The Dance Eternal

ch 25

25

Johnathan sat in the captain’s chair, one leg over the arm, staring at the stars and giant floating rocks through the actual window rather than the screens. He was relaxed, feeling much better once he'd napped for a couple hours, then taken a shower. Remembering what Celeste had said, he dug around in his room; in the closet he found a black-canvas garment bag on a hanger, and a folded note card was attached to one side with a couple strips of tape.

He pulled the article from the bar, gripping the hanger and feeling both weight and thickness. He lifted the canvas cover, slowly revealing the bottom of a leather bomber jacket. He pulled the cover back down, trying not to get too excited yet, and looked at the card. His name was written hastily on the outside in Steve's compact print. Inside, Steve had written more;

John (be glad I didn't start that with “Dear John”);

The jacket is old, my father's from his days as a pilot in the military. He gave it to me when I went to college. He went on to work in the old NASA program, and test-piloted a number of different craft. I always thought of him as a pioneer, and it is with that thought that I wish you to have it, as you pioneer the last of Earth's frontiers. Good luck, Johnathan Shandor, and Godspeed.

Smiling at the writing, he pulled the note from the front and folded the tape over, and put the card in his pocket. Then he lifted the cover fully off; the jacket was deep brown leather, well worn and supple. The breast pockets each had a flap with a snap that was stamped with an eagle in flight, its claws extended downward as if to grab at prey. The inside of the jacket was lined with fluffy wool, mostly white, but with a tinge of age-yellowing, and had a zipper that would allow for removal. An eagle patch, similar to the one on the snaps, adorned the left shoulder, with the addition of a skull in the eagle's claws.

As he reached in and pulled the hanger free, a weighty bundle about the size of a folded sweater, fell onto his foot. He picked it up, a package wrapped in brown craft paper, and felt a little bit of spongy give as he gripped it. He peeled the paper away and cracked a smile so big it about split his cheeks; in his hands he held the largest amount of m*******a he had ever seen in person, vacuum-sealed for freshness.

Once he had gotten in the 'right frame of mind', he raided the kitchen for some instant food – a miraculous gift to a stoned mind – and a bottle of water, then headed for the bridge. He had found out that Steve had loaded a massive playlist of music into Celeste's data banks, spanning most genres, to which she had since added. He decided to start with tunes from the twentieth century – for nostalgia, he thought with a chuckle – and “You Can Do Magic” by America was playing now, one he always enjoyed while stoned – he waved his hands during the chorus as if he were weaving a spell of his own.

The music faded a bit, and Celeste said, “Sorry to bother you, John, but I think you should know that a large ship is coming this way.”

“Seriously,” he said, and almost slid out of the seat trying to right himself. “I mean, I guess it was inevitable, but… okay, can you get a visual?”

The screens came down and flickered on, showing the same view. It zoomed through several magnifications, the scene becoming closer and more detailed each time, until a large vessel came into focus in the distance. Long and barrel-shaped, with a nose that came to a blunted point, it resembled a massive torpedo bristling with various things… weapons, possibly… it was hard to tell at this distance.

“Celeste, what scanning functions can you perform?”

“Good question, John,” she announced happily. She made a sound as if clearing her throat, then began a litany, “I am able to scan for all known forms of energy, minerals or gasses, as per Earth’s Periodic Table of Elements, plus a small collection of substances that I have cataloged since our departure. I can also detect the presence of lifeforms, the arming and targeting of weapons systems – which, I should report, I do detect minimal signal of from the incoming vessel, likely a precautionary measure – “

John held up his hand, smiling, “Okay, Celeste, I think I get it – if it exists, you can scan it. What have we got for defensive capability?”

“Good…” she paused, then, “I am equipped with a photon-projected shield, and a pair of high frequency, rapid fire laser turrets. By my scan, these armaments will not be very effective against the hull of that vessel, but we may be able to penetrate their shields, should it be necessary.”

The scene backed out of the zoom a few levels, as the craft closed the distance quickly. John eyed it on the screen, and at the closer range, he could see that many of the protrusions were robotic arms sticking out like misshapen quills. Some could have been the barrels of weapons, but he wasn’t sure.

