The Span of Empire: Chapter Twenty Three

    It had been six days since the fleet had emerged in the system from their last jump. Dannet had congregated the fleet well to the galactic north of the star, above the system’s ecliptic. There they had waited while the Lleix, especially the Terralore elian, finished learning the language of the natives–or languages, rather. According to Lim, there was evidence of at least five different languages in use. One of them seemed to be dominant, however. The majority of the transmissions from the two inner planets were in that tongue, as well as all the transmissions from the outer reaches.

    It was a situation much like Terra before the conquest, Caitlin mused. Many more than five languages then, true, but even then English had been the dominant tongue, despite the arguments of the French and the Chinese to the contrary. The conquest and occupation had simply sealed that position, as the Jao only learned one human language, and refused to speak to anyone who wasn’t conversational in it. Hopefully they would avoid that position of hubris here, but they had to start with something, so language #1 it was.

    Caitlin looked at where the three Lleix sat together in her conference room. “Okay, tell me what you’ve got.” She sat back and let the Lleix take over the command meeting.

    “We have detected at least five different primary languages in the broadcasts from the home planet we have listened to,” Pyr began, “as well as several dialects of at least two of them. Only one of those languages is in use in the other system locations, so we have focused on interpreting that one. All the names we will use are from the primary language.” He looked Caitlin’s direction.

    “Understood,” she said, and waved a hand.

    “The system primary is called Khûr,” Pyr continued.

    His pronunciation of the word had a very nasal timbre. “Khûr,” Caitlin said, trying to reproduce it. “Okay, I’m going to have to practice that one. Go on.”

    “The name means Holy Light in the primary language,” Garhet picked up the thread, “and that colors almost everything else we have been able to learn about the people.”

    Lim spoke next. “It’s not clear if they consider their star to be a god, or if they only consider it to be a monumental sign of divine favor. There hasn’t been that much background available in the broadcasts. But they call themselves the Khûrûsh, which translates to People of the Holy Light.”

    The nasal sound hit twice in that word. “Khûrûsh,” Caitlin whispered to herself, trying to push the sound through her nose to get the proper nasal tone to the u’s. Such an interesting sounding name, for the first independently contacted extraterrestrial race in human history.

    “The home planet is Khûr-shi, which translates to Khûr’s home.” The sensor reports had established that the planet was a bit smaller than Earth, but occupied a similar location in its system that Earth did in the human solar system, albeit it was the second planet out instead of the third because the system didn’t have a Mercury analog. Multiple continents, blue water oceans, ice-caps, slight axial tilt; not an exact duplicate of Earth, but very similar. The fleet techs didn’t have an exact read on the atmosphere yet, but what they could determine was also a close match to Earth’s. Jao, Lleix, and humans could probably walk around without needing air masks.

    “The major moon is named Khûr-liyo, which means Khur’s little sister. The minor moon or planetoid is named Khûr-io, which we think means something like Khûr’s dog or Khûr’s wolf. It definitely a reference to an aggressive animal of some kind, but we haven’t seen a picture yet of what it could be like.” From the sensor reports they knew that Khûr-liyo was approximately 2600 kilometers in diameter, which made it not quite three-fourths of the diameter of Earth’s Luna. This meant it was less than half the volume of Luna, and presumably less than half the mass. Khûr-shi would have noticeable tides, the science guys had reported, but not as strong as those of Earth. Khûr-io, on the other hand, was too small and too far out to have much of an effect on the surface of Khûr-shi.

    Caitlin reminded herself that the Lleix were speaking from only six days of listening to old-fashioned radio and television broadcasts, and they’d only deciphered the video output three days ago. It was a miracle they had come up with what they had. “So what are the people like?”

    “Scientifically and technologically, they appear to be somewhat beyond pre-conquest Terra,” Garhet said, “but we see nothing that indicates that they have any form of interstellar travel yet.”

    Tully stirred in his seat down the table from Caitlin. “Are all their signals in the clear?” When Garhet looked to him and raised his aureole, Tully expanded, “Do they encode any of their signals, or is everything open for everyone to listen to and read?”

    “Some three per-cent of what we have listened to in the last six days has been coded. Multiple systems have been used.” Garhet spread his hands. “Some we have deciphered. They appeared to be used by commercial interests. Others still resist our efforts, and those we suspect belong to governmental organizations.”

    “Or military,” Fleet Commander Dannet added. Garhet nodded in acquiescence to the statement, but said nothing further. The point had been made that this civilization was not an elysium. With that dark thought in her mind, Caitlin motioned for the briefing to continue.

    Pyr touched a control on his com pad, and a hologram sprang into being above the table, slowly rotating to give everyone a chance to view the figure. “This is a representative member of the species.”

    “It’s a damn fox,” Caitlin heard Tully mutter. She had to admit that the face was definitely vulpine, and the russet colored fur and mane just reinforced the perception of a vertical fox; with one slight change from the Terran model–it had six limbs. The hologram blinked to another image, this one of a different Khûrûsh, caught as if in the act of running on all six limbs.

