First Contact(?)

A boring routine survey of the blue sphere called Earth goes a bit awry.

/file open/

From: RoHDirec@ROH

To: CosA@ROH

Subject: Break!!

We need a break here, we need one real bad. The board is getting antsy and I've got a lot of politicans thinking this program isn't delivering the goods. You gotta get us something out there, or I doubt we'll last another term.

/end message/

The worst kind of job is undoubtedly the type where nothing happens. A bad job may be awful, but at least something happens to make one dislike it. A job where simply nothing happens reigns supreme as the most despised of all the jobs. The offence is all the greater when the job seems like one rife with action and adventure. A job entitled as 'The Rediscovery of Humanity Project' should not be the type that entails sitting on a bland chair in a bland setting surrounded by bland people for several excruciatingly bland months.

But that was the position in which Koss Gadry found himself in. Sitting in a beat-up old ragged chair, idly spinning it on its bolted-down base and boring holes through the ceiling with his eyes. He had been engaging in this activity for the past hour or two, and was contemplating doing it for another two before his break came, after which would come the merciful release of sleep from this inhumanely boring duty.

He shot a withering glare at the main console in front of him, dimly lit from within by green lighting. It flickered twice. He seriously considered for the fortieth time about just ripping it out and jettisoning it from the airlock. He thought about it for a good solid twenty seconds before growling in disgust and spinning away from its blank mocking gaze.

Of course the thrice-cursed computer had to fail! A week into this stupid voyage and the stupid computer had to stupid fail just once. And of course that meant that it wasn't totally reliable as it should be, meaning that just because it had a little burp in the programming that made it switch off the lights to the restroom for ten seconds, just because of that stupid program it had to be assumed that it wasn't totally reliable and if they weren't careful it might accidentally flush the interior atmosphere into space or overheat the reactor and incinerate the whole bloody ship.

And so, in the infinite wisdom of bureaucratic shut-offs everywhere, Coslin had ordered that one crew must be on watch in front of the computer at all times to be prepared in case the computer decided to blow up the engines or something. Which meant everyone spent four hours each shift taking a turn sitting in front of the stupid computer, keeping an eye on the stupid screen to watch for danger. Not that any danger had come about of course, heck it was probably the wiring in the restroom, fifty years old as it was like the rest of this bloody ship.

Not that Coslin would even consider checking it, saying that 'Utmost caution must be taken,' and that 'everyone must do their part for safety.' Except him of course, because he 'lacked the technical expertise of this ships professional crew.' Like it took any expertise to watch a panel of lights and wait for one to go red. Wasn't much of a surprise though, Koss had figured during one of his shifts. Coslin was even more pissed at this job than the others. They were just token bottom-barrel crew, while he was an authentic Naval Intelligence officer from a proper professional family. He felt he deserved a slightly more noble posting instead of being a babysitter. But each of these 'Reclamation of Humanity' voyages needed at least one Intelligence officer for documentation and all that for the politicians to keep calm.

Koss swivelled around in his chair again, sighing for the umpteenth time. At least Coslin stayed out of the way, spending most of his time in his bunk asleep. The rest of the five-man crew pretty much did the same, sleeping most of the trip away and only getting up to do their shifts on computer watch or to take care of bodily needs. And in just under two hours, Koss would join them.

Something moved behind him, and Koss rotated around lazily to see who was coming onto the cramped bridge of the ship. His mouth turned upwards in the faintest of smiles as he recognized Jancy Dile, their token security. Dile really made everyone's day for awhile, seeing how seriously and reverently he took his job. Figured though, he was a marine fresh out of training and was all gung-ho to show off how professional and amazing he was. For the two weeks of the trip he'd actually walked around in full armour carrying his gun with him to try and impress the others. But after two weeks of amused grins and nudges to each other behind his back, his enthusiasm began to die down. And now, nearly a month after they'd left port, he barely even bothered to look like a soldier. Still carried a pistol on his belt though, usually.

“Technical Officer Gadry sir, Corporal Dile reporting for his shift.” He had such a solemn face on, and the way he addressed everyone in such a formal style nearly made Koss break out laughing. But he didn't want to hurt the kids feelings, so he held it in.

“Dile, you're not due for another two hours.” Koss casually pointed out. Dile shifted a bit on his feet in embarrassment. Dile was bored, and tried to find reasons to hang out with the other crew members, who were usually asleep. This was the seventeenth time he'd been 'early' for his shift.

“Sir, yes sir. You are correct.” He responded with a tinge of nervousness. Koss rolled his eyes.

“Lemme guess. Sleep set broke, right?” Yeah, that was it. Dile's stoicism flickered as he stammered uncertainly for a moment.

“Well, uh, if it did that would be rather, irrelevan-”

“Here, take mine. Knock yourself out.” Koss said, cutting him of and chuckling at his little pun as he pulled a thick black helmet off the floor and tossed it towards. Dile caught the heavy device with ease and looked up at Koss, looking for and intents and purposes like a kid caught with his hand in the jar. Or to be more accurate, a guy who's bluff had been called.

“Um, thanks. I mean sir! Thank you sir! I, uh, I'll return to my cabin.” His face turned three shades of red as stammered like a jackhammer. Koss rolled his eyes.

“Just grab a seat here, give an old man company.” Koss tossed his hand towards one of the other chairs bolted to the deck. With no small amount of fidgeting, Dile shuffled over and sat down with a nod.

