Creative Commons – The Plainsrunner – Chapter Fifty-One

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

The Sunwardians on the Hooves of the Prophet get introduced to the Prime. They don’t seem to much like it.

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Chapter Fifty-One – Pilgrim One

While they waited they caught up on some chores, including reporting to Mission Control.

“It’s good to hear your voice again, Specialist Wayfarer. We were beginning to wonder.”

“Sorry,” said Wayfarer. “There’s been a lot going on.”

“Do tell.”

So she did. The last report had been just after the circumnavigation, when there hadn’t been much to tell other than how big everything was. Since then they’d gone inside, met an alien, been introduced to his friends back home and talked to the Sunward vessel, which was currently being rescued.

Mission Control had a lot of questions. What were the aliens like? What was the big vessel like inside? What was it and what was it doing there? Did it pose a danger to Grasswind? How did the aliens communicate instantaneously across light years? Why did they shoot Blunt? How was he doing? Are the aliens antagonists? What were the Sunwardians like? What was their vessel like? Were the aliens really rescuing them? Why?

Wayfarer did her best, but a lot of the questions didn’t have any answers yet, and the ones that did had answers that were big, complicated and incomplete. With help from Steel and Tallgrass she was able to bring Mission Control up to date, and to reassure them on most points. The aliens seemed quite nice. They lived on comets since the Visitor destroyed their world. This vessel, the Prime, appeared to have been the Visitor’s cargo vessel. No, it doesn’t appear to pose any danger. Yes, it shot Blunt, but we were warned not to use our weapons. No, we don’t know how the window works, but we’re sure they will tell us eventually. No, we don’t think it’s a trick. The Sunwardians? They seem okay, if a little suspicious. Okay, paranoid. Their vessel is a prototype. That’s why it broke down. Yes, Archie arranged a rescue right away.

There were a lot of questions and it took a long time with a six second delay at every back and forth. At last Mission Control said, “We’d better let you go so you can recharge your batteries.”

“No problem there,” said Wayfarer. “We’re hooked into the Prime’s grid, so we’ve got all the electricity we need, and the batteries are fully charged. They’re also replenishing all of our consumables. We’ll have all the fuel and oxygen and water we need for the return trip.”

“What? No food?”

“The food goes without saying. You should try the iceberry muffins. Fortunately the chirality of the amino acids is the same as ours. Archie says it’s because our stars formed out of the same molecular cloud.” Wayfarer paused, then said, “Tallgrass wants you to tell his mom that.”

“Will do. She gets everything anyway.”

“Thanks,” said Wayfarer, grinning at Tallgrass. “We’d better go. They’re about to put Hooves of the Prophet into its airlock, and we think it’s best if we’re there to greet them.”

“Understood. We’ll be standing by for updates. Mission Control out.”

The Hooves of the Prophet rested on the center of the floor of a fifteen meter cube, just as the Emissary did. Like the Emissary, it rested on a patch of setae, which held it in place. After the room was pressurized, the hatch opened and two pressure-suited figures floated out and explored the room. Like the Emissary’s airlock, the only thing of interest in this one was the five meter high door.

The two figures were hovering by their vessel watching the door when it began to slowly open. They both put their hands on the weapons they wore. As the crew of the Emissary had earlier, they had to lower their eyes to look at the person entering the room.

It was a small quadruped whose scales gleamed softly in the light. It walked on the floor with a peculiar sticking and peeling gait. In addition to its four legs it had two arms, and it was carrying a large sack in one hand. It stopped just inside the doorway, which remained open behind it, and put down the sack. Facing them, obviously unarmed, it spoke and said, “Greetings Sunwardians. Welcome to the Prime. My name is Supervisor Steel.” He glanced at their hands. “Are those weapons?”

The Sunwardians looked down, then one of them spoke. “Yes,” he said, “of course they are. It was my decision that the situation was uncertain and arming ourselves would be prudent.”

Steel nodded. “It’s all right,” he said. “I did the same thing. They don’t mind if you wear your weapons. Just, please, don’t try to use them.”

The Sunwardian’s stance got more aggressive. “I will decide if we use them or not,” he said.

Steel noted how threatening they looked in their pressure suits. Bigger, with an anonymous uniformity. He thought about how four of them must have looked to the little alien, Archie, and he was impressed again. He said, “That is your decision, of course. I must emphasize again, though, that you do not use them, for your own safety.” They said nothing, but they moved their hands away. “Very good,” said Steel. “Now, let’s complete the introductions, if you please.”

The one who had been speaking said, “I am Pilgrim One, and this is Pilgrim Two.”

“Nice to meet you Pilgrim One, Pilgrim Two. Do you have real names as well? I assume those are your designations for the mission.”

“Those are are real names,” said Pilgrim One.

“Very well,” said Steel. “Now, I suggest you remove those suits. It’s safe and you’ll be much more comfortable.” When they looked at each other but did nothing, he said, “It will also conserve your resources. You can’t wear them forever.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” said Pilgrim One, beginning to remove his suit. “We’re already dead. We were dead when our engine failed. When our mission failed. There’s no point in prolonging it.”

