Boro glowed with pride as he walked beside the ursine docking controller.
It dawned on him that the bear’s swaggering gait was not too different from his own. “Um . . . that job you do . . . seems important . . .”
The larger animal chuckled. “Only if you want to get in and out of the station in one piece!”
Boro laughed as he continued to follow his host deeper into the maze of passageways and halls, passing thick tree trunks, doorways of all shapes and sizes, and ramps that went both up and down. “Um . . . I don’t know your name . . .”
“Sorry. Ursines tend to be somewhat private about names and such. The part you can say, and that most people call me, is Glorm.”
Boro tried the word with the same deep-throated intonation.
“Close
enough.”
“What do you . . . have to know to be a docking controller?” Boro asked as they descended a ramp.
“You have to be a pilot, and a navigator. Engineering and sensors don’t hurt. Some command experience. And you absolutely must be able to juggle and dance.”
Boro looked at the bear with a funny expression.
“I am deadly serious. A ship coming in with one of Melorania’s little restrictions, like you had, is nothing compared to having two or three emergencies pile up in your face, and you have to figure out which one to deal
NEBADOR Book Six: Star Station 45
with first, and what to do with the others who are screaming at you.”
Boro was silent and thoughtful as they stepped onto another downward ramp. He was surprised to feel water on his feet.
Glorm laughed. “You’re not used to the symbols, are you? Blue triangle back there. This is part of a whole maze of wet ramps, and you can go anywhere underwater, too.”
“What if you . . . um . . . need to breathe?”
“Air pockets every eight meters. You’ll see.”
A minute later they sat down beside a rushing stream. Water emerged from a dark tunnel on their left, and plunged into another tunnel just downstream. Roots stretched into the water on both banks, and large leaves blocked half the light that poured through a crystal window high above.
Boro frowned. “It isn’t . . . natural — too smooth, no jagged rocks waiting to rip you open.”
“Of course not. This isn’t a planet. You’ll get plenty of danger on your missions.”
Boro laughed. “Had plenty on my planet!”
At that moment, a furry mammal about half the size of the bear, with webbed feet and a wide tail, emerged from the upstream tunnel. It grabbed a root and pulled itself onto the bank. “Glorm! Who’s in the tower today?”
“M’sorpa, I think. This is Boro, response ship engineer, and fellow fisher.”
The smaller mammal bowed. “Fish look good today, but I’m eating with my crew in an hour, so I resisted the temptation. Bye!”
“Don’t shake until you’re out of range!” the bear warned with a slight growl.
“I’ll think about it!” the other said as he waddled up the ramp.
A moment later, they felt a few drops fly from above.
Glorm laughed. “He’s fun. Works on a little ship that maintains navigation beacons. He and his mate are raising a cub right now, but he used to work on transport ships.”
Boro was thoughtful for a minute. “It’s hard to get used to all the animals talking, doing jobs, and being nice to each other. Where I come from, we would have just eaten your little friend for lunch.”
NEBADOR Book Six: Star Station 46
The bear looked at Boro with intense eyes. “Just remember, there are planets where monkey mammals are eaten for lunch.”
After more chatter about the variety of planets that dotted space in the vast reaches of Nebador, Boro learned, to his delight, that none of the sapient species were fish, and amphibians were rare.
“I learned the difference between sharks and dolphins the hard way,” he admitted, and went on to share his experience on the tropical island.
“You’re lucky she only nipped you! Dolphins have serious teeth. You ready to go fishing?”
“Yeah, getting hungry. Do we use hooks, or nets?”
The ursine grinned. “No technology is allowed when fishing in the star station. We use our bare hands, and can only take what we eat.”
Boro looked at the bear’s claws, then at his own soft, pink hands and short nails. “I think . . . you’ll have better luck.”
“We’ll see. If I get one first, I’ll help a little if you want, but I’m sure you’d feel better if you got your own.”
Boro’s eyes glowed with a hunter’s passion. “Yeah!”
After hanging his vest on a peg by the ramp, the bear wadded into the water, then plopped down and let the current carry him. “Meet you at the first air pocket!” A moment later he disappeared into the far tunnel.
Boro breathed deeply for courage as he hung up his clothes. He stepped into the cool water, stood for a moment fighting the current, then sat down and let the water pull his feet out from under him. As soon as he entered the tunnel, most of the light faded and he was pulled down.
NEBADOR Book Six: Star Station 47
The current quickly slowed to a crawl as Boro blinked and looked around.
Irregular but smooth rock walls seemed to glow with their own light. Behind him, air bubbles churned where the open stream plunged into deep water.
Above him and ahead a few meters he could see the shiny surface of an air pocket, maybe two meters across, and a furry brown ursine treading water.
Boro felt with his feet, found the smooth bottom, and pushed off, aiming himself toward the life-giving air.
He broke the surface, saw a grab-bar within easy reach, and held on while catching his breath.
The ursine, also holding a bar, roared in welcome. “I had a hunch you’d be good in the water.”
“This is easy!” Boro declared. “Clean and clear, not too cold, plenty of air
. . . what was that?” he asked with a start, looking down.
“Go down and see! Nothing dangerous in here.”
Boro let go and dipped down, then kicked back up to the air pocket.
“Fluke or fin?” the ursine asked. “If fluke, it might be your next mission specialist. If fin, it’s dumber than a cucumber, and fair game.”
