THE GALAXYMBION ODYSSEY

The Ambassador shrugged for a moment, with consternation at Lekra’s shifting moods rather than cold. Ever since they had touched down at terminal seven her nostrils had been flaring and twitching as if she was overheated, moody or angry, yet her clothes were light and her demeanour gauche as an exam candidate. He was mildly annoyed by her inappropriate attire – Kolda-ra was a much colder world than Octaladon so she should be wearing more. Even more frustrating was her obvious tension, quite unjustified for a junior cleric carrying only minimum responsibility. She had no right to be too hot or too cold.

Yes, Tirian Citadel was a southerly capital of a cooler planet, however they were indoors in a huge futuristic idol of a building with an ergonomically balanced climate self-adjusting in the vicinity of each occupant. The Kolda-rians were going to engage in negotiations with Gurss, and presently they were just talking casually in an open lounge at ground level – not a closed conference suite at any height. She had no right to be moody or angry. Maybe she was simply tense following their ‘incident’.

The scale of Interworld travel on Kolda-ra was colossal and terminal seven had not failed to impress, handling sixteen million voyages every day. From its Arrivals Complex at one end to Departure Matrix at the other, carved into a mammoth mountain range over twenty-four recules long, it was a city in its own right. Shuttle and monorail transport was fast, comfortable and safe, linking every destination in a carefully planned web lined by soft greenery and beautifully natural vistas. Lodges, restaurants and official complexes were unobtrusive, clean and aesthetically pleasing – designed with a single vision of efficient grace and elegant composition. The rest of Tirian Citadel swept out across a lush valley where a happy, intelligent society lived and worked surrounded by breath-taking nature and harmonious technology.

Uexin’s reveries were interrupted by their host, Aramek Skane, who was speaking again in Octaladonian. It was a fantastic sign of respect for the representative of a FOUNDER planet to communicate to visitors from junior member worlds in their own tongue, when the convention was for visitors to use the host world’s language.

“With your indulgence, Ambassador Uexin Gurss, we can easily reconvene tomorrow to discuss your most unfortunate experience. I am certain you all need to relax after your ordeal, and our world offers you all its hospitality. I trust that your crew are also recovering from their rough atmospheric encounter; even as we speak Aurora is being evaluated for repair, and its Event Recorder is under analysis. Please consider some sleep or diversion to collect your thoughts and your nerves.”

“Prefect Skane, we are extremely grateful for such cordiality. However, I am anxious to share what information you have so far acquired, before our diplomatic meetings begin. Whatever those ‘things’ were, they were able to wreck shell-matrixed plastiglass and then reconstruct it.”

The Prefect bowed her head and indicated for the Ambassador and his staff to sit on nearby padded loungers. “As you wish, though at any point if you feel fatigued we will cease this discussion and reschedule it for tomorrow or the following rev; there must be plenty of time for you to rest before our diplomacies begin.” Prefect Skane took a place opposite the four visitors. “Your TI7 robot was recovered from a nearby lake, its database analysed and compared with Transplex records of your atmospheric approach. The sequence of events is curious yet undeniable, substantiating all that you have told us yourself.

“According to TI7 it detected two energy surges in a cloud formation forward of your cruiser. Those surges indicated increasingly high-power levels capable of breaching your observation deck and presenting a real danger to you. They also began moving towards Aurora. TI7 therefore pushed you to safety and was lost through your observation dome, as you know. After that its Event Recorder was damaged and failed to record further details. Our own Sensormesh array clearly shows two crimson flares from the same cloud, breaking through your plastiglass. The second flare caused more damage, though somehow held all fragments in abeyance. It constructed a temporary energy barrier to prevent air loss. Three lapses later both flares left your vessel, having created an apparently flawless repair where they entered.

“Whilst we have no audio recording of the incident available, it seems quite clear that an unidentified intelligence was involved. Even more intriguing for us, you report the dialogue of a disembodied voice issuing you with a warning. We will examine Aurora’s KX Event Recorder very thoroughly to try and determine the identities of your mysterious flares.

“Ambassador Gurss, I wonder if you are familiar with the Suntear legend, beyond mere curiosity. I am aware of your application to our Central Archives regarding Suntear, the Alarni’i mystics and the historic loss of an exploration vessel of Quelae origin, near the Kolta-Rai star system.”

