Space Scout - The Makers Read online

  Space Scout

  The Makers

  The third and final part

  of the ‘Space Scout’ Trilogy

  Copyright  2016 S. A. Pavli

  .All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of S.A.Pavli except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Edition 2 December 2016

  Cover picture is the Omega Centauri cluster photographed by the Hubble telescope. From the NASA website.

  The starship is imaginary, although I wish it wasn’t!

  Note to my readers

  When I finished writing Space Scout, I had no intention of writing a sequel. When some readers asked for it, I realised that we did indeed have unfinished business with the Hianja. And then when I finished ‘The Peacekeepers’, again I realised that I had not explained the amazing genetic similarities between Human and Hianja. So I wrote ‘The Makers’.

  I have enjoyed my journey with the handsome and jocular Captain Constantine and the beautiful Manera. I hope you have also, and that you also enjoy this final chapter of their great adventure. Thank you for your support and your comments.

  Best regards

  S.A.Pavli

  Chapter 1

  It was a cool and overcast summer’s day in London. Dark clouds on the horizon threatened rain and a squally wind agitated the trees in the park outside our window. People scuttled by, holding on to hats and scarves. I had been looking at the stormy scene through the window, and listening to the 3D behind me. The reporter was talking emphatically and with some alarm.

  “The Human League, as they are calling themselves, have called for demonstrations all over the world against what they call the heresy of alien genetic engineering.”

  The scene shifted to a huge open air meeting. The speaker was a Christian priest. Standing next to him were representatives of all the worlds religions.

  “Science has spent five hundred years defending evolution, and now we find it was all a mistake.” He shouted fiercely into the array of microphones in front of him. “Apparently, we, us humans, and our friends the Hianja, have been genetically engineered by a bunch of aliens,” he said, with heavy sarcasm.

  “Aliens whose origin is unknown, current location unknown, purpose unknown.” he added, spreading his arms out to demonstrate his confusion and bafflement.

  There was a roar of support from the crowd. The scene returned to the reporter.

  “That scene is repeated throughout the world,” he continued. “The USA and Europe, Asia and South America, the story is the same. There is outrage at the very idea.” The view went on to show different cities where similar demonstrations were taking place.

  The hyperspace message from Omega Centauri, with its digital representation of Human and Hianja’s common DNA, had touched a nerve in all religions, causing anger and disbelief.

  I turned back to the room, frustrated and just a little alarmed at the furore.

  “He does have a point.” I said. “The problem is people are not taking the time to understand the science. The aliens did not create us. They just gave evolution a helping hand.”

  Manera smiled back at me from the sofa. She was reclining comfortably, her long shapely legs up, paging through her personal tablet.

  “Do you blame them for not understanding the Science when even scientists cannot explain how it was done?” She turned azure eyes in my direction with an enquiring look.

  “I guess not,” I agreed. “Doesn’t seem to stop them from expressing an opinion though.”

  She swung her legs onto the floor and stood in one quick lithe movement. She was as tall as me with a slender lissom figure. Dark lustrous hair with auburn highlights and startling azure eyes made for a striking physical presence. But Manera was a scientist, and the brain behind those beautiful eyes was razor sharp. She folded her tablet into a small square and saved it in a side pocket.

  “People need the comfort that religion provides, the sense of belonging and the belief that life is not meaningless.”

  I looked at her quizzically. It was not like Manera to defend religious.

  “I am, as they say, being the devil’s advocate. Wait, no, I’m being God’s advocate,” she laughed.

  “Hmm. I don’t think God needs any more advocates,” I remarked.

  I walked over and took her in my arms, at the same time sending a mental command through my implant to switch off the 3D.

  “This has done the impossible. United all religions. In protest.”

  “The idea that an alien species my have interfered with our DNA is shocking.”

  “Mmm.” I pulled her to me for a cuddle and nuzzled her neck with a growl of pretend passion.

  “Are you bored with being in the apartment? We could go to the gym for a workout,” she suggested.

  “I can think of a more interesting workout,” I suggested,

  “Tennis?” she suggested with a cheeky smile.

  But before we could decide on the precise nature of our ‘workout’, the comm buzzed. I groaned and she laughed. I accepted the call and the 3D lit up to show the smiling face of chairman Krusniet, the leader of the Hianja Council.

  “Manera, Paul. I hope you are well.”

  “Yes mister chairman. We were just about to go to the gym,” said Manera, directing a cheeky look in my direction.

  “Ah, to be young again. I haven’t been anywhere near a gym for I can’t remember how many years.” The chairman chuckled to himself before continuing. “Have you two been keeping in touch with events?”

  “You mean the media furore?” asked Manera.

  “Yes, just about every group, faction, religion and political party has an opinion and is loudly expressing it,” said the chairman. “They are also all asking to be represented on the expedition.”

  “Not very practical,” I remarked.

