Heavens of Glory

Chapter IV

He woke up the next morning, head throbbing from the translator chip, which had been installed the night before. He slipped out of bed and walked out of the dorm room. As he left the dorms, he bumped into a lenothias.
          “Sorry,” he mumbled.
          “Perfectly OK, chap,” the lenothias said. “You knew here? Just got here myself. Taking a look around. Wanna join me? Oh, by the way, I’m Seedo.”
          “Ah, yeah sure, I’ll join you. I’m Orion.” The pair walked down the passage lined with paintings. One of those paintings was of a motwise and a Scyther. Noticing how similar they looked, Orion asked if they were related.
          “Can’t tell you for sure, but I know they come from the same planet,” Seedo responded. “We’ll probably learn about it in History.”
          “Or we can just ask him,” Orion said suddenly, indicating a motwise scurrying down the passage, its blades clacking against the marbled floor.
          “Ask me what?” the motwise inquired, turning. “Don’t look so surprised. Motwise have incredible hearing.”
          “Umm, we just wanted to know if motwise and Scythers are related,” Orion said uncertainly.
          “Not at all, friends. You look new here. Want me to show you around?”
Knowing motwise to be extremely smart and kind, they agreed, hoping to make a new friend with the motwise, who said his name was Lithe. He gave them a tour, showing them the classrooms, the dining hall, and the kitchens, where they managed to make off with a little food. After getting their schedules, the three walked towards the dining hall for breakfast. When they reached the hall, they had to fight for places, as they were the last ones there.
         After they were seated, a Monte clopped up to the stand at the front of the room. “Good day, all,” he announced. “Another year has come, and with it, new students. I am headmaster Saco. Although the alliance is currently weak, as the warleader is not the customary power holder, this academy remains powerful, and I hope all of you will live up to the honor. Now, you may eat.”
         The servers brought out delicious delicacies for all of the species sitting at the tables. For the Lenothias, Motwise and Scythers, fried Whom chops were served (a Whom is a large bird found on the Water Planet). For Humans, salads, chicken and fruit were served. Salad and fruit of different sorts were also served for the Montes. Felons were given various kinds of grasses harvested from the Felon home world.
         Orion listened to the talk around him while he ate, though he did not participate. Two Felons were talking about a sport Orion had never heard of, called Kaischew…

         It was two weeks later when Orion was summoned to Admiral Hadrmagar’s briefing room. He examined the various pictures of previous warleaders throughout the office as he waited for his Admiral to come in. Every species was amply represented; there was even one motwise who had served during the Qwilrec period.
         Motwise were curious creatures. The bore a striking similarity to their scyther relatives, from the strong, beaked mouth to the large front blades. They had two wings that they could use to glide over short distances, barely noticeable when tucked into their shoulders, instead of arms, but they made up for the lack of digits by using a unique combination of mouth, tail and hind legs to create dexterity.
          The Admiral walked in and after a quick salute, they both sat down.
          “Captain, there has been a change of plan. The Neyna is to escort the Andrew to the Federation trading post. It is not to participate in the upcoming battle. You are to leave immediately. Ambassador Truegal shall go with you to ensure that everything goes smoothly. After the transaction, he shall remain on the Andrew. Designs for the Farshot catapult have been loaded onto the Neyna’s computer. The Andrew is to pick up the required supplies and proceed to C-N3 immediately. The Neyna is to remain at the trading post until further notice. Understood?”
          “Yes sir.”
         Outside, the launch pads were overloaded with ships ranging from the basic Natel 14 single pilot fighter, to the new sleek and powerful X-1Z Beta. In orbit around the planet, thousands of ships now coasted, some docked to orbital space stations, others in an independent orbit. At night, the sky was lit up with the lights of the ships coasting around the planet.
         After activating the main computer from the console in the nearby launch station, Orion walked over to his ship, running his hand along its smooth landing crutches as he passed. He opened the main hatch and stepped inside. Once on the bridge, he tapped a few buttons on the comm panel to summon the ship’s crew, then sat back in his chair and waited.

