MotherShip (26 page)

The three humans looked on with wide eyes as they listened in awe.

The Kraaqi leader slowed his dance in order to begin his song. Now with both dance and words, he sang the story of the Kraaqi Bands.

His words told of the beginning. In that beginning, the Kraaqi were and always had been one with the sky, earth and water. But they were never farmers. Nor herders.

Always, they had been the hunters. Warriors. And lastly, Seekers.

Their ships had always set them apart. Band apart from Band. The Band with the fastest, most powerful warships were always the strongest Band. Every warrior youth knew in his heart that his first day of manhood would be as pilot of his first small craft, or as a crew-member of one of his Band's larger warships, probably an uncle or father as his courageous Captain.

Other than a glorious death in battle, his best death would be in the bowels of his favorite ship set afire in his memory by the warriors of his own Band. If he was honorable enough, or a warrior of rank.

In that distant beginning, their warships had been of the water, taking them upon the mighty rivers and distant seashores of their home world—to new conquests.

Finally, their warships had conquered the skies. In that age, the Band of War had grown to be strongest over all the others on that first home world. For the first time, all the Bands were united under its legendary leader. His sons and then his son's sons continued that valiant reign. During this long age of succession, the Kraaqi built their first ships that were able to travel into space.

“Think their race is as old as the human race?” Jaric whispered to Kyle.

“I don't know,” he whispered back.

Rok's song continued.

Once again new, unexplored horizons beckoned the Bands. New conquests. The urge to explore these new worlds was great and the Bands soon spread themselves out among the nearest stars and were living upon the worlds that orbited them.

Another great age passed. And another.

Yet always, the famed longships of the Kraaqi were their pride. It was these fast, dangerous warships that had always been their true claim to fame. Kraaqi ships had even equaled that of their newfound enemy—a terribly dangerous and hated enemy. The Hrono, sworn enemy of all the Kraaqi Bands.

The hated Hrono, they who worshipped technology and science above all else and who despised the beauty of sky, earth and water. They were those that trampled life and strangled it under their submission. The hated Hrono.

“Uh-oh,” Jaric whispered as Rok lowered his head a moment in silence.

“We don't have time for this,” Becky added.

Kyle reached out and pressed her forearm, urging silence.

Rok again began his dance, weaving his head repeatedly in a semi-circle, waving his dreaded horns as though in a battle challenge.

He sang now of the wars with the Hrono, the victories and the defeats. Rok's powerful voice rang out with names of Kraaqi Captains and their ships. He sang of courage and valor, of great sacrifice.

Rok's voice changed. It became deeper as his piercing eyes looked around the gathered warriors once more.

Last, he sang of his beloved Band of the Stars; how they had broken away from the age old Band of Thunder and formed their own Band. Now they could seek out new worlds of their own.

He sang on, now even the Band of Thunder sought out new worlds to explore, though their warlords still led the Kraaqi ships into battle against the Hrono.

Yet, there was more to life than war, Rok sang with emotion.

His song stopped suddenly. Turning toward the three newcomers, he spoke. “You are a new race, unknown to us. We will now ask for your history, for your future, for your song, as is asked of true brethren of our Band, the Band of the Stars.” Rok's hand beckoned them.

Kyle and Jaric exchanged glances.

“I think I should do this,” Jaric said.

“I agree,” Becky added.

But Kyle hesitated, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Listen, Big K. Not only am I the one who knows the history of our people better than you...” Jaric began.

“Yeah, I know. You always were a better student than me,” Kyle interrupted.

“I'm also the only one in this group who has any rhythm,” Jaric said, with a smile.

“Okay, rhythm-boy. Go for it,” Becky laughed.

But Kyle's eyes narrowed. “Can you convince them that their real enemy is the T'kaan?”

“I will sing from my heart of the death of the human race. I'll sing so that they will feel our own loss, our own loneliness. They will know what it means to be the last. And I will tell them who killed our species.”

Kyle nodded him on.