As they helped each other out of their suits, Steel reached into his sack and pulled out three sets of booties and stuck them to the floor. When they were done he picked up two sets and walked forward. He held up a foot to show them his bootie, then demonstrated the peculiar walking technique while they put theirs on. While they were practising he said, “There’s one more set for your crewmate. Pilgrim Three, I presume?”

Their hands went to their thighs, where they had strapped their pistols after removing their suits. “Who told you we have a third crew member?” demanded Pilgrim One.

“No one,” said Steel. “It just stands to reason. You wouldn’t undertake such a long mission with just two. That wouldn’t be enough. And I don’t think Hooves of the Prophet would support four. That leaves three. Also you’re hyper-vigilant and a little paranoid. Holding one back would be a reasonable precaution.”

Pilgrim Two took offense, but Pilgrim One nodded and took his hand off his weapon. He turned to his vessel and called, “Number Three, take off your suit and come out here.” He looked at Steel and almost smiled. He said, “You understand the demands of command, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Steel, smiling back. “I understand protecting your crew and your mission.”

As Pilgrim Two looked on suspiciously, Pilgrim One nodded, sharing the moment with his peer, the only one who could fully understand. Then he said, “We have no mission. Hooves of the Prophet is no longer serviceable. We are never going home.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to write off your mission,” said Steel. “Archie tells me he thinks they can fix your vessel. They should even be able to make a few improvements to make it safer. Things you probably would have done anyway if you weren’t in such a hurry.”

“Archie?”

“Our host. The one who met us in the other airlock. You know, if you don’t want to risk it, they could attach your vessel to one of theirs and carry you there much quicker. You could even ride inside their vessel if you wanted.”

“We’ll think about it. We’ll talk it over with Mission Guidance. In the meantime, when can we meet this Archie? I would like to convey greetings from the Most High Servant of Sunward.”

“Of course,” said Steel. “You’ll meet him. But first I’d like to introduce you to the rest of my crew, beginning with Mission Specialist Blunt. He will show you why you don’t want to draw your weapons.”

“I find it hard to accept that you would allow them to injure your crewman, and do nothing about it.”

The introductions were made and Pilgrim One was having a private talk with Supervisor Steel, while the rest of the two crews were getting to know each other. The two from Hooves of the Prophet were both staring at Wayfarer, who was beginning to look uncomfortable.

“And that,” said Pilgrim One, pointing at them. “A woman on a mission like this.”

Steel smiled and said, “Mission Specialist Wayfarer is a valuable member of my crew.”

“Doing what? Is she there to service your needs?”

Steel’s smile vanished and his brow grew heavy, descending over narrowed eyes. “No,” he said quietly. “Why? Is that what your women are to you?”

“No!” said Pilgrim One, shocked and offended. “Our women are revered. They are sacred vessels of God’s gift of life.” He drew himself up in haughty superiority.

Steel’s throat filled with a jumble of angry responses, but he swallowed them and said, “Our women are our equals, and their bodies serve them, not us. Specialist Wayfarer is good at what she does, and I’d gladly have a whole crew just like her.”

Pilgrim One smirked. “What would you have done if they had shot her instead of Blunt?” he asked.

“They wouldn’t have shot her because she wouldn’t have drawn her weapon.”

“But if she had? Then what? I don’t think you would have just stood by then, would you?”

Steel sighed. He said, “That kind of speculation leads nowhere. The fact is, Blunt lost discipline and paid the price. And we had been warned.”

“So you let them get away with it. Sacrificed one of your crew to prudence, or worse.”

Steel spoke through stiff lips. “I will be answering for my decision when we get back to Grasswind. I am required to explain myself to them. I am not required to explain myself to you.” He glared at the Sunwardian. “Yes, they injured Blunt, but they could have just as easily killed him. They could have killed all of us, but they didn’t. If you think you can do better, then be my guest. Order one of your crew to shoot Archie when he comes.”

Pilgrim One’s eyes flickered, but he maintained the rest of his haughty demeanor. “I will decide what orders I give, not you,” he said.

“Of course,” said Steel, “and I will decide mine.”

Pilgrim One looked as if he wanted to say more, but he closed his mouth and looked away. He said, “So, where is your alien? Why doesn’t he show himself?”

“He’ll be here shortly,” said Steel. “We thought it would be best if we met you first, to give you time to prepare. To be honest, the weapons on your ship worried me. I wanted to assure myself that you wouldn’t do anything rash.”

With a pitying look, Pilgrim One said, “Too delicate for the harsh realities of life, eh Steel? Well, stand aside then. I’ll show you how to deal with these aliens.”

At that moment there was a movement in the doorway, caught by the prey eyes of them all, and they turned to watch Archie enter. The Sunwardians put their hands on their pistols, and Steel got his crew to separate themselves from them, just in case.

Archie flew in about two meters off the floor. Just inside the doorway he sculled with his wings and put his feet down. Folding his wings, he said, “Welcome to the Prime. My name is Archie. Those are weapons, aren’t they?”