Copyright © 1997, 1998
Last updated on 1/21/98
**** CURRENT POSITION OF SHIPS ****
[This is as close to scale as 80-column ASCII will allow. ]
(Top View) Ring and Alcyon orbiting CCW as seen from here.
All ship positions and communications are calculated from the Alcyon
(unless otherwise noted).
Al = Alcyon
The following cluster of ships are positioned ~0.9 AU from Alcyon,
7.5 minutes each way for communication signals:
T = Trakh
S = Trakh Shuttle
P = Paladin
K = Kingfisher
Ta = Talisman
All of these ships are within a few light-seconds of each other
for purposes of round-trip communication signals. Note that the
Aurora is *ALMOST* within this group as well. Communication between
her and the other ships will have a lag of ~45 seconds.
From the Alcyon, the other ships are positioned as follows:
W = Westwind, ~1.8 AU from Alcyon, 15 minutes each way for signals.
Ph = Phin shuttle, ~1.78 AU from Alcyon, 14.8 minutes each way for signals.
G = Gemini Arbiter ~0.9 AU from Alcyon, 7.5 min. each way for signals.
B = Bernoulli, ~1.5 AU from Alcyon, 12.5 min. each way for signals.
Au = Aurora, ~1.0 AU from Alcyon, 8.3 min. each way for signals.
X = Recently detected wreck in orbit around R-Alpha, ~1.4 AU from Alcyon,
11.8 min. each way for signals or scans.
W
Ph X
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G .
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Al .<------- 150 ------>*
. Million Km.
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|______|______| .
0 50 100 .
Million Km. .
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KTS .
Ta P .
Au .... ....
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B
*** Dateline: 334-1119 [1501/Reaver's Deep] ***
R-Alpha
The mimp was dying.
There could be no question of that, Ayrlathi thought with a sigh. It lay on a soft bed in his house, its wounds bathed and a few choked gulps of cool water down its throat, but there was nothing more he could do....
It never showed signs of regaining consciousness. It merely lay there, every shuddering breath possibly its last. Help me, Ayrlathi prayed silently. I ask for little, but the ability to do the impossible. Help me save this mimp....
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost missed the cries of fright and wonder from outside. He turned as the door to his home swung open, admitting the huge silver mantis that had brought the mimp to the village, according to one of the local children. In one claw, it carried the bags the mimp had been carrying.
Ayrlathi backed away from the bed, eyes averted in awe. Hearing the story was one thing, but to SEE the creature--
"You have done well," the Mantis spoke in a shimmering voice, its command of the Jijid tongue perfect--or was it an echo within Ayrlathi's whirling head? "This creature's own kind are now able to care for it. No doubt you have extended its lifespan sufficiently to reach them in time, through your kindness. Your care in this time of need will not be forgotten."
The air around it began to shimmer as it approached the bed. Ayrlathi averted his eyes from the brightness. When he could open them again, both mimp and Mantis were gone. Only the bloodstains on the bed gave testimony to the fact that it hadn't been a dream.
"Thank you," Ayrlathi said softly to the empty air. "Thank you."
Jan sits quietly at the battle dressing station aboard the Kingfisher. Everything is ready in place. His vacc suit hood is out, ready for quick donning. Nothing to do but watch the action evolve on the bridge and listen to the radio traffic that gets patched through to the BDS.
His beeper, errrr, commdot, fires off. "Goddammit, I woulda thought that there wasn't any call this far out of the Imperium." Then it dawns on him, the only thing he had plugged into his toner was... "Bishop!". He hits the ICS tone for communications.
"Communications, medical. My commdot just gave me an alert for Bishop's Medical Berth. Ah, I don't know if you've got a line set up to them, but something weird is happening in the Alcyon's sick bay. It seems the berth has started a rewarming procedure. I would suggest that whatever virus has hit the Aurora has hit the Alcyon, with the medcomp subsystem being triggered. Our ride home could be in, ah, deep poo-poo. Could you advise the Admiral?"
Jan pauses for a bit, "Sorry to dump this on you, but we seem to be missing an XO for me to run it through, and radio traffic is your turf."
Ian hops through the portal and, momentarily startled by the cold humid air and lack of gravity, begins tumbling directly toward the waiting Phins.
"Oh shit!" comes unbidden from his lips as he silently curses himself:
* What a helluva great way to meet the natives. The contact team's gonna skin me alive. Oh well. *
and then he begins to laugh out loud as he remembers how clearly Phins can hear him thinking.
Grabbing the nearest Phin fin, Ian bumps to a stop and mutters "thanks."
As he pauses to regain his composure, he enjoys a moments reverie.
