Chapter 9
Nexus Gate
Location Unknown
The short range of the GRV was once again working against them. Despite
broadcasting for a solid three standard days, radiowaves could only travel so
fast. There was no reason to put a sublight frequency communications array into
a ship built to operate within a single solar system. Without the ansible, the
beacon had to rely on sending a signal that could only travel at the speed of
light. But unless it was interrupted or was lost in the noise of other
radiation, the signal should soon be making its approach to the edges of
whatever solar system they found themselves in.
Calrose sat in the small mess of the ship doing the math in her head.
Imagining every few hours just how far the signal had reached by now. With a
gate in the system, there had to be someone nearby. Gates were rarely built or
continuously maintained in systems that wouldn't use them. They were autonomous
constructs that could operate without the help of a sentient being for quite
some time, but it was unnecessary to have one where it wasn't being used to
help Republic species traverse the galaxy.
Arabel entered the mess from the small passageway that lead to the front
of the ship. Between the mess and the cockpit were the main computer terminal
housing and the head. The purple skinned numan must have just come from the
head where a small serviceable shower was located. Arabel ran a thick towel
down her wet locks. Undone from their usual braid, her hair was like a cascade
of red and Calrose always wondered how any human could handle having so much of
the stuff.
The captain subconsciously touched the shaved sides of her head. Arabel
plopped down onto the bench beside her. The GRV wasn't a luxurious vehicle. It
had a reasonable amount of space for a crew of up to four humanoids. Larger
species like the krahl or jurraga would have had a harder time, but for the
three of them, it was well within tolerable. They took turns in the single
shower and when they really felt crowded in they each had their own spaces on
the ship. A communal quarters behind the mess held four bunks for sleeping, but
most of their free time was spent together in the mess.
The room held a table surrounded on three sides by benches attached to
the wall. Opposite of that was a suite of machines and pantries that held
plates, utensils, and the food-synth. The synthesizer took up most of the wall
and even more was hidden behind the panels of the pantry. Inside were
containers filled with raw nutrients and ingredients that the machine could use
to create numerous dishes that fit the nutritious requirements of any of the
Republic species.
Jett stood at the machine waiting for it to finish. It hummed and whirred
behind the wall panels as it assembled together food like a three-dimensional
printer. It couldn't recreate every dish with award winning flair, but there
were a few dishes that most travelers could find tasty. It was a blessing for
every small ship that couldn't afford the money or space required for proper
cooking. And nowadays, even well lauded chefs used food-synths to some degree
in their kitchens.
"I have the remaining engine bays cycling power between the
thrusters and the peak drive. It gives us no added mobility, and while it does
use some of our fuel reserves, it is much more efficient on the power cells
when it comes to trying to keep the rear of the ship warm." Jett rubbed
his hands together for effect, but it was actually much more comfortable in the
ship than it had been even a day earlier.
"Thank you," Calrose said, returning her thoughts to the room
and her blank gaze to her bowl.
"How long until someone responds to our signal?" Arabel asked,
still attending to her wet hair.
"If there is anyone in the system and they care to help, I would
imagine they are on their way by now," Calrose answered, but after
speaking she found herself once again questioning if anyone was out there at
all.
A bizarre smell filled the mess.
"Oh!"Arabel exclaimed, standing up with a look of pure disgust
on her lilac features. "How can you eat that stuff?"
Jett just smiled and sat down at the table. The two women stood and moved
for the door.
"What?" Jett looked anything but apologetic. "You two
should broaden your palette. There is more to eat than just human
cuisine."
"There are also things humans just shouldn't eat," Calrose
looked at him. She raised an eyebrow as he raised a spoon of brownish-red jelly
to his lips. She turned and left before she had to see him eat it.
- - -
Calrose sat in the pilot's chair blankly looking out into the blackness
of space. It was most of all she had done for the past two days. Arabel and
Jett had a handle on what could be done with the ship. Her job simply became
sitting in the cockpit and hoping someone would come for them.
Hours before she had pivoted the ship to face the unknown distant planet.
A small green and orange disc she could easily cover with the nail on her
smallest finger. At this distance, spectral scans could at least tell her the
composition of the atmosphere. It appeared to have a Class I atmosphere, filled
with heavy dose of nitrogen and hydrogen. But there was enough oxygen to
sustain even the weakest species of the Republic. Of course, none of that
mattered when the planet was so far away that they had no chance of reaching it
on the still functioning thrusters.
Calrose stared at the miniature orb hanging in the dark. The only words
that came to her mind weren't particularly helpful. She knew a number of
languages. The most wide spread dialects were required knowledge at the
Academy. Humans could struggle through most, their soft mouths well adept at
mimicking sounds. Kheprilictic was the most commonly spoken language across the
stars. Created by the Khepriloi millions of years ago, it was a simple language
to learn. Outside of the xenophobic regions of the Heritage League and its ilk,
Kheprilictic was the native language of most humans. The stars are almost
infinite in number and the cultures that develop under each of those suns are
nearly incalculable, so it is possible that billions of humans grow old and die
having never learned Kheprilictic, but odds still stand that most humans speak
it. It was common ground for the species of the Republic, allowing them to
communicate all those millennia past. Kheprilictic was just a useful language
to know. If you wanted your child to grow up and experience any culture other
than their own, you made sure they learned Kheprilictic.
