Creative Commons – The Plainsrunner – Chapter Fifty

Continuing the serial release of The Plainsrunner under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license – (CC-BY-SA).

They meet the people of Green Comet. The vessel from Sunward approaches, and things get tense.

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Chapter Fifty – Hooves of the Prophet

“Tallgrass, this is Frances,” said Archie. “She and a few of her friends saved Green Comet from annihilation when the Visitor was destroying our world. Later, after they discovered the Prime, we all went on a mission together to the world of the Makers, the ones who built the Visitor and sent it out to explore. I’ll let Frances introduce her companions.”

“My goodness,” said the golden-eyed Frances. “It all sounds so grand, doesn’t it?” She took her hand off the window and indicated the person next to her, slightly behind her left shoulder, looking at Tallgrass with penetrating eyes. “Tallgrass of Sage, this is my best friend and lifelong companion, Elgin, without whom saving Green Comet would have been impossible, and in some ways pointless.” The man nodded, and Frances went on to introduce the rest of her friends, four more males and two more females.

Tallgrass noticed that his hand was still on the window, so he took it off to introduce his crewmates. “And one more,” he said, “who’s not here. He was shot and injured by the Prime.”

“We heard about that,” said Frances. “It’s not the first time, either. The Prime simply does not like weapons.”

“Maybe you could tell us about the other times,” said Tallgrass. “And about the Prime. And the Visitor you mentioned. I get the feeling that they have something to do with our legends of destruction falling on us from the sky.”

“They do,” said Archie, “but for now we have something more immediate to consider.” He did something that caused another view to pop up in the window to the right of the people on the other side. It must have appeared on their side too, because they all looked to their left. It was a patch of starry blackness with what looked like a piece of machinery in it. Archie said, “This is the Sunwardian vessel. It’s getting close and should arrive in about six hours.”

They all stared at it and Supervisor Steel said, “They flew out here in that?” His skin rippled. “It looks like a prototype.”

“Yes,” said Archie. “We think they rushed things to try to beat you here.”

Fran’s friend Elgin said, “Are those weapons on the outside of it?”

“They might be,” said Archie.

“I’m sure they are,” said Steel.

Archie shook his head. “If they try to use those and the Prime reacts …”

“It will damage their vessel, won’t it?” said Steel.

“It will breach its structural integrity,” said Archie.

They were all quiet, thinking, when the alien Frances said, “If they do use their weapons, then they’d better be in their pressure suits.”

“Right,” said Steel. “I’ve got to get back to the Emissary to warn them.” He pulled away from the window, then stopped. “It’s been an honor to meet you,” he said to Frances and her friends. “I hope we can talk again, but for now I must do this.” He nodded and turned again to leave. Tallgrass and Wayfarer said hasty goodbyes and went after him, followed by Archie.

As they labored up the hallway, which they now noticed had a slight slope of a degree or two, Archie said, “Let’s try something,” and he held out a foot for Steel to hold. Then, with the little alien flapping in front, towing a chain of three Grasswindians, they made their way back to the airlock.

“Sunwardian vessel, this is Supervisor Steel of the Grasswindian vessel Emissary, over.” Steel said to Archie, “Are you sure this is getting out?”

“Yes, certainly,” said Archie. “There is a dumb relay outside that re-broadcasts your signal at the same power and frequency.”

Steel nodded and keyed the microphone. “Sunwardian vessel, this is the Emissary, over.” He clipped the microphone to the panel and said, “Maybe they changed frequencies.”

“That doesn’t seem likely,” said Wayfarer.

“No,” said Steel, “it doesn’t.” He was pushing himself away from the console when the speaker popped and emitted the hum of a carrier wave.

“Grasswindian vessel Emissary, this is Sunwardian vessel Hooves of the Prophet, over.” The voice spoke impeccable Grasswindian, but with a definite accent.

“Hooves of the Prophet?” said Tallgrass.

“Quite an accent,” said Wayfarer.

“Never mind,” said Steel. “At least they’re talking to us.” He said to Archie, “They have a different language, don’t they?”

“Yes,” said Archie. “Like you, they have a global language, but it has diverged considerably from yours over the millennia.”

“Your translator works for their language too, right?” At Archie’s nod he asked, “Will it translate directly from theirs to ours?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Thank you,” said Steel, picking up the microphone. “Hooves of the Prophet, this is Emissary. Greetings. It is good to hear your voice. I trust you had a good voyage.”

“Yes, thank you,” came the heavily accented voice. “And you?”

“It was good,” said Steel. “I want to thank you for learning our language. That was thoughtful. Over.”

“You were filling the heavens with it, so it wasn’t difficult, over.”

“Right,” said Steel. “I still appreciate the effort. Be advised, though, that you can speak in your own language. We have a translator.”

“A translator? How have you done that? Did you capture a Sunwardian? Or perhaps you have been spying on us.”

“No of course not,” said Steel. “It’s a translating machine. It belongs to the people living on the Prime.”

“The Prime? This is what you call the Ark of God? Why have you put people on the Ark of God?”

“No, no,” said Steel. “We haven’t put people on the, uh, Prime. We found them here when we got here, and they call it the Prime. And they’re the ones who have the translator, and it can translate your language directly to ours.”

