> Jessica Richards
> Date: March? Maybe?
> Location: Freaking Outer Space
Jessica hadn't intended to get abducted by aliens. If she had, she'd have prepared better. Paid more attention to science fiction, for one. That had always been something she'd stayed far, far away from. Those nerds were just . . . weird. Probably all incels, too.
More importantly, if she'd known what she'd be getting into, Jessica would have paid more attention to languages. And probably taken something other than French.
“What's she saying?” Jessica asked, as one of the Asian women -- small, rather plain, and looking as scared as Jessica felt -- chattered to the dumpy Japanese kid.
“She say her name is Zhao Hua,” the Japanese kid replied. He was short and dumpy, wearing jeans and some sort of anime t-shirt, and had introduced himself as Chris Taka-something. “She from Guandong. She say she was walking to work when they took her.”
“Guess we all joined that club,” Jessica muttered. The same thing had happened to her, except she'd been walking to her car in the parking lot after supervising an after-school program. The last thing she remembered was a strange triangle-shaped object bigger than a bus float overhead. Chris had been at an all-night gaming event in Japan and got snatched at dawn. No one else who was awake spoke English, but they all probably had the same sort of story.
Jessica hugged herself, back to one of the plain grey metal walls, studded with random pipes and panels. They were in a large space, lit with large overhead panels -- and the light seemed weird somehow -- at least thirty feet by twenty with probably a twelve-foot ceiling. She was bad at spacial recognition, but she knew how big her studio apartment was and this was bigger. There were two doors. The larger one had a window in it, which she'd already looked through. She'd regretted it instantly. She took a deep breath at the memory, trying to calm her anxiety, but the strangely thick air seemed to catch in her throat.
There were eleven people in the room, five of them still unconscious. The latter were two white men, a tattooed guy who looked like a Latinx gangbanger, another brown guy who seemed more Indian, and a big African-American guy. Actually, all of them were pretty big; the Latinx guy was more stocky than tall, and the Indian was thin, but they all looked well over two hundred pounds. Everyone else who had woken up from whatever they'd been drugged with were on the smaller size. Jessica wondered if that meant the men who were still out got a larger dose or something.
In addition to Chris, Jessica, and Jow or whatever her name was, there was a sullen and suspicious-looking man who sounded Russian, a white guy who apparently only spoke Spanish and was carefully walking around the room looking at everything, an older Asian woman in a nice pantsuit, and a very angry German woman in an evening outfit that would cost Jessica a year's salary. That last one was talking loudly but haltingly to the Russian guy, like she thought he was hard of hearing . . . or maybe “talking at” was better since the Russian barely said a word.
“What you think they want with us?” Chris actually sounded excited. Of all of them, he seemed to be taking this best. It was probably because it was the only real thing that had happened to a nerd like him in years. “You think they want experiment on us? Or want help from us?”
“You think they really kidnapped us and stuck us in a room with no toilet to ask us for a favor?” Jessica couldn't help the sarcasm, though she felt a little guilty at the way the kid's face drooped. “Look, Chris, I don't know why they snatched us. Maybe they were bored and want us for a zoo.”
“Chikushō!” The kid looked around the room like he was seeing it for the first time,. “I did not notice. No toilet! Why give us beds but no toilet?”
Jessica thought it was rather generous to call those weird plastic mats they woke up on “beds,” but whatever. “Maybe they don't know we need them. Who knows what they look like?”
A yell interrupted whatever the kid was going to say. Looked like one of the unconscious white guys was up.
“Who the fuck are you guys?” he growled, rolling to his feet in one smooth motion. He looked ready to fight. “What did you do to me? Where am I?”
“It cool, it cool!” Chris held up both hands to the much larger man. “We abducted with you.”
“Who are you, kid?” The white guy looked him up and down, narrowing his eyes. “Nihongo ga hanashimasu ka?”
“Hai!” Chris looked startled, but pleased. He continued in Japanese for a few minutes, but eventually the white guy motioned him to stop.
“Hang on. Way too fast for me. Um. Haya sugiru. Anata no onamae wa?”
“Takahashi Kiyoshi,” Chris said, bowing. “But call me Chris. You speak Japanese very well.”
“No I don't, but thanks anyway. I served a tour in Okinawa once. Name's Peter Baines, US--” He broke off, looking around the room again. “Wait. Where are we, and who took us?”
“Aliens,” Jessica told him. “I'm Jessica Richards. That's Zow Wa and Song.” She pointed at the Chinese and Korean women in turn. “Not sure about the others.”
“Zhao Hua,” the Chinese woman corrected Jessica.