“I have some knowledge of it, Prefect Skane, and a desire to learn more. How is it relevant to our ‘attack’, though?”

“We do not believe that you were attacked, Ambassador, rather that you witnessed a Niva visitation. There has been no account of such paranormal events for more than twenty thousand orbits, so you can appreciate that it is difficult for us to believe this. However, your evidence seems quite convincing.”

“Prefect Skane,” the Ambassador began, quite alarmed. “You are telling me that I witnessed a Suntear legend event? That is truly remarkable yet hardly scientific. Would your scientists and philosophers agree with your hypothesis?”

“I believe that all evidence will lead them to correct conclusions, Ambassador Gurss; I mentioned Suntear because it is our only rational explanation at present. It would seem that two Kolda-rian primitive spirits – ‘Nivas’ - resided in that cloud formation you approached and that they then presented you with a visitation. That is a personal warning of danger they could see for you. This is the substance of your encounter, as we currently understand it. Only Nivas – pure energy spirits – could cause such damage to shell-matrixed material.”

Gurss turned pale for a moment, almost forgetting he was sitting in an ante-room of the Interworld Conference Centre. He studied his staff to gauge their reactions. Lekra looked bewildered, even disgusted, that a high-ranking Kolda-rian female could entertain flights of fancy; she was fiercely loyal to her species, submerged in devoted allegiance to the planet that spawned her and quite clear on what FOUNDER species should be allowed to believe in, especially women. She was disinterested in any ancient local mysticism being resurrected by a FOUNDER planet’s feminine representative. Kareebin seemed amused, on the point of openly laughing in Aramek Skane’s face. Chedsarin alone apparently gave any credence to the Prefect’s words.

“I apologise for two of my staff, Miss Skane. Lekra is a child and Kareebin a cynic. Only Chedsarin and I have open minds. Your words reassure me that my experience was not an unfortunate hallucination. What I don’t understand is why the content of this warning suggested I was in danger on Kolda-ra.”

“This is also shocking for us; after twenty thousand orbits a legendary happening returns unexpectedly, and its purpose is to warn a visitor that they will be in danger if they walk upon the surface of our world. Such a possibility is difficult to accept.”

“Well, it’s perfectly logical when you think about it,” Lekra announced mockingly. “Spirits often leap out of clouds to break into Starcruisers and make such warnings to off-worlders. My people will laugh when I tell them this.”

“Forgive my cleric’s sharp tongue dripping with scorn, Prefect Skane. She is only a child, though as such her mind should be more open to possibility.” Lekra scowled at Gurss as he uttered these words.

“I think you have both been drinking, Ambassador, Prefect,” Kareebin grinned. The Ambassador shot him a warning look yet Aramek just laughed gently. Presently the Kolda-rian stood up.

“Ambassador, it would please me if you and your associates retire for the night, as they are clearly tired and troubled by events; try not to dwell on theoretical explanations for what happened, or the content of a warning made under paranormal conditions. Tomorrow our scientists will have a better understanding of your experience and we all should be able to think more clearly. A quiet night to each of you; your guide, Emrikan Lantt will take you to your lodges.” The Prefect left the room graciously and was replaced by the young man who had driven them here from terminal seven. Me.

“Emrikan, good to see you again. Tell me, what do you think of the Suntear legend and the Alarni’i?”

“Greetings, Ambassador Gurss, to you and your associates. Concerning the Alarni’i, I am no expert; powerful artefacts from perished civilisations are not always myths, though. Why should their stories be, either? It was not the Alarni’i’s imagination that told of fifteen planets in this system; they knew. A recent excavation deep in the jungles of Iloa has uncovered artefacts pre-dating Alarni’i culture; artefacts that appear to originate from Quereldene and its technology.”

Gurss sank back in his chair, speechless, looking at me as if I had claimed that snow was hot. Kareebin also stared at me thoughtfully. “How do you know this, unless you are the archaeologist prime? Even your Prefect failed to mention this discovery.”

“I was on that expedition, since archaeology is an interest; our findings are still under review and await the arrival of specialists from Quereldene before publication. We are, however, reasonably certain that we understand the findings correctly. History is apparently rewriting itself.”