    “What they look like doesn’t matter,” Caitlin said. “What is their society like?”

    Lim took over. “Very structured, very controlled.”

    Caitlin raised her eyebrows when nothing more was said. “Can you give me more than that?”

    The Lleix were silent for a moment, then Lim said with what appeared to be reluctance, “They are much more authoritarian than Jao, or even Lleix.” Caitlin pursed her lips and almost whistled, stopping when she remembered the Lleix phobia. “Out of human history, there are strong parallels with pre-Meiji Japan.”

    Caitlin sat back, absorbing that.

    “Jeez,” Tully muttered. “Shogun, and all that? That could be a pain.”

    “Not necessarily,” Caitlin responded. “One great advantage to a hierarchy is if you make solid contact with the top rank, you’re in all the way.”

    “Yeah, and if the top rank doesn’t want to have anything to do with you, what happens then?” Tully said with a grimace. “We really don’t want to set off an interstellar World War II here.”

    A few of the Jao’s angles slipped to versions of bewildered, but most of them understood the reference. The Terralore elian Lleix knew recent human history better than the humans did, of course, so they understood both the reference and the thrust of the comment. They said nothing.

    Caitlin thought for a moment, considering everything that had been said, then tapped the table and said, “Okay, here’s how we’re going to do it . . .”

    A day later the Lexington’s command deck was operating like a well-oiled machine. Jao and humans alike knew their jobs, and did them well. Caitlin looked around as she joined Wrot and Fleet Commander Dannet in the open space in front of Lieutenant Vaughan’s console.

    “Sensors report that they are still lashing us with radar, Fleet Commander,” Lieutenant Vaughan reported from his workstation. The one that Caitlin usually sat at had been given to Pyr the Lleix, with Garhet standing beside him. Lim had returned to Ban Chao.

    The natives had not taken long to notice the arrival of the fleet seven days earlier. By the time the last of the Lexington class ships had emerged from the photosphere of Khûr, the first radar signals had begun to reach them, emitted from Khûr-liyo and various spacecraft scattered around the system. It had never let up. There had been no attempt to contact them; no spacecraft sent their way; simply the radar.

    Dannet made no comment, and gave no useless orders such as “Keep me posted,” or “Let me know if anything changes.” Being Jao, she took it for granted that such would be the case. And with the Lexington’s crew trained to the high level it occupied, it would be the case. So the fleet commander looked to Caitlin, and said, “All is ready, Director.”

    Caitlin took a deep breath, and replied, “Very well. Begin.”

    Dannet turned to the command deck. “Orders to the fleet: execute. Terra-Captain Uldra, begin.”

    With that, the approach to the Khûrûsh began. Caitlin watched the main view screen to see the fleet split. All of the support ships, most of the lighter warcraft, and Sun Tzu remained in their galactic north position. The rest of the heavy ships, being Lexington, Arjuna, Ban Chao and Pool Buntyam, shaped course for the second planet from the sun.

    Lexington began broadcasting a high-powered announcement crafted by the Lleix asking for peaceful contact in each of the five languages aimed directly at the home planet on all the Khûrûsh major communication frequencies.

    Zhao Jiguang watched, arms folded, as Lim neared completion of the 64 Forms. She really was quite good, he admitted to himself. Even with the time it had taken him to adapt the forms to the movement ranges of the Lleix body, she had still learned the essential forms as fast as anyone he had ever taught. He was seeing her two hours every day, and he was sure that she was spending much of her off time working the forms as well. It showed. Her focus and intensity was almost scary.

    Zhao had had talented–even very talented–human students before, who had learned at very fast paces, but even the best had been somewhat slower than this person who was not even of Earth. He had indeed been forced more than once to instruct her to take a slower pace; to even take time off. And he had to wonder if this was unique to her, or if all Lleix would perform this way.

    Ah, Lim was coming out of Grasp the Bird’s Tail and moving to Gather Heaven to Earth, the final form. Zhao straightened as her arms went through the reaching up motion. As her arms descended to rest by her side, he took a staff from a nearby rack. Lim completed the form with a slow exhalation of breath; Zhao moved to stand before her.

    He wasn’t surprised to see that her eyes were closed. He knew more than one Tai Chi practitioner who would practice with their eyes shut. “Well done,” he said.

    Lim’s eyes flew open, and she put her hands together and gave a slight bow to him. “Thank you, sifu.” She had found the honorific for a Tai Chi instructor in the Terralore database, and he had been unable to convince her it wasn’t necessary to use it with him. For all that, she had determined to wear a karate gi, rather than human sweats or the loose Chinese style clothing that Zhao himself wore. He had no problem with that, actually. He was not that much of a purist, to the despair of some of the other Tai Chi masters in southern California.

    Zhao set one end of the staff on the deck and clasped his hands around it together about shoulder height. He looked at Lim, staring deep into her eyes. She gazed back steadily. A long moment passed. When Lim did not look away, Zhao smiled. “Here,” he said, holding out the staff, “take this.”

