THE GALAXYMBION ODYSSEY

The cloud cover thickens at night and people away from Kolda-ra never dream about them. They say that those who dream regularly about the clouds suffer some form of intellectual deterioration. After each dream a person’s H-wave output diminishes and orientation is further impaired. Eventually C-max brain cells are affected by the loss in H-wave potency and their ability to maintain crystalline synapse structure collapses. Something about low level radiation in the migratory clouds causes this.

It was a bitter cold morning in the equatorial winter of 2750. Mirek was leaning on a sleek, slanted plasti-chrome railing, trying not to think about a sketchy alternative life no longer his. The railing formed a safety barrier along the walkway overlooking Iloa’s most magnificent scenery; tropical jungles diving into a lush valley that stretched as far as one’s vision and basked under a mist as heavy as rain. It began snowing with a slight wind, an unusual combination around the equator.

“Try plotting the volume” a disembodied voice told him. It was Flaze, one of the glowsnakes of Kytonia. They had been in telepathic contact since 2741 and it was their secret; nobody on Kolda-ra knew anything about them, not even Aramek, and Mirek would do nothing to change that. The glowsnake hovered slightly behind his left shoulder, only as a spectral avatar since The Brethren were not yet prepared to leave Kytonia. Mirek alone was granted the privilege of seeing Flaze.

He followed the suggestion and came up with something around four thousand cubic recules.

“Most interesting,” Flaze observed. “You are quite wrong, naturally.” The glowsnake sounded pleased with itself.

“Okay, what is the correct volume, oh wise and mighty one?”

“Five thousand one hundred and four-point seven-two cubic recules.” Flaze sounded even more insufferable; it was all part of an elaborate joke between the two of them. Flaze had contacted Mirek within revs of his arrival here, and a psychic bond had developed rather quickly between them. Apart from Aramek, Flaze had provided the greatest support for this reluctant time traveller. Little by little Flaze had assisted Mirek in honing his telepathic and psionic talents and had introduced him to a novel concept; that his presence in Iloa’s past was not an accident, but a necessity.

“For a mystical creature you are something of a rascal. Why should I trust you anyway, since you could quote any amount completely at random?”

“That is a fantasy, youngster. Brethren never lie, Brethren always speak truth.”

“Fine, if you say so. What are you doing here today, anyway? I came to this spot for some peace and quiet, not to telepathically discuss three-dimensional planetary geometry with you or anyone else.” Mirek’s voice had peppery overtones, again in jest.

“We sense many dangers for you and all other galactic life if you stay here, standing one. Disastrous consequences both local and cosmic. Since your purpose in Iloa is concluded you no longer need to remain. My bi-pedal friend, it is time for you to go elsewhere as part of your special function and destiny.”

“Multiple annoyances,” Mirek barked back verbally, forgetting himself. Several early morning runners looked in astonishment at this curious person talking snappily to himself, then continued with their personal marathons. “I have lost one life and one wife already; now you tell me that I must lose another. What sort of destiny is that, Flaze of The Brethren?”

“This one sympathises; you of The Galaxymbion follow certain ethical codes, do you not? Can you be so reluctant to tread that path laid before you by the cosmos?”

“How do I know any of these events are my true path? From my perspective I should have remained in my original life. Now I am here and history has changed because of me. Maybe I should remain here. Maybe this is my time now.”

“We have talked often of temporal concepts, Mirek Taro. True, it is difficult for beings such as you to grasp the finer details of chronological philosophy, yet you do have some harmonic vibe with cosmic foundations. Search your mind and your soul and search your Niva; there will you discover that you have no time and place, that your existence is more than such concepts as ‘here’ or ‘now’.”

“I do not want to be more than ‘here’ or ‘now’, oh floating serpentine apparition. Why can’t this cosmos let me have a normal life; peaceful, logical, bound by ‘here’ or ‘now’?” Mirek fell momentarily silent and his curious friend waited patiently and with due respect not to intrude further upon his thoughts. “Okay, so you tell me I cannot stay here. Where must I go, and what must I do? What will happen to Aramek and Rilmuta?”

