From the near-darkness at the edge of the Ko-tera solar system, three Education Service personnel, four contact specialists, one other dolphin, six monkey-mammal crew members, and a deep-space response ship watched as the flimsy space probe — bristling with antennae, solar panels, and cameras —
made its closest approach to Ko-tera Eleven.
Behind the gangly little machine, the misty deep-blue surface of the planet’s atmosphere appeared still, but Sata knew that the rotational velocity of even a small gas giant was thousands of kilometers per hour. Storms — like the three purple spots she could see on her screen — could be moving many times as fast, and mixing several layers into a chaotic soup of hydrogen and whatever else was at hand.
“Pleassse magnify the plaque on the ssspaccce probe,” T’sss’lisss requested from the passenger seat she currently shared with Kolarrr’ka, her coils under his feathers, their heads side by side.
Rini adjusted his visual sensors until the golden message, covered with fine engraved lettering, filled the screen.
“Bok,” Kolarrr’ka began thoughtfully. “Would you translate the relevant part again, Ashley?”
She opened a shoulder bag hooked over the back of her seat. “Got it right here in the mission documents, as it’s in some weird language I can’t read.
It’s the next to last line on the plaque. It says, Heating; please save the innocent others; hints appreciated how we can save our own most innocent. ”
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“And the last line?” Toran Takil requested.
“Lepidopterae are so bright, their touch so light, they flutter through my dreams at night. ”
“Butterflies,” Kibi said softly in her native language for the benefit of her fellow crew members with less Nebador vocabulary.
“Please save the innocent others,” Kolarrr’ka repeated. “We’re doing that.”
Just then, Sata announced that the space probe was firing its navigation thrusters, so Kibi switched back to the wide view.
Everyone saw the probe change course, and the smaller of the two antennae swivel slowly to again point at its home, a barely-visible speck in the blackness of space, not far from the brightest star in the sky.
The larger antenna tried to turn, but then jerked a few times and stopped.
Sata frowned, drew some lines on her console screen, made some calculations, then frowned even more deeply. “I think . . . it’s broken.”
“Pleassse explain,” T’sss’lisss said, stretching up taller and looking intently at the display.
“The little antenna is pointed right at Ko-tera Three. The big one stopped more than two degrees off. Do they have any off-planet tracking stations?”
After a long moment of silence, the snake spoke in a thoughtful voice while still gazing at the screen. “No . . .”
Gathered around the table in the passenger area, from seats, the tank, or the floor, they discussed the situation.
“Our mission is to observe, contact other species, and tentatively evaluate the situation,” Ashley said firmly.
“Yes, bok,” Kolarrr’ka agreed. “We’re not supposed to interfere with the native monkey-mammal culture.”
“If they don’t feel the pain of having their technology fail,” Trekila Spimalo said from the tank, “they will never be motivated to make their machines good enough to survive the harsh environments of inter-planetary space.”
After a long silence, Malika-Terno’s deep voice asked, “Were you able to analyze the data stream from the small antenna, Sata?”
“Yes, but Manessa gets the credit. There are four hundred and twelve
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 371
photographs that the large antenna has been trying to transmit, but the probe has never received confirmation that any were received, so it continues to re-transmit them, over and over. The rest of the small antenna’s data stream is just position and a few simple measurements. Manessa now has all the pictures from the large antenna, many very beautiful.”
Kibi sighed from the steward’s station. “Makes me sad that they’ll never see them, especially since this might be their only space probe.”
Toran Takil made respectful eye contact with Kibi and nodded. “Many sapient races make the same mistake, using up the mineral wealth of their planet in one big burst of high, easy living that lasts only a century or two, then having little to work with in the long millennia that lie ahead . . . if they avoid ruining their climate and ecosystem.”
After several more Nebador citizens had spoken, and the consensus appeared to be universal, T’sss’lisss declared a long break for a meal and whatever else needed to be done. Most of the specialists and crew members filtered away toward the lower deck, the galley, or the bridge.
T’sss’lisss remained in her seat after Kolarrr’ka got up, gazing at the space probe on the big display screen as it slowly put more distance between itself and the last planet, with nothing left to do but try, again and again, to transmit its pictures back to Ko-tera Three with its broken antenna.
She wondered about the nervous feeling that remained throughout her slender body, the nagging sensation that they were missing something . . . and then realized that Memsala had not said a word at the meeting, and Arantiloria had not even shown herself.
Over the next hour, everyone noticed T’sss’lisss’ thoughtful expression where she remained coiled in a seat at the table, so after dishes were done and the on-duty crew members rotated, they all returned to the passenger area.
T’sss’lisss turned her head. “Wise Memsala, I feel in my bones that we are missing something, and I beg your thoughts on the matter.”
Memsala let the silence linger for a moment before speaking. “Any time you find yourself working hard to brush aside an event as if it was merely a so-called accident, you can be sure you are missing something. There are no pure accidents. All levels of space, time, and eternity are inter-woven with the
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 372
manifestations of physical, mental, and spiritual realities, even when the gods do not actively intervene in the affairs of mortals . . . which . . . is not the case on this mission.”
Everyone sat in complete silence pondering the sea turtle’s words, and wondering how badly they would have screwed up the mission without her.
Memsala eventually spoke again. “A very good reason to interact with the monkey mammals of the planet was just presented to us. No, I take that back.
It was just shoved into our faces. Will we take the hint, or do we need Kerloran himself to come to the ship and spell it out for us?”
Another long silence lingered.
“You work for Kerloran, Shemultavia, and Melorania,” Memsala added.
“Do not be afraid to fill their shells in the small ways that are entrusted to you
. . . to us . . . on these missions.”
The testudine fell silent and settled lower into the water.
Ilika noticed Boro and Mati frowning slightly, Kibi and Sata looking very thoughtful, and Rini smiling.
“And remember the last part of the message on the plaque,” Malika-Terno rumbled. “Hints appreciated how we can save our own most innocent. ”
Several heads around the table nodded.
T’sss’lisss let out a deep sigh and descended into her coils.