“That's what I said.”
“Great, great.” Peter glared at them all. “But who's really got us? What do they want with all of us?”
“Told you, aliens.”
Peter rolled his eyes and looked at Chris expectantly. Right. It figured he'd be a misogynist who wouldn't believe the woman.
“No, is true.” Chris nodded. “Feel pull? Gravity?” He hopped in place to demonstrate.
“Huh?” Peter bounced on his heels twice, then jumped once. He stumbled slightly when he landed “Woah. I thought I was just feeling light-headed from the knockout gas or whatever. What is this place?”
“What you last remember? Light in sky? Were you alone outside?”
“Yeah . . .” Peter frowned. “But that's ridiculous.”
“Go look out the window,” Jessica told him, too tired to argue.
“Fine.” Peter scowled. He walked over to the big door, stumbling twice as he got used to walking in the lower gravity. He froze as he got to the window, then slowly got closer until his face was pressed up against the glass.
Jessica hugged herself, remembering the massive surge of vertigo she'd felt when she looked out into that spiraling, impossible void, filled with more stars than she'd ever seen on the clearest night.
“Woah,” Peter breathed, barely loud enough to be heard. “We're in space.”
----------------------------------------
> Chief Supervisor Holm Dar
> Date: 2.15.2623 HC
> Location: Librarian Survey Ship Curious Observer, transiting Sector E5J7
“Have you found anything interesting, Nna?” Holm Dar asked as he entered the cargo bay control room.
“They have been waking up.” Other than the trilling that was almost too high for Holm to hear, which Nna's voice synthesizer converted to Hegemony Standard, the tsirlan held perfectly still. The smart chair had adapted to his form and position to cradle him as he held his spiny appendages close to his carapace. “It appears the information from the previous expedition was accurate, though the dosage's effect varied more by size than expected. The readings from their implants are being calibrated. Also, they do not all speak each others' languages.”
“We knew they were from different tribal groups and that the natives still had a wide variety of languages.” Holm shrugged. “That was part of the purpose of taking subjects from different regions. Why is that particularly interesting?”
“That they have so much difficulty communicating with each other.” Nna unfolded one manipulator to tap at the virtual keyboard in front of him. A chart sprang into existence over the console, showing an analysis of what they had downloaded from the natives' datanet. Specifically, Holm realized, the distribution of languages. “Their datanet is dominated by one language, which they call In'kissh. That makes logical sense, as the Domination would prefer to encourage conformity. There are other languages, many others, but over thirty percent of the datanet is in In'kissh and preliminary analysis indicates that most regular users prefer In'kissh data. This seemed to indicate that most users would be familiar with the In'kissh language. Instead, it appears that only four of the specimens speak the language well enough for conversation. Three more seem to understand a few words. Four of the specimens speak what appear to be three different dialects of the same language, which the computer has tentatively identified as Sa'pnissh; but these dialects are from three different continents, while those who speak In'kissh appear to share the same dialect.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“What do you learn from that?” Holm was interested; not in the data itself, but in the inevitable conclusion. His friend would analyze small bits of data every waking moment, but would only go through this kind of explanation if he had a fascinating result to share. When they had been novices together, their instructors had been less than patient with this trait; but even if it wasn't immediately useful, Nna's analyses were always interesting.
“I am of course hampered by our sample size,” Nna demurred. “And while the specimens all came from high-population areas, they were chosen for being isolated and in the open rather than as a true cross-section of their society. But the data from these individuals would indicate that In'kissh is not being imposed artificially on the others, despite its dominance among their tribal languages and dialects. In fact, the large specimen there, Subject Eight, is instead conversing in two other languages as well, Sa'pnissh and Gyp'aniss. I had thought he was of a ruling class from the data I analyzed, based on skin color and his tribe of origin, but he appears to have traveled to 'serve' in other tribal lands. I am unclear as to what that entails, but evidently he is not part of their ruling class.”
“Skin color?”
“I have found many references to the concept that their skin color indicates a ruling or subservient class.”
“Bizarre.”
“Well, they are primitives,” Nna pointed out. “It is not uncommon among the uplifted species, even early in their incorporation into true civilization.”
“Including tsirlans?” Holm teased. Nna's species had only been uplifted relatively recently.
“Of course not.” Nna's synthesized voice shifted pitch slightly, and Holm's long experience meant he heard the humor clearly. “Tsirlans have always been enlightened. When we oppressed each other, it was entirely logical.”
The hatch opened again before Holm could respond, and a pranglian entered. This wasn't Rossh, however; he wore the insignia of an entirely different Guild.