Calrose had been raised speaking Kheprilictic. It was the native tongue
of her mother and father, and was widely spoken by the non-humans in her
culture. As she got older, her mother taught her other languages. It was little
more than a hobby for her mother, but she wanted big things for her little
Rebecca. Calrose excelled at Bantolic, though she was blown away by the sheer
number of dialects Jett knew. She even took to Salacean, though, like most
humans, she stumbled over certain words that really needed that deep nasal tone
that only Salacean physiology could master. Her true favorite was learning the
languages of her ancestors. As useless as the languages had come to be, the
strange words and grammatical structure of the languages of Earth enthralled
her. She often found herself thinking in those languages, the words so easily
coming to her tongue. It was easily her favorite source for profanity, knowing
full well that the words would often go misunderstood, lessening the risk of
offending anyone.
Profanity was often a quick clue about where someone grew up. An entire
room of various species could all be chatting in Kheprilictic, no one sure what
culture or background that individual may have. Kheprilictic was a great
equalizer. But it was severely short on bad words. The Khepriloi had abandoned
ideas of the taboo or profane millennia before humans even evolved. With no
sense of dirtiness attached to the scatological or sexual, and no gods to
blaspheme, their language just had no profanity to throw around. This was never
a problem for the Krahl. Krahl languages, such as Krahlic or the rather formal
Krahlten, was a challenge for anyone outside the reptilian creatures and their
subspecies. It was rare to find a non-Krahl who was well versed in either
language. But the hulking reptiles had more bad words than they knew what to do
with. Over time, many of those words found their way into the languages of
other species. But if you grew up on a world more influenced by the Bantonians
and their languages, you might reach for a Bantolic curse when you stub your
toe.
But for Calrose, it was archaic human tongues that sat in that profane
corner in her mind, waiting to be used. Words that easily came to mind as she
thought about her ship, floating helplessly out of reach of that little planet.
Waiting for whomever intercepted their distress beacon and thought it worth
checking out. Charity wasn't uncommon in the universe, but she knew that the
greater odds sat with their rescuers
coming with a heavy price tag.
She sighed loudly, unsure if the exhale was purely out of boredom, exhaustion,
or the enormous weight she couldn't shift from atop her shoulders. She knew she
wasn't entirely at fault, but the deaths of hundreds still weighed on her
conscience. The fate of two more seemed even heavier. It was the duty of a
captain. Her crew were her responsibility. In her youth she had dreamed of such
a role. Ready and willing for such great responsibility and trust. Now over
thirty-six standard years old, she was shocked how much trust and
responsibility came with being in charge of a garbage truck.
She reached for her, now cold, cup of tea. A light flashed on her display
causing her to start, nearly tipping the small mug over. The alert continued to
blink of the screen in front of her. The blinking pronouncement stated that a
signal was incoming. As it increased in strength and clarity, more information
was displayed.
'Incoming Message,' the readout scrolled. 'Distress Signal Frequency
Response Ping.'
Calrose pressed a few commands into the control panel acknowledging the
pinged signal. She sat breathless. The distress signal sent out by the GRV
would travel at the speed of light until intercepted. The recipient then needed
to send out a response telling the original sender that someone received it.
This electronic back and forth would continue until a proper connection could
be made. It felt slow and archaic, but it was necessary when ansible
communication wasn't possible.
Another response ping came in, much quicker than Calrose expected. That
meant that whomever got their message wasn't far away.
"Jett! Arabel!" Calrose called over the comms, "you better
get up here, we are about to have some company!"
Another warning light flashed this time proceeded by, 'Incoming Message:
Open Frequency Communication.' It was a request for communication.
Calrose opened the datapacket. The screen lit up with information packed
in with the communication request. Arabel climbed up the ladder from the lower
deck, while Jett came in through the door leading to the mess and quarters.
"Civilian Transport: GN2SP Wendin-class hauler," Calrose read
from the screen. "The Dasaq'wen."
"What does that mean?" Arabel asked plopping into her seat.
"It's Krahlic," Jett replied, leaning against the back of the
captain's chair so he could easily see over her shoulder.
"It means 'graceful bird who cannot fly'," the captain
clarified.
"How the hell do you know that?" Jett laughed.
"It's from an old Krahlic proverb my father used to always say.
Though, to be honest, I am pretty sure even he didn't know what it was supposed
to mean." Calrose smiled softly before returning to the screen. "They
aren't too far out, depending on how fast their ship can move, they could be
here within the next ten hours."
"It will be nearly that long before even our long range scans can
tell us anything about the ship," Arabel reminded them. "But since we
can't do anything whether they are friend or foe, it really doesn't
matter."
"Well I supposed there is a quicker way to find out," Calrose
stated, flipping a switch that cleared away one of the monitors. A solitary
line of text blinked. 'Open Frequency Communication: Awaiting Response'. A
moment later the screen refreshed to the image of a ship interior a few blurry
figures moving about in the background. At the center of the screen was a large
female Krahl staring back at them.
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