After playing a slow, haunting ballad on her keyboard, which she knew was colored by her nervousness about the upcoming mission, M’palta closed her instrument case as some avians struck up a lively dance tune. She spotted T’shlix two balconies lower, and seeing that the ramps were crowded, climbed onto the railing, attached a thread, and lowered herself down.
The beetle clicked his four wings in greeting. “Lots of feeling in that piece you just played.”
“Thanks. I’m worried about the mission. I keep trying to imagine it, but see lots of darkness and not much else.”
“It
is deep space!”
The spider looked at her friend with many eyes for a moment, then wiggled her mandibles with laughter. “Okay, you got me. Do you think the inexperienced monkey-mammal crew will be any trouble?”
“No. Next time you’re at a knowledge processor, read what happened to them on Sonmatia Seven. And that high-level spirit, Aran-something, will be along. We’ll be okay.”
Spider and beetle listened to the music, shoulder to shoulder, until M’palta’s mate arrived. The couple made their way down to the dance floor, leaving T’shlix to ponder his own worries about the upcoming mission.
The next morning, station time, when the mantis K’storpo ducked his head and stepped from the boarding tunnel into the assigned deep-space response
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ship, he beheld the black-haired steward and the short, stocky navigator working together in the galley. All the cupboards, currently open, appeared to be full, but the two monkey mammals seemed determined to cram in more.
Open boxes of food packets lined the galley counter.
To K’storpo’s right, the large, muscular engineer was on the floor, reaching under the engineering console with the flexible probe of a test instrument.
Boro noticed the mantis enter, and waved with his free hand.
K’storpo bowed slightly.
The small, long-haired pilot spun around in her chair, bounced up to her feet, and smiled at the tall mantis.
K’storpo quickly suppressed his fear-reaction as he remembered that such a showing of teeth was a gesture of friendship in mammals.
“Welcome to the Manessa Kwi,” Mati said. “I’m supposed to take over in the galley now so Kibi can get you guys settled.”
Kibi, stuffing more packets into the highest cupboard, turned her head.
“Oh, yeah. Hi! I’ll be right down.”
Hearing sounds behind him, K’storpo stepped aside to allow T’shlix and his mate to enter the ship, followed closely by M’palta and her mate, each carrying a travel bag. At the same time, Rini appeared in the lift, Ilika came up a moment later, and for a few seconds everyone was bumping into everyone else. Kibi quickly stepped into the middle of the chaos and began pointing at passenger seats or toward the bridge. Soon, order was restored, and the new passengers immediately gained a healthy respect for the no-nonsense steward of the little ship.
Out in the boarding tunnel, the last group of passengers approached by air.
“Do they know . . . there are six of us?” Timoratamia asked shyly.
Timoradalia giggled. “We’re on the passenger list!”
“They’re nice,” Timorafilia informed. “I’ve met them.”
“Do little ships like this have bath tubs?” Timoradalia asked.
“Of course, silly!” Timorasimia asserted.
Last of all, Tizoromulia, feeling a bit embarrassed by the silly questions of his five mates, remained silent as they all fluttered into the ship.
Kibi spotted them, smiled, and pointed toward a passenger seat in the front row, big enough for all six with room to spare.
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Half an hour later, the mantis K’storpo handed Kibi a knowledge pad.
“That’s it. Everything we can imagine needing is on board — M’palta’s portable lab, Filia’s language references, and all those electronic interfaces T’shlix loves to use. But my hunch is we’ll learn the most with our eyes and ears.”
Kibi smiled and nodded at her fellow intuitive, even though he was a large green insect.
K’storpo took his seat, and Kibi looked over her passengers, her first group of Nebador citizens on a serious mission that had nothing to do with any of her fellow crew members. For the first time, they were just the crew of a deep-space response ship, there to run the ship, but not otherwise worry about the mission.
Turning to look down at the bridge, she saw that the rest of the crew were at or near their stations. “Loading complete,” she informed her captain.
He nodded and went back to helping Sata with her new deep-space charts.
Seeing that Kibi wasn’t busy, one of the small, winged females raised her tiny arms in the air. “Do we get to take baths?”