  “Absolutely not,” he said emphatically. “The expedition will be composed of professionals. Astronauts, crew, engineers and scientists.”

  “So is it decided?” I asked. I was excited at the thought of going on the expedition, and impressed that agreement had been reached so quickly.”

  “Not quite,” he replied. “But we are talking with the Earth authorities about a joint expedition. The problem is that the Settang is twice as fast as any Earth starship.”

  “How long is the journey to Omega Centauri?” I asked. It was Manera who answered.

  “Fifteen thousand light years, that would take three weeks.”

  “Mmm. Six weeks for an Earth starship. That’s a long time locked up in a tin can.”

  “Not really. Remember early astronauts would spend months journeying to the nearest planets,” said the chairman. “

  “They are welcome to it,” I said..

  “You are counting yourself a member of our expedition?” asked the chairman. There was a quizzical look on his old face. I realised that he was right. I was instinctively considering myself as a member of the Hianja expedition instead of the Human one. I paused for a moment, unsure how to answer. The chairman chuckled. “That is not a problem of course,” he said with a broad smile. “You are honorary Hianja.”

  I laughed, feeling a surge of affection for the old chap, and all things Hianja, especially the beautiful girl next to me.

  “Try to keep him away,” said Manera, “In any case, we must get back to Hian to re-equip and provision the Settang for the trip.” I nodded my agreement.

  “Perhaps arrange to meet up at a particular destination in the cluster. On a different question, why haven’t we travelled t
o the cluster? I know it is a bit far, but it is a very interesting place.”

  “It is,” agreed Manera. “Did you know that the average distance between stars in the cluster is 0.1 of a light year? You could almost walk between stars.”

  “The sky must be permanently bright,” I said. “The cluster is believed to have been part of another galaxy which has been captured by ours. There is a giant black hole at its centre.”

  “And imagine. If an advanced civilization evolved in the cluster, they would have access to thousands of stars, all within a few light years of each other,” said Manera.

  “They would dominate the cluster in a million years,” I said.

  “The Makers have been around for two million years,” said Manera. “That’s when Human and Hianja genes diverged from our ancestors.”

  “What could they have achieved in that time? The mind boggles. I mean, in two million years they should have populated the whole galaxy.”

  “Yes. What happened to them is a mystery.”

  “Which I hope we will solve,” said the chairman. “Paul, we will be departing for Hian in five days time. I guess you will be asking your superiors if you can come with us?”

  “Of course. But what about my ship’s AI, Alfred? He has been so important to us, we can’t leave him behind.”

  “Yes, it would be very useful to have him with us,” agreed the chairman. “Can you persuade your authorities to include him as a member of our team?”

  “I’ll try. There’s more chance he will be a member of the Earth expedition.”

  “That will be something.” The chairman signed off.

  We sat for a while discussing the expedition and what we may find, before deciding to go to the gym after all!

  Chapter 2

  My superiors were unconcerned as to whether I was a member of the Hianja expedition, or the Earth one, they left the choice to me. On the question of my AI, it was suggested that a rig could be provided to accommodate Alfred’s hardware, and that it could be installed on the Settang. This was accepted by all concerned and the engineers were instructed to carry out the necessary changes.

  My discovery that the Earth expedition would be predominantly military caused my some annoyance, given my experience with Earth’s military during the Peacekeeper incidents. Not that I don’t have respect for our fighting men; it’s their leaders motives that I had come to distrust. But then, I told myself, we had no idea what we would come up against. To go un-prepared would be foolish.

  My boss, admiral Crozier, assured me that the military would be under the command of the civilian leaders of the expedition, which was some reassurance. But if things got tough, I had no doubt the military would ‘pull rank‘.

  Five days later I bid goodbye to my friends and made yet another departure from Earth. Life for me in the past, had consisted of a series of departures and arrivals, with long and tedious journeys in between. That was the life of a scout ship pilot. Recently however, things had become a tad more exciting, to say the least!

  A few days later, our arrival back at Hian caused another media explosion, not just because of our return from first contact with the Humans, but the news of the hyperspace message from Omega Centauri. If anything, the latter generated more interest, but the contrast with Earth was revealing. There was none of the religious factionalism that typified human reactions. There was scientific interest in how genes from one species could be made to ‘work’ in another. But mostly, speculation and discussion as to the identity, purpose and whereabouts of these fabled aliens.

  The Earth was preparing to send their diplomatic mission in a few days and relations between the two civilisations would proceed apace. But we were more concerned with preparations to equip ourselves and our ship for the expedition. My own involvement was ‘high level’, which meant lots of meetings and vague discussions about what we would find and how to prepare for it. Since we had no idea what we would find it became a case of taking anything or anyone we could think of as remotely useful and hoping for the best!

  We had great faith in the military power of the Settang, but we were also painfully aware that the Makers, as we had now come to call them, were a very ancient species and could have technology that we could not even begin to imagine. We could only hope that as their ‘children’, if indeed that was what we were, they would greet us with friendship.