“Greetings, Librarian Deputy Supervisor Holm.” The blue-scaled reptilian bowed. “Are the experiments going well?”
“What are you doing here, Spacer Senior Journeyman Sinak?” Holm scowled. “You know regulation. Librarian work is off-limits to you without prior authorization!”
“But this is not a Librarian laboratory,” Sinak pointed out without hesitation. “This is a cargo bay. As the ranking Spacer for this ship, regulations state I am allowed here to check on systems vital to the function of the ship and crew.”
“He is correct,” Nna said.
“Thank you, Under-Supervisor Nna,” Holm growled, using Nna's title in front of the outsider. He knew it was technically true that the Spacer was allowed here, but it was clearly an attempt to flout regulation by keeping to its exact letter.
Hegemony regulations made it very clear what were and were not the areas of responsibility for each of the Five Guilds. Librarians collected and organized data, and so the task of scouting systems for civil matters fell to them; but since the Spacer Guild was the primary regulator of space travel, this meant the Surveyor Agency was often looked down on for being too close to violating Guild separation. There was no other way to do it, however; if the Librarians used Spacer vessels for exploration, then the data they collected would be accessible to Spacers. But it was also regulation that interstellar travel was the purview of the Spacers.
The compromise, therefore, was effectively the same as what the Spacers had aboard their own ships, employing teams of Engineers, Healers, and Farmers for their own Guilds' expertise. The Librarian Guild was permitted to have a small fleet of exploration ships and science vessels, with a team from each of the four other Guilds aboard to serve their own functions. The Curious Observer was a small craft as hyper-capable vessels went, but nonetheless large enough for a team of three foreign members from each Guild.
But it was always the Spacers that had a problem with the arrangement. It was popular opinion among them that the Librarians should not have the special privilege of their own fleet, meager though it was; but regulation was regulation, at least until the Ministers agreed to amend the Hegemony Pact. So far, the Spacer Chief Minister had always been outvoted.
“There is no current need for you to examine ship systems--”
“When any portion of a Surveyor Agency ship is used for any purpose other than its primary assignment, it is the duty of the ranking Spacer to ensure that it is being used within regulation, as the safety of the ship and crew comes before the completion of the mission.”
Holm really needed a hava root right then. “Fine. Observe, then leave.”
“I must be utterly certain of this, Deputy Supervisor.” Sinak's tone was almost sweet. “You would not want these sentients to perish because they are not housed in a regulated habitation pod, would you?”
Holm couldn't tell if that was an excuse, or an outright threat.
“Deputy Supervisor Holm,” Nna cut in, “it does little harm to allow the Spacer to observe. There are no Librarian secrets here that would not be revealed if our recommendations are taken by our superiors, and so we lose nothing if -- as Spacer Sinak points out -- his presence here is completely regular.”
Sinak's nostrils flared at the omission of his rank, and Holm felt a small stab of perverse pleasure at the mild insult. It was particularly amusing coming from Nna, who was such a stickler for both the letter and the appearance of regulation.
“Very well.” Holm turned to face the screens showing the cargo bay feeds. “I suppose I can always copy my report to the Ethics Board to show that the Senior Journeyman has been so diligent in his duties.” Which, of course, implied that any irregularities that resulted from this mission could be traced back to Sinak.
If Sinak found that at all unusual, he gave no sign. “Thank you, Deputy Supervisor.”
“You will no doubt wish to assure yourself that the primitives are unable to open the cargo hatches,” Nna offered, pointing one appendage at the readouts. They showed that power had been completely disconnected to the hatch. “The atmosphere mix in the chamber has been set to their planet's sea-level pressure and oxygen levels.”
“A large amount of oxygen,” Sinak noted.
“Less than ten percent higher than ship standard.”
“Are you attempting to make them uncomfortably hot as an interrogation technique?”
“No, this is the average temperature of their habitat, based on readings taken at each location where the specimens were obtained.”
“I know the planet is closer to their system primary than normal, but that is . . . impressive. What is the average global temperature?”
“That, I fear, is not necessary to your function under regulations.”
“Of course, of course.”
Holm had to hide a pleased fur-ripple. That information was not particularly valuable, but the Spacer was obviously splashing for fish, as Holm's grand-dame would say.
“I heard a rumor,” Sinak began, “that these creatures are obsessed with war.”
“I would be interested to know where you heard such a rumor.” Holm lifted one ear. “I am certain you have not come into possession of privileged information.”
“Of course not,” the pranglian demurred. “I was told this by Engineer Under-Journeyman Klinp.”