“Uh, yes sir. Thank you sir.” he said almost meekly. Koss rolled his eyes again. They'd been trying to get him to drop the whole formality act, but he wouldn't dare. Typical greenhorn, trying to get top marks on his first real assignment. With a degree of awkwardness, he slid into the metal-framed chair, slid the bulky black device over his head, and immediately slumped down.

Koss silently marvelled at the machine. The tech wasn't anything new of course, it'd been around for centuries. But sleepsets had only been put on the public market in the last few months because they were cheap to make and even cheaper to install on a bucket of a ship like this one than say, a cryogenics unit. That, and the whole debate over them had finally been resolved. Plenty of politicians and ethicists had been worried about publicly distributing a way for people to put themselves to sleep forever. And sure some people used them to off themselves, but it was nothing new for the human race.

Speaking of which... Koss slowly spun around in his chair, then gazed upwards. If only the ceiling had tiles...

_________________________

“Alright, lets kick this thing outta gear!” Captain Drey said with more excitement then anyone had months. “Crew, standby. We are returning to normal space in three, two, one.” He spoke rapidly into the intership com. There was a thumping sound as the ship shuddered violently. Then it began to happen. From all the screens and view ports, the blank desolate dark greyness began to fade. Black dots began to appear, silhouettes of stars, and one the size of a marble, the sun. The grey lifted as the ship ascended, rising from the folded dimensions of Through-Space. And then with a sudden flash of blue light, they were out. Black space rolled out before them as far as they could see, punctured by a million pinpoints of white as the ship coasted out on a shining wave of radiation.

The assembled crew on the bridge broke into a series of wide, loose grins. After a month in the mind-drowning boring realm of Through-Space, returning to normal space was like a breath of fresh country air after a long stuffy car ride. Even the stale recycled air of the bridge seemed to smell cleaner somehow, and Drey took in a deep breath of it. The crew soaked in it, basked in the glow for a moment. And then it was back to work.

“Engines are in prime condition, ready to fire captain.”

“Deflection shields are powering up sir, although I doubt we'll need them until we enter the asteroid belt.”

“All my lights are green cap, we look good to go.” The cheerful voices of the crew rang out across the small bridge as they checked off various ship systems, all affirming what Drey wanted to hear, and what he loudly confirmed across the PA.

“This is the captain, we are good to go. Sub-light engines will be coming online in ten seconds, get ready guys!” He switched off the mike and tapped the console in front of him. Five lights flashed green in affirmation and the countdown initiated. Drey turned to the crew behind him, a nearly giddy grin on his face. “This is it guys, this is it!”

On the outside of the boxy ship, three large cones on the back flashed sapphire blue. Three jets of super-charged ions blasted out, smoothing down to clean blue jets. The ship began to pick up speed, cutting through the emptiness of stellar space.

“How long this gonna take again?” Koss asked in a half-mumble, staring at his console.

“'Bout a week, give or take a few days. We had to jump out behind the nearest gas giant to mask the jump signature. These people may not have FTL travel, but anyone with orbital telescopes can detect a massive radiation spike from the middle of space.” Drey replied casually, punching in coordinates and setting the engines to a medium burn. As they rotated the ship around, firing hull-mounted thrusters, the gas giant in question came into view. Everyone stopped and stared, mouths dropped.

Gas giants all had some sort of mystic beauty to them. Serene, graceful, elegant ladies of the sky. But this one differed. Multi-colored bands tore rapidly across the surface, a boiling, raging kaleidoscope of twisting colours that tore furiously into each other. Red and orange collided liek fearsome strips of fire, pummelling into their borders and ripping serenity asunder. And below the equator hung an angry wound, a raging red boil, an eternal hurricane of unrelenting fury. No wispy lady of the night was this, but the unrelenting wrath of a maiden scorned. Crew watched, eyes wide.

“Sweet holy...” Drey exclaimed.

“Wha-what is that? I've never seen anything like that before!” Rijen on the scanner terminal said in astonishment. Drey shook his head in wonder, then checked down on his console.

“Gas giant, most massive in the system. Earth name for it is Jupiter. Wow.” He turned over to Koss. “Get footage of this, as much as you can. Now.” He looked back to the viewport. “And don't stop recording until its out of sight.”

_________________________

The week-long journey passed by quickly. The ship seemed alive now, more so than it had been. An air of excitement was in the air as they neared their destination. Systems were checked and rechecked, coordinates confirmed and minor repairs were made. To help fill the spare time, the crew spent a few hours each day learning a bit more about the planet they were due to scout out. Every day just after lunch they would all gather in the squat little mess room and Drey would snap up a holo in the middle of the table, going over the basics for them all.

“Alright fellahs, little bit of 101 here. Planet's name is Earth. Third from their sun which they call Sol, and with a very nice climate. Whole surface is habitable, but most of the population is near the centre band. Ice cap at both the poles with a nice axial tilt for good seasons. Great planet all 'round.” He took a sip of coffee (one of the luxuries of the planet, now massively popular, courtest of smugglers) taken from the planet- and carried on. “Population's roughly twelve billion, with the major civilization centres on this continent here,” -he pointed to a large continent in the north that eventually funnelled down near the equator- “And right there.” -He pointed out a continent on nearly the opposite size of the globe- “North American Alliance and Peoples Republic of China, respectively. These two powers just pulled out of a global war ten years ago that involved limited use of nuclear weapons with no decisive victor. Actually, the whole war was over water resources, and it ended when some genius discovered how to artificially synthesize water -ya know, mixing oxygen and hydrogen atoms together. Anyway, there's peace right now on a global scale, but lots of internal strife- Rijen?”

