Peggy Sue (The T'aafhal Inheritance) (44 page)

Bridge, M’tak Ka’fek

After an uneventful docking alongside the large shuttle, the Captain and his entourage made their way forward to the bridge of the alien vessel. Debouching from the passageway, Jack found himself standing on a wide balcony, like the upper floor of a theater. Before him was what appeared to be a transparent dome, showing an enhanced view of the surrounding starship graveyard and the galaxy beyond—a planetarium on steroids.

A sloping cascade of crew stations tumbled into the space enclosed by the forward display dome, like box seats in an opera house. Farthest forward, and with primacy of place, was a single high-backed chair whose back and sides wrapped around to cradle its occupant—obviously the captain’s chair.

“Welcome, Captain. Quite a view, eh?” Bear asked his old friend.

“Yes indeed, Lt. Bear,” Jack replied, looking around the bridge. “Quite a view. Has the ship’s AI spoken to you?”

“No, Sir,” replied JT with a smile. “It must be waiting to speak with someone in charge.”

“That is correct,” a strange voice said over the expedition’s common frequency. “Captain John Sutton,” the AI’s voice boomed, “I surrender to you the battle cruiser M’tak Ka’fek of the T’aafhal Republic Deep Space Fleet.”

Jack came to attention and replied in a loud, formal voice: “I Captain John Sutton hereby claim the M’tak Ka’fek for the people of Earth and assume command of this vessel.”

“Again I welcome you to the M’tak Ka’fek, Captain.”

“Thank you,” Jack replied politely. “What happens next, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all, Captain. If I might direct your attention to the command chair forward of the navigation and engineering stations.” As the AI spoke, the aforementioned chair, positioned alone amidst the cavernous dome of the bridge, rotated 180 degrees to face the Earthlings. “Since you have assumed command of this vessel, Captain Sutton, I will play for you the last log entry recorded by my previous commander.”

The air in front of the command chair shimmered and a solid figure took shape. Seated in the chair was a small creature, perhaps one and a half meters in height if standing erect. Its skin, where visible, was green tinged with blue, with a slight iridescence on its forearms and legs. Much of its torso was concealed by a short white toga. On the left shoulder of the garment was a golden clasp, a stylized sunburst, perhaps a symbol of rank. The right shoulder was left bare.

The figure’s head was bowed, shoulders slumped, its upper extremities resting on the broad arms of the chair. The creature’s arms ended in remarkably normal looking hands, save that each sported six fingers. There was no hair on its bald cranium, or any other visible place on its body. It sat motionless for several long moments—then it raised its head.

The face protruded, almost beak-like, similar in appearance to that of a giant tortoise. But what caught the viewer’s attention were the eyes—huge, luminous eyes a startling shade of violet, heavily lidded and somehow projecting a sense of weariness and great sorrow. The figure blinked once and in a resonant tenor voice began to speak.

“This will be my last log entry, as the ship is dead in space and her defense is no longer tenable. I have ordered the remaining crewmembers to transfer to ships still able to flee to other star systems. Perhaps they will live to fight another day, though I fear that the bulk of our fleet has been destroyed and our will to resist broken.

“For me, this is the end. I will stay on board the M’tak Ka’fek, detonating the scuttling charges if servants of the Dark Ones threaten to board her. Both the ship and I have given a fair account of ourselves, sending many of the Dark Lord’s daemons to whatever frigid hell awaits creatures so vile and hateful.

“Long have we carried the burden as protectors of the Galaxy’s warm life. It is a burden I gladly lay down, for my soul has seen enough of war. If you who are hearing this message are T’aafhal I wish you success in battle until there are no more battles to fight. If you are not of my kind, but some other species come to claim the ship, you have my blessings, for none but an ally would be allowed aboard without M’tak making the ultimate sacrifice.