“For me it is not to determine. The Brethren know where you have to be and when; Weethis will organise the transition. It is known to me that Aramek will be fine; she will miss you, of course, and she will know that you left not from choice. She will return to Tirian and rise in the Congress there in the office of Senior Prefect. Rilmuta will be with her and after graduation will enlist in your Planetary Defence Corps, assigned to solar defence as a Coordinator. Ultimately, he will become planetary Viceroy of Kolda-ra. They have good destinies.”

“Will I remember them with more than mere nebulosity?”

“Excuse us, standing one. That cannot be permitted any more than your people could permit the thornids of Gelaymer to acquire one of your starships. If you have defined clarity about chronological shifts, in your current state of evolution, it will cause unacceptable problems. You are familiar with temporal mechanics, Mirek of Kolda-ra? You know that time streams are sensitive to even slight distortions? When you complete your evolutionary transition to thirdlife all your memories and experiences will be available, and your mind sufficient to accept them.”

Mirek sighed. This was turning out to be a painful rev. Only one word crossed his mind: why? “Will they remember me, and can you grant me a little more time with them?”

“They will not forget you. Forgive this intrusion, and the sadness you now experience. This one will return in five revs. Please be ready in that time.” And with that the spectral avatar and its associated telepathic voice were gone.

2766/2015

Sebria had descended from a long and noble line of Caldian deep-healers, her medicinal pedigree unrivalled except by her father, Halston. He alone was a ninth plateau ultimate grade peace-warrior of The Blue Flame, a ninth plateau advanced grade Opal Capriccite thought master and a tenth plateau advanced grade deep-healer. His achievements were legendary; as a teenager he had brought a lasting unity to the inner and outer cluster clans of Xiga nebula, survived the lightning mirages of the Lokrian desert without food, water or technology and ended the war between the Koromi and the Zorgans. He could mend broken bones and blood vessels with his thoughts, and similarly cure illnesses and diseases or cause cartilage or failed organs to regenerate.

Sebria herself was a third plateau ultimate grade peace-warrior of the Blue Flame, a seventh plateau ultimate grade Opal Capriccite thought master and a seventh plateau penultimate grade deep-healer. She would soon join her father, Primary Mentor of Caldia, as his Tertiary in the Caldian Triumvirate, whilst continuing to lead the Women’s Space Guild “Sisters of The Clouds”. Since statute dictated that Tertiary Mentors must be at least eighth plateau ultimate grade Opal Capriccite thought masters she was now taking her next trials.

Omnipotence was a vast saucerian starship of the Arcturus interstellar cruiser class, boasting a full crew of one thousand three hundred when Sebria was on board. Her corpus of six hundred and forty-nine Senators journeyed with her as the maximum permitted number of passengers. Its gleaming silver white hull and sleek contours made it one of the most elegant and beautiful cruisers in the Caldian defence armada, and its technology was sufficient to sustain its full crew and passenger complement for nearly two Caldian orbits before having to replenish provisions. Naturally its defence systems were impeccable. Sebria liked to take command of the vessel when aboard, though her captain retained his title and routine authority. Today was no exception, as they sliced through the atmosphere of Chelen 4, a bleak uninhabited world not far from the Caldian solar system.

Her trials would take place here because of the harsh surface conditions; arid, devoid of life, lacking in shelter from an unforgiving star and bone chilling at night, with a thin atmosphere and sparse underground water supplies.

“Never mind why it should be so near home,” her physics Senator was admonishing the captain, “it is only a requirement that Her Grace survive on the surface for twenty-five of this world’s revs, during which time Her Grace must retrieve the hidden artefact.”

“Like I said, you are making it too easy for her,” the captain retorted, grinning widely. He knew she could hear; an adept of her skill could easily filter multiple conversations on the vessel’s command deck. Her physics Senator looked perturbed and exasperated, as he turned away from the captain and made his way towards Sebria.

“Your Grace, I must object to our captain’s flippancy. He does not seem to realise that Omnipotence is the personal cruiser of your Royal Lady, and frequently adopts a familiar and irreverent attitude toward you.”

