THE GALAXYMBION ODYSSEY

For some odd reason Mirek found his mind wandering to thoughts of music, extracts from Carmina Burana floating around his head. The melodies were pushing their insistent way across his divided thoughts as they were prone to do from time to time. Music was an ongoing obsession which particularly fascinated him when it originated from that strange, backward planet, Ledara. If only they were as skilled at living as their Great composers were at creating music their world could have been a gorgeous paradise. Alas, the species were generally a disappointment and sometimes even a nightmare. Clicking fingers disbanded his cerebral orchestra.

“Your mind wanders again, my friend.”

“My apologies, Notesounder. I was distracted by music once more, my preoccupation with sound patterns being the recurring weakness that it is. And I confess that there is no wish on my part to become invulnerable to it.”

“This one knows what you mean, being a musician itself, by profession. Let this one guess that you were thinking of some Ledaran composition; say nothing, for this is known to oneself. Really, Mirek, why should you continue to dwell on the sounds of some delinquent, mediocre species when millions of truly exceptional compositions have poured out of the hearts and souls of Galaxymbion musicians?”

“And I have told you millions of times at rehearsals, concerts and other occasions that the great Ledaran composers’ music possesses some curious yet wonderfully haunting essence. It invigorates, and breathes life into, the spirit in an indescribable way that escapes only the most cerebrally moribund or the cold and unfeeling. Hardly any wonder why those Ledaran composers have always been so badly neglected by their own kind; you know, my musical friend, their classical music is performed fifteen times more frequently on Kolda-ra than it ever was on its planet of origin.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps what you say is true. Being reptilian this one is probably cold-ish and reserved, though not unfeeling. Our music possesses a coherence and logic unsurpassed - and not even equalled by - anything of Ledara. This one could never relax with the wild orchestral passions of Mahler, Rachmaninov or Tchaikovsky. This one prefers the intellectual vigour of J.S. Bach or Sibelius, and even they have occasional irregularities that disturb our saurian mind.”

“As usual, my reptilian friend, you mangle your pronouns horribly; what is it with you people and ‘I’? Do you fear self-identity so much?”

Notesounder frowned at Mirek and was about to launch into some abstract psychological digression when an alarm sounded.

I awoke sweating, and immediately turned to make sure Shyarin was there. All was as it should be, though my dream definitely was some form of psychological aberration. I knew nobody on Kolda-ra by the name of Mirek and had never met a native of Quereldene.

“Are you okay, my love?” Shyarin asked me. “You seem ill, feverish and troubled. Your concern for our Octaladonian visitors sits uneasily on your mind.”

“Indeed, my wife. Recent events have been making little sense, though the evidence is hard to ignore.” I sat up and went to dress, pleased to have woken in the familiar surroundings of our sleeping room, our own home, our own bed and with my wife’s elegant beauty and thoughts beside me. “As you know today is the fourth rev of their visit, and the beginning of their diplomatic petition. It is a worrying time for them, thus I probably sense their apprehension and feel awkward about how they will react to the results of my investigation into this mysterious Rilmuta Skane’s identity.”

“Yes, it is very difficult to explain this discrepancy between how Ambassador Gurss and Aurora’s ship-com recorded their passage through Orbital Control, and how we recorded it. Do you believe there is a saboteur at work?”

“Without more information and hence more analysis it is difficult to know what to believe, Shy. Speaking to Prefect Skane shed no light on anything and Population Archive have no record of Rilmuta Skane’s existence. Orbital Control has never appointed anyone by that name in any capacity; on the day that Aurora went through their scan and was cleared for atmospheric insertion the Coordinator on duty was Panbeera Soja. She remembers her conversation with Gurss clearly, and our Orbital tracking station audio-visual transcripts reflect her account.”

My wife sighed heavily. “Let me know how the Ambassador’s negotiations proceed, and his reaction to your news. If there is sabotage in progress the implications for the Galaxymbion are grave and, for the security of Kolda-ra, catastrophic.”

I smiled at Shyarin, finished dressing and freshening myself, ensured my uniform was smart and tidy, and then prepared to leave. “Thank you, my sweetness. And you let me know how your rehearsals go for the Velphor 7 music festival; their compositions tend to be extremely complex and involve very difficult musical instruments. Not many species can get their minds or fingers and toes around those macro-chords and multi-harmonics. Remember how several musicians from planet Aklar became insane after attempting to stage Tranaximon’s Symphony for eight orchestras?”

“Don’t worry, Emrikan. The penta-pianos made by our craft-workers are specially adapted for our physiology, so I will not lose my sanity trying to play my part. Now, you will be late if you stay here any longer. May your day be peaceful and positive, my husband.”

“And, yours, Shy.” I kissed her and left for work.