* Wow! I'd really forgotten how _big_ Ferdie was. Or he's grown a lot in the last twenty-five years. Must outweigh me by a ton. It's amazing how it takes getting used to the little differences in the dolphins -- Ferdie big and grey, Hooper kind of brown or tan, and Doejin with his (her?) bluish uppers. And his hair, so soft and yellow and fine...*
* Brr. I forgot how cold it seems when the wind chill sets in. Better turn to. *
"Hold on just a second, please. I gotta get a helmet on before I freeze and suffocate."
With his free hand, Ian fishes his folded helmet out of his coveralls and slides it over his head. Then, releasing his other hand, he fastens it into place. While slowly beginning to drift, he sets his suit temperature, and visually takes inventory.
* hmm.. lessee, life support - no oxy backup, suit screens only, power for 6.4 hours; suit intact, temperature control functioning; snub pistol w/tranq, blade -- nice blade, glad I remembered to stop by the armory on the way to the Tal' --; sensors, passive suit monitors only; comms, suit radio working (I hope). *
Setting the suit radio's frequency to general broadcast, and chinning the transmit button, Ian speaks:
"Expedition, Thomas:
I'm on the Phin shuttle, with two native cetaceans. I am in good
health and my suit is working. The natives appear to be of the
_tursiops_ family and all seem to be friendly. I have no cameras,
vids, or sensors with me, so here's a quick verbal description:
Temperature here is about 18 Celsius, humidity about 120 percent.
No artificial gravity being used. Hard to see through the mist, but
as I move around I'll keep you posted. I'm going to try to communicate
with the Phins. Awaiting requests and intructions."
(No one hears him, of course. In his excitement, he forgot that his radio couldn't possibly get through the skin of the Shuttle or reach to the Talisman.)
Then, grabbing Ferdie by the dorsal fin,
* Okay. I'm set for about six hours. How 'bout a tour and introductions? All this thinkin' at you is tiring. Any questions I can answer before I wear out? *
To this, Ferdy replies,
* You want a tour of the shuttle? All right, keep hold of my fin, then. Doejin, you don't need me for a while, do you? *
After Ian's introduction (and learning about "shaking hands"), Doejin says,
* Excuse me for a moment, Ian, I need to finish the rendevous with the Westwind. *
He glides over to the pilot console and takes his place adjusting various controls and ensuring proper ship alignment.
* Ferdy, feel free to show Ian around. Just keep his flukes high and tight so we don't have an accident. We should reach rendevous shortly and it looks like the otehr ships are getting in position for landing on The Hoop. *
With a mental flick, Ferdy's skysuit begins to propel him slowly and silently through the craft, with Ian trailing along.
Dee-Dee-Dee-Dee-Dee! Will you look at her! Dee! She's like a sunburst of bronze! There have never been such beautiful wings as hers!
He rolled over and stooped in on her. Accelerating to where the wind sang a sweet exciting song.
She saw him and went into a slow roll. For a breathtaking second she flew inverted looking up at him. The way the light caught her eyes could make you stall!
He closed the gap in seconds and threw his wings out wide and oblique. A few meters above and behind her, his legs and tail flew on beneath him and for a split second he was flying at right angles to his direction of travel. The speed bled off rapidly in the natural braking maneuver as he matched her course above her.
He tilted his wings down and got in even closer, synchronizing his wing beats so he could get in closer without hitting her wings. He reached out a taloned hand and caressed her back as she flew beneath him.
Suddenly, she dove down away from him a few meters and rolled. She flew inverted with her talons reaching out to him. Tweel watched for a second that seemed an eternity before he dropped down and took her talons in his.
She took a last powerful stroke and folded her wings.
Tweel followed her motions and they both began to plummet. The wind screamed as they fell headlong. The glittering sea of the Jayelyan desert rushed at them like a living thing.
He sang over the tornado...
Would you like to come up higherrr
wherre we two can fly around?
I can't believe you'rre happy
bein' sstuck herre on the ground!
If you like I'lll take you with me
wherre the air iss sso much lighterr,
And all you have to do iss hold me tighterrr.
Confusion... Target alarms screaming... Enclosure... Explosions... Tweel read off the bearings to the Skipper... Targets bearing zero niner two, mark three two five... Range five five thousand kilometers Target identified... Four Zhodani Va class fighters... Second group bearing three two three mark zero niner five, Range six seven thousand Kilometers... Targets identified... Two Zhdits class escorts. All targets closing....
Va class fighters closing at relative acceleration of 4.7 G's...
Zhdits escorts are closing at 5.3G's relative...
Tweel studied the nightmare sensor array... How did Chronor scramble everything so fast?...
Suddenly the bridge shuddered, A hit...
"Bridge - Engineering: our jump drive's in shreds!"
A huge explosion smashed through the bridge... A HOLE in the plating appeared right above Tweel's station...
........ .... .... ... .. .
