
Attention! Spoiler danger! The events in this chapter take place in the middle of the story.
16 - Handover
It gradually dawned on Brendan that the molluscs were not the real players in this very convoluted game. They actually seemed to have entered the human-populated systems more or less by accident, revealing a technology that mankind had been seeking for countless generations: wormholes! Jump gates that tore a hole in the existing space-time continuum to allow easy passage to unimaginably distant places. Or, in other words, a shortcut within the universe that is difficult to explain in astrophysical terms.
Except for Curcry and the armada of Brood ships that followed him, however, the Molluscs had never knowingly used such a gate before. At least not in the human catchment area. Furthermore, apparently no one ever knew how to correctly interpret the appearance of these aliens. Nobody found out whether Curcry had flown to Xi on purpose or by mistake. No, thought Brendan. This wasn't about the molluscs. It was about these gates, Maryju was sure of that too. She had identified five of them, in places where the mollusc ships suddenly appeared or disappeared again. The Authority, for its part, had built Cataract 3 to find and explore a Mollusc Gate, but it was quite possible that they had not yet achieved any results. More likely in the ruling Pegats society, however, was the possibility that a few influential Pegats kept this endeavor under wraps and let epochs pass to let grass grow over the matter. For even ordinary mortals were suspicious and greedy. And if only one or two minor suspicions needed to be cleared up, it was enough to take off with such knowledge for a hundred years and then bring in a new, ignorant generation for the relevant purposes. After all, Pegats had a special status not only on Little Silence.
Little Silence! Brendan would love to be there now. The conversation with the Armada's chief mollusc proved difficult, although Brendan was very surprised to learn that the Armada's lead ship used a much better cryptograph than he did. This made communication itself much easier. As an aside, Click-Click noted that the only reason they hadn't noticed any dangerous weapons systems on the Molluscs so far was because they were using a completely unknown technology. As in their communication, they used vibrations, similar to microwaves, to cause materials to burst or to shoot them in compressed form. Ammunition in the conventional sense was not necessary. This novelty did not necessarily give Brendan an advantage. It did, however, paint a completely new picture of the molluscs, who were not so naive and defenseless after all. Nevertheless, he didn't let on. The head mollusc called himself Kitsch — a male in this case. He was no different from Curcry, who rumbled around the cargo hold so excitedly that the outer hatches almost broke. That would make any negotiation superfluous.
For some reason, Kitsch didn't see the point of settling on Amazonia at first. Although Amazonia was undoubtedly much closer than the green planet Praetor. Maryju thought that it must not matter to them, as they most likely possessed far more of the gates. Perhaps they had long since analyzed the different planets and knew which one they could find food on. As Brendan realized how important Kitsch was in getting Curcry out and the gastropod also blabbed, so they learned that at least 50 of the Brood ships were carrying the offspring of Curcry alone, Brendan felt he had the advantage again. With the mollusc, he had a valuable pledge. Kitsch didn't mention the gates at all. It quickly became clear that none of these snail-like creatures were capable of expressing or grasping complex thought processes. They had obviously had to understand words like lie or cheat first, so they seemed to have their own problems with them. But it might also be due to the fact that molluscs did not use verbs, with the exception of eat. The encounters with these space-faring colossi were too brief and their behavior too strange for the crew of the Harry to make sense of them.
The strange ships of the molluscs now surrounded the Harry on all sides. Even Click-Click had difficulty maneuvering the ship amidst the gray fleet.
"But the solution is perfect for her," Brendan continued the conversation with Kitsch, in an effort to convince her of her plan after all. He was still reluctant to talk to a giant snail. "We know that Amazonia is very close to one of your jump gates. I'll just send you the coordinates. The planet is bursting with greenery. And it's not as far from here as Praetor. What's more, there are no humans living there, so they wouldn't be at the mercy of any conflicts. They could eat for years until they are strong enough to make the return journey. And then they could finally fly to Poupou 4 to settle there."
The Mollusc wobbled up and down shapelessly before responding. It was stuck in a very cramped cockpit in one of the smaller escort ships. There were no windows or viewing hatches there either. From the Harry, they could see neither the Mollusc nor anything else from inside the strange craft. The gastropods were unaware of any cameras or radios and all communication was by resonance alone. This time the translation came directly from the mollusc ship, so that their own cryptograph remained silent. Brendan and the others were astonished to hear complete sentences with all the necessary components. The suspicion immediately arose that this was not Kitsch's first time dealing with humans.