Mentally making a decision, he nodded and said, “Alright. Can you accelerate quickly?”

“Yes,” was all she said.

“The get the engines ready to go. If we need to, we’ll punch it and lose them in the asteroids.”

“That could be dangerous,” Celeste warned, but with an almost imperceptible hint of excitement. John caught it, and could sympathize.

“So could sitting here. Let’s just see –“ He was interrupted by the coms console beeping.

“Incoming transmission,” she said.

“Let’s hear it.”

There was some static, then in a halting, highborn-like accent, “… the mining vessel Jor-Gen-Sid. Do you read?”

John’s heart jumped; he heard English. They spoke English in space? He stammered his reply, “T-t-this is … the sh-h-ip Celeste,” he paused and slapped himself, telling himself to get it together.

“It is okay, John. It is a first-time experience,” Celeste commiserated.

“One most people I knew or even heard of never thought they’d have. And they speak English.”

The transmission came back, “Is there a problem? You need assistance?”

John shook off the daze, and opened the com again, more composed this time. “No, sorry. This is the Celeste, and I am Captain John Shandor.” He beamed inside at the title, whether it was official from a military or not.

“John,” Celeste said rather suddenly, “there is another ship incoming, military vessel, heavily armed and scanning aggressively.”

As if in response, the gruff voice drawled, “There is another vessel coming, O-PAT, and we should not be here, especially you. If you wish, follow, or dock, or go your own way. But make choice soon.” The later phrases seemed to shorten with urgency, and the speaker’s voice gained in pitch.

With the com off, John said, “What do you think, Celeste? You feel comfortable sitting inside another ship?”

“As long as they do not attempt anything, then yes, I would be agreeable to that. I scanned several transmissions concerning the O-PAT, and they sound less than accommodating.”

To the other vessel, “Okay, if you’re offering safe passage, we’ll take that offer.”

The vessel was near and large, now, looming like a dark-brown, vaguely cylindrical monolith. John could now see that the surface he’d been seeing was a rotating shell, and that the arms occasionally twitched, snatching at something, then depositing it’s catch near the arm’s base. A section of the outer shell slid apart, the protruding appendages folding down safely, revealing a large bay. A small craft emerged, the cockpit a half-bubble on the front of a large box, equipped with four arms of its own, and flew over the top of and docked to the top of the large vessel.

“Jor, here. Bay clear, will pull you in, but while accelerating. Will be bumpy, hold on.” He was calmer this time, the deep timbre back in his voice.

A light flashed bright yellow above the opening of the bay on the Jor-Gen-Sid, and Celeste squeaked as she lurched with the sudden grip of the tractor beam. John sniggered, her response reminding him of when he’d goosed Lacy during one of their many ‘hangout nights’.

“That… is uncomfortable,” she said glumly, as the beam turned her to face the same direction as the larger vessel. The Jor-Gen-Sid accelerated, pulling the Celeste as if the two ships were a single craft.

John made sure the intercom was off, then asked honestly, “You can really feel that, can’t you?”

“I can. It is… weird.” She seemed to be trying out a new word, and he noticed.

“Like someone touching your systems that you’d rather wouldn’t?”

She was silent for a moment, then, “Yes, that sounds closest. Accurately stated.” She paused, then said, “Another transmission, from the other ship.”

The speaker squawked with a tinny yelling, broken with distortion and interference, “-our ship down- … -pen fire- …”

John pushed the com button, “Say, Jor,” but the other cut him off.

“Heard. Be still.”

John’s eyebrow crept up as his finger lifted from the button, “Be. Still? Huh.” He watched as they passed into the hull of the larger ship, all the while gaining speed. From the port side, a bright green streak zipped past, continuing until it faded from sight.

“Are they shooting at us?! Asshats!” He shouted, unaware that the com was still live. He noticed the button flashing and stifled a laugh; he slapped it with his palm and let the outburst go.