*Jump grid capacitors discharged... Looks like fair winds... Our last jump and we can get out of this human closet!* complained Macin. *Jayelya needs more naval architects! If my theory is right, I'm going to insist that the planetary development fund endow a chair for a professor of naval archtecture to an Ael who can build ships for us...*
Tweel laughed, *Ssseya! That'd be a nice wind. I've spent too much time in these human built ships. Even with the holoprojections, the lack of wing room still blows me ill.*
*But still, Macin, how can you be sure that star's got what you say it has? If it doesn't we're gonna have a storm trying to refuel and fly home.*
Macin folded his wings uncomfortably at the thought *Karr... I'd better go check the engines, if I'm wrong, we got a long way to flap home!*
*Ssseya! You got that right! I'll come aft in a minute and lend you a talon.*
Tweel absorbed himself in the navigation plot. *All looking good... We got fair winds to ride until..*
The universe turned GREY. Dimly, a sharp report sounded kilometers away in the universe of GREY...
Time passed...
Or did it?
Was it time or the illusion of time? Hmmm... must think about that... If I could think... Where am I? All GREY... Am I part of the GREY? Have I substance or only thought? Questions... No Answers...
UHHH!
PAIN! PAIN! PAIN!
Somebody stop the PAIN!
My stomach! My head! My mind!
Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!!!!
Somebody stop the PAIN!
Great Hunter! Kill me and stop the PAIN!
........ ..... ... .. .
"SSSSSCHAYAAYAYAYAYAYAYA!" Tweel screamed as he awoke. The instincts that tried to lift him into the air merely bashed his wings into the ceiling a before he realized where he was... The bridge of the Aurora.
The bridge of the Aurora is quiet and peacefully subdued, as the scout ship glides through space enroute to its assigned rendesvouz. Holo-monitors glow softly, slowly changing, as the ship's status is updated. Jump drive on inactive standby, main fusion power plant cheerily pumping out megawatts of power, thruster plates firmly nudging the scout along. The holotank shifts, focusing more on the ringworld as the ships begin to converge.
Dr. Van der Merwe simply stared at him.
"Macin is... dead...? Chrrristian?"
Christian is sitting, almost lying in the pilot's couch, which he has pushed back from the control panels and monitors so that he can stretch his lengthy frame fully and comfortably put his feet up. His pose is very relaxed, his movements casual and languid, as if he is enjoying the moment, lest the future be less kind.
Currently, he has pulled a flexible-mount holomonitor out towards his couch, and appears to be involved in a new game of dhage (apparently having finished his game analysis) against Moira, while pausing at irregular intervals to refresh himself from a soothing warm beverage. The strains of a Vilani jazz group gently displace the discordant noises of normal shipboard operation.
Tweel shook himself with a loud flap to clear his head, "Krrrrr... Har! what a night..." Very slowly, and with great care Tweel folded his wings and glanced at the sensor panel in front of him. A quick check to see if anything new had shown up while he 'slept'
"By the way... Wherre'ss that crrrazy Varrgrrr got too...?"
"Chrrristian, wherrrre's 'Vouf?"
Onboard the Talisman, after handing the conn over to Iasic, Andon tries to sit back, relax and look as nonchalant as possible. However, as the minutes tick by Andon's fidgeting and nervous finger tappings suggest that he is anything but calm.
"Uh, Iasic, I got the conn again. Just keep feeding the data and I'll take care of flying, OK?" Andon again starts taking a more active role in the piloting.
As Andon again feels he has regained some control all signs of his previous apprehension disappear.
Ger digests all of the new happenings coolly, as he listens to the broadcast from the Hoop....
"To the sophont at 1337.45 Mhz, Please Identify yourself. If you have any control over the Iasic personality, please instruct it to disengage itself from all our systems. I consider its actions to be quite disruptive, and irregular." "We have the coordinates, I am quite confident that my personnel can get us there without any difficulty or assistance".
Ger turns to Witfield. "Cut the transmission on the 1337.45 MHz frequency, but listen in for a while and see if there is any reply" He then sits back in his chair (up until now he had been leaning forward with an intense look on his face). His features take on a pensive look for a few minutes while the kingfisher pursues its current course.
Etienne seems engrossed in just watching the play of nav data coming across his display from no aparrent source. After a few seconds he snaps out of it and opens the intercom.
"Monsieur Schmud, you may stand down, but please don't lock the weapons systems. I can handle the turret from here should an emergency arise. Although, events seem to be proceeding VERY smoothly just now."
At the gunnery station, Abdul replies, "Acknowledged! Standing down immediately." Then, to himself, he mutters, "I wish people would make up their minds as to my job around here. At least I get to move to somewhere less cramped and less of a target."
With this Abdul secures the turret for remote operation and he heads back to the main body of the shuttle. "At least the emergency seems to be over for a while," he mutters as he leaves.
