Warborg - Star Panther (30 page)

“None taken,” Martin laughed, really starting to like this tiny outspoken girl.

“You’re just so relaxed and easy going,” her eyes looked down in slight shyness, “. . . and kind.” She looked back up at him. “It just doesn’t compute with the vicious fighter pilot image I had.”

“Sorry if I disappointed you.” Martin grinned.

“Hardly,” Gypsy breathed. She gazed out at the stars for several seconds and her face grew solemn. “I hate the Koth. I hate them for what they’ve done and I hate what they want from us.” She took a deep breath still looking out the port. “It’s just that I hate what would become of us if they weren’t here even more.” She looked at Martin. “You need to talk to them, Martin. They’ve told us a little about the Rhome, and from what I’ve seen I believe them. These Rhome are a bunch of xenophobic fruitcakes with a psychotic homicidal bent. Every fight is a jihad; they never retreat or stop fighting no matter how damaged their ships are. You literally have to completely destroy every ship. And they won’t let you retreat, they’ll just keep coming.” She shuddered slightly. “They don’t seem to comprehend the concept of surrender, if you stop fighting they simply destroy you. No prisoners, no questions.” She shook her head. “They don’t care about intelligence or stealth and the only technological advancements they seem to embrace are ones to destroy their enemies. And the only tactic the Rhome seem to understand is ‘get a bigger hammer’, they don’t even consider their own loses. They just keep throwing more and more forces against you until you succumb.” She heaved a big sigh. “Then they move on like nothing happened.”

Martin was taken aback by Gypsy’s intensity. He studied her face for a second. “Ok, but can we trust the Koth?”

Gypsy sagged. “Martin, that’s the question we’ve been asking ourselves for months. My gut instinct says yes, but . . .” She faded out with a shrug.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each buried in their own thoughts. “Ya know, Gypsy. I think I know a way to find out about the Koth.” He rubbed his face for a second. “But if you’re wrong it could get you guys killed. I don’t think they could catch the Panther, but you guys . . .” Martin gave a questioning shrug.

Gypsy gave Martin a lopsided smile. “I can’t speak for the others, but I think we’ve been living on borrowed time anyway.” She settled back in her chair. “What do you have in mind?”

Martin grinned. “Maybe your fighters can’t communicate back to the federation from here, but I can. A full, unencrypted report of what I’ve found.”

Gypsy’s eyes opened wide and she snickered, “Yeah, that might just get a rise out of them one way or another.”

^You guys all set?^ Martin asked through the voice only hardlink.

^As set as we’re ever going to get.^ Byron’s voice was a little uneven, knowing they were baiting a bear.

^We’re well clear of the enclaves.^ Steve answered with a calmness he didn’t feel. ^If the Koth want to come after us, they’re going to have to chase us down. How about you, Martin? They’re going to have a lock on your position as soon as you transmit.^

^I should be all right, the comm system says the burst will only last about three seconds.^ Martin laughed. ^After that color me gone.^

^Let’s do it guys.^ Gypsy added quietly.

^Good luck, Bozo’s.^ Martin signed off, then shut down the hardlink. He watched the three warborgs disappear from his sensors as they went silent and jumped. “Ok, little buddy.”

Prowler appeared perched on the co-pilot’s seat and gazed up at him with huge yellow eyes.

“Get us out of here as soon as the message is finished, and be on your toes. Who knows what the Koth are going to do, let alone these Rhome.” He initiated the communication burst, the three seconds seemed like hours. The Star Panther jumped and changed its FTL signature before Martin realized the message was completed.

He and Prowler scoured space around them as they waited for the Koth or the Federation to respond. Several minutes later they received an automated acknowledgment from Federation Command. Still they waited in silent concentration and watched a small Koth courier ship phase into normal space at the location where they had transmitted from.

“Let’s give Command a while to digest that burst.” Martin looked over at Prowler. “Meanwhile I’m going to ease into the area of that courier ship. You keep your eyes peeled.”

Prowler gave a soft chirrup and started grooming his back leg.

. . .

Briton bolted upright in his chair at Charlie’s Place, forgetting about his conversation with Reese and his beer. He glanced at Reese. “I just received a flash from Martin.” Instantly they were in Briton’s office looking at the displayed message.

“Well, I guess he ain’t dead after all.” Reese rumbled browsing through the massive communication along with Commander Briton.

“Keep skimming through it, Reese.” Briton instructed. “I need to inform Fleet Command about this.”

Reese nodded, continuing to read and note the highlights. “Well, I’ll be danged. That explains that.” He mumbled to himself. “Oh my God. Commander, look at this.” Reese pointed to Star Panther’s sensor data from inside the enclave.