Rijen held his hand up and leaned forward. “So I take it then that there's no global unification?” Drey shook his head.

“Nope. There's an international meeting table called the United Nations, but they don't run anything. Anyway, like I said, no international war, but lotta stuff on the homefront, especially for the North Americans. Street gang violence took a massive spike three years back, and a dozen major cities at least are under martial law. I'm talking full-out war here, they've got soldiers and tanks fighting these gangs in the streets and everything. Real nasty stuff.”

“So, where we think these guys came from? Any idea on who they are?” Koss asked, tilting back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. Drey shook his head.

“Nope, that's why we're here after all. They obviously believe that Earth is the birthplace of humanity, so the bosses in charge of our operation are assuming that they're an old colony ship or something that crashed and their civilization had to restart. That was all millenia ago though of course. Anyway, we're just going to set into orbit for a few months and gather all the information we can. Maybe we'll find a lead as to who they used to be, but I got my doubts. At the very least, we categorize them properly. Get their historical records and culture. Then we head back, submit the report, and the analysts will figure out how close they are to leaving their system and getting involved with other galactic races or anything. Now, any questions, or have we all gotten caught up?” He looked around the room. No one said anything for a moment, until Dile stood up.

“Sir, what is my purpose here then? This doesn't seem to be a dangerous mission.” Drey shrugged.

“You're just paperwork Dile. Any vessel going to an unknown inhabited system on an official mission must have some form of military protection. Just playing by the book my friend.” He turned back to the others. “Now if that's all, you're dismissed. Feel free to kill time however you want, we'll probably be in position by tomorrow morning.” Drey turned and headed out of the room as Dile snapped off a sharp salute, turned on one wheel, and marched professionally out. A wave of grins flitted across the crews faces as they all sauntered out to their quarters.

_________________________

Earth was gorgeous if anything else. A mix of green and blue with graceful white smears of cloud all over, it looked like a painting more than a planet of rock and dirt. Entering orbit was a bit dicey though. Although the ship was invisible to anything like radar, it didn't have any visual light cloak, which was fine for the dark side of the planet, but any idiot on the day side could see them with a telescope. So after a moments trouble, they settled into a semi-orbit, staying on the dark side of the planet with thruster bursts, and just letting the planet rotate below them.

It was fairly uneventful for the first three weeks. Interesting of course, learning all about a completely different culture first-hand wasn't anything short of mind-blowing. There were a few half-serious talks about taking the little shuttle down to the planet to look around, but they were quickly dismissed. They didn't want to deal with unknown alien diseases onboard, and they did not want to be discovered and shot as spies or anything of the like. For the first three weeks it was business as usual. And then, something fairely significant happened.

Koss was on the bridge with Rijen and Drey, filtering through news reports, saving relevant ones and deleting (lots) of irrelevant ones (There was a LOT of news about celebrities) and generally shaking their heads and saying “Wow” a lot. And then the screen next to Koss flashed in interest. Taking a half-hearted peek at it, his interest quickly spiked when he actually saw what it was.

“Uh, Drey? You might wanna see this.” He said uncertainly. Slipping off the command chair, Drey wandered over to Koss and peeked over his shoulder.

“Hmm? What's up?” Koss just pointed at the screen.

“That.” Drey stared at it for a moment looking mystified. Mystified changed to curious, and curious changed to plainly confused.

“Is it a missile?”

“Nope.” Koss shook his head. “Notta missile, moving too fast. Not a satellite either, or any kind of rocket for that matter. Moving too fast, and there's no tail. All the rockets they have are chemical engines, we'd be seeing a big streak of fire. And look at the stability, the bloody things practically floating. Dunno what it is or who, but they've got antigrav.” Koss shook his head at the screen and whistled. Drey looked beyond confused now, almost angry.

“What?! That's stupid, they don't have antigrav! Do they? I mean, is this some sort of secret experiment?”

“Not a chance, look where it's coming from. Centre of the African continent, the middle of Africa. The North Americans or the Chinese might be able to pull this off, but not a bunch of savages in the middle of the Congo.”

Rijen tried to reason with them.

“Look, it's probably just another computer glitch. This bucket hasn't had a proper date with the dry docks for years, no wonder if you're seen a load of crap on the display.” He said. Koss just shrugged.

“I guess we'll see in a second, it's just leaving the atmosphere now, seven hundred kilometres to our port.” He dragged a few slides across the glowing console and a display sprang to life. Earth slowly rotated, the blue haze of its atmosphere making clear sight difficult. But as they watched, a tiny streak of blue light zipped out of the glow, plunging into space. Koss stared. Drey stared. Rijen cursed loudly.

“Crap. This is not going to end well is it?” He complained, but Drey just waved a hand and shushed him.

“Koss, scan it and match it with the database. I want to know who that is.”

“Already done, matching now.” Koss murmured. A screen snapped up and images of ship silhouettes began flashing across the screen at a blurring speed for a solid five seconds. And then it stopped, flashing on one outline in particular. Koss saw it first, and let out the first swear. Drey was right behind him, while Rijen leaned over asking what it was. Then he swore too.

The saucer. A big fat flying disc with no features on it except for a thick tube jetting blue out one side for propulsion. Good for lots of cargo and getting in and out of atmosphere quick, not good for much else. And it didn't take the computer to figure out who, or what, was piloting it.