My journey to the Ambassador’s lodge was swift and calm, even though my thoughts were troubled. I found Gurss and his colleagues to be in good humour and fully focused on their mission. I took them to their negotiations, then went on to complete my own duties during the day. In the evening I returned to collect Uexin Artima Gurss and his staff from the Interworld Conference Centre. They seemed in even better spirits.

“So, Ambassador, do you feel comfortable following today’s negotiations with Prefect Skane and the Tirian Congress?”

“Yes, I am now reasonably optimistic that the High Council of the Galaxymbion will look favourably upon our petition for annexation. I am extremely grateful to Aramek Skane and her Congressional colleagues for their careful evaluation of Octaladon’s vulnerability to Glane aggression. They will sympathetically present our petition to the High Council. Turning now to other matters, if you don’t mind. I am anxious to hear the results of your investigations and those of your scientists and security personnel. Do we have a fuller understanding of what happened when we arrived?”

This was a moment and a conversation I had been concerned about for more than two revs. “It is good that you are still seated, Ambassador, since I have to tell you something that will come as a shock. There is no citizen on Kolda-ra bearing the name Rilmuta Skane, nor has there ever been so far; on the day of your arrival the Coordinator on duty in Orbital Control was Panbeera Soja, a woman. Our recording of your arrival confirms this. However, the record of the conversation downloaded from Aurora’s ship-com confirms your account of events. This anomaly cannot easily be explained at present and is the subject of intense investigation by Interworld Security.

“With respect to your vessel’s damage during atmospheric descent, we are still presented with a mystery that only the Suntear legend seems able to solve. Ambassador, do you recall anything out of place in your conversation with Rilmuta Skane?”

“Not really, Emrikan. Why?”

“According to your recording of the conversation Rilmuta Skane stated that you had not visited Kolda-ra for twenty-six orbits, yet planetary records clearly show you travelled here only four orbits ago. In addition to that discrepancy, our Perimeter Control stations report that Aurora stopped at their scanning array and waited for clearance as usual. This mysterious ‘Rilmuta Skane’ seems to think that we no longer have any Perimeter Control stations, just enhanced perimeter scans. Aurora’s records appear to indicate that he speaks the truth; you passed through Perimeter Controls without any need to stop. Ambassador, if you will just look at this photo-pad; it contains a discrepancy of great interest.”

Gurss scrutinised the image closely and noticed nothing odd. “Looks fine to me; this is from Aurora’s recorder?”

“Indeed, Ambassador. Please look at the highlighted yellow grid. The reflection of Rilmuta’s console in a window is of great concern to us.”

“I don’t see anything worrying, Emrikan”.

“Not immediately, perhaps. Look closer and you will; the reflection shows the console readings in reverse, naturally. The time displayed is of interest. It shows the conversation apparently to be occurring thirty-seven orbits in our future.”

Unable to answer immediately, the enormous Ambassador found himself peering at a nearby translucent plastic matrix and trying to resolve multiple incandescent dots into numbers. Those hyperactive little electric flames darted around their rose-tinted poly-resin tubes so fast they could hypnotise you. ‘Catch-spark’ was a difficult game to play, though even more difficult to avoid playing; many public places on Kolda-ra had a matrix nearby and this one was in the reception hall of the Interworld Conference Centre. Gurss had noticed them in a few other locations, though almost always being played by off-worlders. He wondered why Kolda-rians invented a game yet chose not to play it – at least in public. Kareebin and Lekra had commandeered this matrix for what seemed like an eternity. Gurss shrugged and returned his attention to the moment, prompted by my gentle tug on his sleeves.

“Apologies, my Kolda-rian friend. I do not know what to say in response to your news. Can it be computer error, an incorrectly programmed chronometer, some fake or an ingenious sabotage?”

“That is far from clear, sir. The matter has of course been referred to the High Council of the Galaxymbion, as well as Interworld Security and Planetary Science Congress. Several specialists are already involved, and I formally request your permission to impound Aurora for sub-nuclear evaluation.”

“Yes, of course.” Gurss looked and sounded distant, as if in another world. Congress Viceroy Coroma Arlon strode over to us, her cloak flowing with her brisk stride. She was a tall, statuesque woman, even amongst our species, and had gained considerable respect for her diplomatic achievements across many worlds – not merely within the Galaxymbion. I understood that her approach to us must signify another important development.

“Please accept my regret for keeping you so long, ambassadorials”. Her stern yet benevolent gaze briefly took in Gurss’s staff as she spoke. “I must advise you of our actions immediately. Emrikan, please remain here, as you will need to hear everything I have to say.”

“Viceroy?” I enquired; it was rather irregular for a Recon Pilot to be present during diplomatic discussions, diplomatic duties notwithstanding.