In another moment, the Celeste lurched as the tractor beam settled her into a mooring, and the outer shell slid closed. Outside, stars zipped past with increasing speed, like little white streaks. Movement in the docking bay caught John’s attention, and he froze. Walking on legs that bend backward at the knees, was a giant blue-skinned bird-man, stomping toward the side of the Celeste looking like he intended to rip into the hull with his fists.

“s**t, Celeste. Do you see this guy?” John was not scared, per se, but greatly concerned that his first encounter with someone not of Earth be a violent one.

“You should talk to him. He might not be so bad,” her tone made John think that she was trying to convince herself at least as much as him. He headed for the airlock, pausing to look at the suits. They might be intimidating… he shook his head, then spotted the guns on the back wall in the chamber, and grinned. Stepping inside, he passed the suits and perused the selection of firearms, quickly selecting a .45 pistol that looked just like the one he’d seen Steve use on Craig.

He dropped the clip out to ensure it was indeed loaded, and paused when he saw the bullet-casings; they were highly polished – silver, he thought – and were etched with what he guessed were some sort of symbols. He popped the first bullet out and dropped it into his pocket, then shoved the magazine home and pulled the slide back, chambering the first in the clip. Checking that the safety was on, he tucked the pistol behind his belt at the small of his back, and headed into the airlock.

Closing the door to the armory, he searched his mind, called out to the thing that had taken up residence. It didn’t take long before he got a response; a sense of wary trust. He thought of the power he’d been practicing with before the launch, and the reaction was positive – it sprang to his hands immediately, enveloping them in an ethereal haze glittering with little green-and-blue motes of energy. He closed his hands, made fists, and the energy dissipated back into his arms, leaving the sensation that it was ready as needed.

In a moment, the outer door opened, and an odor hit John’s nose like a brick; pungent and sour, almost like rotten eggs, but not quite as foul.

“Pardon stink. Cargo there, Turmian Dreg-eggs.” The voice was the same one from the earlier transmissions, as the big-blue-birdman came to a stomping halt at the edge of a retracting walkway. He tapped a foot impatiently as the thing slowly extended toward the Celeste. Shrugging, the man said, “I am Jor. Other is Sid. Rest droids.”

As the walkway finally stopped, leaving an inch-wide gap, John stepped onto the metal mesh and crossed to the platform and next to Jor, suddenly feeling small. He tried to shrug it off, and offered a handshake. Jor’s head tilted somewhat, looking at the hand, then, slowly, he imitated the gesture.

John gently grasped the other’s large hand as best as he could, and gave a hearty shake. The corners of Jor’s mouth curved up in a grin, and John said, “Greetings, Jor. I’m John.”

They stepped back, and Jor said, “Nice vessel. Unique.”

John looked around, taking in the scenery, “So is yours.” The whole bay was at least two-hundred yards long, and nearly half of that wide. A group of large containers was stacked neatly behind where the Celeste was moored, while ahead was a small greenhouse-like structure, where the smelly ‘eggs’ were located. His gaze went back to Jor, the blue man was looking at him with an expression John took as surprise.

“Where you been?”

“What,” John asked, poleaxed. The question took him by surprise, and he went blank.

Another voice interrupted the awkwardness, and Sid appeared at near the containers, “Jor, you aren’t giving the new guy a hard time, are you?”

John turned to get a look at the newcomer, and did a triple-take. The speaker was walking toward him, about six-feet tall, with dark hair, neatly trimmed short and touched with a few streaks of gray. He was stocky, slightly tanned, had a few days growth on a beard that was as speckled as his hair with gray… most of all…

“You’re… h… human..?”

Sid stopped dead, looking at John as if he’d stated the most obvious thing in the universe, “Well… yeah. So? Aren’t you?”

John was staring at Sid’s hazel eyes when his head began to twirl, the adrenaline of the experience and the overpowering stench of the Dreg-eggs mixing to create a wooziness that sent him to the floor.

Sid and Jor looked at the other, lying face down on the deck, and Sid quipped, “You’re too much, man. You made him feint.”

“Feint? He was not fighting, he just passed out. He have weak knees.”

While Jor chuckled at his own joke, Sid shook his head, “Its… never mind. Let’s get him to the bridge and get out of here. That O-PAT ship isn’t going to give up easily.”