“Rashmi.” Drey said mournfully. Koss and Rijen both seemed to deflate, sinking back into their seats like the air had been let out of them. “Oh this is going to be a pain.” Drey mourned before turning to the others. “Set a course after him, follow as quick as you can. And we better get Coslin and Dile up here quick, we're gonna need 'em.”

_________________________

“Alright, this is the problem. Five minutes ago we detected a Rashmi ship heading out of the planets atmosphere into deep space. We are guessing something on their ship is busted, since they've slowed down and haven't jumped out yet. So that means we have a chance to nab 'em.” Drey looked up. “Dile, you better get your gun.” The young marines eyes lit up as he jumped out of his posture, snapped off an overly-excited salute and took off down the corridor off the bridge. Coslin just shot Drey a hard look.

“And why, pray tell, should we chase down an independent vessel and board them outside of OUR jurisdiction in space?” He said snappishly. Drey glared at him.

“Because the Rashmi do one thing to new planets. Steal things, either examples of local product or the locals themselves. And considering how much the heads of this project do not want Earthers finding out about life beyond their little sphere, alright? They'd be righteously pissed if we didn't investigate the bloody thing.” Coslin shot him a fierce glare, but didn't say anything, although Drey knew why he was so peeved. If they actually did find Earth-humans on the Rashmi ship, it would involve an unholy amount of paperwork and time to get them properly processed. “Look, send over an automated transmission telling them to stop, and keep on them as fast as you can please.” Rijen sighed.

“Yes boss, transmitting now.” Lines of data flashed through the ship and across space towards the fleeing vessel. Dreys ship picked up speed, the ship shuddering as the outdated compensator struggled to reduce the kick. Still, Drey felt himself pushed back a little as the blue dot grew larger and larger in front of them.

“Koss, distance?”

“Thee thousand kilometres and closing.”

“Okay, bring us up close, start slowing down at five hundred kilos.”

“Gotcha boss.” As the little blue shape grew larger and larger, Drey could start to make out details through magnification. The fat hull that tapered down to a near edge along its hemisphere, the tiny circular patches of view ports.

“Huh, they're slowing down.” Rijen noted. “Bloody well coming to a dead stop actually, look at 'em.” Drey and Koss both peeked forward on the screen. The Rashmi disk was indeed slowing, tiny blue flashes of bow thrusters kicking into gear as it fought to kill its momentum.

“One thousand kilometres.” Koss noted. Drey peered at the expanding craft. Strange how smooth it was for a race of scavengers. Even sophisticated races often had rather rough looking ships, uncovered hull-metal or engine lines or something. But this was smooth as cream, just featureless silver metal wrapped around like a too-tight elastic. But asides from the view-ports, the only other feature was a small rod near the top centre of the ship. Drey squinted his eyes and zoomed in a bit closer.

“Hmm, you guys have any idea what that is?” Drey asked.

“Mm, nope. Looks a bit like a comms antenna or something thou- what the devil!?” Koss abruptly exclaimed as the view screen flashed brilliant white. Drey and Rijen both wheeled over at it in concern, watching as the white slowly faded away, showing the Rashmi ship again, rod extended towards them.

“Did they-”

“Yeah, I think they did.” Rijen answered a flabbergasted Koss, then swallowed. “Crap.”

“What was that?” Koss said in shock.

“Um, I think it was a pulse laser. Missed us, but a near thing. Yeah, they just shot at us.” Drey said hesitantly. Not that hesitancy was to be unexpected, they'd just been shot at. He suddenly realized everyone on the bridge was staring at him expectantly, and the fact smacked him in the gut like a like a sucker punch. He was the captain, and they'd just been attacked under his command. Which meant he had to respond correctly. His throat very suddenly became dry. He swallowed with some trouble, shook his head, and tightened his jaw.

“Uh, Captain? They're taking off again. Should we go after them-” Rijen began to say hesitantly.

“Bloody well right we're going after them!” Drey said abruptly. “We're on an official mission here for the Seaportian Confederation, and no tug full of disgusting scavengers is going to take a potshot at us and take off like that! Engines full forward and power up the laser, fire a shot across their bow and start transmitting an order for them to stop.” Koss and Rijen stood surprised for a moment at Drey's sudden outburst, then quickly jumped to work. The ship rumbled and engines burned up to maximum speed, and deep within the bowels, the barely-used laser hummed to life.

The fat Rashmi disc burned on. If it was capable of jumping, it would do so in a few minutes. But at a range of six hundred kilometers, sapphire line of light lanced from her pursuer and burned a hole clean through its bow. The engine flare beneath it died almost at once, and it drifted forward unpowered.

“You idiot! I said across the bow!” Rijen yelled, smacking Koss backside of the head.

“Gimme a break, this laser hasn't been fired for two years, we're lucky it powered up at all!” He scowled, rubbing his scalp. Koss looked dismally at the firing console, red alerts flashing across it.

“Maybe not that lucky, firing mechanism slagged. Hope we don't need to shoot again, 'cuz we can't.” He said. Drey paid no attention, absorbed with the display of the ship as he said excitedly.

“Alright, alright, we got 'em stopped! Dile better be ready for some boarding action. Koss, you got the bridge. Drey tapped in a short combination on his master console, and a small compartment popped open on the wall. Drey stuck his hand in, and pulled out a handheld enery pistol and two extra power packs. Checking to make sure the gun was charged, he shoved it in his waste pocket, threw on a reflective vest, and headed for the airlock.