Kibi knelt down in front of the passenger seat where all six of the little insects snuggled together, tails wrapped around each other. “Yes, but it’s inert liquid medium, not water.”
“I know. We use it all the time in the chemistry lab where I work, and sometimes M’palta comes in to have things analyzed. She’s nice.”
Kibi glanced at the huge spider that would cause any girl or woman from her home planet to scream, and any man to run for a weapon. She swallowed once, then chuckled.
“Departure procedure,” Ilika announced.
Kibi stood up and stepped to her console. “Manessa, is Arantiloria aboard?”
“Yes, she arrived before the rest of you.”
Kibi blinked several times as her fingers began to move on her console.
“Ship secure, hatch closed, docking tunnel away . . .”
Although the crew and passengers felt nothing unusual in the timelessness
NEBADOR Book Seven: The Local Universe 9
of star transit, their first leap across the vastness of Nebador was nearly eight times as far, measured in space, as any of them had experienced before, save Tizoromulia and his mates.
He and his five females, with their many skills, were often requested on challenging deep-space missions. The fact that a large part of their brains was sensitive to non-material reality, allowing them to know of Arantiloria’s presence, was certainly a point in their favor.
Their problem, therefore, was finding enough time to just relax, play together in the warm waters of the star station, and do the work each of them loved.
Tizoromulia’s passion was mathematics, striving to understand the mysterious relationships between matter and energy that wove their threads of meaning throughout the universe. But it was a cool passion, he knew, and not possible without the deep comfort of arms and tails touching his five beautiful mates.
Timorasimia was the emotional heart of the family, if anyone was, turning blue in empathy when any of the others was feeling deeply. She worked in the medical center, tending and comforting insects, and occasionally other creatures, as they healed.
Timorazonia would rather be flying — with her own wings, on avian-back, or in a space suit with thrusters — she didn’t care. Kerloran didn’t often allow her to get into a pilot’s seat, as he knew well that she was reckless, and loved speed to the exclusion of all other concerns. She had eyed the brown-haired monkey mammal at the helm of this ship when they first came on board, but didn’t think she was the type to easily surrender her controls.
As she loved her work in the chemistry lab, Timoradalia was much closer to her mate in skills and knowledge, and yet she was the one who embarrassed him most often. She spoke her mind, always and everywhere, without thought to the subtle timing of most social interactions. Even so, he loved her.
Timoratamia could only be described as an artist. She looked deeply into everything, but could put little into words. However, give her enough colors and she would depict the entire universe, on all levels of reality, or exhaust herself trying. Often Tizoromulia had to carry her away from her colors for
NEBADOR Book Seven: The Local Universe 10
nourishment or sleep. Her works glowed on many of the walls of Satamia Star Station, and several other star and planet stations.
But Timorafilia was the reason they were on this mission. She, more than anyone else in Satamia, could sense the underlying logic of a language, and untangle the grammar, even when it was barely-related to any other language.
But she, and the entire mission team, knew this assignment might be especially challenging, as the language they expected to encounter probably evolved in a lone solar system, far out on the edge of the local universe.
They were, Kibi knew from her passenger list, collectively known as Ti’ias in the language of Nebador. Looking over their names, she could understand why.
Once the first star transit was complete, the rest of the crew focused on the approach to a small mining station, the farthest outpost of Nebador in this direction. Kibi stepped into the galley.
She remembered Mati and Rini talking about eating frogs with K’stimla the surgeon, and knew she had several packages, but decided they were best saved for special meals. With a knowledge pad on the galley counter, Kibi referenced her passenger list, selected light meals during transit, and was soon searching through her jam-packed cupboards.
With the table set a bit lower than usual, and the seat containing the Ti’ias raised a little higher, everyone looked comfortable. Having no idea how much they would eat, Kibi gave them empty trays and placed the serving packets in the middle of the table. Her passengers were soon selecting plump fruits, juicy worms, or both, as the packets were passed around and they discussed the mission.
“Final approach,” Ilika said from the command chair, so Kibi stepped to the steward’s station to do the other part of her job.