*          *          *

         The flight passed uneventfully. Occasionally they met with another ship heading towards Toan to meet up with the gathering fleet, in which case both ships would stop, and old friends would meet each other briefly as the crews interacted. The crew was grateful for Orion’s leniency. They weren’t in any great hurry, and in a nation so large as the Alliance, friends met only rarely unless they also happened to be coworkers. They arrived at the Federation outpost only a day behind schedule.
          “This is FTO one-one-three-five. Please state your name, number of crewmen, and purpose.” Orion tried again unsuccessfully to tell the automated signal that their purpose was classified, and they needed to see the Head Trader.
          “The HT cannot be contacted except in case of an extreme emergency. Please state your purpose.”
          “Stupid idiot computer. Ambassador, you take over.” Having already tried an attempt at convincing the AI they were here to trade, upon which they were prompted as to what exactly they were trading, Orion was out of all ideas whatsoever. He stormed off the bridge. After a few unique attempts, the Ambassador discovered that the computer did not recognize ‘you are a shit head’, ‘go buzz off’, ‘to violate every Federation law known to the universe’, or ‘to completely destroy all damn annoying AI’s that have ever existed’ as valid purposes for visits to the station.
         Half an hour later, after trying, ‘to fry that which should never be fried’, ‘escape the grave peril of a deadly computer virus that was taunting them’, and ‘to murder the inhabitants of the station’ the ambassador finally developed a fool-proof idea and lied to the computer signal, telling it that they were here to look at the job boards. The Neyna and the Andrew were instructed to fly into launch bay 092, but inside the base the crews were having no more luck at gaining an audience with the HT.
          “Why don’t we just cause one of these ‘extreme emergencies’?” Tournia asked Orion. “I mean, it’s not like we have a chance at meeting him otherwise.
          “Oh yeah, that will go over great. ‘Yes, sorry we depressurized half the station. It will never happen again. No, we weren’t working for anyone. Yes, it was intentional. Oh, by the way, here’s some classified info for you if you are willing to give us some spare parts.’ Yep, I bet we’ll get everything we need then!”
          “Gease, what’s up with you today. You’re really grouchy.”
          “Yeah, well, I guess I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Orion sad down.
          “Anywho, that’s not quite what I meant. Couldn’t we fool the computer into thinking we started a fire?”
          “Well, do you happen to have some smoke grenades handy?”
          “No, but I’m sure the Neyna does.”
          “ ‘Use of military supplies is not allowed without previous confirmation excepting extreme circumstances’,” Orion cited. “We can’t use those.”
          “Okay, I’m sure we could buy something here, then.”
          “What have you got to sell?”
          “How’s those five thousand the council gave me?”
          “Fine, that’ll work fine. You go ahead and look for a seller on that console,” Orion said, gesturing towards the terminal mounted on the wall in the corner of the room. He had stood back up in his irritationa and begun pacing without realizing it, so he sat down on the musty sofa. The room was poorly lit, and could only hold fifteen other crewmen , who now were sitting on other furniture pieces, drinking a strange beverage which was dispensed by a machine next to the computer terminal.
          “Please proceed to room 18, section 22,” a Federation Carlex voice announced. Carlexi were the founding species of the Federation, and were notoriously good traders, owning all the best positions in the Federation trading network. “Thank you for trading with the FTO. A sixteen percent tax will be deducted from all transactions.” A door slid open, revealing a long walkway with many other doors sealed shut, and a few doors that, like theirs, were open. The hall ended on either side with an aerotube terminal. Orion, Tournia, and three other crewmen walked into the hallway, turning left and heading toward the nearest terminal. Orion programmed in the destination of section 22 for five people, then stepped into the aerotube.
         They arrived at a hall that looked identical to theirs. Tournia went ahead, looking at the number plate next to each door as they passed. “Here it is, room 18.” The door slid open and they went inside.
         This room was also poorly lit, but instead of couches, a solitary table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by 17 chairs. In nine of those chairs sat a species Orion had never encountered, although he had heard of them. One stood up to it full height of over nine feet on six strong tentacles when Orion’s group came in. Around its body was a ring of smaller tentacles directly below four large tentacles, each of which branched into four more at their end. On top of this entire jumble were two small heads, which were were nothing more than a mouth and an eye each, the obvious feature of a member of the species Furlapi. The Furlapi race was indigenous to a small star located about thirty-two parsecs from the official Milky Way border. As such, their contact with other species had remained limited until a few millennia after they first developed space flight, giving them a rarely unique culture.
         Orion greeted the Furlapi by crossing his arms and spinning around once, which was the traditional Furlapic greeting. The Furlapi, in turn, offered a clumsy wave of one of its tentacles. The Furlapi, as well as Orion, Tournia, and Spar, who was one of the crewmen whom Orion had brought with them, sat down. The other two crewmembers remained standing.
          “We are interested in purchasing smoke grenades,” Tournia said, starting negotiations. “In return we offer you credits.”
         The Furlapi squinted its eyes- its way of showing acknowledgement.
          “Welcome to this trade, then. We have twenty grenades available at the moment. We will give you five smoke grenades for seven thousand credits.” Which, they all knew, was an absurd price.
          “Ten for one thousand.” Incredibly low. They continued thus until a price of five smoke grenades in exchange for three thousand credits was agreed upon. The smoke grenades were handed over to Orion, and Tournia transferred the credits on the computer console to the Furlapi’s account, as well as sending 240 credits to the tax collection account. Orion and the leading Furlapi shook hands, and Orion walked out of the room, followed by the four others.
         When they arrived back at their room, Orion pulled out a set of tools and began modifying the grenades to make them explode like normal blast grenades. When he was finished, he stood up and walked out. He stood in the hallway until someone from another room came out so there would be at least one eye witness, then threw the first grenade with purposefully poor aim at the innocent person who had just stepped into the hall. By the time it hit and exploded about five feet from the alien, the second grenade was in the air. Followed closely be the others. The explosions, although mostly harmless, caused slight tremors throughout the fragile corridor. In a matter of seconds the only thing that could be seen was smoke and the spray coming down from the automatic fire extinguishers, illuminated by a flashing blue light. The rest of Orion’s crew filed out into the hall and lined up around him in full military uniform, waiting, as the klaxons blared, for the enforcers to arrive.