“Boss, you're not going on that thing are you? Those stupid bugs will be awful mad yah know. Rijen said hesitantly. But Drey was already gone.

“Well Dile you certainly look all dressed up.” Drey remarked. Dile was looking as excited as the captain had ever seen him onboard, wrapped in his marine armor, helmet on his head, and a smart-looking carbine in his hands, and a giddy child-like grin on his face.

“Oh yes sir!” He said enthusiastically. The airlock suddenly jolted with a loud clanging sound. Catching himself on an overhead bar, Drey readjusted the pressurized helmet he was wearing.

“Ah, and that would be us docking I believe.” He said calmly, despise his shaking. He was filled with a cocktail of adrenaline and anxiety now, waiting for the Rashmi airlock to pressurize accordingly so they could enter. Of course it might not be, and the pressurized helmet he was wearing would keep his body safe for ten minutes in case the pressure was wrong.

Air hissed, and a green light came on with a friendly ding. Pulling himself up, Drey flicked the safety off his pistol and stepped forward through the opening airlock. “Alright Dile, make sure to cover me.” He said as he entered the alien vessel, the young marine moving sharply behind him.

_________________________

The pressure inside was equal to the ship, easing his fears. Smelled funny though, and Drey realized that specimens from a dozen different worlds must have passed through this hall. How many of them were humans? The thought disgusted him, and he kept his pistol raised. The corridor was empty and only dimly lit by thick yellow lighting. No sign of crew quarters; Rashmi slept standing up, usually at their posts. Whatever space wasn't needed for operating the ship was for cargo. He tensed as he passed by the various motion-detectors and camera in the hall -all of which were quite online- but nothing happened. Figures. They've made us mad enough already.

The end of the corridor was sealed by a large circular door. Dile cautiosly rapped it with the butt of his carbine.

“Open this door at once or prepare to be breached!” He yelled in a loud, authoritive tone Drey had never heard before. He raised eyebrows in surprise at the marine, who saw him and gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. Drey rolled his eyes and focused on the door. There was a moment of nothing, but the door then hummed to life and quietly slid to the side up into the overhead. Much brighter light shone streamed from within, and with a jolt of adrenaline Drey charged inside, pistol up.

He blinked in the light, taking in his surroundings. He was on the bridge, a large circular space with consoles ringing all around a raised pedestal in the center. Drey could count about a dozen Rashmi scuttering around, all of whom froze in place to stare at them.

“Don't any of you move, hold your hands up!” Drey shouted, excitement overtaking him. Blood pounded through his body, and he could feel it coursing through his palms where the pistol shook in his hands. Beside him, a much better picture of authority, Dile stood tall, carbine at his shoulder.

“You are being detained for the illegal firing on of a peaceful vessel. You have the right under Universal Law to maintain any plea that suits you at this current time. You also have the right to leave in peace once the offended party has deemed this exchange satisfactory in compliance with Universal Law.” Clear, loud, sharp, and pitch-perfect. Drey resisted the absurd urge to smile at the movie-esque manner that Dile exhibited.

“Alright, which one of you is the captain?” He snapped at the stunned crew in front of him. His eyes had adjusted to the light now, and he could see the Rashmi clearly. They were very insect-like, about the size of a man and standing on four spindly legs. The rest of their body was glossy brown and smooth, like sculpted marble. They had thick-looking blocky heads with two dominant, shiny black eyes. Two thin wire-like antennae waved out of the top of their heads, darting to and fro. Their arms were at their sides, thin and weak-looking. They looked very calm, their small mandibled mouths still and silent. They stared quietly at Drey, fixated on him, like he was the aggressor, and that his jumping in on them was all very rude somehow. An uncomfortable feeling began to filter over the captain, and he stamped his foot angrily, breaking the silence. “Don't act stupid, your kind all speak Standard! Which one of you is your captain, spill it!”

One of the nearest ones stepped from his console and moved forward, staring at Drey. His mandibles parted slightly and waved back and forth quietly a few times, and then the silence broke.

“Ah, human ally! Welcome aboard us, the delightful vessel Argonaut! We have set off from the small blue planet behind us with cargos of untold treasures! Technology seen by no eye, wonderous materials and-” Drey waved his hand, cutting off the alien.

“Don't pull that auctioneer crap on us, we're not looking to buy whatever you stole from the locals. We are however interested in browsing your computer database, perhaps seeing just what -or who- you have in your cargo bays.” The Rashmi's mandibles flexed jerkily, a sign of fear.

“Dear ally, this is all confidental information! We cannot let go the secrets of what treasures we have aquired here, this is such very bad business. Now we were just trying to fix our damaged engines when you mistakenly fired upon us, and this breach of proper etiquitee is most horrid.” The Rashmi complained in its clicky-sounding voice. Drey rolled his eyes, there was no point in arguing with Rashmi.

“Well, improper manners aside, we still have a need to investigate yor cargo databanks in all due haste.” Dile said hotly, clearly miffed at the Rashmi's outright fabriction. Drey clicked the pistol safety on, then off again to emphasis his point.

“My colleague hear is quite serious, Rashmi. Now unlock the database at once.” The Rashmi recoiled in what looked like stunned horror.

“No, no! Refer to this one by my proper title! Your rudeness must know not a single boundary, in all truth!” Drey sighed, ignoring the Rashmi way of arranging words.

“Fine then, what's your name?” He asked in exasperation.