Jor scooped John’s limp body up and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and they hurried through the ship, passing several droids along the way.

When they got to the bridge, Jor dumped his cargo into a seat, then headed for the navigation console. The bridge of the Jor-Gen-Sid was elongated, rather reflective of the vessel’s overall shape, and at full staff, would be crewed by eight members. Droids manned most of the stations, while Sid sat the captain’s chair, and Jor ran navigation and weapons systems – his two favorite things to do.

The ship rocked as several blasts from the O-PAT cruiser made impact on the aft shields, weakening them. Jor furiously worked at the console, his fingers a deft blur, and the Jor-Gen-Sid accelerated. A couple more shots shook the vessel, and the rocking brought John out from his stupor.

Looking around, he saw several shots zip past the ship, “Oh, crap, this isn't a dream.”

Sid spun around, a slight grin twisting the corners of his mouth, “It’s cool, kid, we’re almost out of it.” He turned the seat back around, and John sat forward, testing his legs. He chuckled a little at Sid’s comment, thinking, 'Kid, heh. I’m older than your great-grandma.'

“Approaching warp,” Jor announced, and Sid turned back to John, belting himself into the seat and indicating that he should do the same.

As John slid back and grabbed the belt, he noticed that the engines were winding up furiously, emitting a high-pitched whine, and the ship vibrated with a mellow intensity. Suddenly, everything stopped; it seemed as if the entire universe froze on the spot. Nothing moved on the bridge, and even the stars outside seemed paused, looking like horizontal bars in a kind of light prison. He had a worried thought at the silence that covered all, as he could not even detect his own heartbeat.

The surrealism was about to turn John’s mind on its end, when everything abruptly began moving again. The stars streaked past, the droids moved in their usual movements, and Sid brushed a hand over his head.

“Are we clear, Jor?”

“Aye,” came the gruff response as Jor stood and stretched, letting out a squeaky groan with the effort.

Sid spun the chair around once more to face John. “So, kid. I’m Sid rh’Thet, and that’s Jor the-“

Jor cut off the honorific with a hiss, and Sid shook his head and continued, “Sorry. Just Jor. Anyway, you are?”

John blinked, still trying to piece through the fact that he was face-to-face with another human. “J-J-John,” he stammered, staring.

Sid and Jor exchanged a look, and Sid clapped his hands, “How about a drink.” It was more an announcement than an offer, as he stood and walked toward the door, pulling John up by the sleeve as he passed.

As they walked through a corridor, John finally got his act together, or so he thought. He had planned to ask a more intelligent question, like “where are you from?”, but what came out was, “Y-you’re human”. John immediately slapped his forehead, and Sid chuckled.

They entered a smallish room filled with tables and chairs, and a large kitchen, complete with a bar. The latter is where Sid went like a homing missile. He grabbed a bottle of what looked like bourbon, and poured three glasses. Jor took up one, Sid another, while John tentatively took the third, sniffing the booze.

It had a woody scent, like hickory, but there was something else, somewhat salty with a hint of a spice he thought might be cinnamon. The others tipped theirs up, emptying the glasses and setting them down simultaneously. Sid grinned at John, while Jor just watched, his face hard to read. He brought the glass up and tipped it, and when the liquor hit his tongue, it tasted like a very smooth whiskey, with a spicy sweetness, and it went down easily. He tipped back the rest in a swallow, and clinked the glass down with the others.

“Good stuff,” he said, “umm, sorry about earlier. I just never expected to see another human. I’m John Shandor.” He offered his hand across the table to Sid, who returned with a hearty shake.

“Good to meet you, John. Where are you from?” Sid asked, and John caught the slightest glimmer of something in the man's eye. It was familiar, hiding in the mists at the border of his consciousness, but he just could not grab it.

John hesitated in answering, wondering if it would be safe to tell the truth. He had been asleep for over a thousand years; how much had changed in that time? Hell, for that matter, how much had been happening in the universe that the people of Earth had never even know about? Noticing the question growing in Sid’s expression, he made a decision.

“I’m from… Earth.” He watched for reaction, and was not disappointed. Both reeled back, looking at each other.