  We stayed at the same apartment as before, in the main government complex of the capital city Enstrada. It was one of a group of apartments reserved for visiting dignitaries and members of the Guardian Council, and very sumptuously equipped. As a humble scout ship pilot, used to roughing it in the fairly cramped and Spartan confines of my exploration ship, this made a very pleasant change. Sharing such luxury with my beautiful partner was an even bigger bonus!

  But we were very busy preparing for the expedition and I saw little of Manera during the day. Most evenings however, we were able to explore the huge city, and enjoy its many features, often in the company of our Guardian friends, and other members of the Settang’s crew, particularly its Captain , the redoubtable Hamolatonen, and its first officer and systems chief, Colrania. We had become firm friends and comrades after the Peacekeeper adventures.

  During one evening, the four of us were enjoying cocktails at the top of one of the highest buildings in Hian. The spectacular view from the bar took in a sweeping panorama of the city, including the broad winding river the Semtra. We went out onto the viewing platform so that my friends could point out interesting landmarks to me, when we were approached by a young couple.

  “Are you the Earthman?” asked the girl. She looked very young, but that could be misleading with the Hianja since they aged more slowly than Humans. I was not surprised that I had been recognised. My image had been omnipresent in the media for some time.

  “Yes,” I nodded warily, not sure how the couple would react.

  “This is so amazing,” she said, a delighted smile on her face. She looked at her partner and he grinned back, nodding enthusiastically. “Our friends will never believe us. Can we take a photograph?”

  Oh heck, I thought. I looked at Manera who was smiling amiably at the young couple.

  “I think you should also include the famous Manera Ka-Hatekan,” I suggested.

  “Oh yes,” exclaimed the girl. “Of course, eyaah!” She hopped up and down with delight and we obligingly posed for her, and then Hamo photographed them both with me and Manera. We were starting to attract attention and quickly saying goodbye to the youngsters we beat a hasty retreat from the bar.

  “You should have worn your Insettara miners uniform,” quipped Manera.

  “He has an Insettara miners uniform?” asked Colrania, looking puzzled.

  “That was his disguise when we were here last,” explained Manera, which brought chuckles of amusement from Hamo and Colrania.

  We caught an autotaxi to an out of town riverside restaurant. The setting was beautiful, warm enough for us to sit outside and admire the river and passing boats. There was live music and part way through our meal the band broke out into a strident number and a young woman suddenly threw herself onto the dance floor. My Hianja colleagues started smiling as the girl began lurching about the dance floor, as if drunk, but with elegant concentration, sometimes appearing as if she was ready to fall over, then recovering and executing a complex dance, before again staggering drunkenly.

  “It is the dance of the drunken man,” explained Manera, whispering in my ear.

  “I kind of gathered that,” I whispered back.

  “He comes back home late at night, to find his wife has left him,” she explained.

  “Er…he?” I pointed to the girl dancing. She shrugged.

  “Artistic licence. That sobers ‘him’ up, and he then feels sorry for himself.” I nodded, my eyes on the dancer. She proceeded to act out the scene, demonstrating surprise, consternation and then despair, with exaggerated athletic expression.

  “But the neighbour hears him, an
d comes to find out what is going on,” continued Manera. Another young woman jumped onto the dance floor and they began to execute a series of complex moves, confronting each other, then separating to do their own thing.

  “She comforts him, and then things start to get heated,” said Manera. The on looking diners began to laugh uproariously as the couple began to show a saucy interest in each other.

  “But then the wife returns and catches them at it,” said Manera. A third person jumped into the mix, but it was a man not a woman. “And they decide to make it up.” The gyrations finished in an obvious finale.

  “Followed by a threesome. Lucky fellow,” I said with a grin, as the dancers acted out the play with obvious enjoyment, both on their part and the audiences. The culmination of the dance brought enthusiastic applause and the dancers took their bows before resuming their seats and their meal.

  “That was great. They look like professional dancers,” I observed, as we resumed our meal.

  “It’s a very old traditional dance,” explained Colrania. “Although, yes, they are sort of professional. When they are here, they like to entertain the customers.”

  “And very young,” said Hamolatonen, pulling a face.

  “Come on Hamo, I bet you can give a good account of yourself,” said Colrania. “What is your dance?”

  “I’m not a dancing man,” said Hamo apologetically. “Too tall, lanky and disjointed.”

  “Paul, how about you?” she asked.

  “Ah well, we all consider ourselves good dancers,” I said. “And after enough alcohol, guess what? We are!”

  “Another bottle please,” cried Colrania. “This I have to see.”

  We got through the evening without being recognised again and I managed to resist the urge to demonstrate my dancing ability. Hamo and Colrania both had apartments in the capital and we parted with cheerful and slightly drunken goodbyes when the autotaxi dropped us off at our apartment.