    Lim looked at it, but did not reach out to take it. “What is that? A weapon?”

    Zhao snorted. “It’s a piece of wood. Take it.”

    Lim slowly reached out both hands and took the staff, holding it in front of her with one end on the deck. “It is made of wood,” she said, “but that is not what it is.”

    Zhao chuckled. “You grow subtle, my student. You are correct, it is made of wood, but that is not what it is. You will take this with you, and keep it with you at all times. When you believe you know what it is, tell me.”

    So far there had been no response from the Khûrûsh other than even more intensive radar signals. “The cooks could put a cow out on the hull and it would be well-done in an hour from the radiation,” Flue Vaughan muttered.

    The sensor techs had already reported the increased radar signals, so Vaughan just noted it in his logs, and continued watching Fleet Commander Dannet; who, at that moment, was approaching Caitlin Kralik.

    “We are drawing near to the limit you set, Director.” Dannet’s voice was brusque, which was unusual neither for Jao in general nor for her in particular. “Do you still insist on your directive?” Her angles were all accepting-of-direction, though, from what Vaughan could tell. His interpretation of Jao body speech was continuing to improve.

    Caitlin took a deep breath. Flue watched her out of the corner of his eye. Yes, she had oudh over the search effort, but the fleet commander seemed to press her at times. Flue wasn’t sure if Dannet was expressing a certain distaste for the director, or if it was legitimate under her position as fleet commander to ensure that certain orders were confirmed. Either way, it looked like Caitlin was getting a bit tired of it.

    “Yes, Fleet Commander,” the director said in stern tones, body angles portraying absolute-command-to-subordinate in what even Vaughan recognized was a flawless posture. “All the other ships will halt one million kilometers out from the planet outward from Khûr-liyo’s L4 libration point, while Lexington moves to the L1 point. We are not going to come in like an invading fleet.”

    Lexington was headed for an orbit between the planet and the moon, while the rest of the flotilla waited almost three times the distance from Earth to its moon. Vaughan had heard Caitlin’s explanation in the command meeting. She did not want the Khûrûsh to feel as if the Jao/human fleet was looming over them or “taking the high ground,” as Tully had put it. So Lexington would go in alone, and the rest of the flotilla would park far enough away that hopefully they wouldn’t be an adverse psychological component in the attempt to establish communications and a relationship, but still be close enough that if for some reason things dropped in the crapper they could come running.

    The sensor techs had already confirmed that Lexington was bigger than any craft the Khûrûsh had in space at the moment. It was also pretty obvious to Vaughan that the drive systems the Khûrûsh were using with their ships weren’t anything in comparison to the Jao drives. Lex ought to be imposing enough, Vaughan thought, that the Khûrûsh would respond to the messages that were being broadcast.

    Nothing. Even after the rest of the flotilla halted and Lexington continued on her own, no response from Khûr-shi. Only the incessant radar signals, which, as unbelievable as it seemed, were only increasing in strength and intensity.

    “I can’t believe we’re not getting a response,” Caitlin said as they neared Khûr-liyo. “When the Jao came to Earth, we humans were addressing them as soon as it was clear they were intentional travelers from outside the solar system. Why are these folks not talking to us?”

    She looked at Vaughan. He shrugged. “No answer, Director. No responses. Just more radar.”

    Tully slapped the mat in surrender, and Sergeant Luff quit trying to insert his foot into his ear. Tully rolled over onto his back and accepted a hand up from the sergeant. He was breathing hard, and nursing a mat burn on his elbow. “You know, Top, I’m getting tired of you polishing the mat with my face.”

    Luff gave a slight smile. “You’re improving, Colonel. You’ve started making me sweat a little, anyway.” His white teeth flashed in his coffee-colored face.

    “Nobody likes a smart-ass, Top.”

    The sergeant said nothing, just laughed with that deep resonant Jamaican voice.

    Tully wiped his forehead off. Whether or not the sergeant was sweating, he definitely was. He looked over to the mat where Zhao and Lim were working together. “You think she’s getting it?” he asked.

    Luff spread his hands. “Wrong guy to ask, Colonel. I know Tae Kwon Do and Jiu-Jitsu. I know enough about Tai Chi to recognize it, but that’s it. But from the outside, I’d say she’s making definite progress. Joe’s done a great job of adapting it to fit the Lleix conformity. Watching him has got me thinking about how to adapt Tae Kwon Do for the Lleix. I don’t know that any of them will ever want to learn it, but the mental exercise is good; and who knows, maybe I’ll come up with something new and unique.”

    A raucous klaxon burst sounded three time, then a Jao voice came over the announcement systems. “All crew to battle stations. All jinau to assault stations. This is not a drill.”

    Everyone in the gym surged toward the exit. Tully darted forward, yelling, “Make a hole, people! Make a hole!”

    The troops opened a pathway through the throng, and he plunged through it with Luff on his heels.