“Code Uranium 6” was her brief answer before she turned back to the Ambassador. “Please summon your staff.”

Gurss acknowledged and called his assistants away from their game, during which time Coroma Arlon gently clasped his left shoulder to reassure him. “Philosophical objectivity, dear Ambassador, will guide us through these events. You are our friends, also; an important fact to remember at all times.”

“You are most gracious, Viceroy”, the Ambassador rumbled happily as his staff joined us. “Here are my playful assistants, who always can be trusted to find some sport or idleness during important diplomacy.” Lekra scowled heavily then broke into a smile – the first I had seen from her. Coroma Arlon wasted no time in delivering her message.

“There are two matters. The possible attack on your vessel following a discrepancy in recordings of its passage through Orbital Control have raised security status to mild alert. To be direct, Ambassador, we believe you and your staff may be in some form of danger, linked to the nature of your visit. If hostile agencies are interfering in your mission here it is of grave significance both for Kolda-ra and Octaladon. Clearly your petition is an urgent one, and it is of that question that I now speak. Following our detailed discussions today, and the mysteries surrounding your arrival, our congress has unanimously decided to accelerate your petition. It will go straight to the High Council, along with the results of our ongoing investigations.”

“Speaking of which, have your scientists been able to piece anything more together yet?”

“They have, Ambassador Gurss, though I am not at liberty to discuss their findings, being a diplomat. We will contact you when the experts have drawn appropriate conclusions, and it is they who will present those conclusions to you.”

Lekra intervened, sounding agitated. “Come on, Viceroy, we know all Kolda-rians are highly trained in every branch of science; certainly you would be able to discuss your findings with us. And, as a Viceroy, your security clearance is not an issue.”

“Lekra!” snapped Gurss, throwing her a warning glance that carried his stern disapproval of her insolent tone. The Viceroy, however, brushed the moment aside with equanimity.

“Mistress Lekra, your assertion is quite correct, and I share your anxiety about facing an undetermined future on an alien world where the inhabitants apparently hold the answers you seek. Please understand that we are not keeping information from you in relation either to your mystery or your petition. The former is still under investigation and the latter, consideration; the former must be correctly evaluated whilst the latter needs to be correctly sanctioned. I have confidence that both outcomes will be favourable, in which case any delay is a mere inconvenience. If my optimism is unfounded then any delay is a blessing. Such is my thinking.”

“We need answers now”, Lekra persisted, however the Ambassador quickly cut her off.

“What my rash assistant means is that we will eagerly await both outcomes, when presented to us and by whichever expert imparts those outcomes to us. On behalf of my staff I commend you on your understanding of Octaladon’s needs, and my personal feelings in this matter. Regrettably some of my staff have sharper tongues than wits; no disrespect was intended to you, Kolda-ra or The Galaxymbion.”

Viceroy Arlon inclined her head in such a way that it caught the evening light filtering in from outside, remarkably giving her skin a milky emerald tincture as if some celestial artist had intervened at her conception and contrived to alter her complexion away from the usual light blue. Even her brilliant white hair, which fountained and bubbled from her head with marvellous delicacy and richness, appeared to be green in her current pose. “I noticed no disrespect from mistress Lekra. Now, Ambassador Gurss, if you have no objection I must continue with my duties. Please enjoy the remainder of your stay here, however short or long it may be.”

“Of course, Viceroy Arlon. We look forward to enjoying Kolda-rian hospitality for any length of time whilst awaiting progress with our petition and your investigations. Have a successful day, eminence.”

Arlon nodded and turned back the way she had come, leaving us where we were. In order to dispel any remaining tension, I ushered my charges from the building and to our waiting ground-skimmer.

“My wife suggested to me that you may all enjoy our music rehearsals tomorrow morning, and to dine with us in the evening. We would also be pleased to show you around Kolda-ra now that you have more time in your schedules. A little diversion might serve to distract you from life’s current maze.”

“We would be honoured, Emrikan. I speak for myself and my staff in accepting your graciousness; your PDC duties permitting, naturally.”

“I have no further official duties for five revs; only musical ones. We could all journey to the caves at Toruno, which are formed of a very rich copper-vanadium mineral called Kerini-i. The famous ‘singing caves’. The rev after tomorrow, perhaps?”

“Excellent, my friend. Just what we need to take our minds off everything. My staff and I will be happy to accept your kind invitations.”

“Speak for yourself, Ambassador, Sir”, Lekra griped. “I cannot say that listening to Ledaran music or visiting some stupid metal-ore caves are my idea of having a good time. Do you people not do competitive sport or combat training displays?”

“Sport on Kolda-ra is a private matter, a path to fitness and balance rather than a spectator event. Except for Ri-kal-in.”