Briton glanced over, did a double take and paled slightly. “Incredible . . . simply incredible.” He went back to contacting his superiors. Admiral Chinn appeared in a vidphone. “Admiral,” he greeted, forwarding the message.

She glanced at a display reading as she talked. “Commander Briton, what can I do . . . this is from Major Morgan!” She smiled, realizing she was stating the obvious.

“The Bozo’s,” Reese rumbled with a laugh. “Oh, sorry.” He glanced at Briton and Chinn.

A second vidphone came to life on Briton’s desk. “Admiral Smyth.” A disheveled Smyth greeted without pre-amble, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Commander Briton here, Admiral. Sorry to wake you.” Briton responded as he forwarded the message. “I’m with Admiral Chinn and Major Reese.” He toggled some settings so the Admirals would see each other as well as him in split screens. The two Admirals nodded a greeting.

Smyth was alert instantly when he read the header on the message and realized it was from Martin. “From Major Morgan, we haven’t heard from him for over a month have we?”

“Correct, Sir.” Briton nodded. “He’s deep in Koth territory.” He looked at Reese. “I’ve had Major Reese going through the message while I contacted you. What’s the bottom line Major?”

Reese moved to where the Admirals could see him in their vidphones. “It’s a mixed bag, Sirs. But we’ve got trouble . . . big trouble, and apparently not from the Koth. They’ve pulled back, which explains why we ain’t seen hide nor hair of them for a while. Just like we always suspected, there’s a whole lot going on we didn’t . . .”

. . .

Martin absently scratched Prowler’s ear and fidgeted. “We’ll give them a few more minutes to respond before I do anything on my own.”
Blowing up those three Rhome sweepers may not have been the brightest idea I’ve had this week,
he groused mentally. “Oh well, what’s done, is done,” he muttered looking into Prowler’s questioning eyes. He sagged back into the command seat to wait and watch the Koth courier ship.

The buzz of the incoming flash message jarred him. He pulled it up on a side display. His eyebrows shot up. “From Briton and countersigned by Chinn and Smyth.” He smiled at Prowler. “I guess it don’t get much bigger than that,” Martin laughed. He read, then re-read the short communication, noting that it too was authenticated, but unencrypted. “Tag, we’re it. They want us to contact the Koth and get things set up for high level diplomatic communication.” He invited Prowler on to his lap. “But I notice they didn’t give me a clue where to start.”

As Martin considered his options he noted a flurry of communications from the Koth courier ship. He eased the silent Star Panther within a few kilometers of the Koth ship while deciding his next move.

“Hail Federation ship Star Panther, this is ****** Command, or Koth Command in human terms.” The voice was clear, friendly and came in on the short range communication system from the courier ship.

Martin shook his head in wonder.
The who Command, sounds like a klaxon with a wedgie.
“Ok little fella, it’s show time. I want to be in normal space, but in a position to run in an instant.” Martin microjumped the Panther to within a couple hundred meters of the Koth ship.

“Koth Command, this is the Federation Star Panther.” Martin responded, holding his breath in anticipation.

“Welcome Star Panther.” There was a slight pause. “We understand that you are to facilitate us in speaking directly to your leadership.”

“Affirmative, Koth Command.” Martin replied, not really knowing how to respond.

“Very well, Star Panther. We are referring you to an agent aboard the courier ship who will be your counterpart.” The voice was friendly, but to the point. “And good luck, Major Morgan.”

“Copy, Koth Command and thank you.” Martin answered feeling a little awkward.

“Major Morgan,” somehow the voice ‘felt’ younger to Martin. “I will be your liaison. Please call me Burp, my real name and title would be nothing but noise to you.”

“Very well, Burp.” Martin stifled a laugh.
Like a burp isn’t a nonsensical noise.
“Major or Martin is fine for me.”

“Major, before we can begin you need to know more about our species and our history. Are you familiar with out basic physiology?”

“Yes,” Martin hesitated, “I have seen your deceased after battle and we humans have studied your kind. But never a live being I believe. Otherwise I know nothing about your species.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of Major. It’s all part of the learning process.” Burp continued like he was discussing the weather. “And I suspect you are correct about any of my species being studied alive. Our atmosphere is completely different, very complex and toxic compared to yours. And we as a species are simply not as . . . robust as you humans. A product of an entirely different environment, a much more docile one. As for not Knowing anything else about us, that’s how it had to be . . . until now.” The Koth hesitated. “Major, can you record our conversation and data transfers? It would be beneficial if you forwarded them to your people.”

“I already am, Burp.” Martin replied. “Why didn’t you want us to know anything about you? And why didn’t you just contact us openly in the first place?”

“In good time, Major.” Burp wasn’t smug; it was more like a classroom lecture. “First, I’m opening a vid channel so we can see each other.” Burp gave a soft noise that sounded remarkably like a laugh. “Something we’ve never done before with any of your kind. I believe the term is ‘brace yourself’.”