"We need to check that. But there's not enough time. We have evidence from the other humans that Praetor is nutritious."
"Then let me tell you something, dear Kitsch. Those other people are sneaky and tried to trick you. A plant called neem grows on the entire land surface of Praetor. My assistant Einstein here will send you the chemical composition of this plant in a few seconds. Then you can see for yourself that this kind of food is truly unhealthy."
The gastropod did not answer. It remained silent. Brendan looked defiantly at Einstein. "I thought openness would go down well with them," he said. Einstein nodded encouragingly. "I've already sent you the formula."
Maryju had meanwhile gone down to Curcry to help him into his spacesuit. She first put on a protective suit herself so that she would not be poisoned if she came into contact with the gastropod's skin. It took her some effort to squeeze the monster into the unusually thin skin of the suit and it was questionable whether the gastropod could even manage it on its own. But somehow it had to be done, because the suit had been in the mollusc's ship at the time.
"All's well with you, Maryju?" asked Brendan over the on-board system. She looked up at the camera. "Yes, yes. All is clear here. Snailman's awkward, but willing. I'll be glad when we're rid of him."
"So do we. The only question that remains is whether we have solved the problem itself."
"We'll see."
"Yes, we will. Just make sure you're safe when you open the bulkheads. I don't care what they do to him when he's outside. But I'd hate to have to fish you out again."
"I'll take care of myself," she said, "but thanks for the concern."
Click-Click reported at this point that the Harry no longer wanted to obey him. All the Mollusc ships and their own were on course for Little Silence, as Click-Click recommended that they should not fly any further away from the Uma system due to some malfunctions in the onboard system. But from a purely mathematical point of view, Harry was now using less fuel for the distance they were traveling. Due to the antiquated on-board system, they had to re-enter the new course, namely Little Silence, so that Harry could adjust to it and give the all-clear. But even after that, the ship bucked and reported an error in the controls. Einstein and Brendan hacked wildly at the consoles to find out what was wrong. Click-Click also checked all of the ship's data and remained at a loss for the time being.
"Since we arrived at the mollusks, we have been flying at a completely different maneuvering speed," said Einstein.
"What does that mean?"
"We didn't initiate this speed," he said, "I have the feeling that we're no longer maneuvering ourselves. Yes, I'm sure the molluscs have taken control of the Harry."
"Has Snailman been hiding something from us?" Brendan looked at the floating Maryju on the screen, who was about to send the package. Since they had stopped accelerating or braking, weightlessness had set in. "Wait a minute!" he shouted. "Keep the bulkheads sealed! We have a new problem. We have to sort it out first."
He called Kitsch over the translator, expecting a response, because the moment they were going to send Curcry over had already passed. And as is always the case, when someone wants something, they become willing to talk. Brendan's pitying disgust towards the gastropods vanished more and more into thin air. They seemed just as devious and sneaky to him as some humans. He now clearly questioned whether the snails were really that poor and just looking for food.
"Where is Curcry?" they echoed.
"How stupid do you think we are?" Brendan asked back. Einstein looked at him with wide eyes. "What do you mean?" Brendan said to him. "They want something from us. And if that slimeball back there is so important to them, they should treat us more honestly. I'm sick of it! This is our first job. And it's so screwed up. I'm really fed up with this. They can't lie, my ass!"
"Where is Curcry?" the creature on the other end of the line repeated. Brendan's communication difficulties were getting on his nerves. So he tried a different approach: "He's still with us. And he'll stay with us if you don't give us back our ship's power."
In the meantime, Einstein had confirmed that they could neither steer nor change their speed. An unknown mixture of magnetic and sound waves held Harry firmly in its grip. So now it was poker time. He began to sweat, just wanting to get this thing over with, fly home and get his life in order. Suspiciously, he gave Click-Click a look. The android trembled slightly, stared straight ahead silently and didn't respond to any other words.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked Einstein. The professor's hands flitted nimbly and unerringly over the console. "They've released us again," he said happily and then glanced briefly at the degenerate android next to him. Einstein grimaced and shook his head. Then he unceremoniously switched off Click-Click. The android had fallen into a data loop from which he could no longer free itself. A tiny defect that he couldn't fix himself. Greg had given him a great price for Click-Click, but had also warned him that there could be minor inconsistencies, the causes of which still had to be identified and eliminated. Einstein wanted to take care of that later. He reassured Brendan and operated two more keyboards, one for course calculations, another for analyzing the alien ships. He was worth at least three assistants.