Holm felt his fur twitch. All that meant was that Klimp had somehow found out. It was impossible to completely conceal everything on a ship where one-fifth of the crew was from outside the Librarian Guild, but it was . . . annoying to think his people were talking openly where foreigners could hear and then gossip among themselves. Espionage was a given, of course, but there was no need to make it easy on the other Guilds.
“I ask solely in my capacity as ranking Spacer, of course,” Sinak hastened to assure them, sounding the picture of concern and care. It was a good act. “I have to be certain there is no danger for the ship. You did search them for weaponry, yes?”
“We obtained several knives, one club, an odd ornament that we suspect to be a weapon that wraps around a manipulator, a decorative garrote with the symbol of their war-god, several pins the females were using in their scalp-follicles, and one chemical-propellant launcher.”
“Really? One of them was carrying a smokepowder projectile?”
Nna actually turned his head to study the pranglian, betraying great surprise to anyone who knew his mannerisms. “You know of such things?”
“My sire is a collector of replicas -- nonfunctional, of course. He enjoys historical holodramas, usually Third Guild War productions. Highly inefficient weapons, but entertaining in fiction.” Sinak looked at Holm, his tone suddenly more respectful. “I would very much like to see it, even hold it, if it is permitted within regulation. I don't believe there is any advantage the Spacer Guild could gain from that, and I would like to tell my sire I saw a real one, even if it was an alien weapon.”
“Perhaps something could be arranged.” Holm was thoughtful. It was not unheard of, even surreptitiously encouraged, for Guild members to trade in the shadows, as it were. Skip Day trades, they were called. It would not be bad to have the Spacer in his debt.
“It is not much to speak of,” Nna said. “No electronics at all. No aim assist mechanism except possibly a small protrusion on the device, if that is the purpose. Their datanet has many examples of this type of weapon, but this must be a toy as it has very little ammunition and could not possibly have the same effect as shown in their datanet entries on such weaponry. It does not even have a slot for a microprocessor assistance unit.”
“Disappointing.” Sinak snorted. “Not even a Farmer from the Orbital Combat Agency could be accurate with such a weapon, though I'm certain many would like to try. Which one had that weapon? One of the females?”
“No, Subject Eight.” Nna triggered the holo to show numbers over each of the natives' heads.
“Very odd. I had expected that one to be a soldier from his size.”
“According to his introduction to the other specimens, he was a servant for Subject One's tribe.”
“Do you know if any are highly-ranked?”
“That, I fear,” Nna repeated his earlier words, “is not necessary to your function under regulations.”
“Ah.” Sinak casually straightened his spines. “Well, perhaps it is time I continue with my other duties. The jump drive is still charging, but I am due for an examination with Healer Senior Journeyman Kolcant to make certain my implant is functioning. I can return later.” He bowed his head to them both, first to Nna and then a deeper one to Holm. “To check on the ship's integrity and systems, of course.”
“Of course,” Holm replied, waving one hand to dismiss the Spacer. He waited until the hatched had closed before turning back to Nna. “Do you think he will be trouble?”
“Unlikely.” Nna folded his manipulators against his body again, continuing to watch the monitors. “I do not think he will violate Hegemony regulation. Not more than the projected norm, at least. He will surely tell his superiors what he has seen, which will normally make it easier for the Spacer Guild to know the information we would sell them is worth the price. In this case, we do not expect there to be a price, since it is a matter of Hegemony security, but his word shall still help. If you wish to know if he will cross the line while aboard the ship, I do not believe so. It is a possibility, to be certain, but a small one.”
“Good.” Holm looked at the monitors himself. “So which ones are highly-ranked?”
“Subjects Two, Seven, and Nine.” Nna didn't hesitate. “All females. I believe Nine has the highest social rank, however.”
“Hmm. That is the one from the same tribe as the servant, yes? Subject Eight?”
“Perhaps. It is difficult to say. That particular polity appears to be composed of multiple different tribes. However, the other subjects are responding positively to her. Subject Two seems to lack assertion, while Subject Seven has too much.”
“Too much assertion?”
“They do not seem to express hierarchy as we understand it, and the other subjects seem to be consciously rejecting her even though my data indicates she normally has a higher rank and expects obedience. She is facing competition from Subject Nine, who appears to have the deference of Subjects One, Two, and Eight. I suspect they are assembling a new social dynamic, adapting to their new circumstances and working with strangers. And this is in spite of their inability to communicate freely.”
“Even from different tribes?” Holm frowned, drooping one ear. “After just waking up? I had an expectation of dominance displays.”
“Yes.” Nna's synthesized voice became slightly quieter, reflecting his natural tone. “Most peculiar for Hunters. Most peculiar indeed.”