“If you are able to take my poor, abused ship and make her whole, I thank you. She will serve you well. It is some small comfort to me to think the M’tak Ka’fek still soars among the stars, protecting the innocent and meting out justice to those who so cruelly seek to purge the Universe of warm life. Good luck and good hunting. Entered this fourth day of Ga’Nar, 89764.392, Captain Byn S’atrak commanding.”

For a moment, Jack felt as though the long dead captain’s eyes were staring straight into his. Then the creature’s head again drooped to his chest and the image dissolved to nothingness. Humans and bears alike exchanged glances, seeking reassurance in the company of their crewmates. Finally, Bear broke the silence. “Well, I guess we know what the bastards who messed with our DNA looked like.”

Over suit-to-suit, Reagan said to Feldman, “Man, that image was better than R2D2 projecting Princess Leia.”

“Yeah, this ship’s got better special effects than Lucasfilm,” Jon replied. “I just hope we don’t find Captain Monkey-Lizard somewhere on board encased in carbonite.”

“M’tak,” said the Captain, “what happened to your captain?”

“Not long after that recoding was made his life-force expired.”

“He died? Why did he stay on board when the rest of the crew escaped?”
I have heard of captains going down with their ships, but not in the modern navy, not once the crew was safe,
Jack thought.
I hope it isn’t expected that I do the same.
 

“We had served together for a long time, as time is measured by creatures like you and the T’aafhal. In the end, Captain S’atrak stayed aboard because… he was my friend.”

“I’m sorry for the loss of your friend, M’tak, I would like to have met him. But we must make haste for I fear there are foes on our trail,” Jack said. “What do we need to do to get you back to an operational state?”

“Most of the commands given to the ship’s mechanisms are sent directly through a thought interface. I will need to calibrate the command station to your particular mental patterns before you can command the ship.”

“How do we do that?”

“Simply set down in the command chair, I will do the rest.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Captain?” asked Bear.

“It’s that or we need to quit wasting time and run for home. If something goes wrong, set the big egg to explode and head back to the ship.”

“Aye aye, Sir.” Bear still obviously did not like the idea of the Captain having his mind scanned by the ship’s AI, but it was time to fish or cut bait. Jack walked down the ramp to the now empty command chair and carefully sat down in the place where the alien Captain had appeared. “OK, now what?”

“This will take a few minutes, please relax.” A glowing nimbus appeared around the Captain’s helmet and upper body. Jack’s eyes opened wide and his posture became stiffly erect as the enveloping glow intensified.

Bridge, Peggy Sue

“Lt. Bear, what is happening to the Captain?” queried an anxious Lcdr. Curtis. The display screen in front of her showed the bridge of the alien cruiser, with the glowing outline of the Captain seated in the M’tak Ka’fek’s command chair. “It almost looks like he is being electrocuted!”

“He seems to be breathing,” replied Bear. “But he hasn’t said anything since the glowing stuff surrounded him.”

“His suit monitors indicate that he is OK,” added Jo Jo Medina from the engineering station. “His pulse rate and blood pressure are up but other than that he is fine.”

“I still don’t like it,” Gretchen replied. “If the Captain is not released within five minutes I want you to try and remove him from the chair.”

“Roger that, Commander.”

Switching off the comm link to the expedition, Gretchen muttered, “I do not want to be the one who explains to Ludmilla if something happens to Jack.”

Overhearing her comment, Elena, who was manning the navigator’s station in JT’s absence, simply raised her eyebrows. Changing the subject, Elena asked, “has anyone seen a creature like the alien captain? He looked like some form of reptile simian analog; I think I saw a tail flicking back and forth behind him.”

“There were creatures called
Simiosaurs
during the Triassic back on Earth, roughly 250-200 million years ago,” said Olaf, sitting in an observer’s seat. “They had some physiological similarities to monkeys but nothing as dramatic as the alien. It looked more like an ape-lizard than a monkey-lizard, the tail not withstanding.”
 

