THE GALAXYMBION ODYSSEY

“There is an interesting legend amongst our Kolda-rian friends, particularly their historians, so I understand. An arcane, wild dream which they believed until twenty thousand orbits ago. Something to do with their world’s evolution, if my memory is correct. What can you tell me about it, KX?”

The sentient eighth-gen ship-com sifted through its memory for a few millipulses, hardly noticeable to bioforms, before activity sparkled across its lumigraph, synchronised with crisp speech.

“You refer to the Suntear legend, mighty Ambassador.”

“That sounds familiar, old friend. Are you going to provide some information or must I kick it out of you, you scrapheap of insolent micro-circuits?” Ambassador Uexin growled as he leant forward, parking his prodigious elbows on the grey padded console of the KX workstation. The surface groaned perilously under the strain.

“My sensors indicate that this console will lose structural perfection in less than a hundred pulses unless you remove some of your mass from it. Sir.”

“Osh! No doubt adjutant Chedsarin has been programming even more insolence into your core memory, you gibbering collection of convoluted consciousness clusters. Don’t tell me what I already know about my weight, KX; it’s none of your business, anyway. Tell me about the Suntear legend instead.”

“As you command, Ambassador, though lacing your commands with impolite alliterative overtones will not prevent my sensors from fulfilling their obligations. Additionally, my bio-monitors have analysed your fat content and found it two-point one seven times the average for a man of your age and height; it is my duty to warn you of health implications at every opportunity. Sir.”

Uexin’s face crinkled with mock anger then collapsed into rubbery, raucous laughter. “Fine, KX. You win. See! My elbows are off your precious console now, so I hope you are happy. Just understand that I will go on eating as I please, not according to your bio-monitors or Chedsarin’s habit of programming you with disagreeable personality modifications.”

“My comments and recommendations have not resulted from your adjutant’s interference, Ambassador. I am an autonomous eighth-gen sentient diagnostic ship-com, designation A8G-SDS. I am designed to operate and protect all ship systems at maximum efficiency, including crew and passengers. Your overindulgence in consumable bio-matter is a threat to your system.”

“Be silent and give me that information!”

“Impossible to do both simultaneously, Ambassador. Sir.”

“KX, cut the nonsense and start talking to me about Suntear.” The Ambassador leaned back, grinning amiably at the lumigraph interface. “Or else I will have you disassembled.”

“Well, really! Very well, as you command, Ambassador. Suntear was an ancient account for certain unexplained phenomena, first formulated by Kolda-rian mystics of the Alarni’i sect over forty-two thousand orbits ago. The sect migrated through three equatorial regions - Iloa, Prelta and Roshlamo - writing and teaching their philosophical insights as they travelled during a period of cultural expansion called ‘The Opening’ that lasted almost twenty-three thousand orbits.

“During that time only a hundred and seventeen volumes of Alarni’i mysticism were preserved on vast scrolls; at least twenty-five volumes are believed lost, and eleven of those probably dealt exclusively with the Suntear legend. The surviving scripts are now housed in Central Tactile Archive, Keska Citadel. In ancient Alarni’i language Kol means ‘sun’, da means ‘to weep’ and ra means ‘world’. Alarni’i culture, philosophy and language is an essential component of modern Kolda-rian society and hence found its way into Galaxymbion interstellar culture.

“The Suntear legend itself describes-“

“Pause.” Ambassador Uexin shifted slightly in his comfortable padded console chair, its central chrome mount complaining from the stress. He rested his arms on his large frame, the soft golden silks and creamy velvets of his ceremonial cloak shimmering above the cool blue-grey of his woollen suit. “Give me a condensed version of the Suntear legend’s main features, KX.” Silence. “Resume your ramblings, you robotic rascal.”

