reach its full potential... We can transition from our animalistic forms into a truly sentient race... That is why we need our best explorers and communicators to be out there... Looking..."
Another silence descended on the chamber. Maybe it was the Hulunnurr fumes kicking in, but the Adjutant was excited to be viewing the Artefact again. Ideas swirled at the back of his mind, projections of the first contact with the great all-knowing aliens. Joyous exchanges of ideas and concepts. Introduction to wondrous technologies...
Then his stream of thought took a sharp turn; he was rudely interrupted by his own words, as recalled by his subconscious:
Ideas turned on their heads.
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Star System Unnamed / Engineer Ship #1/7 / Contact +0
The displays showed alien objects closing in. The Fleet Captain felt something cold at the back of his mind. He felt... Unwelcome.
"We have 6/7 online, Captain"
"Yes I see... Signal general contact procedure, execute immediate..."
"Captain..."
The Lelinthian Warden invaded his consciousness with intent. At first, it struggled to find appropriate thought-images. But somehow, it adapted. Quickly. It began to pick out certain words from the language section of his brain core.
Submit... Serve...
The Fleet Captain recalled one of his favourite meditation exercises. Clearly, he was having a mental breakdown under the pressure. This was shameful, but there were more important things at stake than his reputation. He tried to isolate the faltering part of his consciousness. He could sense it was going to be too much to cope with. No time to hesitate.
"Fleet, I am hereby unfit to command..."
He said it in a way that didn't need repeating. The other crewmen were all feeling uneasy, and perhaps it wasn't just shock at hearing those words from their venerable Fleet Captain.
"Fleet, full evasion, immediate, evade"
The order came from a sub-ordinate navigator. But nobody disagreed with it. All ships in contact began to spin around and vector their conventional thrust drives away from the aliens. For most of the ships, it would still be some time before their bubble drives had recharged enough to allow even the shortest faster-than-light run.
Star System Unnamed / Exploration Ship #6/7 / Contact +30 Seconds
Murrumue Ulunn was drifting with a purpose through the access tube to the bridge. Just one limb was extended, propelling him onwards with precision touches of the tube wall. A personal appearance on the bridge would give more weight to his request, so he thought. About halfway there, there the ship suddenly started to vibrate, and then accelerate, pushing him back in the opposite direction. Various pieces of heavy equipment pelted his skin. An acceleration warning tone kicked in - a little late, as was the Captain's style. Ulunn did his best to cling on and keep going, as the acceleration picked up. He didn't get far; his sphere-dwelling instincts kicked in again, accompanied by a wave of nausea. The horizontal tube had now become vertical tower, the entrance to the bridge was hanging high in the ceiling above him, out of reach. Now even all six limbs were not enough. He lost his grip.
On the bridge, the Captain and flight crew were all safely positioned in their acceleration nests - basically shallow pits built into one wall of the room. Various control panels and displays had rotated into their acceleration positions, leaving a large portion of the room looking unusually empty. The crew's attentions were fixed on the main display, showing the position and distance of a large alien craft. It wasn't getting any further away, in defiance of their collective will.
"Reaction fuel down to three/five. Confirm? We're overloading the heatsinks, Captain"
"Its within limits"
"Its too hot. I must protest. In another minute we'll start melting the bubble core"
"First priority - evade"
Lights began to flicker; another power failure was building.
"I must protest!"
"I... Can't..."
...belong...
...submit...
...serve...
The thrust drives of #6/7 were abruptly cut, sending another shower of tools and equipment cascading around the interior. Murrumue Ulunn bounced off several walls before scratching his way back to his personal computer. He was preparing to usurp control of the entire fleet's communication system to broadcast the 'Universal Greeting', newly re-encoded to what he believed to the be alien's standard. He was acting well above his authority, which was a death sentence for his career (at least), but bigger things were at stake now. The fleet had been leaking random radio messages since it arrived here. Perhaps it was too late for a first impression... But he had to hope this would make a difference. His mind was working faster than ever, perhaps using up too much blood-sugar, and he felt he was on the verge of blacking out. He quickly checked over the parameters one last time, then hit the execute button...
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OOC: sorry to hear that, Bil. Today I finished my story anyways