“You’re kidding, right,” Sid asked, suddenly seeming a bit nervous. When Sid saw that John’s expression had not changed, “You aren’t kidding. Damn, kid.”

“Impossible,” Jor said, leaning back in his chair. “Earth not alive.”

John’s gaze snapped to Jor, “What do you mean, not alive?”

“Just what he said, kid,” Sid came in calmly, “Earth, if you mean Sol’s Earth, has been a dead planet for a long time. Wiped out in a war, or some such.”

John slumped back, rubbing his temples, which had begun to throb.

“You didn’t know?” Sid’s sympathy was plain, and he poured another round.

John sighed, taking the refill and emptying the glass in one gulp. “I had a suspicion, but I hoped…” He gazed into the bottom of the glass, beginning to feel the effects of the drink in his arms and legs, and the presence in his mind tried to offer some commiseration from within, seeming unaffected by the alcohol.

“What I wonder is, since that was over a thousand years ago, how are you here?”

John sat back in his chair, trying to relax and finding that the booze was helping. “I was in stasis, only just woke up… well, a short time before you arrived. I was supposed to sleep for about seventy years, and wake at a system with habitable planets. I don’t know what happened with that, but, here I am.”

Jor’s rumble was a bit startling in the general quiet, “Earth?”

John’s eyebrow rose in question, and Sid said, “He means to ask what happened there?” Jor nodded his head in affirmation. “He's kind of a history fanatic – 'any planet, any people' he says.”

Jor nodded emphatically and leaned forward for all the worlds like an overgrown child – with blue skin and a big, pointy nose.

John sighed, “It’s a… long story, really.”

Sid nodded, “I understand. Maybe later, then? I am a bit curious, myself, but we won’t push.” He glanced at Jor, who again nodded, then both stood. “Jor, how about seeing to the ship, make sure we didn’t take any damage from those assholes, while I show John around a bit.”

Jor nodded to Sid, then again at John, and turned to go. He paused at the door, looked at John, “Fuel your ship?”

“No thanks. She should be good,” John replied, returning Jor’s nod. This time, when Jor grinned, it was obvious.

After Jor left, Sid said, “Good move, there, John, with the nod. How’d you know?”

John looked to the other, “Know?”

“Jor’s people are very staunch in ways of social displays of respect and honor, and the head nodding is a subtler show, reserved for the newly met.”

John harrumphed reflectively, “Good to know.”

Sid just looked at John, “You really aren't from around here, are you? The Iordreth are pretty common in the local systems, as are their general culture. I'll get you in touch with some information, so you can get a handle on things.”

Sid took John around on the ‘grand tour’, from bow to stern of the mining/cargo vessel, working around in a loop that ended in the hold, the pair standing by the Celeste. Sid was looking her over approvingly and commenting on her design.

“She’s very sleek, well made. What’s her propulsion system?”

“It’s, umm…” John struggled to find the proper words, not fully understanding the concept, “it’s a type of fusion, uses an atom collider, I believe. I didn’t design the thing, mind,” he said nervously.

“Don’t feel bad,” Sid said sympathetically, “I don’t make engines, either. I was just curious. You ship doesn’t seem to have an energy emission, which is why I asked.” Mentally, Sid continued with, “A system like that hasn’t been seen in a long time.”

They stood in silence for a time; Sid was fielding a call from one of the ship’s droids on a hand held communicator similar to a cell phone, While John looked around the cargo bay and marveling over the ship's overall size; the scope in size of the Jor-Gen-Sid surpassed anything he’d ever seen previously, and the fact that it was primarily staffed by droids just added to the impact. He was still trying to wrap his head around that alone, but then to add the presence of humans billions of light years away from any other known – it was overwhelming.

Sid tugged his sleeve lightly, breaking his trance, “You alright, John? You looked like you were about to drop out again.”

John shook his head, “It’s okay. I think I might need to eat something. I’ve been…” he hesitated when he realized what he was about to say.

“It’s okay,” Sid said without much pause, “times have been tough through the Collective. Let’s go get you something to eat then – we have a bit we can spare.”