Sebria glanced in the captain’s direction; he appeared to be discussing something rather seriously with the vessel’s navigant. She turned her attention back to her physicist. “You worry too much, Senator; Kalana is an excellent captain and knows of my Royalty extremely well. He is just a little unorthodox in his manner, never insolent or confrontational. Everything he says is with humour, and when occasion demands he is capable of the greatest orthodoxy and sobriety.”

“As you wish, Your Grace. Perhaps I could humbly petition Your Royal Lady to convince our captain to observe his orthodoxy when in conversation with me.”

“Don’t worry, Senator; I will speak with him privately on your behalf, though to be fair I must also convince you to be less consumed with redundant protocols. Look, our irreverent captain approaches. You can ask him yourself in my presence and I will mediate for you both.”

Although looking uncomfortable at this suggestion the physicist bowed his head and issued a polite, “as you command, Your Grace.”

“Excuse my interruption, Your Grace, Senator. We have detected an anomaly to the East. Procedure demands that we investigate, whilst protocol demands we inform you and secure your permission to proceed.”

“How interesting, Captain Kalana. Kindly tell me about this anomaly. I hope your navigant is not being over-zealous or alarmist; Chelen 4 is a geologically uninteresting planet. It is difficult to imagine anything on its surface being sufficiently radical to be of any curiosity, let alone anomalous.”

“Your Grace is quite correct and wise on such astronomical facts, however, in this case our sensors have indeed located something very unusual. A Carina class Starcruiser under Octaladonian registry as ‘Aurora’. Its coding beacon identifies it as the personal cruiser of one Ambassador Uexin Gurss. It appears to have crash-landed and is broadcasting a general distress beacon.”

“Heavens! Then we must assist; set course and make all necessary preparations for rescue and recovery, Captain Kalana. You will have ship command whilst I coordinate the salvage and medical teams. How much time before location intercept?”

“Less than seven lapses, Your Grace. In anticipation of your response I took the liberty of adjusting our atmospheric trajectory as soon as this came to light. There was no intention to offend.”

“You acted entirely appropriately. If you will kindly excuse me, I need to change into my field uniform and collect medical supplies.” She shot her physics Senator a meaningful look and he understood what she meant with it.

“Allow me to apologise for my demeanour earlier. I am a traditionalist and find it difficult to accommodate the new ways. It would please me if you supported them less enthusiastically when in conversation with me.”

Captain Kalana patted the physics Senator’s right arm and smiled. “I meant no disrespect, either. I am just not very good with Royal etiquette. Too many things to remember. Please take a seat and fasten yourself in its safety harness; we will be landing shortly and the atmosphere here can be rather inconsiderate.” He bowed slightly and returned to his console, leaving the Senator to search worriedly for a vacant chair.

A junior engineer noticed this and, understanding that the Senator was rather elderly and unfamiliar with the command room’s layout, ushered him carefully to a nearby wall, pressed her thumb to a small red panel and helped him into the unfolding chair and harness. He nodded his gratitude as she took her leave to continue her duties.

“LANDING COUNTDOWN, SECURE STATIONS” a smooth computerised voice announced clearly. “PLEASE REMAIN SEATED AND HARNESSED UNTIL SET-DOWN. TEN, NINE, EIGHT.…”

Immediately upon touchdown harnesses were released quickly and the command deck became a bustling hub of carefully choreographed industriousness as the command crew coordinated ground activities. The Senator could see the nearby wreckage of Aurora, visibly intact though severely beaten after its ordeal. It looked as though it had been pummelled by asteroids or had hit a passing mountain range. Its rear engine plate was sparking and releasing a plume of acrid smoke that rose quickly in the gentle gravity of Chelen 4. This level of damage was extremely odd, since Carina class Starcruisers had all been retro-fitted with contemporary R.E.D systems and had routinely shell-matrixed hulls and braces. Besides, such an important vessel should be equipped with auto-navigation overrides, making collisions impossible even if its crew were guilty of error. And what was it doing out this way, so far from home without having requested an authorised flight plan through this sector?

“Can I help you, Senator?” It was the junior engineer who had provided the chair for him earlier.

“Well, I do not wish to obstruct your various important tasks, young lady, although I might be of assistance with the injured. I am a fifth plateau intermediate grade deep-healer and can tend to less serious patients.”