*          *          *

          “So you mean to tell me, that you put yourself in danger of being imprisoned- possibly even executed- just so you could talk with me?” Orion nodded his head once. The HT, a Carlex named Zindi, threw back his head and laughed. “There have been many tries to get in touch with me, but none as hilarious as this.” Orion inwardly smiled, glad that this Carlex was in a good mood. Most of the Carlexi in the Milky Way were cast out from society, being banned from the central Federation government, and forced to take up lowly positions as HTs on outposts such as this. As a result, they were usually rather grouchy and rude. They had been lucky that this was not the case.
          “Well, human, what is it that you want? Your bombs did no damage, so I may not wish to press charges. That is, if you offer me something good.”
         Orion pulled out a logger from his pocket. “I believe we have something for you that is more than good. Take a look at this.” Orion handed the logger over to Zindi, who took it in his claw and switched it on, scanning the contents. In a few moments, his face was a mask of surprise.
          “The Farshot Catapult? But…but why would you offer me this information?”
          “The Alliance wishes to make an agreement with the Federation. In exchange for a couple of items which we do not have in our inventory, we will offer you this information.”
          “Well, I can’t argue with those terms. But I know the Alliance. They must have something up their sleeves, so to speak. What else must we do?”
          “You must begin construction immediately, and contact the central Federation, and inform them to begin building the other end. We will supply raw materials for this side. However, the Alliance wishes for free and unquestioned access to the catapult at any time. And partial ownership.”
          “Ah, that sounds more like the Alliance I know. But tell me, why are you so interested in the Andromeda? Surely you have more pressing matters here?”
          “That, my friend, is not for your, or any other Federat’s, ears. Our interests do not concern you, so long as you live up to your end of the bargain.”
          “Fair enough, Alliance, fair enough. I believe you have yourself a deal.” Zindi sat back and scanned the logger. Orion waited until he finished. “Is their anything else?”
          “The parts which we require.”
          “Ah yes. What will you be needing?”
         Orion handed him another logger. “Here’s the list. If you could have them transferred to the ship Andrew in launch bay 092 as soon as possible, I would be very thankful.”
          “It will be done. It has been a pleasure doing business with you.” Orion got up to leave and met with the others, who had been waiting outside. “We are free to go. Tournia, I got the parts you needed.”
          “Captain, a message came in from Admiral Hadrmagar while you were in there,” Tano reported, giving a quick salute.
          “Thank you, Tano. Is it ready in our room?”
          “No, the Admiral did not want to send it to the station, as they monitor everything. It’s stored in the Neyna’s short term memory buffers.”
          “Acknowledged. Everyone, head back to our room and wait there for further instructions.” The Crew filed out of the hallway. Tournia stood next to Orion, watching them go.
          “So, gonna tell me what else you talked about in there?”
          “Maybe later,” Orion said. “I think that the military may want to keep our plans secret, for a little while at least. But I’ll tell you as soon as I get the clear.”
          “Fair enough, although I’m not sure I like it. I’m gonna head back to the ship.”
          “I’m right behind you.” The two walked off towards the aerotube terminal.
         As soon as they arrived at the hangar, Tournia headed into the Andrew, while Orion went aboard the Neyna and ordered it to activate the message from the Admiral.