"Send us Curcry!" it sounded from the loudspeaker. Brendan switched back to Maryju first: "Come to us, Maryju! You can seal the room and have everything ready to catapult the mollusc out. But you'll do it from up here, okay?"
"Will do!" She left the now immobile gastropod in its suit and left the cargo hold with the badly battered tank. Shortly afterwards, she was back in the cockpit and removed her protective suit. She didn't even take the time to put anything else on over her underwear and the skimpy tank top, apart from a pair of training pants lying around, which Brendan didn't know how she had gotten into the cockpit.
"We've sent over all the other data we had stored about Amazonia," he said to the mollusc after he had collected himself a little. "And you've realized Praetor's uselessness by now, haven't you? Do they want to take the risk of traveling this distance only to die miserably on the spot? The new plants there are highly toxic, kitsch. And the people on Praetor won't give you a friendly welcome. Incidentally, I would like to know why you tried to detain us."
"The Xi told us the wrong things," Kitsch's cryptographer said tersely. "You are like them. We don't know any humans, and we know that all gastropods are the same. So all humans are the same, too. We need Curcry. He is the father of many Brood ships."
"People aren't all the same," Brendan confirmed. "That's a fact. And we're not lying to you — that's also a fact. We have now found out what weapons you are equipped with. But — and this is also a fact — the Harry 8 also has weapons systems. I don't know how important Curcry is to you, but before you roast us with your microwaves or whatever, we'll probably shoot down some of your ships. All of them, maybe, as long as Curcry is on board with us."
"We want to survive," said the mollusc's device after a short pause. "We don't want conflict with humans. We want a planet and to eat — and survive. We want to survive."
"Yes, we want that too," sighed Brendan. "I think we're agreed on that much. And since we're here all alone and don't know if we can trust you, I'll make you a proposal now." The mollusc waited. Brendan took a deep breath and blew it out hard before continuing. Einstein gave him an upright thumb and nodded approvingly. He was satisfied with Brendan's speech. Maryju, on the other hand, sat slightly tense in her chair, in which she had strapped herself back in tightly. Brendan pressed the transmission button and continued:
"Amazonia is a very good alternative 90 percent of the time. The fact is, death awaits the mollusks on Praetor. If not by Neem, then by the very defensible Praetorians there. But you have a chance on Amazonia. And then you can leave this system without starting a war with the humans. Believe me, humanity is extremely tough and relentless in its defense against enemies. We have weapons that can tear entire planets to pieces."
"What's your name?" asked Kitsch.
"Brendan!"
"Brendan, what do you want so we can get Curcry?"
"Your entire fleet is flying back and setting course for Amazonia. We here on the Harry will go into cold sleep in a few days and wait half a year while we fly towards Little Silence. Our ship will track and record your course matrix. As soon as the Harry approaches an unknown object, we will be woken up in good time. This is an automatic process that cannot be influenced. So don't even try to turn back and trick us. Only one of your ships may remain. It will pick up Curcry after this six-month period and follow you. This ship will remain unoccupied. Only Curcry will steer it later. With the exception of the planet Amazonia, there is no attractive alternative for you in this area. Little Silence is green, but not so densely overgrown that it would offer you and yours a permanent home. I wouldn't fly to Xi if I were you anyway, they'll make short work of you before you even get close to the planet. Ambaramani also belongs to the Xi sphere of influence. The same would await you there. They could still evade to Azure. However, all we know about this planet is that there are large quantities of water there. You could reach it in less than half the time, but you can't live on water alone. You still have 89729 c left, but that is also a long way away. We know absolutely nothing about 89729c. Only the fact that the Authority, which is a cross-system body of humanity, has also classified it as an atmospheric and possibly habitable planet. So that leaves Amazonia. I say to them: Follow my advice! I want the best for you. But I also want our best." He switched off and slumped back in his seat. That had been extremely exhausting. He was finished.
"Pretty far out on a limb," Maryju said cautiously.
"What else can I do? I'm not a diplomat. And I would like to go home."
"You should know how important Curcry is to them," Maryju said. She grabbed the uniform overalls from behind her seat and slipped them on. "They're making a mad fuss about him."
"Exactly," said Brendan. "And if he is, as Kitsch thought, the father of several Brood ships, then he's probably the father of several million slug children waiting to hatch. I think it's obvious that he's important to you."
"Let them do it somewhere else," said Einstein. "Look!" He pointed out of the window, where the first mollusc ships were moving away.