“Fluke,” Boro said with a grin while chuckling.
“The best eating are the pink and silver fish, a meter long or more. They’re slowed by age, but are still strong. Much under a meter and they’re too young, and fast as lightning anyway.”
Boro
nodded.
“Don’t worry about getting lost,” the ursine continued. “I’ll keep track of you, and lead the way back to our clothes after we’ve bagged lunch.”
“Thanks. Anything . . . with a fin . . . I shouldn’t touch?”
“The blue and green ones taste like bird feathers . . .”
Boro made a face.
“Yellow is okay, and sometimes easier to catch.”
Boro looked around. “I’ve never seen a lighted air pocket before, with fresh air coming through a grill.”
“You’ve never been in a star station before! Ready?”
The deep-space response ship engineer took a deep breath. “Yeah!”
For the next half hour, Boro experienced the joy of using every muscle in
NEBADOR Book Six: Star Station 48
his body, in water of a perfect temperature, with air and rest whenever he needed it. His friend was always nearby, but seldom did they talk. Marine mammals swam by, or paused to chatter in their own language that carried well underwater.
Boro noticed all the types of fish Glorm had mentioned, some darting by almost too fast to see, others lumbering fearlessly, especially the blue and green ones. Boro looked at them askance, and decided he wasn’t that hungry.
The yellow fish were fairly slow, and several times Boro came close to grabbing one, even though he wasn’t really trying. But at an air pocket, Glorm held up his pink and silver catch, more than a meter long. Boro decided it was time to get serious.
At first he focused on the delicious ones, but they were lightning-fast.
After a quarter hour of trying, Boro decided a nice, tasty yellow fish would be okay, especially since this was his first star station fishing trip.
After missing a couple, he had one cornered in a tight place, the fish was obviously confused, and Boro was about to grab it when something silver flashed across the corner of his vision. Instinctively he jabbed that way with his opposite fist, caught the large fish against the wall, and for a moment it drifted, stunned.
Before Boro had time to think, the pink and silver creature started wiggling again, trying to regain its wits. Boro grabbed and smashed the fish’s head against the wall, as hard as he could, until he was sure it would remain still.
As soon as the passion of the kill was over, Boro’s lungs screamed at him to breathe, and the only question was whether it would be air or water. He clutched the lifeless fish tightly under his arm, looked up, and pushed off the bottom toward the nearest shiny, lighted air pocket.
As Boro gasped air in and out, fighting off a light-headed feeling, Glorm surfaced. “What’s that under your arm?” the ursine said with grinning teeth.
Boro smiled even as he continued gasping, and didn’t attempt words.
NEBADOR Book Six: Star Station 49
After Boro rested and regained his breath, Glorm led them slowly from one air pocket to the next. At one point along the way, a clear wall allowed Boro to glimpse a shallow pool where several lizard-like reptiles waded, two large ones wrestling playfully, a smaller one polishing a piece of jewelry.
“What was that?” Boro asked at the next air pocket.
“Last of their kind, poor fellows. We’re looking for a planet for them, but they’re very picky.”
Boro shrugged and continued following his friend until a strong current pulled at them. The next thing he knew, they emerged into the air and light of the open stream, grabbed roots, and pulled themselves onto the bank.
“Where can we cook these beauties?” Boro asked as he dressed.
“They’re better raw . . .” Glorm asserted with head cocked.
Boro squinted for a moment. “I guess . . . compared to what our pilot has to find the courage to do . . . I should try it.”
The bear laughed. “If she can’t find her courage, she wouldn’t last long in the Nebador Services!”
For the next half hour, ursine and monkey mammal sat near the stream, each hunched over his catch, passing Glorm’s folding knife back and forth as they worked strips of meat off the bones of their fish. Glorm brought out a clear, flexible bag for the innards and bones. Neither spoke much, but occasionally they both looked up. Their sparkling mammalian eyes met, sealing their new bond of friendship.
At the end of the meal, Boro had to agree — it was better raw.
NEBADOR Book Six: Star Station 50
Deep Learning Notes
Glorm gave a clear example of how “juggling” is a necessary skill for a docking controller. How would “dancing” help?
If you were in Boro’s shoes, how would you be affected knowing there were
“planets where monkey mammals are eaten for lunch”?
A “fluke” is a horizontal tail, which only marine mammals (dolphins, whales, seals, walruses, etc.) have. The “fins” of fish (including sharks) are vertical.
Advanced civilizations are often imagined to be sedate, pacifistic, and vegetarian, in other words, a place that only a Buddhist over 50 could enjoy.
In the descriptions of Nebador, the author has attempted to avoid that (in his opinion) mistake. One reason is that most of the highly-intelligent creatures on Earth, who presumably have the best chance of becoming sapient, are carnivorous. But the ones intelligent and mature enough to become citizens of Nebador would, of course, refrain from eating each other and similar creatures. But luckily “none of the sapient species were fish,” so they were fair game!
Two carnivorous hunters, sitting together eating their catch, is an intensely civilizing experience because both could, just as easily, attempt to eat the other. Add to it the sharing of a knife (a weapon) without ever using it on each other, and you have the beginnings of a deep bond of trust. No meaningful relationship between two civilized creatures is possible without risk.
