“Listen, Kathmin,” Rhubul started as they walked across the promenade towards the diner. “I want to tell you something about my friend we’re meeting today.”

“Ok, shoot,” replied Kathmin.

Rhubul continued, “This friend is not a scientist. In fact, I should probably get it out of the way and start with the fact that they’re a Dursk.”

Kathmin stopped walking and stared at Rhubul for a moment. “You’re joking,” he hoped. “How did you get them on the station? Surely security didn’t sanction that!”

“Keep your voice down,” Rhubul shushed as he turned and continued to walk. “Some other new friends intervened with station security to allow limited access for a diplomatic envoy for an afternoon. Officially, access was granted for an unspecified meeting with other diplomats. Unofficially we’re using the conference as cover, and we’re the diplomats.”

“Wow, just…so much to unpack there,” Kathmin sputtered. “We’re diplomats? When did that happen? And what other friends? You don’t have any other friends. I’d have known. There would have been meetings and support groups.”

Rhubul stopped and turned to face Kathmin, his frills tinging just a hint of orange. “I have friends,” Rhubul countered, momentarily distracted by Kathmin’s humor. “Look,” he continued as he recovered, “Measures were taken to avoid any unfortunate incidents, hopefully. I understand this is a lot to process, but I need you to trust me.”

“Oh sure, ‘Hey, Kathmin, let’s go sit across the table from a xenophobic space predator, the only sapient species I can think of that still prefers its food alive!’ He is probably only three standard units tall and outweighs us both, but I’m sure we can take him if he gets hungry,” Kathmin responded sarcastically.

“Kathmin…” Rhubul started.

“No, listen,” Kathmin interrupted, “I’m trained to understand, appreciate and relate to a variety of cultures, and even I think it’s fine that the Dursk want to stay hidden away in their dark little corner of nowhere. Frankly, the more sectors between them and the broader civilized Galactic Union, the better I’ll sleep at night. You know the scene you’ll create if these conference attendees see him, right? And how did you disguise him? Throw a box over him and slap a ‘mobile refrigeration unit’ sticker on it?”

“First, he’s a she,” Rhubul remarked. “Second, no one will see her because I threw a hooded robe around her and brought her through the maintenance tunnels to avoid some of the sharper olfactory senses of certain species here this week.”

“Oh, great,” Kathmin grumbled, “so she’s only your size but venomous. You understand how that’s not better, right?”

“I get it,” Rhubul sighed, “but this is important, and we need you to meet her.”

“We. Again, with the ‘we,’” Kathmin sighed. “Who are these friends you’re making so easily? I’ve known you for nearly 50 cycles, and I still only really like you when we’re drinking. Well, if I’m honest, when I’m drinking. I’ll tell you, though, I’m liking you a lot less now.”

“Will you simply trust me,” implored Rhubul?

Kathmin was silent for a moment, then nodded as they entered the diner. He asked, “Why do I feel like you’re about to hand me another cup of tea?”

----------------------------

The diner was empty and poorly lit. “Great,” Kathmin whispered to Rhubul. “This will make it easier for her to ambush us.”

Rhubul rolled his eyes and replied, “Do you ever stop? But you’re right. It will also be much harder for anyone outside to see inside. We have the place to ourselves. Our friends ensured that.”

“So, now they are ‘our’ friends,” Kathmin questioned?

“Oh shut up,” Rhubul responded. “I see her over in the corner.

Sure enough, over in the darkest corner of the room sat a hooded figure alone at a table. Kathmin’s second heart began picking up speed as his flight instinct tried to compel him to run for the door. The hooded figure looked up at them and acknowledged Rhubul with a head nod.

“Thank you for arranging this, Rhubul,” the figure purred. “My government sincerely appreciates the assistance and outreach.”

Rhubul replied, “You’re welcome, and I’m always glad to help a friend. As we’ve said, hopefully, we can use this development to continue to broaden relationships between the Dursk and the Galactic Union. Our task here with Kathmin is a good start.”

Kathmin listened in mild shock before interrupting, “Excuse me, could someone kindly tell me what is going on?”

Rhubul turned to Kathmin and began introductions, “Kathmin, please allow me to introduce you to Zhiela. Zhiela is the Dursk ambassador to the Galactic Union and shares your interest in cultural anthropology, particularly your newer musings. Zhiela, please allow me to present my friend, Kathmin. You’re already familiar with his credentials.”

Zhiela pulled her hood back, revealing strong felidae features and piercing green eyes. She faced Kathmin and said, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kathmin. Please, join me. I’ve heard so much about you and read several of your papers. How are you?”