“Oh yes,” Lekra’s belligerent tone continued. “And I suppose you and your wife are also masters of that and would like to invite us to watch your public work-outs at the local gymnasium, so we can be in awe of your formidable physical prowess.”

“Lekra, I am warning you one last time to keep a civil tongue. You may get away with insolence and cantankerousness back home; here your disagreeable tone and challenging approach make us all look like the stunted primitives from some hellish troglodyte planet. Utter one more barb and you will be stripped of rank. Now, tell Emrikan that you are sorry.”

The junior cleric frowned, placing her hands on her hips defiantly. Gurss gave her a gentle push and rasped something in Octaladonian to her. When she failed to respond he restated the words more forcefully. We all waited for this scene to conclude before we climbed into the skimmer. The junior cleric relented finally. “Okay, okay, I’ll attend your rehearsal and your evening meal at home, Mr Lantt. I am not going to any dumb caves or Kolda-rian self-defence training.”

“And…” the Ambassador prodded.

“Sorry if my tone upset you. No offence was intended.”

“I am neither upset nor offended, mistress Lekra. I would be happy to find alternative events for you, if you could let me know your favourite interests and activities. There are several leisure complexes on our planet where authentic, innocuous off-world entertainments are available.”

“Fine, Mr Lantt. Do I have Kolda-rian permission to go to these events without escort?” When I nodded she relaxed and climbed into the skimmer. As usual the Ambassador climbed in last.

“Please excuse Lekra; she is a disagreeable little wretch and does not appreciate how societies that advance always preserve cultural heritage, theirs and others. One day she may grow up.” The Octaladonians fell silent after that, and I thought of two lines from an ancient poem for some reason I could not quite understand.

“Citizen clad in proudest white,

Not yet braved the cosmic night,

There she goes in time two ways,

Torn by tides of chaos minds.”

The day had been stressful for my Octaladonian charges, and their unfettered emotions were probably affecting my concentration; the poem extract had brought a quaint breeze of recollection from the landscapes of youth-time when I had studied ancient poetry. It served to calm my mind with words from an almost forgotten continent in time. Another archaic rhyme intruded suddenly.

“Sacred clouds, how thy task entangles itself with words craving silence. Can time dress a devil as a saint?”

Back in room 17 at the Interworld Conference Centre, Coroma Arlon had dismissed all the junior congress members. She stood silently and alone except for Admissions Prefect Gaxani Toruva and Commanding Admiral Huwain Navin.

“Your thoughts, please” she broadcast telepathically.

Huwain was senior, and so Gaxani remained silent for now. Huwain broadcast to them both.

“Subsequent decisions must be based on conclusive facts, as always in these cases. When our science teams have answers the High Council will make a judgement on the petition from Octaladon; given that this mission itself appears to be in jeopardy I believe the High Council will decide in Octaladon’s favour. The Ambassador’s petition is well-reasoned and detailed, though any decision must be binding on his world.”

“I concur”, Gaxani broadcast smoothly. “These issues will not fade with time, so the High Council will choose the path that is good for all. Incidentally, did you both notice?”

“Yes, we could not penetrate the girl’s mind either. Yet her emotions were clear; belligerence, hostility, contempt. Is it possible that Octaladonian separatists have returned, after so many centuries of peace on their world, without us being aware of such a calamity?”

“I do not believe so, Viceroy Arlon. It is not impossible, however there has been no recorded separatist activity on Octaladon for over two centuries, and that was limited to exchanges of harsh words. Planetary Viceroy Salddari recently conducted an extensive investigation on the Ambassador’s home-world; his team concluded that the limited number of recent social disturbances have all been caused by external interference. To be certain, though, I have contacted our Central Archive concerning Octaladonian separatists being able to block telepathic mind-scans.”

“Why not ask the Ambassador or the Octaladonian government directly, as they surely would know of separatist abilities?”

“Friend Gaxani, if Octaladon is once more host to a separatist cult, the Ambassador and other leaders may belong to it. I understand you both strongly doubt such a possibility, yet what better place for seditious creatures to hide than within the ranks of those they oppose? We must not tell the Ambassador and his contingent until we know more from Central Archive. In the meantime, I have invoked Code Uranium 6 as a precaution. Emrikan Lantt will follow the necessary steps to have the Ambassador and his staff observed and protected.”

“Did you sense any hostility from the others, then?”

“No, Huwain. They could be better trained than Lekra, or using a masking technology we are unaware of. I fear we might have a Return To Elvakay incident unfolding around us, therefore please inform World Congress as soon as they are in session; they will undoubtedly concur with our intention to invoke Uranium 6 status with Return To Elvakay protocols planet-wide. I will take my leave of you now. Contact me immediately if this situation changes. Until tomorrow, with endurance and serenity.”

“Endurance and serenity, Viceroy, at least until tomorrow.”