“Remember Minstrel's song for humans?” Becky reminded Jaric. “Use that along with the memories of your history lessons. Tell them what it means to be a human.”

“Let them know that we are a good people, too, that we love nature and respect it,” Kyle said.

Jaric nodded as he stood and took his place beside Rok amid the large circle of warriors and the dancing light of the fires.

“Before I start, I must ask you. How long until we can meet with the great Chieftains of all the Bands?

Rok thought a moment. “Protocol requires we seek an audience. This takes time...maybe two weeks. Maybe longer.”

Becky turned to Kyle with a sudden urgency.

“We don't have that kind of time,” she whispered.

“Looks like we're going to have to break protocol,” Kyle grunted.

“And then convince them that their only hope is to ally themselves with their lifelong enemy,” Becky said.

Jaric looked at the warriors gathered around, their attention now fastened upon him. He would have to not only relate who humans were, and sing about what they stood for, but incorporate in his song the message of doom about the oncoming T'kaan. And convince them somehow that these were a greater danger, an enemy that would require that their old hatreds be put aside.

He took a long, deep breath. And started.

“Human history began on our home world far away from here,” he sang with a husky voice as the drumming rose again. “On a planet we called Earth...”

Minstrel's body expanded and flowed over almost the entire interior of its spherical music-ship as the song it was playing filled its very soul.

Saris slowly entered Minstrel's domain, surrounded by the haunting music that had drawn her here. Now it almost overwhelmed her with its dark intensity, its musical power. She looked around the room at the effervescent form of Minstrel and wondered how this strange being could spread itself out so much. Suddenly the music changed, filling the air with a throbbing of finality—a great, crying melancholy.

Tears came to Saris’ eyes without her knowing why. She noticed the edges of Minstrel's plasma body, how the alien had extended it to touch the ship, to play it, to make this soul-consuming music.

The music stopped—without ending.

Saris looked around. “What was that music, Minstrel? It was so... moving.”

Minstrel pulled its body together into a tighter, more compact form. Minstrel knew this was easier for most alien species when conversing. It was difficult for them to talk to shimmering air.

“It is my ‘Symphony of Humanity.'”

Saris wiped a tear that was trickling down her cheek. “But what was that section you just played?”

Minstrel's body glowed brighter. “Its working title is,
The Last Stand
. I got it from Mother, from her knowledgebase. The last source, the last memories of that noble species.”

Minstrel's body began pulsating. “The Last Stand, where the last members of humanity gathered for their final battle with the T'kaan horde.” The memories replayed with intensity in its mind, personified by the echoes of the recent music. “They had gathered what few ships remained of their decimated fleets; gathered their last weapons and dug in on a planet they had renamed
Revenge
. Mother had been there, but her creators had hidden her at the last moment, trying to bring their desperate escape plan to life. The special knowledgebase had been uploaded over the preceding months before this battle. The children had been given into her care during that same time.” Minstrel paused.

“Even that plan was almost destroyed when the T'kaan attacked early. But little did they know, the human race was not going to die with a whimper.”

“Go on,” Saris urged.

“The commander, General Lo, had his own plan. Victory was impossible, he knew, but he was going to take out as many of the T'kaan as he could before they died. It was this that actually made the survival of Mother and the children possible those first precarious years.”

“We don't realize at times, what the final outcome of our actions may turn out to be,” Saris added.

“And so the mighty T'kaan Third fleet gathered around this lone planet, as much to watch the spectacle as to fight. It was now the end of their Second Cycle of Life. They had destroyed another race, they had feasted upon the dead, and they had laid their eggs. Soon their young maggots would come forth, feasting themselves upon the rotting remains of humanity. And then on each other. In that way only the strongest T'kaan survived.”

Saris shuddered with repulsion.

