Blasphemy (part 11)
Theem Seeker of God sniffed at a small glass of port, debating the potential effect it might have on its nervous system.
"How could you resolve this quandary?" Theem asked, deciding to take a small sip of the fortified wine.
"I couldn't. Vortex couldn't create a hyperfield, just as Joos-tow's equations suggested. They couldn't resolve it either. They knew that no one on their planet could reproduce what I'd shown them of Vortex."
"Word of my presence had gotten out on their information net, so I couldn't just quietly vanish. People were beginning to ask questions - a lot of questions. Vortex could have answered them easily, but First Contact Protocol leaves that to the planetary government, to do as they believe best for their people. In some societies, that's nothing to worry about, as free information is cherished and encouraged. In other societies, well, I've heard enough First Contact horror stories that I expected some kind of major public execution was probably waiting for me."
Maggie sipped at her wine. There was a stirring at the bar, as someone opened a new line of wagering on the tale. There were always those who thought they knew where the story would go, who offered potentially lucrative side bets. Ro#chon tracked them all, collecting data crystals, DNA samples, and deuterium lots as collateral.
Theem gestured to the bartender. A tentacle, wrapped in a cloth streaked with scarlet and indigo, was already on the way with more port.
"So what did you do?"
"They insisted that I stay for a while. They wanted to 'consult and confer', a phrase which always raises a warning sign with me. They insisted that I stay as a guest at the temple, in a sumptuous room, refusing to take 'no' for an answer. For the next ten daycycles, I was escorted almost constantly, taken to all sorts of interesting places, to museums, and to art galleries. Almost all of them had something to do with Joos-tow and its power. In every case, the place was cleared of natives before I got there. I began to fantasize that there were only twelve Laasko on the entire planet, mostly female and heavily armed, even though I could see through my windows that it wasn't true."
"They left Vortex mostly alone, although they did have a crew come out with some kind of sensors to poke around her hull. At first she thought that it might have been because they'd discovered she'd tapped into their information net. Her investigations revealed that it wasn't the case; they were only curious about her construction. Once she realized that she could continue undetected, it gave her the chance to finish digesting everything she could about their physics and mathematics. The only differences she could find were those from the Temple, dealing with the Manifold Symmetry."
"On the eleventh daycycle, they left both of us alone. The temple seemed to be in a state of great agitation. I was a little concerned. Vortex called every twenty or thirty minutes, with some new portent gleaned from their information net, insisting that we increase the Distress Potential Protocol level."
Maggie paused, sipping at her port. No one else moved, especially Walder, who was sound asleep.
"It was a bit of a relief when they finally knocked on my door. Two of the more familiar guards politely asked me to come with them to their holiest sacred ground on the planet. I figured that my time was just about up."
The old man sitting next to Walder, his hair and full beard an iridescent gray, drained his glass of golden Armas whiskey, slamming it down onto the table when he was done. The few remaining drops splashed away, most landing on Walder's face. Walder didn't stir, except for a soft snore. He was definitely out. When conscious, Walder never refused any alcohol that came his way, no matter what form it took.
"Maggie," the old man insisted, ignoring the buzz emanating from Walder, "you can't expect us to believe that you just walked into their execution chamber." His voice resonated, crisp and authoritative. A bottle levitated over the table, held up by a different tentacle from the bar. Wrapped in a cloth of azure blue, it silently refilled the whiskey.
"Why not, Admiral Smith?" Maggie smiled at him, with the hint of some shared and subtle private additional meaning. "Haven't you been placed in a situation you know is fated, but you had to do it because you weren't really given a choice in the matter?"
He nodded, as Maggie knew he had to.
"Oh, I could've said 'no', but I didn't think they'd accept it. Besides, wouldn't you be the least bit curious? They could have killed me at nearly any time, or thrown me into some medieval dungeon. Instead, I was being treated well."
"Vortex and I had agreed to step back down to Distress Potential Protocol Twelve. If she lost contact with me, I knew she'd fire up her engines and head straight for me if at all possible. She'd done it before, so I wasn't too worried."