“It had beautiful eyes,” Elena added. “I’ve never seen truly violet eyes before.”

“Undoubtedly an adaption to increased UV radiation in its natural habitat. What a shame we will never see a live specimen.”

“We don’t know that for certain, Doctor,” said Gretchen, drawn into the discussion despite her concern over the Captain’s condition. “I would rather know more about them before we meet any survivors, however.”

JT’s voice came over the comm link from the derelict. “Peggy Sue, looks like the light show is over.” On the monitor, the bright nimbus had, indeed, disappeared and the Captain was slumped over in the command chair.

Bridge, M’tak Ka’fek

As the boarding party members were staring at the Captain’s glowing form, his eyes were sightlessly gazing off into space. In his mind, Jack was flying through a torrent of three dimensional images that filled his consciousness to overflowing. Cascading images of the ship’s interior spaces, diagrams of conduits and circuits flashed by like an amusement park ride through a mad engineer’s lair. A voice was speaking to him, explaining that as Captain he needed to be intimately aware of every detail of his ship.

The voice was not speaking English but Jack understood the words nonetheless. Suddenly he found himself knowing the battle cruiser’s technical specifications as well as he knew his own name. In the center of the ship, where JT’s party had installed the small egg (standard antimatter containment vessel, type 3), he knew there were six bays, each holding six large eggs (standard antimatter containment vessel, type 1). Those stores were currently depleted and the M’tak Ka’fek was dead in space until they were replenished.

Aft of the central energy storage were massive engines that could accelerate the ship at 200 Gs in 3-space or cheat Einstein in a number of ways. And then there were the banks of offensive and defensive weaponry. He knew the terms for all of them, though not precisely how they functioned. When he concentrated on any particular type of equipment detailed knowledge bubbled up from his memory—evidently the ship had downloaded its user manual into his brain, to be retrieved when needed.
Now I know how Peggy Sue’s computer must feel, stuffed full of answers that remain unknown until the right question arises,
Jack thought wryly.
 

As suddenly as it began the flood of information abated. Exhausted, Jack slumped in the chair.
I think my mind is full. Is this knowledge dump permanent or will it fade over time?
 

All biological memories are subject to deterioration over time,
said a voice in his head.
 

Now you can read my thoughts, M’tak?

Only those you choose to share,
replied the AI silently.
You will quickly become used to controlling your nonverbal commands and hiding private thoughts.
 

Good! I would hate to have a stray thought and find our course altered or worse. So what is the next step? Ah, I know what needs to be done next! We need to get some antimatter loaded into the main store so we can restore maneuverability.

That is correct, Captain. With your permission I will open one of the main AM stores so the crew can install a new type one containment vessel. Then the gravitonic drive can be powered up and we can move out of this cloud of detritus
. Jack opened his eyes to find JT and one of the SEALs standing over him with worried looks on their faces.
 

“Are you all right, Captain?” asked JT. Behind him the other expedition members looked on nervously. Taking a deep breath to clear his head, Jack stood up.

“I am fine, Mr. Taylor,” Jack assured his science officer. Looking around the bridge brought feelings of long familiarity, as if he had been on board this ship for most of his life.
Spooky, but this sure beats reading a bunch of technical manuals. I wonder if it can be used on the crew, to teach them how to run the ship—or are they needed to run the ship at all?
 

Actually, Captain, there are a number of systems that require a living mind to operate. For what ever reason, the T’aafhal never trusted AIs like myself with full command of a warship. The weapon systems in particular must be commanded by a member of the crew. Of course you can perform any duty that a member of the crew can, but for the M’tak Ka’fek to fight at peak efficiency requires a trained and cooperating ship’s complement.

Jack nodded, realizing that he actually knew what M’tak just told him, he just had not realized that he knew it.
This is going to be frustrating until I can come up to speed.
“Lt. Taylor, we need to get the big egg from the pinnace and take it to the same area where the small egg was installed.”