Space Trader (Galactic Axia Adventure) (23 page)

And that gave Ert another clue. He carefully tapped into the ship log of the
Cahill Express
. Although admirable in its ingenuity, Ian’s safeguards were no match for the ancient Horicon computer. In seconds, Ert had a full download and removed his tap. Later he might return and tweak the system for more efficiency, but that would have to wait. First, he had to go through the logs where he hoped to locate that missing planet. Somehow, Ert knew it was connected with this disappearing ship.

∞∞∞

“So what do we do now, oh captain my captain?” Lyyle intoned with a mock salute.

“Oh, stuff it,” Ian replied absently. He was far from pleased with their treatment at the Axia base.

“You know it was probably just that major,” Lyyle continued. The star field streamed by as the
Cahill Express
shot through space.

“That and everyone under him,” Ian agreed disgustedly.

“I know the type,” Lyyle admitted. “But we have ways of clearing out such deadwood. If he were on Vogel, all he’d be in command of would be a broom.”

“Well, we can’t be so picky in the Axia,” Ian said. He reached over and gave the axis ball a twitch. Course corrected, Ian re-engaged the autopilot and sat back to relax.

“We’ve been hard pressed in recent years to have enough capable personnel and ships to stem the tide of invading Red-tails. He may be a stick-in-the-mud but otherwise that major had a tight rein on his base. I saw little to complain about.”

“You’re rather generous,” Lyyle noted. He stood up and headed to the galley. “You want your usual?”

“Sure, why not?” Ian agreed as he routinely scanned the sensor screens. All was quiet. “By the way. Sorry I snapped at you.”

“Apology accepted,” Lyyle said as he activated the tea maker. While it perked, he made his own cup of coffee from the instant mix.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he continued on a different tact, “why don’t you have one of those food synthesizers you were telling us about a while back? It would sure be convenient.”

“You’ve obviously never tasted food from one.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Lyyle said. “We recently developed similar technology back on Vogel. I’ve had some of the food. It wasn’t too bad.”

“Must be different from what we have,” Ian commented. “Considering what else you people have developed, you might bring some improvement in that field as well!”

Lyyle snorted and came forward with their cups. Handing Ian his tea, Lyyle sat back down at his console and took a tentative sip of hot coffee.

“You never did answer me,” Lyyle said after a few seconds. “Where do we go from here?”

“You mean after we return to Vogel? I thought you just wanted to go home.”

“That was while I was still mad,” Lyyle admitted. “Now I’m wondering what else is out there. They can’t all be like that major and his staff.”

“I’ll grant you that,” Ian agreed. “And frankly, I don’t want to give up on the Optiveil. The Axia needs it if we can just convince the right people.”

“So let’s go to those people,” Lyyle suggested. “With your knowledge of the Axia, I’m sure you know who to go to with this.”

“You overrate me,” Ian said as he took a sip of tea. “Besides, you want to go sightseeing, don’t you?”

“Sure. Where to?”

“How about Shalimar?”

“The capital of Galactic Axia?”

“Why not?”

“But why take this to a bunch of bureaucrats?” Lyyle asked. “I suspect there are more than their fair share on the capital planet.”

“It’s not them that I’m thinking of,” Ian said as he advanced the throttle bar a notch. “I’m thinking of the research people there. They have one place, the Ebilizer Institute that is beyond cutting edge. The Optiveil would be right up their alley.”

“You forgot one thing; the bureaucrats. There’ll be layers of them around any research center.”

“You have a point. What say we get some help? Who is the best person on Vogel at handling pencil-necks?”

“I’d suggest Cap,” Lyyle answered. “I’ve never seen red tape melt faster than when he gets at it.”

“Cap it is.”

“I want to do a little more prep when we get to Vogel,” Lyyle said. “I want to do more than dump the schematics in their laps at Shalimar.”

“Anything that makes you happy,” Ian said cheerfully. “Just keep them away from my ship!”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Your reference to time and patience brings up an important issue,” Ert said to Professor Angle.

