Eolai was carefully examining the shorter transmissions between the shuttlecraft and the larger spacecraft that his guests had arrived on. He tried various methods of examining the data. They were rapid fire, non-repeating, often interrupting each other. It was the first time he’d seen this sort of emission from the spacecraft.
He considered the possibility that his meddling had caused the guests to lose control of their shuttle and quickly dismissed it.
One representative of the data suddenly clicked in the pattern recognition part of his brain and he saw a connection between the data and another form of communication.
Sound.
It was obvious once he saw it, and once he saw it, it was easy to teach the computer to see it too. It took only a few moments for the computer to translate the broadcasted radiation into soundwaves. He smirked. Children indeed, broadcasting their voices into the night. There was no encryption, no secrecy, no attempts to hide this at all. Not even the basic protections of the Rocktala.
“Would you like to move to a secure line to discuss any matters with the chaplain, Sergeant?” a female sounding voice asked. The words were perfectly meaningless to Eolai, except for one thing.
They were spoken by a human. That was undeniably a human language.
“Darkworlders,” he said. He shook his head in amazement. “They’re darkworlders.”
“I don’t much have anything to say to him. My faith is a private thing, Captain. No changes to my will and testament either. Nothing I can think of at the moment for legal, except that I release all parties from any liability in the event of my death during this mission.”
A male voice replied from the shuttlecraft. Eolai shook his head in disbelief. This was the sort of story that everyone loved to hear about but never actually happened. Darkworlders, humans from a primitive planet that was only partially tamed before the liberation, discovering faster than light technology and emerging onto the universe, completely unaware of the empires surrounding them.
That they had come to this planet, this solar system, was so damn ironic that Eolai couldn’t help but laugh.
“Computer. Scan all previous emissions from the spacecraft for similar methods of encoding sound,” Eolai said. “Begin processing any files which appear to contain sound recordings for verbal human communication. Assume up to one hundred twenty thousand years of phonetic drift.”
The computer signaled that it was complying, while Eolai began issuing other orders. He locked down all weapons on the ship, both the ships weapons and the anti-boarding weapons which the Topokans could use to repell intruders. He opened the secure channel to his peers on the other system defense ships and, with a grin like he had just seen a Topokan spying on him kissing a girl, he informed the others that he’d been right all along.
“Our guests are Darkworlders. I declare that until they disgrace themselves they are clansmen coming into the light, and are to be treated with the compassion and dignity that they deserve.”
There was silence across the channels. “Is this a refugee ship? Are they in need of assistance?” one of his peers inquired.
“Undetermined at this time,” Eolai answered. “They are sending a representative to meet with me. They have shown many signs of being skittish, and many signs of being brave. Hopefully seeing a friendly face will put them at ease.”
“There are no darkworlds in this arm of the galaxy,” another of his peers objected.
“There are no registered darkworlds here,” another corrected her. “The very nature of darkworlds suggests that there are ones that we would not know about. It stands to reason that one might climb their way out into the universe completely unsupervised by humanity at large. If that is what we are witnessing, then we must applaud their accomplishments and welcome them boldly into the light.”
“What do we do? If nothing else we must identify which star they come from so that we might register their world into the records of humanity and see to it that they receive the proper protections from this harsh and malevolent universe,” A fourth ship captain said.
“We don’t fully understand the capabilities of their ship, we’re not even certain what its maximum range or fuel reserves are,” someone objected. “There are hundreds of thousands of stars to survey based on its theoretical capabilities.”
“I shall leave this discussion to you, my friends,” Eolai said. “I must prepare to receive my guest.”
Eolai turned to the Topokan’s on his ship, who were watching him nervously, for he’d been speaking in the high tongue which was harder for them to understand. It wasn’t a secret from them, exactly, but the second language of his people which was preserved through time which Eolai and all men and women in his position must learn to ensure proper communication. The Topokans had enough trouble learning the common tongue of the Yonohoan people and few of them managed to learn a second human language.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“My friends, you are to listen to my orders, and you are to follow them exactly on the pain of death,” he told the Topokans. The nervous creatures showed signs of anxiety as he gave his instructions, but they complied.
~~~~~
The shuttle set down in the docking bay and Diego cut the engines. He exhaled and tried to scratch his nose, which still itched. It had itched the entire way out here, dammit, and it was just getting more and more frustrating.