My charges fell silent for a while, until the Ambassador’s adjutant spoke. “It must be tiresome to ferry off-world visitors around all the time, if your heart is somewhere else. Why have you been put on taxi duty if you are an archaeologist?”

“My diplomatic duties are not tiresome, Adjutant Chedsarin. Kolda-rians fulfil many roles in life; cordiality is part of our journey. However, I must correct your assumption about me being an archaeologist. My current occupation is with the Planetary Defence Corps as a Tactical Recon Pilot. Archaeology is only an interest.”

“You are modest, Emrikan. To be invited to participate in a scientific expedition suggests you have sufficient knowledge and ability to qualify for inclusion. I also suspect that you speak Octaladonian, perhaps being something of a linguist, since your pronunciation of our names is impeccable.”

“You overestimate my capability in languages, Chedsarin, though I believe I know why; before your arrival I studied how to pronounce your names correctly. There was not enough time to master any Octaladonian languages so this was a small courtesy on my part. It pleases me that my pronunciation is acceptable.”

The Ambassador, his adjutant, assistant and cleric stood, obviously eager to return to their lodge. “We will be happy to rest now, Emrikan, as Aramek Skane advised us. It has been a long day and tomorrow we will be occupied with sightseeing; my three colleagues have never been to Kolda-ra before and have enlisted me to show them around; we will require some transport. After that we must finalise our presentation for the conference. Can you assist our travels tomorrow?”

“Regrettably no, my PDC duties require me to be away from Kolda-ra for two revs. I will see you again when your diplomatic conference begins. Please follow me to the ground-skimmer, Ambassador; I do not wish to keep you from your rest. I will advise Prefect Skane of your transportation requirements. We can discuss your sightseeing and travel needs during our journey.”

“Fine. It is a pleasant evening and we have enjoyed our first day here in Tirian citadel, despite the excitement. We intend to eat at a restaurant somewhere near our lodge,” Gurss was saying as they left the building. “Perhaps you could recommend somewhere that my colleagues would enjoy, though Lekra is rather hard to please.”

“There is an establishment that specialises in off-world cuisine. I could take you there first because it is not near your lodge. Perhaps Lekra will find something agreeable there.”

“Good! Then that is settled. Lekra, be on your best behaviour at the restaurant; they may serve off-world dishes to off-world ‘dishes’ but the staff are most probably Kolda-rian. None of your tantrums or peevishness, if you please.”

Lekra glared menacingly at Gurss, though I could see that this was some form of mock bickering between them. “Actually, the restaurant I suggest is managed and staffed by non-indigenous people, mostly from CADENCE or ASCENSION worlds, though I believe they have three chefs from PRIMAL NEXUS locations. Certainly they have a couple of Octaladonian waiters working there. I am sure you will all love it, as the service is superb and the food is fantastic.”

“You have eaten there before, Emrikan?”

“Several times, mistress Lekra. I learnt not to dine on dishes from certain worlds whose inhabitants have incompatible biochemistry to mine; the restaurant is very careful to keep its customers well informed about suitability of alien menus, and so there have never been any problems. They won’t serve you anything harmful.”

“That remains to be seen,” Lekra retorted. “Suppose I want something they do not recommend?”

“You will be strongly advised against it, mistress Lekra.”

“What if I insist?”

“She has quite a temper, and usually gets her way,” Gurss interjected, much to the amusement of Kareebin and Chedsarin, though Lekra looked rather vexed.

“If you insist then you will be provided with a suppressant medication to help your system over-ride the problem ingredients.”

“And if I refuse to take this suppressant?”

“Then you will remain hungry, mistress Lekra.”

“Told you,” Gurss added, smiling. ”She is a real pain even to herself. The chef will have to add the suppressant without her knowledge.”

Lekra glowered. “Maybe when they see your bulk approaching, sir, they will refuse to give you anything, even Octaladonian recipes.”

“She has a point,” Chedsarin added, as he climbed into the ground-skimmer after Kareebin and Lekra.

As was Octaladonian custom the Ambassador waited for me to take my seat, before getting in himself. “Ignore them, Emrikan. It is a conspiracy which they even extend to re-programming our ship-com with insolent remarks about my weight.”

After we had all connected our safety bands I touched the command panel in front of me and the sleek vehicle rolled forward on its road wheels. In a few pulses the anti-gravs took over and the wheels retracted so that we could travel faster. Gurss was sitting up front beside me, continuing his light conversation.