"They're taking off," Brendan shouted delightedly. More ships were already on the move.
"And they're setting course for Amazonia," Maryju said, glancing at her console. "You've convinced him, Brendan." A broad grin lit up her face. Brendan held his breath tensely and watched as one ship after another changed course. Kitsch no longer gave any answer. All that remained was a single one of his ships, from which two Molluscs had previously transferred to another. Curcry must have received instructions from Kitsch. He had shed his spacesuit again and had already slipped halfway back into the battered but still functional refrigeration tank. Maryju unstrapped herself again and slid into the cargo hold. She checked that the hibernation system was still intact and made the final preparations for the cryogenic sleep. When the last of the mollusc ships disappeared from her field of vision, Brendan took the wheel and steered Harry towards Little Silence.
A very strange feeling remained in his stomach as the emptiness around Harry grew. Just as quickly as these problems had descended upon them, they disappeared. This emptiness and the regained calm around them gave him a feeling of anxiety. As endless as this space was and as far away as the nearest civilizations were, they were in the administrative area of Leo Minor, an area heavily enforced by the Authority, where there were numerous probes and free outposts. Why were they so alone in all they were doing? Surely it couldn't be that a single small spaceship like the Harry could meet up with an armada of alien ships without anyone noticing.
Each of them was now sitting in the cockpit with mixed feelings. Soon they would be going back into cold sleep. Maryju was far from finished with her story. But where should she go to continue and get to the bottom of things? She was left not only with the fight for Ambaramani's independence, but also with the big question of the mysterious gates, which definitely had to exist. Brendan's ship wouldn't get her as far as Cataract 3. Besides, Brendan wouldn't be willing to fly her either, even if the Harry made it. That had nothing to do with cowardice or inability, she was aware of that too. He was just far too much of a realist and wanted to be better prepared for such undertakings, if he was going to undertake them. Besides, Maryju would need to know more about the background in order to approach the tasks that would return freedom to her people. A few years didn't matter. They didn't know whether these gates actually existed and, if they did, where exactly their secrets could be unlocked. The whole affair was more than unusual, and its complexity suited the life of a Pegat. There had already been various contacts with alien life forms in the human catchment area. But often only a few in a very limited part of the spiral arm knew about it, or those Pegats who had been moving across the systems for hundreds of years. But even despite this relative habituation to such encounters, the appearance of numerous aliens, no matter how harmless, could not be ignored. Who should they contact about this? First, Maryju would declare her official resignation from the Xinian military and send a message to Oceanus to that effect. She also decided to stay at Brendan's country estate for a while. The years within the Xinian regime had taken their toll on her. It was not easy for her to put her current experiences aside for a while without immediately setting about clearing them up. She had a lot riding on this. A chance to give the Ambaramanians the knowledge about jump gates could not be outweighed by any wealth in the galaxy. Mariju's thoughts revolved almost exclusively around this. The chubby professor, on the other hand, concentrated entirely on the technical problems. He quickly found the fault in Click-Click's circuits. It was the first and, fortunately, for a long time the only fault in this prototype and was connected to the unknown resonance waves emitted by the molluscs. Einstein was also tired. He watched with satisfaction as Brendan caught up and made up for lost years. Like his son, whom he, Megando di Facil aka Einstein, lost long ago and of whom Brendan reminded him so much. He, too, was aware that this would not be the last time they would have to deal with molluscs and all that lay beyond.
Even before they went into the hibernation tanks, a harmless asteroid shower reached the ship. Once again, an engine failed, so they had to extend their sleep phase by a few years. During this sleep phase, Click-Click monitored the flight and made twenty-three harmless and three critical repairs to the Harry. There had been twice as many on the flight here, but Click-Click only revealed this after landing on Little Silence. And this was based solely on tactical logic, which had nothing to do with emotions. But it wasn't that far yet.
Brendan unbuckled his seatbelt and was the last to enter the hibernation room. So he was Pegats again. He now realized that too. And within this honorable company, he had already met the first devil to fly through the spiral arm in 1397 years. Oceanus, the Titan of Xi. He had also met his first aliens, who, all in all, seemed less spectacular than he had expected. Yes, the beginning of his new life was full of encounters. Maryju — the most beautiful encounter of all. Brendan looked over at her. She was already lying in the tank with her eyes closed. They were making love again. And again in separate beds, wall to wall. He sighed. Then he undressed too and said goodbye to Click-Click. For the first time, he was looking forward to hibernation. Rest at last.