He and the professor were alone in the laboratory after the research staff had gone home for the night. They’d skirted the subject all day. Angle wasn’t sure he understood the guilt Ert was feeling, and Ert wasn’t sure if he should confide fully in the professor. After all, what could one human do? He couldn’t change the past, but could he affect the future?

“And what issue would that be?”

“The problem I broached earlier about my friends.”

“You never did specify what the exact nature of the problem is,” the professor replied. “I’ve thought about the implications of yet another space-faring race such as you described and found it troubling.”

“Troubling it what way?”

“As you are well aware, the universe is not exactly a safe place,” the professor answered. “We humans have had a rough time of it.”

“The Jibbah have many more millions of years in space than you humans,” Ert stated. “And it wasn’t confined to just this galaxy.”

“You never told me that!” the professor exclaimed. “Do they also predate the Horicon?”

“The Jibbah are an older species than the Horicon, but speaking as an observer, we began our exploration of space about the same time. We met when both races were young and energetic.”

“So how can a feeble infant like me help those of such experience?” the professor quipped.

“You humans, though young, have many things going for you. Just because the Unseen One put the Horicon and the Jibbah here before you doesn’t convey superiority.”

“I can’t imagine what all you must have learned!” the professor said in envy.

“What we learned had more to do with ourselves than with the universe,” Ert said. “Many things you humans take for granted never occurred to either the Horicon or the Jibbah.”

“And that is the problem, correct?” the professor said, referring to their previous discussion about the Jibbah.

“Correct.”

“You stated that these friends are here to help.”

“Again correct.”

“And the problem is not their intention to help, but how to do it,” the professor said. “Method versus motive.”

“Well stated,” Ert agreed.

“So how can they help if they have no weapons or ability to make war? What capabilities do they have? And what problem do you want to address?”

“I’ll answer the last first,” Ert replied. “The Red-tail scourge.”

“That’s what I figured,” the professor said. “Now, what about their capabilities? I suspect the two may be related.”

“They are, but indirectly,” Ert answered. “As to their capabilities, the Jibbah have many just as you’d expect from any advanced race. But their technology is only an outgrowth of their natural proclivities.”

“You said they were most inquisitive the last time we spoke about them,” the professor began. “By implication, I would surmise they are excellent explorers.”

“That is correct,” Ert agreed. “It was how we first came in contact with each other milieu ago. Both the Jibbah and the Horicon were eagerly exploring the universe around them. The Horicon used probes since we could not leave our native planet. The Jibbah used personal exploration on a massive scale.”

“And thus they would have developed excellent methods with which to observe the universe around them,” the professor said. “And in as much as they are friends of the Horicon, I would suspect that the observations and explorations of the Jibbah, combined with the analytical ability of the Horicon, would be quite formidable.”

“Your inference is correct,” Ert agreed. “Together, the two races created an active partnership exploring the universe.”

“Then how can we help them?” the professor asked again. “We are virtual infants in space.”

“But you bring something we lacked,” Ert answered. “Temperance.”

“Surely you jest! As you should know, we have a natural tendency to get ourselves into trouble.”

“Noted,” Ert agreed. “But as a result, you’ve also developed an equal tendency to get yourselves out of trouble. The only problem I see with you humans is the lack of foresight.”

“And you and the Jibbah possess that?”

“Yes,” Ert answered. “Surely you then understand the nature of our failure.”

“I won’t hazard a guess,” the professor said. “Enlighten me.”

“It is with much trepidation that I will do so,” Ert said. “My original intent was to do things indirectly. However, that appears to be less of an option than before. That is why I decided to confer with you concerning the situation that civilization as a whole is facing, and then possibly come up with an adequate solution.”

“Continue,” the professor prompted.

“Millennia ago, Jibbah ships and Horicon probes fanned out across the observable universe. Discoveries using the Jibbah wormholes were explored and utilized to gain access to places far removed from our home galaxies.”