“James Carleton.” He said plainly. Dile looked over at Drey eyebrows raised confusion. He shrugged at him. The Rashmi were so scattered across the galaxy that any sense of cultural identity had been warped away long ago, and they were just as likely to scavenge new names they liked as much as some piece of junk to sell.

“Fine then, James Carleton. Give us access to the databases now, or my colleague here will begin causing irreparable damage to your vital systems. Drey said coldly. Dile caught the hint and aimed his carbine at the nearest console. The whole clutter of Rashmi immediately began to stir, looking at each other and clicking their mandibles frantically. James Carleton backed against a terminal, mandibles closed tight. He bobbed his head back and forth, and let out a shrill whine. Then with sagging shoulders, he pulled up a PDA and tapped across it for a moment, then gingerly passed it over to Drey, complaining.

“This such matter is an utter disgrace to us and the ship, unfathombly horrid breach in protocol and etiquitte, this will not go unpunished, by all swear I! No no, you are in trouble of great quantity now, by all I swear this.” Drey pulled the PDA out of James Carletons clenched hands. It was the cargo manifesto, written in Standard of course for business reasons. He began flicking down the list, hoping there would actually be something illegal on here after all.

Gems, clothing, weapons, animal samples, indigenous samples, rocks. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Drey's heart sank deeper and deeper as the list went on, and nothing appeared. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dile begining to fidget in the quietness as the entire crew stared at them passively.

Nothing, nothing. Drey's throat tightened as the list came to an end. His heart raced. No, there had to be something! The image of being before a judge, explaining why he'd chased and boarded an innocent vessel, flashed through his mind. Trying to swallow, he was about to turn to Dile when something he'd went over caught his mind.

Indigineous samples. He brought it back up and tapped on it. No pictures, no information, nothing except the name of the cargo hold. He turned to Dile.

“Corporal, follow me.” He dropped the PDA and swept out off the bridge towards a small elevator in the corner. James Carleton recognized his actions and rushed towards him, arms waving frantically.

“No! There are biological samples in there, great peril they represent to you! Immunizations! And, or protection you need to survey such area! Have not such things, we have not such things!” He said, stumbling over his Standard in a panic. He grabbed Dile by the shoulder, and the marine whirled around and punched him in the face. The prattling alien crumpled, and Dile turned to give the others a threatening look. They stood agape, mandibles snapping back and forth in shock. Dile shot them a menacing stare, then followed Drey down into the elevator. The door hissed shut, and they were gone.

_________________________

Cargo Bay Fifteen. The Rashmi symbols scrawled across the otherwise blank metal stood out blandly. Nothing unusual about it in the least, save the blinking light of a security system.

“Locked on the inside only, you'd think they were expecting on something inside trying to get out. Interesting, isn't it Dile?” Drey commented dryly.

“I wonder what sort of specimens they worry about operating a control panel.” Dile said with a grin of anticipation. Reaching forward, he tapped the access panel, and stepped back. The door opened with a subtle hiss, giving way to pitch blackness. Drey strained his eyes, peering into the dark, but he couldn't see beyond two feet. Beside him, Dile flicked on the flashlight mounted on his chestplate. Piercing blue light suddenly stabbed into the room, parting the darkness on all sides. Drey stepped forward with reflexive caution.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?” He called out, voice falling flat. Dile's light swept around the room slowly, illuminating just blank battleship grey bulkheads. “Hello? We're here to help you, come out if you're in there.” Drey said, quietly realizing that any captives probably wouldn't understand Standard.

“Hallo? Wer ist da?” Drey and Dile both snapped around at the voice, Dile's light landing directly on the source. Two white eyes shone in the light. “Wer-wer bist du?” Drey winced.

“Crap.” He sighed.

_________________________

There were at least fifty of them. Most of them were unconscious, two weren't. A man and a woman, both dressed in long white coats with red crosses on their shoulders. The others had been clearly military of some sort, dressed in green/brown camouflaged combat fatigues. They were hauled up to the bridge, and Drey had Dile “escort” the Rashmi into an empty cargo bay, then seal it shut. He called over Coslin from the ship, much as he disliked the prickly man, Coslin had to be informed of this. Thankfully he kept his mouth shut largely, only speaking to help Drey set up the translation software. This didn't take too long, since their guests had the courtesy to speak a widely-spoken Earth language.

“Alright, I would like you to please speak into this, slowly and clearly please.” Coslin asked in a calm gentle voice, a tone Drey had never heard him use before. He exchanged raised eyebrows with Dile, then settled down as the translator replayed Coslin's voice.

"Okay, ich möchte, dass Sie sprechen Sie bitte in diese, langsam und deutlich zu gefallen."

The woman looked up in temporary surprise, but managed to control herself professionally.

“Mein Name ist Ingrid Heinzman” She said in a calm, somewhat shaky voice. The moment later the translator kicked in.

“My name is Ingrid Heinzman.” Coslin smiled assuringly, and she continued. “This is my colleague, Konrad Raimand.” She motioned to the stocky light-skinned man beside her, who sat quietly, observing with his sharp blue eyes. “We are both doctors with the International Red Cross organization, a humanitarian group. We are, we were, giving medical treatment to wounded soldiers in a civil war down in the Congo.” She stopped, slumping forward and catching her head in her hands, seeming quite spent. This was the que for Konrad to speak up, sounding a bit angry.