Kathmin looked at her and Rhubul again. His frills were neutral, so he exhaled and sat down. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Zhiela,” he replied. “I’m well, thanks.”

Zhiela smiled, showing the hypodermic fangs on her upper jaws, and chuckled, “Liar, but you can relax, Kathmin; you’re among friends here. Besides, I can hear your second heart beating so fast it’s distracting.”

Kathmin, finally accepting the situation, chuckled and said, “Fair enough. You have a beautiful smile, by the way. It doesn’t make me want to think about jumping out a window at all.”

That elicited a small laugh and the fangs again from Zhiela. “Ok, Rhubul,” she said, “He’s funny. I can see why you like him. Shall we get started?”

Zhiela settled back in the booth and offered, “I know a lot about you, but perhaps a little more information about why I’m here, by way of introduction. As Rhubul indicated, I am the Dursk ambassador to the GU. We’re interested in speaking with you on a first contact situation that has arisen. As in most of these situations, we ask that this information be held in confidence until broader announcements are made. Are you comfortable with that?”

Kathmin was surprised. First contact situations were usually decades-long affairs. This could potentially disrupt his life for a while but could be a tremendous step in his career. He replied, “I understand. First contact situations are always delicate. I’m familiar with the process and nuances, though I have yet to participate.”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Zhiela nodded, “So, tell me, Kathmin, what do you know about stellar travel?”

Kathmin was slightly taken aback, “Not much beyond the basics from my required under graduate physics course. Is that relevant?” he asked?

Zhiela continued, “I understand it’s an odd place to start, but it will help me level set where you are, so please, enlighten me. It forms the basis for a lot of what will be discussed here today.”

Kathmin reached back decades into this past and responded, “Well, I remember there is both intrastellar and interstellar travel. Intrastellar refers to travel among celestial bodies within a given heliopause of a star system. Interstellar travel refers to travel between star systems.”

“That’s a good start,” Zhiela prompted, “Please expound.”

Kathmin considered the lunacy of sitting here in a dark café on a GU Prime station discussing fundamental physics with a Dursk around a first contact situation but just shook his head. This is what happened when you hung around Rhubul. Life got weird.

He continued, “Well, intrastellar travel is mostly gravitic drive based to travel near light speed between gravity wells within a system. The drives leverage the gravity of a nearby planetoid to create a gravitic pulse wave that the craft rides to its destination. The drive then elongates the wave as the destination is reached to slow down the approaching craft. It’s old tech and continuously improved but ridiculously efficient, allowing most star systems to be crossed in hours.”

Kathmin paused to see if that was sufficient, and after a slight nod from Zhiela, he continued, “Interstellar travel is achieved through stellar gates. These gates create…tunnels…between two points in space, allowing a vessel to transit instantaneously between stars. They are always built near their solar anchors for two reasons. First, the requisite power draws to engage the gate requires a level of power only a stellar body can generate. Second, the gates require a gravity well to anchor and hold the tunnel in place in subspace. Gates built away from gravity wells never function as, even if the power requirements can be solved for, which they can’t, the portal can’t anchor. The gates collapse in on themselves, reducing to a momentary singularity.”

Zhiela mused, “That’s very good, Kathmin. Now, why don’t my people or the GU build ships with gating technology built into them?”

Kathmin thought for a moment and then offered, “Well, I’d imagine two reasons. First, you’d need a ship big enough to hold a sun as its power source, and second, even if you had that, its own gravity well would form the anchor for one end of the tunnel. No travel could occur without collapsing the tunnel to a momentary singularity. Gravity is nothing if not consistent.”

Zhiela chuckled, “No doubt. So, let’s assume for a second that you could solve for both the power requirements and the stability of your end of the tunnel. What would be required to traverse the tunnel, as you say, safely?”

Again, Kathmin considered, reaching back into theories of physics he hadn’t ruminated on in decades. “Well,” he began, “I suppose you would need the other end anchored somehow to a stellar body to allow an exit, though I have no idea how that would be accomplished without a gate.”

Zhiela asked, “Indeed. What would happen if that receiving stellar body wasn’t there when the tunnel was opened?”

Kathmin, tiring of the elementary physics discussions, responded, “I have no idea, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be good.”