“Please stay here, Senator. I will tell the ground authorities and the duty physician. Someone will collect you and take you where help is most needed.” She slipped away swiftly. The Senator looked back at the enormous view-screen and could now see a caravan of utility vehicles kicking up dust as they raced to the stricken Aurora.

In the lead vehicle, a chunky medical rover equipped with on-board treatment facilities, Princess Sebria stood and braced herself against a support pylon. She surveyed the scene ahead on a wall-screen and turned to the waiting medical teams in the alighting bay, speaking carefully into her helmet intercom as the sand rover lurched to a halt on its eight massive tyres.

“Med kits, breathing apparatus, multi-spectrum goggles and anti-grav stretchers for all medics. Bring serious cases in first. We’ll set up a trauma unit here. Lighter burns in sand rover 2, head injuries in 3 and limb fractures in 4. Any non-serious cases can go to SR 5. Keep 6 and 7 near the front for overflow. All salvage teams, breathing apparatus, multi-spectrum goggles, both standard and penetrative sensor pads; cutting and lifting equipment with every fifth salvager. Command codes for the Aurora’s portals have been downloaded to your environment gauntlets so you should be able to board her without force. Deploy field robots one per team.” She looked up and saw the chief medic on her ‘bus’ acknowledge readiness, followed by the chief salvage officer’s acknowledgment. “Go!” she rasped on general frequency, then followed the first rescue and recovery team down the ramp.

Reddish sand billowed around feet as everyone half-walked, half-ran forward. Up ahead a fire crew was busy at the burning engine plate, coating it with inert foam. Two ground crews already had docking hatches opened. Sebria increased the magnification on her electromagnetic goggles and adjusted to infra-red because of poor visibility. She noted everyone else doing the same. Bits of twisted metal were strewn around; buckled hull plating that had somehow failed structurally. “Clear all this debris out of the way – take it back to the salvage tugs for analysis,” she said switching to the salvager’s channel.

“I want the whole area clean for medical evacuation.” She switched over to Omnipotence’s command deck frequency. “Looks like we will need five Aldebaran 7s for uninjured crew and ambassadorial staff. Begin your flight runs now and set down flanking Aurora so the med rovers have a clear run back.” She switched again, this time to salvage teams 2 and 3, who were nearly at the left and right flanks of the wreckage. “Get her left cargo bay doors open for walking-wounded and unscathed survivors. Team three open the right flank for fatalities. Use forcing equipment if the mechanisms are slow or unresponsive.”

Medics were already coming out of Aurora with patients on anti-gravs. If she remembered correctly Carina class Starcruisers had a maximum crew of one hundred and fifty with capacity for only seventy-five passengers at most. Unless the Ambassador had had substantial internal modifications made to the cruiser they were looking at less than two hundred and thirty on the manifest. She switched to salvage team one. “Location and status, please.”

“We are in the propulsion room working forward. We have beaconed the locations of survivors and fatalities accordingly, to guide medic teams.”

“Any preliminary ideas what happened to her?”

“Conjectural only; it looks like her pitch governor failed and she collided with something large. The failure of shell-matrixing seems to be associated with haywire temporal readings in places. It is almost as if time rewound itself at critical junctures, returning materials to their original pre-shell matrixed state. We will advise you as soon as we have recovered the KX computer’s Event Recorder. One thing is really strange, Your Grace. Some of the crew have been attacked.”

“Attacked by who?”

“Injuries are consistent with Glane weapons. We noted some of the external damage is consistent with Glane weaponry, so it is understandable she was boarded. Two Glane bodies have been found so far but traces of Glane blood suggest larger numbers were involved. It looks like the Glanes fought amongst themselves since their injuries are also by Glane weapons. The two here have no thorns and from their relative positions appear to have been defending Aurora’s crew from the attackers.”

“How strange. Safety verdict?”

“She’s barely holding together in crucial compartments. Not space-worthy and won’t fly again without complete rebuild. She could be moved by rescue tugs, once safety struts have been installed. We cannot move her as she is though; she would fall apart.”