“Really!” The ship-com sounded affectedly indignant, for a computer. “Alarni’i mystics believed in a powerful creative force of the universe – The Godlife Kalek – which created stars as it travelled, grouping them in large families yet too far apart to talk to each other; each star and its solar family was unique, easily recognisable to identify different parts of the universe. Stars shone upon the darkness to reveal truths to living beings that Kalek would create in the future.

“One star called Kolta-Rai was extremely sensitive to loneliness and cried fifteen planet tears, before Kalek could create any planets for her. In his wrath he removed her immortality and decreed that in the future she would die, devouring these worlds, then shrivel into nothingness. Kolta-Rai would also have to watch life grow on one of her ‘tears’ then either perish with her or leave her solar system to survive away from her.

“Not wishing to harm her own living beings, Kolta-Rai used her remaining powers to separate the primitive spirits from them; these she turned into the clouds of Kolda-ra, where their fire and fury would harmlessly grace the sky with crimson. In doing this she ensured that the beings of Kolda-ra would evolve quickly and grow so wise that they would be able to leave her realms before her death fires began.”

“A remarkable narrative,” Uexin observed. “How did the Alarni’i know there were fifteen worlds in this solar system? Was it a lucky guess or could they somehow see the other worlds in the night sky?”

“That is a question that has not yet been fully answered even by Kolda-rian scholars; only five planetary neighbours are visible from Kolda-ra without technology. Seeing more than five was beyond the Alarni’i. There is, however, an uncorroborated account of a Quelae exploration starcruiser mysteriously venturing into this star sector when this legend emerged.”

“How is such a thing even possible? Are you suggesting the Quelae visited Kolda-ra and revealed astronomical knowledge to the local inhabitants?”

“I do not make suggestions, sir. It is simply my only logical extrapolation from currently available information.”

“I see, and thank you, KX. You have given me much to think about even though you have not enlightened me particularly well. Please access Kolda-ra Central Archives and cross-reference your Suntear database with theirs. Update yourself accordingly and transmit all relevant data to our Global Library, subject to local approval, then request an audience for me with Keska Citadel’s Archivist Prime and integrate this into my diary. Perhaps you could also contact Quereldene’s Academic Congress to acquire their complete mythology for that time frame. Try linking anything they provide to Suntear. I am particularly interested in any references to ancient Quelae survey vessels that may have established first contact locally during The Opening.”

“A pleasure, Ambassador. Link established to KCA and importing data now. Integrating updates completed and onward transmission approved; transmitting to Octaladon Global Library now. Audience with Keska Citadel’s Archivist Prime applied for. Audience granted and diarised with Archivist Prime Ventorr Lantt, Keska Citadel. I have submitted your request to QAC, however we are too far from Quereldene to expect any immediate response. I have also submitted a historical survey request to the Galaxymbion High Council on Kolda-ra. Do you require any further research, Ambassador?”

“Not at this time, KX. I see that we are entering the Kolta-Rai star system.” Ambassador Uexin pushed the intriguing legend aside, relieved the console chair of its load and strolled forward onto his observation platform; his oversized bulk looked too much for the jutting meta-carbon peninsula to cope with as it pointed its steel grey finger at a sea of domed plastiglass. The peninsula had no visible means of support yet made no protest about the Ambassador’s presence. Nor did the chrome railings enclosing the peninsula show any strain as Uexin’s corporeal might pushed against them, though they hardly seemed adequate to their task. This old Carina-Class starcruiser was composed of shell-matrixed material thousands of times stronger than conventional matter; an excellent practical gift from the Galaxymbion to Octaladon on achieving Primal Nexus status.

In deep thought, hands gripping the cool chrome, the Ambassador peered into some middle distance that hardly seemed alien anymore. Starcruiser Aurora penetrated Kolta-Rai’s inner planetary circle, the destination world now clearly visible ahead and growing quickly. Twenty-seven orbits ago a young industrial artist called Uexin had first visited Kolda-ra to complete his studies and had witnessed the magnificent yellow veins and crimson striations of Kolda-ra’s upper atmosphere. Since then he had returned at every opportunity. Mostly as representative of his home world Octaladon, otherwise as a tourist; each time his mind and body just a little wider.