A side display chirped indicating an incoming signal and Martin tapped the receive button. His mouth fell open as he sat mesmerized for a moment.
Burp, you’re friggin’ beautiful.

All the Koth Martin had seen were dead, looking like nothing more than an octopus with four long tentacles alternating with four shorter ones and an enlarged sponge like head. The longer tentacles ended in an oval pad he always assumed were its feet and the shorter ones split into three smaller tentacles a few inches from the end he associated with fingers. Spread out, the longer tentacles were six or seven feet from tip to tip with the shorter about a foot less. The ‘head’ was egg shaped about three feet tall with no discernable features in the porous, sponge like surface. Where the ‘head’ met the tentacles there was a base that always reminded Martin of a tulip. Always before the tentacles and base were an olive drab and the ‘head’ a sickly gray tinged with pale yellow. Now the tentacles and base were iridescent, looking to Martin like shimmering mother of pearl. But it was the ‘head’ that took Martin’s breath away. It was a kaleidoscope of constantly shifting patterns and colors.

“Wow, Burp.” Martin sputtered in amazement. “To human eyes you’re incredible.”

As Burp laughed a ring brilliant aqua raced up and down the ‘head’. “What you are seeing is our form of communication, Major. Incidentally, we find the sound of your voices fascinating and beautiful; we have no method of projecting any controlled sonic vibrations. You humans can see, but not project and we can listen, but not speak. A strange irony, isn’t it Major?”

Martin smiled at his alien counterpart. “It’s a big wonderful universe, Burp.” He grew more serious. “How is it you’re suddenly able to communicate with us?”

“It wasn’t sudden, Major. We located your planet well over a hundred of your years ago . . . just before what you call World War Two.”

“What?” Martin felt numbed. “Then why did you wait over a century before contacting us, and why in God’s name did you wait that long just to attack us?” He noted Burp’s colors faded for a moment.

“You humans were an enigma to us. To understand fully I need to tell you a little of our history and the history of the Rhome. It’s a long story, Major.” Burp sounded apologetic.

Martin smiled. “I figured it might be, just go for it. I’ll stop you if I have any questions.”

“We Koth are a very old race compared to yours. We were first venturing into space about the time your Earth was ending its ice age. Our original planet was toward the center of the galaxy. It was a very tectonically stable planet where we evolved in a peaceful world free of predators and environmental stress.” Burp seemed to sag. “We ventured into space travel as innocents, never comprehending the concept of war, or even hate for that matter. We have the equivalent to your emotions of frustration and sorrow, but your human emotion of hate is totally foreign to us.” Burt stopped and looked at Martin’s amazed, disbelieving face. “Back to physiology one-o-one I guess,” the Koth laughed.

Martin smiled.
Byron was right, if you close your eyes it is just like talking to a normal Joe. Fascinating.
He though, studying the Koth in the display.

“First of all, we Koth don’t have sex.” Burp stopped when he saw Martin’s eyes bulge, recognizing a human trying to keep from laughing and thought for a moment. “You human’s penchant for the double entendre is one of the most difficult things to translate. As your human friends would say in this case I think; Get your mind out of the gutter.” Burp hesitated. “The concept of a single species having two distinct biological forms just to facilitate procreation fascinates us, by the way.” The Koth reached up with a fingered tentacle and removed an egg shaped piece of spongy material from its ‘head’. “This is how we reproduce, but it’s much more complex than that. We don’t have a central cortex like you humans. This is also part of what you would consider my brain. Each of us have six of these that can be removed and replaced at will. I guess for this conversation we’ll just call it an egg.” Burp stopped for a moment. “Major, this is just so bizarre. Having to explain something we see as so simple.” Burp replaced the sponge egg. “Only if an egg is removed and left out will it start to grow in size and senescence, nourishing itself by absorbing nutrients from the atmosphere until it awakens as a mature Koth about ten of your years later. Now here’s the important part of our eggs, we can trade them among us and they will stay as they are as long as they are being carried by a mature host. They never die because they are constantly regenerated by the host, some eggs are hundreds of thousands of your years old, being transferred down from host to host. This is important to our species because, as I said, it is part of our brain. We have the ability to direct a memory to a specific egg, and we can also copy memories from one egg to another.”

Martin stared in open amazement as the ramifications of what Burp was telling him sunk in.
No such thing as studying to learn something, you just borrow an egg with the knowledge and you know.
“So are your offspring clones of their original host?”

“No, as eggs are regenerated the current host influences how the egg will mature. Much in the same fashion as your RNA combining into DNA, but an egg may have had many hosts, each adding material to the final adult. We all have our original egg in the center of our body. It contains what you would call the personality of the individual and core memories.”