Ilika smiled as he asked the substitute crew of the Manessa Kwi to take them back out, and bring the ship to a relative stop eight kilometers from the huge colony ship.
Timorazonia did several handsprings for joy in mid-air before taking the tiny flight control again. But before Rini could give any commands, Mati slipped into her seat with a wrinkled brow.
The little Ti’ia ceased her antics and looked at the real pilot with a mixture of humility and pride on her tiny face.
Mati looked back sternly. “Just remember, if you don’t listen to your commander, or you do anything unsafe on purpose, you’ll get to ride in a sample container instead . . . with the lid closed.”
Timorazonia cringed for a moment, then collected herself and bowed deeply.
“Okay, you have the helm, little pilot.”
The female beetle at navigation smiled, and sent the floor plan of the huge ship, to the extent it was known, to all stations.
“I feel bad that we had to trash the ship,” Kibi said after everyone got comfortable at the big table.
“That ship is as good as dead,” K’storpo assured her. “When the temperature drops a little more, those in that inner-most chamber will go to sleep forever. How long, M’palta?”
NEBADOR Book Seven: The Local Universe 44
The biologist twitched her mandibles for a moment. “Rough guess . . . six or eight years.”
“They had it coming,” Boro said. “If you’re gonna lock people in, you have to expect them to try to get out.”
“And that might tell us something about their culture,” M’palta added.
“They probably collect food by trapping. We might learn more if we can find their planet.”
“We know almost exactly where it is,” Tizoromulia the mathematician said in his tiny male voice, “and it roughly matches Sata’s calculation of where that constellation looks most impressive.”
“We have another ship to examine first,” K’storpo declared, “but I have a hunch we’ll just be looking at it from a distance.”
Another Satamia day passed on the Manessa Kwi as Rini peered deep into nearly-empty space on all sides of their flight path, looking for the third ship, or anything else of concern. Many memories were shared about the explosion that had killed one specialist and blinded three, the excursion by the crew to the bridge of the colony ship, and their rescue by Rini and his substitute crew.
M’palta removed most of the bandages from her mate about halfway through that day, and he began to carefully stretch his legs. The female beetle continued to deal with her grief, and Sata or M’palta sat with her often to listen to anything she wanted to say.
Timorazonia was obviously determined to earn Mati’s trust, and when allowed to be at the pilot’s station, was very careful to follow the commander’s orders to the letter. Mati always watched. Even though still fairly new, she was suddenly the senior pilot, and, Ilika reminded her, responsible for all flight maneuvers.
Near the end of that Satamia day, K’storpo and M’palta did a dance of joy when they discovered a little bit of their sight returning. Kibi selected some music to go with the occasion, and Sata grabbed Boro to join in the dance.
Timorafilia was not so lucky with her eyes, and let her handsome mate hold her in his arms while she listened to the dancers.
The third ship was not adrift. Many windows gleamed, and marker lights
NEBADOR Book Seven: The Local Universe 45
flashed at numerous points on the hull. Searchlights swung back and forth, attempting to pierce the blackness of space. Smoking thrusters occasionally made minor course corrections.
The Manessa Kwi, currently absorbing all forms of energy, drifted in the same direction a hundred kilometers away. Although the little ship was as invisible as any material object could be, Mati selected an irregular shape that made them look like a black rock, just in case anyone spotted them.
K’storpo, M’palta, and Timorafilia listened as others described what they could see, and what Manessa’s sensors told them about the many kinds of energy radiating from the giant colony ship.
“Even though the fuel tanks on that ship are massive,” K’storpo began as his mandibles twitched nervously, “they should be conserving every calorie.
With all those lights, and that hull practically glowing with heat . . . how could they expect to survive interstellar travel?”
M’palta mulled over the words of her mission leader and the others for several minutes before speaking. “My hunch is . . . they don’t know what they’re doing. They don’t know how far it is to . . . anything. They don’t know what’s happened to the other two ships, and if we told them, they wouldn’t believe us.”
A long silence followed. Timorasimia the empath eventually spoke softly.
“Very . . . very . . . sad.”
Timoratamia the artist, currently sitting in Rini’s lap, had a stronger reaction. “That’s STUPID! I have a color just for stupid in my box, and that’s the color they’ll get when I paint them.”
K’storpo
smiled.
“Then that’s the color my people should get too,” M’palta said flatly.
Timoratamia squirmed with embarrassment.
“And they would deserve it,” M’palta continued, looking at the little artist.
“They have this bad habit of starting wars just because they’re angry, not because they need to defend themselves, or even because they want to win.
And since they do it so half-cocked, they usually lose!”
The grin formed by the spider’s mandibles caused those who could see to laugh, and the rest quickly joined in.
Sata wore a serious face as the laughter died down. “So . . . there’s no way
NEBADOR Book Seven: The Local Universe 46
to help them?”
“No,” K’storpo answered. “This is interstellar space, the void that cannot be crossed by mortal beings in home-made ships. As I remember, you have oceans on Sonmatia Three . . .”
Sata
nodded.
“Imagine trying to cross an ocean in a tiny rowboat.”
“Suicide!”
Sata
declared without hesitation.
“Would you rescue someone who insisted on trying it?”
“Um . . . maybe . . .”
Boro jumped in. “People that stupid would just find other ways to kill themselves, seems to me.”
After a moment of thought, Sata reluctantly nodded agreement.
“That’s how Nebador sees this situation,” K’storpo continued. “All the information was there for those insects to see — distances to other stars, temperature of space, everything. To build a ship like that, you have to be capable of mathematics. If you are, then you can calculate that interstellar travel is not possible by any act of will. If M’palta is right, and they really are clueless, than Tamia is going to need lots of that special color of hers.”
The passenger area of the little deep-space response ship became thoughtfully quiet as the huge colony ship, visible on every display screen, continued to desperately search the darkness of interstellar space for its destination.