“Okay, keep going and let me know if you discover anything else peculiar.” Sebria found herself a hatch that was not busy. She keyed the command code in and it opened obligingly. For the next quarter of a perchron she moved through the decks and hallways, recreation areas and canteens, crew quarters and technical labs, looking for anything obviously out of place. Eventually, however, all the crews reported in that medical and salvage was complete and the Event Recorder had been recovered. Most of the med rovers had already departed to Omnipotence; now it was time for Sebria and her remaining rescue specialists to return also.

The Caldian cruiser remained on Chelen 4 several more perchrons - long enough for mop-up operations to conclude, the crash site to be totally sanitised of dangerous wreckage, marker beacons to be installed and seriously injured survivors stabilised. Captain Kalana had already obtained Aurora’s crew and passenger manifest from its Event Recorder; three people were missing. Lekra, Kareebin and Chedsarin. Just another mystery; everyone else was accounted for, including the Ambassador himself, though he was rushed into emergency surgery barely clinging to life. Fifteen of Aurora’s crew had died along with seven passengers. A further twenty crew were in a serious condition but stable. Sebria waited for her forensic and science teams to pull together some sequence of events from all the evidence. Although she wanted to interview survivors that would have to wait until they were ready.

Since the Princess held the most senior rank on Omnipotence she carried responsibility to personally contact authorities on Octaladon. Of course, Captain Kalana had already notified the Galaxymbion High Council, Interworld Security and Defence, Interworld Citizenry and Interworld Transplex. Whilst GHC would already have communicated brief details of this incident to the Octaladonian presidency, she wanted to prepare the Octaladonians for the worst herself. The link took a few pulses to establish itself and then she was facing an elegant, petite woman of fairly advanced age.

“Greetings, Madame President. I am Princess Sebria of Caldia. Please forgive this intrusion, bringing you sad news. I believe you are aware of our discovery on Chelen 4, since the Galaxymbion High Council will have informed you. We are caring for your wounded and there are three missing people. Regrettably the Ambassador’s injuries are rather severe; he is in intensive surgery but may not survive. We will keep you informed as we discover more about this incident; a list of injured and deceased will be transmitted soon and I would like to talk to the families myself, when the time comes. There is one rather sensitive matter that we ask you to investigate; your starcruiser breached safety protocols. Its presence in this sector was undeclared and remained unknown until it crashed.”

“Princess Sebria, we have no vessels in your sector and know nothing of this. Did you say there was an Ambassador on board? Who, precisely, as we have not been provided with any names yet? We received only a brief message from GHC and considered the possibility that it was some kind of elaborate hoax by our enemies, the Glanes.”

“Ambassador Uexin Gurss, and I can confirm this is no hoax. As you know, The Galaxymbion takes such matters -”

“That’s impossible!” the President snapped, cutting Sebria off. “Uexin Gurss is home, on Octaladon. There must be some serious error on your part.”

Of course, for the President of a Primal Nexus world to imply that a senior representative of a FOUNDER planet was somehow in error was absurd and could even be construed as offensive. However, Sebria – like all FOUNDER citizens serving in social functions – did not react aggressively to accusatives.

“Regrettably that seems unlikely, President Tarss. Data is from Aurora itself, and the Ambassador’s staff carried appropriate identity disks. We appear to have a curious situation, and I personally invite you to send your own investigators to Chelen 4. Alternatively, we can deliver Aurora’s wreckage to Octaladon, when we bring your survivors, and – sadly – the remains of those who died, home to you.”

“A curious situation indeed, Princess Sebria. As stated earlier, the Ambassador, his staff and Aurora are safely accounted for on Octaladon. We have no vessels missing, especially in your quadrant. We are grateful for your concern so, to avoid seeming disrespectful, I will personally check our starship manifests here and contact you in the quickest possible time. Farewell, Princess Sebria.”

Sebria considered this brusqueness whilst looking at the blank screen after transmission cut. She chose not to categorise it as typical of Primal Nexus society. Tiakra Tarss may have a sharp personality, have had a bad day, or merely have found this outlandish event annoying. Possibly it was leftover behaviour from her world’s undisciplined past.