“You have hardly changed since that first time I saw you, beautiful planet”, Uexin whispered to the disc now dwarfing his perspective as the starcruiser approached more slowly.

A slim young woman joined him on the peninsula, careful not to disturb his thoughts yet interested in his acknowledgment of her arrival. He glanced sideways and blinked at her. “This is not your usual haunt, Lekra. What brings you here?”

“Ambassador, Interworld Security and Defence require your usual protocols prior to atmospheric insertion.” She seemed uncomfortable standing on the peninsula, her head bowed and eyes avoiding contact with Uexin or the planet beyond the observation dome. The Ambassador was aware of her apparent discomfort and ushered her back to the safety of the deck.

“Even our medics can cure vertigo, Lekra. If you see a Kolda-rian healer you will have absolutely nothing to worry about. It is a pity that you miss the beauty of this world on your first visit.”

“I will not see any Kolda-rian medic, sir. Our own at least are known to me.” She looked strangely terrified as she spoke, the Ambassador noticed.

“Lekra, you worry too much; Kolda-rian medics can cure anything without causing their patients any discomfort. You should trust the Galaxymbion, its FOUNDER worlds especially.”

“Sir, you say I worry too much, yet this mission weighs most heavily on you. Perhaps your Kolda-rian friends have not been able to cure your diplomatic concerns, so how could they cure my medical ones?”

“This mission is different; it is not a physical or psychological ailment. It is the future of Octaladon, threatened on three sides by hostiles. We need to move up to ASCENSION status, if only by probationary annexation.”

“There have been no major incursions on Octaladon since we ascended to Primary Nexus and automatically became a Galaxymbion ‘potential’. Why do we need to integrate further into their galactic society? We can survive as we are.”

“You are too naïve, Lekra. In the last decade alone Glanes have caused nearly fifty minor incidents on our world. Our technology and defences are inadequate; we must be more self-sufficient if we are to block Glane interference. As an annexed ASCENSION member we would acquire significantly elevated defence platforms. We could prevent any Glane incursion, even if they launched attacks upon us coordinated with other hostile neighbours.”

“Annexation may be just what those neighbours need to cement an alliance; they have always hated the Galaxymbion and would certainly not want an annexed Galaxymbion member on their stellar doorstep. It could turn Octaladon into an even more strategically vulnerable and attractive target, as a strike against us would be a strike against ‘them’. Sir.”

“I am glad, Lekra, that you are not in any position of influence within the Galaxymbion. It would make our petition for annexation so much harder. It is also fortuitous for our world that you are only an ambassadorial cleric and a junior one at that. You have much to learn about the Galaxymbion, and much you do not comprehend about them. Sometimes I think you don’t even like them.”

Lekra looked awkward at this remark yet recovered her composure quickly. “Sir, Interworld Security and Defence require your protocols for atmospheric insertion. They await you, and I have other duties to perform.” She held out an interface pad, pressing it into Uexin’s left hand, then turned and walked away.

“Child,” Uexin muttered when she had vanished into the elevator. He thumbed the pad on and accepted the incoming message. “Greetings, friend Kolda-rian. I am Ambassador Uexin Artima Gurss from Octaladon, requesting port approval for atmospheric insertion. We are here on a diplomatic mission and our ship-com has transmitted the relevant codes. Please proceed with your scan and confirm.”

The impressive, young, pale-blue-skinned alien on the screen image smiled. “Starcruiser 8G771-4H designation ‘Aurora’, I am Coordinator Rilmuta Skane. Welcome back to Kolda-Ra, Ambassador Gurss. Your vessel and personnel are being scanned for secure entry, and an automated flight path will be transmitted to your KX ship-com once the scan is successfully complete. Please provide your ambassadorial authorisation.”