Captain Orion Terone, this is Admiral Hadrmagar. The Andrew is to head back to the planet C-N3 and commence mining operations. Meanwhile, the Neyna is to stay at the FTO until the catapult is complete. We estimate that this will take one inner month. You are to keep information of this transaction top secret, if at all possible. You will receive new orders in 39 standard days. Hadrmagar out.

          “Reply?” the ship prompted.
          “Acknowledge message received,” Orion stated, and walked out of the bridge.
         Arriving back at the common room, he found only Spar waiting. “We have been moved to a larger room for the duration of our stay. Compliments of the HT,” Spar said. “Follow me. We’ve already moved all the stuff.” Orion followed him out of the room to a new level, where they found a much more spacious room branching off a better lighted corridor. Inside, they found a common room, five sleeping rooms, and “dome room,” which sported a glass exterior and bright lights, with grass growing on the floor.
          “Apparently they decided Bonscouts were too used to planet life, so they gave us this room in addition to the others,” Spar said, smirking slightly.
         Orion nodded. “Inform the rest of the crew that they have an LOA until further notice and can roam about the station as they feel free. Just tell them not to do anything stupid, and that includes getting drunk,” Orion added, knowing how alluring the Federations drinks were. Spar saluted and moved to the other rooms to inform the rest.
         Orion walked over to Tournia, who had been standing in the dome room, looking out at the stars. He put his arm around her shoulders and gazed out with her to the universe.
          “Hadrmagar says you’re supposed to head back to your mining planet immediately. We’re going to be here for at least another forty days, so I guess we won’t be seeing each other for awhile.”
         Tournia turned to him and nodded. The beginnings of tears glistened in her eyes. “You know what, Ory? This really sucks,” she muttered. “These past three weeks that we’ve been together have been the longest we’ve seen each other for half a year. We’re always zipping around the universe, and we never have any time to ourselves. Every time we split up, I don’t even know if I’ll see you again.” Tournia wrapped her arms around Orion, digging her cheek into his shoulder and gazing up into his face.
         Orion looked down at her, giving her a shrug and a desolate smile. He returned the embrace. The two of them stood together in the dome room for a few minutes, glad to be together for just a little while longer. After almost fifteen minutes had passed, Orion moved his arms down to Tournia’s sides, turning her to look at her crying face. He brushed away a tear from her cheek.
          “Tour, we just have to do what we can, for as long as we can. Eventually it will all be over, and we’ll be able to rest.” He held Tournia’s cheeks gently in his hands, turning his gaze directly into her eyes. “I will see you again, I promise.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you.”
          “I love you too.”