“Tell me a couple of things, please, Emrikan. Firstly, since we are all going to a restaurant we invite you to dine with us, especially because you recommended our destination. Secondly, when we approached Kolda-ra and were scanned by Orbital Control, we spoke to a young Coordinator called Rilmuta Skane. The Prefect we met today was Aramek Skane. Perhaps they are related?”

I was puzzled by this and undoubtedly showed it in my voice and facial expression. “I don’t think so, Ambassador. Aramek Skane has not formed a family. And I know of no person in Orbital Control with Skane as a family name.”

“Perhaps the Coordinator has only recently been assigned to that post?” Chedsarin offered.

“The role of Coordinator is not entrusted to novices; this is certain. If there were a Coordinator named Skane – even only on training rosters – as a Recon Pilot I would have to know their identity.”

“Could there have been an administrative error?” the adjutant offered.

“Absolutely not.” Although I was horrified at such a thought I decided to follow up on these two words with something less final. “My wife and I are performing in a concert this evening, so it will not be possible for me to dine with you. However, when we return home I will try to find out who you spoke to at Orbital Control.”

“I appreciate that, Emrikan”, the Ambassador stated earnestly. “I am sure there has been a small misunderstanding on my part; probably I got the name wrong. Naturally you are welcome to join me on the Aurora and check the ship-com’s record of my conversation with Rilmuta Skane. It is a great pity you cannot dine with us tonight; we would be delighted to meet your wife, so perhaps you could join us another time?”

“Thank you, Ambassador. We will be honoured to accept your invitation at a later date.”

“I am impressed”, Chedsarin added. “You are a pilot in the PDC, an archaeologist, a diplomatic assistant and a public performer. Is such personal diversity usual on Kolda-ra?”

“Yes, Chedsarin. Diplomacy is a normal function for everyone here, and we are encouraged to participate actively in our interests and fully use our abilities and knowledge. Music is central to Kolda-rian education, therefore many citizens become performers. I would add, though, that my wife is actually engaged professionally as a musician, I am simply accompanying her.”

“This is an amateur concert, then”, Lekra stated.

“No, professional.”

“I thought you only participated as an amateur.”

“I participate as a professional, mistress Lekra. Being a musician is not my profession.”

“Hmmm. I see, I think; what music do you perform and could we attend one of your concerts?” Chedsarin enquired, rather puzzled.

“My wife and I will perform the complete violin sonatas of George Frederick Handel. We will be giving another concert ten revs from now; I will have the details sent to you, and you are most welcome to attend if you are still here.”

“I am no expert in music,” Kareebin said. “Handel was a Ledaran composer and the violin a Ledaran musical instrument, as far as I know. How and why have they reached a concert platform on Kolda-ra?”

“We love and value exceptional music, even from primitive non-aligned cultures; it is all the more unique when beautiful art is created on such primitive planets. Creating authentic instruments on which to perform music from other worlds is easy for our instrument makers. My wife will be playing an entirely authentic yet superior quality harpsichord. My violin is similarly true to Ledaran design albeit made with superior materials and craftsmanship.”

“How fascinating,” Kareebin observed. “On Octaladon we invite musicians from other worlds to present their music in person or sometimes simply import their recordings; we have never acquired recordings or notations of musical compositions from places like Ledara or sought to reproduce such music ourselves. I will suggest to our cultural bureau when we are back on Octaladon, that this oversight is fixed.”

“I wouldn’t bother, Kareebin; they will tell you what they always tell me. Octaladon is not interested in backward cultures. Let Kolda-rians dabble in them if they wish, we have our own culture and art to keep us busy, not to mention Galaxymbion culture. Our administrators are bureaucrats with anachronistic feet firmly planted in our primitive, isolationist past when we were prostitutes to money. Anyone would think our administrators were called upon to pay for things with money, as if savages.”

Lekra bristled noticeably at the Ambassadors’ comment, though it was unclear why. We then drove on in silence and I left them at their restaurant and proceeded home to collect my wife and violin for the concert. The mystery of Rilmuta Skane bothered me as much as Aurora’s encounter with two Nivas from an antiquated legend. I mentioned this to my wife and she thought it would make good material for a musical composition.