“Landing successful, Captain.”
“Confirmed. Remember, show no hostility. We don’t know how they’ll react to seeing a human,” the captain said.
“Captain, something to report,” he said. “The moment I touched down, it kicked in. They have artificial gravity.”
“Confirmed. Xenospecies has the technology to generate artificial gravity fields,” the captain said.
“Disembarking now.”
The radio clicked as Diego was getting out of his harnass to show that the captain had received his last communication. There was a slight delay, a few seconds, due to distance between him and the Seeker of New Discoveries. He cycled the airlock. When the outer door opened, he looked out, observing the interior of the loading bay.
It was packed full of aliens. He swallowed, looking at the ferocious looking creatures. They were each nine feet tall or larger, with thick musculuature covered by blue or green fur. Large eyes and teeth. And…
And they looked like Sully from Monsters Inc.
“Captain, I have eyes on the Xenospecies. Repeat I have eyes on the Aliens. They have come out to greet me. They are standing in ranks in an orderly file. They are large creatures, covered in fur. They do not appear to be wearing clothing. They, well, they look like a fictional cartoon character from a show that I watched in my youth. Monsters Inc. They look like James P. Sullivan. Also known as Sully. Seriously, the resemblance is uncanny.”
“Confirmed,” came the broadcast after the light delay lag. “Designating Xenospecies as Xenosapiens Sulivans at this time. Request clarification; the Sulivans are displaying no hostility at this time?”
“They’re just standing there in ranks,” Diego confirmed. He took a step forward, and suddenly, one of them broke from the others. It bolted for the door.
Once one of them was in motion, they all turned and fled.
“Correction. The Sulivans have left the cargo hanger. Repeat, the Sulivans have abandoned the cargo hanger and have left me by myself.” He paused. “Okay, that was weird. It’s almost like they’re scared of me. They’re each at least nine feet tall and look like they could rip me to shreds barehanded, but I swear I can smell their fear despite the fact that I’m wearing a vac-suit.”
“Hold position, Sergeant. We’re discussing how to handle this development.”
“Confirmed, Captain. Holding position,” he said.
Diego stood, examining the docking bay carefully, looking around so that his on board camera could get a good view. He wasn’t broadcasting live, but his suit was recording everything he saw. The large bay was brightly lit, an orange color that wasn’t displeasing to his eyes. There were two other shuttles inside of it, each larger and sleaker than his own, with obvious weapons attached to them. He swallowed nervously at the malicious glee that seemed to be radiating out of the spacecraft.
Movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and Diego turned in time to see one of the doors opening and an impossibility step into the hangar. His jaw dropped, and he almost forgot about the itch on his nose for a second. “No way,” he said.
“What is it, Diego? What do you see?” the captain asked over the radio.
“Someone just stepped into the hangar with me, Captain. They’re, they look human! A young man, approximately mid twenties. His head is a little strangely shaped, uncertain ethnicity, pale skin. His eyes are … I think their blue? With white hair. He’s wearing a grey shirt, shorts, and freaking sandals. He’s wearing sandals on an alien spacecraft for christ’s sake. I can see his toes.”
A pause. “Your transmission has been recorded, Diego.”
The young man lifted his hands, turned them over twice to show that they were empty, and continued to smile at his guest. Then he began to speak. Diego quickly turned on the external microphone to broadcast whatever the stranger was saying to the ship. It was a strangely lyrical language, and it had the tone of something between a practiced speech and a song. After a moment, the speech ended and the strange man stood silently, waiting for Diego to respond.
“Captain, did you get that?”
“Confirmed. Aurial recording of transmission received. Request for more information. The speaker is the man whom you described previously?”
“Yeah. He showed me his hands, I think it was to show that he wasn’t carrying a weapon, and then launched into that speech. He’s smiling at me now and waiting for me to respond.”
There was a pause. “Rebecca suggest repeating the gesture of showing your hands which he displayed. There might be cultural significance; she says it sounds like a peaceful gesture and that emulating it will show that we mean the ship no harm.”
“Confirmed,” Diego said, and he repeated the gesture.
The man standing across from him smiled. Then he touched a small device on his ear and said something else.
“I am Eolai,” the radio in his suit said a moment later. “I am pleasure you to be here. You are welcome guest.”