“Enough, what is all this? We've been abducted by these creatures, aliens. And then we are “rescued” by a group of humans? Who are you, where are you from? You are not from anywhere on earth, I can be sure of that. Are you humans? Or are you some other kind of creature, wearing a disguise?” He demanded. Coslin nodded his head calmly, as if agreeing with what the man was saying.

“I understand your frustration, and you must know I am most sincerely sorry about this, I truly am. But we were compelled to take action when we noticed this craft, I fear to think about your fate if we had not intervened.” He said soothingly. Drey snorted in disgust, Coslin was trying to dismiss the fact he'd be against stopping the Rashmi in the first place. He stepped forward towards Konrad.

“My name is Drey, I'm in charge of the ship that saved you. You're on this alien ship, a Rashmi ship, and they would have sold you on an alien world as forced soldiers. You would not have survived two weeks.” He said as calmly as he could. Konrad tensed, looking like a trapped animal. Ingrid suddenly looked back up though, cutting off any hasty action by her colleague.

“Please, we are a bit stunned. This is, this is all very new for us and, well we're just a bit shaken. I'm sorry.”

“Of course, my apologies.” Coslin said, voice laden with genuine concern. “Please, stay here, we will get you some nourishment from the ship.”

_________________________

“So? Now what?” Koss said with exasperation in his voice. Drey didn't say anything, too busy trying to think of something to say. What did they do now? The answer was painfully obvious, and his face soured at the thought.

“Well, I'll tell you what we're supposed to do now.” Coslin said with obvious distaste. “According to proper protocol, we are supposed to fly them all back with us, get their memory wiped, and -as we were their 'rescuers'- place them back where they belong. Down there.” He finished, jabbing a finger at the distant sphere of earth, outside the viewport. The sigh of despair was unanimous amongst the crew, minus Dile who'd stayed to make sure the Rashmi didn't try anything.

Drey sympathized. The idea of spending another month or more flying back and forth with a cargoload of completely alien humans, interrupted only by the paperwork of filing comprehensive individual reports on how they had come across the humans, etc, etc.

“Not a bloody chance!” Rijen said loudly, startling everyone. They all looked at the slim man, who was pacing around the crowded bridge, looking like he was quite at his breaking point. “No, no this is all trash! Let's just take them back to where they were and leave 'em! Simple as that!”

“Oh yes, we'll just fly them back into an active warzone, why don't we? Or we could just get Dile to pop them all in the head, save time!” Coslin snapped. Koss snorted in disgust.

“The Rashmi plucked them out of a warzone genius, didn't you hear them? They were there on purpose!” He retorted. Coslin shot him a cold look.

“They could want to go to nearest tourist resort on earth for all it matters. This bucket has the aerodynamics of a brick!” He said, kicking the bulkhead angrily. Drey nodded glumly.

“'Fraid so guys, this tub doesn't have any kind of anti-gravity. Best we could pull off in atmosphere would be a crash landing, and not a chance of getting off-planet again.”

“Besides, there's reason we need to take them back is for a memory wipe, we can't just have them running amuck down there with stories about strange people in space, or aliens.” Coslin said with a glare at Koss and Rijen. Rijen forced out a laugh.

“Jeez Coslin, have you seen any of the reports from that planet? They've got enough alien sightings and reports to fill a good-sized library! A few more shell-shocked war survivors babbling about aliens from outer space would be kicked out of any circle of prestige, and those morons know it too. If they know what's good for 'em, they won't make a peep about anything they've seen up here, and they'd be called nuts if they did.” The dark-skinned pilot folded his arms across his chest firmly. “You want my vote? The Rashmi can take 'em back. Dial in its last earth-coordinates into the navigation comp, fire up the reserve engines and cut 'em loose. They'll get back in about a day tops.” Koss immediately raised his hand in hearty agreement.

“I'm with Rij. Anything that doesn't involve another two months of soul-crushing work gets the greenlight with me.”

“Rij, people might laugh at stories of aliens, but if you jumpstart a fly saucer and send it on a crash-course into the planet, people are going to start looking for bigger telescopes.” Coslin pointed out dryly. Koss made a flicking motion towards Coslins forehead.

“Coslin, wake up. It's a Rashmi ship. They're whole bloody lives are focused around sneaking around and stealing people, and you can't do that without some kinda visual cloak! You are such an thick stump, honestly.” He turned to Drey. “Come on boss, let's do it. Send the ship back to where it was, put it on a landing cycle. Goes down invisible, lands where they were, doors open, they leave, everyone's happy.

“And the Rashmi?” Coslin asked. Koss opened his mouth to speak, but Rijen waved his hand dismissively.

“They'll work themselves outta the cargo hold before long once they know Dile isn't waiting for them. Then they just pack up and leave, no sweat.”

“I never heard any of this, got it?” Coslin abruptly changed tone as he got up, wheeled around, and walked straight off the bridge. There was a moments silence at the turn of events, then Koss and Rijen both got wicked smiles and focused their gaze on Drey, who suddenly felt a lot less comfortable.

“Well boss? How 'bout it?”

“Please repeat what I just said, slowly and clearly please.”

_________________________

“Wait for the engine reading to reach ten percent, that's the green line on the console in front of me. Pull the two levers to my left and wait for the bank of lights above them to go green. Then get everyone to take the stairs as low as they go, and walk straight to a door. Press the big button, leave the ship. Don't tell anyone.” Konrad said crisply. Koss studied him, if he was at all nervous, he hid it perfectly. Ingrid was doing well, if clearly anxious and scared.

“And, this ship will land itself? It won't crash, or anything?” She asked timidly. Rijen nodded assuringly.