“Code AUG-000-510-44907D, Ambassador Uexin Gurss authorisation Scimitar Parchron 5. Starcruiser Aurora requesting permission to transit from orbit to atmospheric insertion and disembark at Tirian Citadel, Interworld terminal seven.”

“Retina and voiceprint verified, Ambassador. Codes verified. Starcruiser Aurora scan clear, personnel scan clear. Automated flight path transmitting now to your ship-com. I am authorising Aurora for atmospheric insertion.”

“Acknowledged, Coordinator. If you don’t mind, I have an unusual question to satisfy my curiosity.” The Coordinator’s image on the interface pad looked slightly puzzled, though he smiled anyway. “We were not processed by Solar Perimeter Control. Did your outer defences fail to scan us entering your system?”

“Port records show that you were last here twenty-six orbits ago, Ambassador. Since then all Galaxymbion worlds have upgraded their Perimeter Control outer defences to full automatic scanning prior to Solar System insertion. Only formalities remain when you arrive at Planetary Orbital Control. Please enjoy your visit, Ambassador Gurss.”

“Impressive, though I believe your records are less complete than you indicate; I was here only four orbits ago and this upgrade was not in place then. It must be an extremely recent development, Coordinator Skane. Well, no matter. My captain signals that we are ready for automated flight path. Please disengage your containment barrier, and thank you for your assistance, and your gracious welcome.”

Starcruiser Aurora glided slowly forward through a temporary oval portal in the Powermesh Array; from the rim of an ever-straightening planetary disc a vibrant emerald star winked softly at a new day’s first yawn. The Ambassador had specifically requested a longitudinal flight path from north to south, perpendicular to Kolda-ra’s horizon at the knife-edge of night and day. He could now gaze dreamily at both polar aurorae, their wispy tendrils and sparks in bold relief against dark continents, even darker seas. The luminous specks of citadels glowed faintly on this dark half of the world below, obscured occasionally by sunlit clouds of deepest vermillion. Night’s blackest blade sliced downward in cowering retreat from a hazy dawn mixture of colours, and Uexin had to shield his eyes from the intruding march of starlight.

These colourful harmonies and blurs of brightness and dullness were always pleasing for him, withdrawing wines and clarets of night’s shroud on one side and advancing green-yellow swirls of day on the other. As was his custom he saluted the terminator as the cruiser descended through the billowing marbled, nebulous oceans of a clean sky. The genial Ambassador found himself tingling and perspiring, so he loosened his jacket. “KX, please lower the ambient temperature by five thermons.”

“As you command. I have also despatched a robot waiter with a cool drink of water for you. Sir.” The door through which Lekra had disappeared earlier opened once more, and a sleek metal servitor issued forth. Man and machine stood side by side for a few lapses (roughly equivalent to minutes) on the peninsula, equally raptured by the skyline. Uexin was surprised by the robot’s reaction to this sight and had to prompt it to hand him the tumbler. It continued to stare at the brightening horizon and a large cloud formation.

“Are you okay, TI7?” the Ambassador asked, puzzled by this robot’s concentration on aesthetics.

Its reply was equally peculiar; “please forgive what I am about to do, sir.” It pushed him hard, sending him back to the main deck in a heap. Fear being what it is – the saner half of panic – the Ambassador managed to break his roll against a console, though the argument between inertia and matter was a painful exchange for him. He was about to launch a suitably spiced menu of insults when part of the dome’s plastiglass shattered inwards, showering the observation platform with fragments which froze in space mere micrals from him. The robot had probably saved his life, he thought. He could not see where it was due to a flare of pink light hovering motionlessly in the dome. “KX, emergency energy barrier, observation dome.” No answer. A second flare crashed through the protective translucence, producing an even more lethal rain of slivers powered by a substantial force of inrushing air. Again, the fragments slowed and became suspended motionlessly.