“With the end approaching, with the T'kaan ground forces converging and their main fleet in tight orbit, Lo ignited the planet. The shock wave of the dying world destroyed most of the T'kaan Third, even destroyed the strange Great Horned ship, the ship which all other T'kaan ships enter at least one time each cycle. Why?” Minstrel's body pulsated with a surge of energy. “We do not know.” Minstrel's body vibrated faster. “At first there was destruction. And then, as is their way, the other two T'kaan fleets began sending replacements. This was both to protect the young and rebuild the destroyed Third. A new Great Horned ship was begun. Among those decimated systems Mother lived, not bothered at first by the decimated T'kaan. But soon, the fleet grew again. Mother's victories drew too much attention. For their safety and survival, Mother and the children had to abandon their search and leave. And so, they found their way here.”

The Mewiis leader nodded, sighing deeply. “We who remain must keep the memory of them alive so that they are never forgotten—so humans are never forgotten.”

“Yes, but there may yet be a hope for them.” Minstrel added. “In addition to providing the schematics for her super-weapon, and other system enhancements for their ships, Mother is going to approach the technology-wise Hrono with a request to try and save the human race—with genetic engineering.”

“Cloning?” Saris thought out loud. “That is not perfected, even among the Hrono.”

“Not simply cloning. They could take the DNA and genetic material collected from the children, perhaps adding artificial genetic material to make up for the small number of specimens.”

Saris thought a moment.
There were only three humans, and two of them were closely related, brother and sister. It seemed that even with the possibility of cloning and artificial DNA and genetic enhancements, that the DNA pool was simply too small. What would the results be? Human DNA and artificial DNA combined.

Would it still be the human race?

“I hope the Hrono can help.” Saris’ voice revealed her doubt. Then, with a shake of her head-tail, she remembered why she had come. “But it was more than your music that drew me. I have word, both of our test with the hybrid weapon and news from the outer frontier.” Saris sighed deeply as she paused.

“Please continue.”

“The super-weapon works, but only for five firings. After that, the circuitry melts. It can repaired, but not during a battle.” Saris’ countenance became serious. “We have already begun refitting our capital ships. With our major shipyards, we surmise we can complete the upgrades to our battle cruisers and battleships within two months.”

“Do we have that much time?” Minstrel asked. “Do the Kraaqi and Hrono? They have not begun to refit their ships. Mother will just now be arriving at the Hrono home world. The children should have made contact by now; it's been two days since the Mewiis ship dropped them off.” Minstrel paused in thought. “But we can't be sure since there's been no word from them. Their continued silence concerns me.”

“I agree,” Saris said. “It is not a good sign.”

“Even after their initial contact,” Minstrel continued, “children will have to arrange an audience with the Chieftains, and that will also take time. Something we are fast running out of.”

“That is my other news.” Saris breathed deeply, letting it out slowly to calm herself. She looked at Minstrel with concern in her eyes. “The first attacks have begun.”

Minstrel's body stopped moving. In a flash, Minstrel shaped and morphed. Standing directly before the Mewiis leader was a replica of herself.

Saris stared in wonder... at herself.

“Are they feints? Feelers? Or are they attacking in brute force?” The mirror-Saris asked.

“We...we think they are the feints Mother warned us about. But all of our ships that have encountered the T'kaan in battle so far, none with the hybrid weapon... have been destroyed. The most we have gotten from them are brief messages. The T'kaan are ruthless,” Saris added somberly.

“Well, that is the best we can expect. They are testing your ships, your strengths. Are you deploying your defenses so as to draw them to our planned battle site?” The mirror-Saris asked.

“Yes. But it is suicide for those ships and their crews.”

“We must accept those dear losses, Saris. If we can dictate the place and the time of the battle—most importantly the time—we will greatly improve our chances of victory.”

“But war is full of unexpected circumstances. Will the T'kaan not test the Kraaqi? And the Hrono?”

“They will destroy the Mewiis first. Yours are the first planets they will encounter. After Mewiis, the Kraaqi systems would be in their projected path. And finally, the Hrono worlds.”

“The Kraaqi worlds are greater in number. Only a portion extend into a narrow middle ground between ours and the Hrono. The Hrono worlds extends far out toward the Chalasta sector, still unexplored.”