“Don't worry, Rashmi are too worried about damaging their precious mechandise, much less themselves. You'll hardly feel a thing.” She nodded, trying to quell her fears. A look of frustration flashed over her face.

“Ugh, so many questions! Who you are, where you're from, so many questions unanswered!” She clenched a fist tightly and slammed it on her had in frustration. Then she turned back to Rijen. “Please, will I ever get to find about you?”

He offered a reassuring smile. “Who knows? Depending on how things turn out, we may very well contact you in your lifetime. Sorry I can't say more.” She slumped in resignation.

“I guess that's the best I'll get. Well, thank you all. I don't think I fully understand just what you saved us from, but thank you very much.”

“No worries.” Drey said, walking onto the Rashmi bridge. “Now, I think it's time we got you on your way.” He slid past her, checking over a terminal. “We've got the reserve engine ready to burn and the coordinates are punched in. You'll land in the center of the Congo, completely invisible. We recovered a map the Rashmi confiscated off you, along with your medical supplies and some rations. You'll be about ten miles east from Kinshasa, any closer and you'll risk possible detection.” He turned from the terminal to face Ingrid. “Alright. We are going to leave you now. When you hear a thump, it means we've detached. Wait for two minutes after this, then press this.” He pointed out to a glowing symbol on the terminal in front of her. “That will start the engines and put you on course.” He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and shivered. Then he turned to Rijen. “Alright, lets head back to the ship. Dile's already on board, so its just the two of us.”

“Excuse me, but you are sure that those, things, will not get out and try to take us?” Konrad spoke up, looking somewhat edgy. Drey shook his head.

“Nah, we pumped their cargo bay full of nerve gas, they'll be smoked senseless for at least two days.” Konrad nodded slowly, and then leaned back and cracked a slight smile.

“Alright then, good. And thank you, you quite likely saved our lives.”

“Try not to think about it too much, might 'drive you nuts. Goodbye.” Drey said. Then he stepped out, the bridge door hissed shut, and they were gone.

“Three...two...aaand one, there they go.” Koss and Rijen looked up from their terminals at the viewscreen, showing a bright blue jet spike out of the drifting Rashmi ship. A moment later a dozen smaller jets around the hull flickered to life, spinning it slowly around in the void. They bursted, adjusted the ship properly, then the engine came to life in earnest, stretching out from the ship as it began to rocket back to earth.

“Well, I guess that's done I good deed for the day.” Koss remarked casually. “Wonder when we'll open up communications with earth?” Rijen didn't reply, just shrugged and went back to his terminal.

“Alright, boss. We've got the drive prepped to go, whenever you're ready, just say the word.” Drey nodded absently, staring at the declining view of the Rashmi tug.

“Coslin better keep his mouth shut about this.” He commented to himself.

“He'll deny it ever happened, don't worry. Otherwise they'll nail him for not stopping us.” Rijen said. Drey nodded. Time to go. He thought, and moved to give the order. But he stared at the viewscreen for a while longer, watching as the Rashmi ship slowly grew smaller. “Huh.” He remarked quietly to himself. Then he shook his head, clearing up his mind. “Okay, let's get outta here. Take us home, please.”

“You got it boss.” Rijen said cheerily, fingers dancing quickly across the console. The ship lurched, its bowels humming to life. On the outside, reality distorted. The ship rippled like water, then suddenly flashed white. There was a twisting motion as, like a mirage, it simply faded from sight, leaving black emptiness in its wake.

_________________________

Excerpt from Internation Red Cross report for July 23^rd, 2042

Doctors Heinzman and Raimand were both rescued today by the Congolese Army, along with a number of wounded New Congo Army rebel fighters and Congolese soldiers. After recieving medical attention at a near by hospital, they were called to Geneva for a week of recuperation. On July 19^th, Doctors Heinzman and Raimand were assisting a local clinic that had been overrun with wounded soldiers from the current Congo Civil War. While performing triage, a rogue artillery shell struck their clinic and killed several patients. Details are murky from this point, but both doctors testify to managing to keep the surviving patients alive while escaping into the jungle to avoid reprisal. After several days of walking, they were picked up by a Congolese Army patrol.

This story has been deemed consistent by the Board and we are all very gratified for our doctors safety. Objections were made by some of the wounded soldiers who claimed to have been visited by spirits, however they were in a state of considerable shock during this time. Doctors Heinzman and Raimand are expected to make a complete recovery and both plan to return to the field as soon as possible.

To: The director of the Reclamation of Humanity Project.

From: Coslin Admari

Subject: Earth

You'll probably get the full report by tomorrow sir, all the numbers and statistics will make the rest of the board wiggle in their seats with glee I'm sure. Anyway, I'll cut the crap and just say it: we struck gold here. Anyone who opposes the project as limited to just tracking down a bunch of scrapper colonies or drifting merchants can eat their words and choke. Thirteen billion inhabitants with Tier 4 technology. Split up into factions fighting though, so the politicans won't need to worry about them for the time being. But you should definitely try and get this planet to the attention of the higher-ups. We found evidence of Rashmi raiders there, which would explain the reports of strange new human mercenaries popping up in the Casanalan wars. We shouldn't crack open diplomatic relations just yet, but we might want to consider getting a task force to skulk around and keep an eye out, I don't like to think about the idea of Cortal getting their hands on thirteen billion bodies for slave labour, or Rakkila conversion.

Full report coming soon, talk to you later boss.

/end/