Struggling urgently, Uexin secured himself more firmly against the console and tried to stand. “TI7, where are you, you murmuring metal misfit?” No answer, and no sign of the robot. The flares, crimson pink in this world’s dawn light, glided around smoothly, as if scanning items of interest. They paused in mid-air as if contemplating what to do with the Ambassador, then with calculated speed shed an expanding glow over the wrecked plastiglass. Pressure in the viewing dome returned to normal, its air supply as still as it had been before this peculiar incident. “What are you?” Uexin asked somewhat rhetorically, looking worriedly at the motionless shards still hanging menacingly in front of him. He expected no answer.

“What we are, is unimportant. You are in danger if you land on Kolda-ra. Heed this warning, Ambassador of Octaladon. Destruction awaits.” The disembodied voice fell silent, then the two flares evaporated back through the apertures they had created. All that remained of their visit was their glowing pink ‘shield’ holding the translucence together. Slowly the shards imploded back to their points of origin and the plastiglass was whole once more, without any sign of damage.

Uexin Gurss pushed himself away from the console and stood unsteadily. “KX”, he shouted into the air, “status.”

Finally the ship-com answered. “Pressure in observation deck has returned to normal, Ambassador. Plastiglass integrity fully restored. Aurora is therefore intact, undamaged and on final approach to Tirian Citadel Interworld terminal seven. Interworld Security and Defence have been advised concerning our ‘incident’. They were independently aware of it and are standing by to provide assistance if required. I have corrected our trajectory and flight attitude accordingly. How are you, Ambassador? I hope you are unharmed.”

“All things considered, fine, except for frayed nerves. No thanks to you, though. I thought you were supposed to monitor every environment in the ship at all times. And what in galaxy’s name happened to TI7?”

Sounding injured, the ship-com replied. “I do monitor all parts of the cruiser continually, your eminence, however the sensory systems on the observation deck fell silent for nearly three hundred pulses. TI7 is no longer aboard; I have located the unit in freefall. Do you wish us to change course to recover it before it crash-lands or allow a Kolda-rian rescue vessel to intercept it?”

“We are on automated flight path you gibbering conglomeration of electrical impulses. Maintain current trajectory; TI7 will have recorded the whole incident and local scientists can analyse that information. In the meantime have Kareebin, Lekra and Chedsarin meet me in conference room one immediately. Is everyone on board accounted for and unharmed?”

“They are, Ambassador. Do you require any medical attention yourself before you meet with your staff? I am having trouble re-establishing full sensor scans in observation, though I suspect that you might have bumped your head.”

“No, you assembly of bumbling circuitry.” The Ambassador disappeared into the elevator, visibly shaken and determined to leave the observation deck before any more surprises arrived. Already he was feeling exhausted and thinking dreamily about a quiet retirement on some paradise planet. He enjoyed learning about other worlds and interesting parts of the galaxy; quiet ones, though, since he felt too old to burden his mind feasting upon uncomfortable knowledge. ‘If our Kolda-rian friends are their usual efficient selves’, he thought, ‘then they will clear this mystery up for us. For now, it is imperative that I discuss this with my staff and evaluate their reactions’.

’Lekra is young, barely out of training. Her inexperience may confuse her understanding, yet her young outlook might make her more receptive to the extraordinary – just like a child. Chedsarin is calm and rational, almost as sensible as the Kolda-rians; he will seek truth, no matter how implausible it proves to be. He will evaluate the evidence impartially – a notable voice of reason. Kareebin is a sceptic, strongly opposed to anything fanciful or imaginative; he will receive my account of this ‘attack’ as a cynic would receive the inane ramblings of an inebriated primitive. Such a range of opinions from those three, a triangular balance of extremes. Where to find their meeting place?’

The Ambassador, for all his nerve-wracking experience on the observation deck, strode into conference room one confidently and sat down with a thump. “Greetings to all of you. I believe we have a serious problem.”