After a pause, the reply came. “Do you mean there are people who have been living on the Ark all this time? Are they the ones who spied on us?”

“No. No. They are not Grasswindian. They are from another star. And they’ve been studying us. Gathering information. Not spying.”

“That is a fine distinction between gathering information and spying, isn’t it? Do you speak for these aliens?”

“You can speak to them yourselves any time. I wanted to speak to you first to prepare you, and also to warn you about your weapons. We thought it might be better coming from someone more familiar.”

“Weapons? How do you know we have weapons?”

“We can see them.”

“How? We can’t see you at all.”

“No, of course. We’re inside the Prime.”

“Inside the Ark? Have they captured you? Are you prisoners? Is this why you lie for them?”

“I’m not lying!” snapped Steel, losing patience. He gathered himself and said, “I just wanted to warn you about your weapons. It’s all right that you have them. They don’t mind that. Just don’t use them. The Prime apparently doesn’t like weapons.”

“Which is it, the Ark or the aliens? Either way, we will use our weapons if we see fit.”

“Okay. That’s your choice. But make sure to put on your pressure suits first. We’re told that when the Prime destroys your weapons, it won’t be able to avoid breaching your hull.”

That resulted in a long silence. When the Sunwardian spoke again, it was in his own language. “Very well. We will keep that in mind. Meanwhile, we will be passing your location in three hours. Tell your alien friends not to try anything.” The translation was perfect, and it came directly out of Emissary’s speaker.

Steel cocked an eyebrow at Archie, and Archie shrugged. While Tallgrass was marveling that it was possible for both of them to understand each other’s gestures, Archie said, “It seemed least complicated to use your own speaker for the translation.”

Steel shrugged and lifted the microphone. “Hooves of the Prophet,” he said, “do I understand correctly that you are not going to stop here?”

There was another long pause, then, “We cannot stop. Our engine failed not long before you called us. God, in his wisdom, has deemed it fitting.”

Steel couldn’t think of what to say. He looked at the others. Archie was looking away and speaking in a low voice, Wayfarer was looking at her supervisor, and Tallgrass went to his console. Finally Steel keyed his mic and said, “Hooves of the Prophet, please confirm you have engine failure and have lost control of your vessel.”

“That is affirmative,” they replied. “This was not unexpected. We had to hasten our departure and use this prototype to ensure we would arrive before you. It is God’s will.”

“How can …” began Steel, but stopped because he intuitively guessed that it wouldn’t do any good to point out the logical inconsistency.

Tallgrass looked over and said, “They will miss us because they needed a few more hours of thrust to match our velocity.”

“Understood,” said Steel. “Will they swing back toward Sunward? Maybe close enough to get rescued?”

“Yes, but it will take years.”

“So, they’ll be dead. Can we intercept them and take them aboard Emissary?”

“Theoretically, but by the time we did it would be too late. And we wouldn’t be able to get home.”

“Of course,” said Steel. “We wouldn’t have the fuel, would we?” He squeezed the microphone, frowning deeply.

Tallgrass went back to his calculations, just in case. Wayfarer went to her console to try some ideas of her own. Steel raised the mic to his mouth and said, “Hooves of the Prophet, stand by while we try to figure this out. Don’t give up.”

“We do not give up,” they said. “We do God’s work without question, and surrender our will to his. We give our small lives now in the certain knowledge of eternity at his side later.”

“Okay,” said Steel, “but it’s not a certainty yet. We’re still working on it.”

“You won’t find anything. We’ve been working on it and I can assure you that we’ve missed nothing.”

“Understood,” said Steel, “but we’re not giving up yet.”

After a short pause they said, “Acknowledged. Your efforts are futile, but we appreciate the gesture. Hooves of the Prophet, out.”

Steel replaced the microphone and said, “Well? Anything?”

Wayfarer shook her head and Tallgrass said, “There’s just no way. With the velocities, the fuel available and the time constraints, they’re right. There’s no way.”

Steel pounded his thigh, glowering. “I can’t accept that. Not while there’s still time.”

They were standing in descending gloom when Archie said, “We might be able to do this.” When they turned to him he said, “I’ve alerted my people and they’re preparing to launch a couple of scouts.”

“Scouts?” said Steel.

“Those vessels on top of the Prime, right?” said Tallgrass.

“Right,” said Archie. “The scouts are the small ones. Only thirty meters. We don’t want to alarm them.”

“But what can they do?” asked Tallgrass. “I assume they can catch it, but then what?”

“They’re planning on stringing some webbing between the scouts and catching it. Then they can haul it back here and put it in an airlock.”

“Oh, is that all?” said Steel.

They recognized Archie’s response as a laugh. “Yes,” he said. “It’s going to take skill and patience and timing. They’ll have to match its velocity precisely to minimize damage. There are a lot of things they’ll have to get right, but they think they can do it.”

They did. There were two heavy distant clunks as the scouts separated from the Prime, and then it took most of a day. There were a few tense moments, but in the end they had three of the little aliens out there in their pressure suits, guiding Hooves of the Prophet into an airlock of similar dimensions adjacent to the one the Emissary was in. Other than a bent antenna, the little vessel was virtually undamaged.