Zhiela looked at Rhubul questioningly. He nodded, and she turned back to Kathmin. “Ok, Kathmin,” she continued, “You’re directionally correct and specifically wrong, but I think you’ll follow the theory. Allow me to build on that. As you said, the gates work because each end is anchored in a gravity well. Subspace is science-fiction and simply a way to visualize a dimension that we can’t enter but can traverse using massive amounts of energy and gravity. Let’s make some assumptions here. A craft that could produce the requisite energy and stable gravity well could select another star and create a portal within the hot zone of that stellar body. Travel could occur instantaneously to that point. However, let’s say that you’re 100 light-years from that stellar body. What you know about that star is 100 years old. What if that star went nova since then? Your gravity well anchor would either be a black hole, and you’re dead on arrival, or a neutron star, in which case you’re either dead on arrival if you’re close to it, or the magnetic storms will kill you shortly after arrival by ripping apart your ship or blasting you with high energy radiation. However, sometimes though vary rarely, low-metallicity stars can produce matter and antimatter at the end of life. This sets up a chain reaction leading to an explosion that ejects all stellar material leaving nothing behind. In that situation, there would be no end to the tunnel. It’s always been assumed the tunnel would collapse and the traversing ship be lost in the momentary singularity.”

Kathmin looked up curiously, “You said that past tense like we now know something different.”

Rhubul chimed in, “See, I told you he was smart. He makes connections quickly.”

“Yes, yes,” Zhiela said, “you’re brilliant. Now shut up and don’t interrupt.”

“I’m starting to like her,” Kathmin whispered to Rhubul out of the side of his mouth.

“You too, Kathmin,” Zhiela chided.

“I’m liking her less,” Kathmin again whispered to Rhubul.

Zhiela flashed the fangs again, “Ok, so cards on the table. That collapse is what we’ve always thought would happen, until about a year ago when a ship suddenly appeared near Roade in a dead system near our core, stellar group about three light years out.”

Rhubul hissed and laughed, “Yes, a ‘ship.’ Calling this a ship is like referring to a moon as an asteroid.”

“That’s true,” Zhiela acknowledged. “We only found them, as the system is a former Class M, that experienced a supernova. That star expired around 76,000 galactic standard years ago. If the star was still there and hadn’t blasted the planetary bodies, two of them would have been able to support life. We happened to have a research substation in the debris field studying the after echoes of the antimatter expulsion. As Rhubul said, describing this vessel as enormous is the definition of an understatement. Our research station immediately began trying to establish communications. Our new guests were able to respond through quantum entangled communication, but we had no frame of reference to understand each other. Over the next several days, we attempted to get them to leave the area. Our nearest patrol fleets were 6 months from there. Eventually, we were able to get them to understand our desire that they exit the core systems area, instructing them to move to the Roade system, the nearest non-core star. We expected the journey to take them some time as it was about a three-year journey without a jump gate. This would allow us to prepare and analyze the collected data and scans. We’d be there waiting and prepared when they arrived. Our research station registered a massive power spike, gravity build, and the ship vanished. We registered its appearance immediately in Roade and dispatched the core world fleet to meet them through the gate network. As this was a first contact situation, per the Treaty of Onimasur, we notified the GU, and a team was put together to join our response. That’s where Rhubul comes into the story.”

“Great summary, Zhiela,” Rhubul stated, pulling his data slate from his pocket. “We think these beings invented a form of gateless hyperspatial travel and targeted that former stellar system as their exit, possibly to colonize the system given the size of their ship. Unbeknownst to them, there was no star anymore, so there was no exit for them. They should have been destroyed in a momentary singularity immediately upon entering the tunnel, given everything we know of gate travel. Instead, what appears to have occurred is that they traversed the dimensional rift at the speed of light. The trip was instantaneous to them, but in reality, required tens of thousands of years. It’s not possible to overstate the amount of new science here. Kathmin, this is not a normal first contact situation. It’s not like we’ve been monitoring them for decades, as would typically occur in this situation. The other members of the first contact team and I have spent the last year working to translate their language and trying to determine if it’s even safe to meet without space suits following the usual inquiries on atmospheric requirements, micro-biomes, dietary processes, etc. You know the drill, and by the way, you wouldn’t believe their micro-biomes. We’re ready for that in-person step now, but believe your expertise makes you uniquely qualified to contribute in this phase.”

Kathmin was intrigued but confused. “I don’t understand,” he said. “This sounds like a unique opportunity, but surely there have to be anthropologists with actual experience in these situations. Why am I here?”

Rhubul looked at Zhiela and passed Kathmin the slate. An image appeared. Kathmin’s eyes widened, and his mouth worked up and down as he tried to find the words. Zhiela heard his second heart triple its pace. “That’s right, Kathmin,” Zhiela purred, “it’s time to meet your demons.”