“We’ve known of these for some time,” the professor answered. “Similar to the transit tubes the Red-tails use to transport to and from their home galaxy to ours.”

“Their transit tubes are actually distorted wormholes,” Ert said. “But such technology did not originate with them. It came from the Horicon/Jibbah partnership. The Red-tails reverse engineered it. Not unlike what that extinct branch of humanity did with a Horicon probe.”

The professor sat in stunned silence while he considered the information just revealed to him.
The Horicon were responsible for the Red-tails coming to our galaxy!
Now he knew why Ert was so reluctant to tell him. Understanding the Horicon computer as he did, the professor easily realized the guilt his friend must be feeling. And if he understood the rest of what Ert had implied, the computer was trying to assuage the radical guilt he felt by trying to rectify the error, even at this late date.

“So how can we help?” the professor quietly asked.

“By using your native abilities to pull divergences together,” Ert said evenly. “Your species are natural generalists.”

“So where do we begin, my friend?”

“We begin,” Ert answered as the room lights began to dim, “with a history lesson.”

Once again, a star field formed in the open space of the computer lab.

“One of your own philosophers said that you learn from your mistakes. Let me show you ours. Together we may learn something to change the future.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Again, it was evening and the humans had finally left the laboratory. Although Ert enjoyed them, especially his friend Professor Angle, there were times when he needed solitude. That was when he could do his best work—no distractions or calls for his subroutines to perform mundane tasks. Instead, he could apply all of his energy and resources directly to whatever caught his attention.

Right now only one thing commanded his intense scrutiny. Through a network of Horicon links still functioning, and borrowing surreptitiously from other human signal systems, Ert was in contact with the little Jibbah ship. As previously instructed, the pilot of that ship had set up one of the monofilament sensor grids far out in an empty sector of space.

Ert knew this was strictly a hunch, especially since his original purpose had no connection with Horicon’s far-flung exploration probes. Only a few of the files lightly touched on the technical aspects of those probes. The rest he had pieced together by inference.

He had tried to gather more of the technical aspects from records salvaged by the human archeologists presently digging among the ruins on Horicon. Sadly, those efforts had more often than not uncovered frustration and confusion. In spite of his suggestions, the humans had their own preconceived notions of where and when to dig. Had they asked, Ert could have directed their efforts to vast treasure-troves of information gathered by the Horicon.

At first frustrated by their intransigence, Ert came to see it as the intervention of the Unseen One. Having observed the human social structure for a time now, he came to realize that the humans were better off without much of the knowledge accumulated by the Horicon and Jibbah. They were simply too immature. Time would need to pass, and direct experience gained before the humans could appreciate the gift of such knowledge.

So now Ert was improvising methods based upon incomplete fragments of information. The pilot of the Jibbah scout ship was also dealing with the unfamiliarity of such methods. Although trained on the Jibbah simulators, Piaffè had no direct experience utilizing some of the more exotic sensor systems jointly developed by the two races. This monofilament grid was one of those systems. Much more sensitive than anything the humans had yet developed, Ert was pleased that one was still available for his use.

Ert analyzed the faint signals streaming back from the array while a subroutine reviewed the log already accumulated since its deployment. With nothing of note recorded so far, Ert instructed Piaffè to reset the equipment. That the grid had not detected anything of note did not perturb the ancient Horicon computer. It was actually what he had expected. Still, he had a hunch and was willing to follow it.

Leaving the Jibbah pilot with his instructions, Ert again perused all the information he had gathered about that strangely disappearing ship. Intrigued by the technology, he pondered possible applications.

Activating his patchwork of human sensor systems, Ert checked on the location of the ship. From communication logs, he determined the ship was again heading into what the humans called an empty sector. Ert’s own records showed otherwise. Projecting its likely course, he realized that it was now beyond the human systems he’d been tapping.

Undeterred, Ert again reached out to some of the remaining Horicon equipment. Its long dead designers had built it well, and a few of the old probes responded to Ert’s signals. Realigning themselves, they turned their sensor systems to crisscross the projected path of that disappearing ship.