"Lazer, there's..." Etienne stops when he realizes that Lazer can't hear him in the disconnected fighter, and opens a comm channel. "Lazer there doesn't seem to be much reason for you to remain in the fighter, unless Commander Ger says otherwise. Have you been hearing everything from our new friends?"
On the bridges of the _Aurora_, _Paladin_, _Talisman_, and _Gemini Arbiter_, after a period of silence, the monitors once again crackle to life. A new logo appearing in the center, seemingly designed by an advertising agency or graphic design studio. The logo forms the word "IasicNet" in the center, with the letters smartly integrated into each other. A stylized representation of R-Alpha is evident in the background. Colors pulsate in random patterns along the whole image.
_Attention Visitors_ began the calm, familiar voice, _All instructions from R-Alpha have now been executed. Please relax and enjoy the landing procedures. Planetfall will be initiated shortly._
Then, after a brief pause, the logo dissolves. A rendering of R-Alpha then appears on the screen, accompanied by a snappy little song in the background.
_Now, in response to many of your inquiries, which I was unable to answer at the time they were posed, I shall make a brief presentation regarding myself and my homeworld, R-Alpha._
The image of R-Alpha shrinks away and is replaced by a schematic drawing of a semiconductor chip.
_As you already know, my unique identity is IASC-256/32. Realizing that this would be a bit cumbersome to your speech conventions, I formed the nearest logical I could to your language: Iasic._
At which point, the letters Iasic are translucently overlaid on the schematic while "IASC-256/32" appear at the top.
_I was designed originally to act as a quality control and maintenance unit for R-Alpha's numerous systems. I am psionically aware, and relatively strong in capabilities, compared to average ability among the Visitors, though most of the denizens of the ringworld are on a similar level as myself. I can analyze and 'rewire' any mechanical or electronic entity through a complex process of sub-atomic manipulation. Reprogramming is a primary task of mine, and I can handle many billions of calculations every second, although the actual number is dependent upon the capabilities of the system to which I happen to be integrated._
Then, the schematic drawing disappears, along with all labels and titles. A graphic of R-Alpha reappears, though without any specific documentation.
_This, as you have already surmised, is R-Alpha. Unfortunately, there is such a wealth of information specific to the entity that I cannot fulfill the query for information as requested. I would have compiled an index for you, in your rather cumbersome language, but in order for it to be of any value, its size would have been prohibitively large. Indeed, simply to download it to the IasicNet would require more available memory and storage than is currently available. It's total size would approach 6,620 terabytes of information. I would suggest that any specific requests for information should be directed toward the entity itself, as it could more effectively unravel exactly which information is desired and which is extraneous._
Then, after that screen dissolves, a return to the "IasicNet" logo dominates the screen, although the music still continues.
_And now, a word about this presentation. I utilized all the information provided by Tweel regarding human and vargyr emotional processes. After an in-depth analysis of the information, and the construction of some logic models, I created the name, logo, and presentation for maximum effect and comfort to you, the audience. Thank you._
At which point, the words "Thank you" overlay on the screen in a beautiful, flowing script. The music ends with perfect tonality.
Nine minutes and eigtheen seconds ago...
"Morgan, this is 'Vouf. Have Dr. Werner check on Adrian Bishop, OK? Out."
Nine minutes and eighteen seconds later, the tight-beam transmission hits the Alcyons four millimeter high-gain antenna. In a heartbeat, Morgan Grey is listening to the request on the bridge speakers. Sliding over to the commo panel, he orders a reply. A hull-mounted maser horn slews around and locks onto the transponder signal from Aurora.
"Aurora, Aurora, this is Alcyon. Roger your last. Wilco. Out." Putting commo back on stand-by, Grey swings around in his seat and looks at Dr. Manfred Werner, who is dutifully absorbed in his sensor controls.
"Hey, Doc. You wanna take a hop down to Sickbay and check on Bishop?" Grey smirks, "'Vouf wants to know if he's rolled over or something." Satisfied that he's carried out his latest order, Grey turns back to the helm console.
Dr. Werner slowly looks up from his sensor readings, showing the painfully slow ballet of starships across the R-Alpha system. He glared at the back of Morgan's head, then slides back the contour seat and heads for Sickbay.
Once off the bridge, he slowly moves aft, down the Axis-0 corridor, past Cmdr. Ger's cabin, past the computer and communications service bays, towards the ship's mess, and the grav-lift down to deck 1B. As he walks, he mutters, "Dammit, Grey. I am a PHYSICIST, not a medical doctor!", little realizing that his oath would leave a small, but rabid group of video entertainment fans from Terra's distant past rolling on the floor in laughter.
Once down the grav-lift, he picks up his pace the last half dozen meters to the Sickbay door, eager to return to the bridge. Palming the door lock, he briefly curses Dr. Van Der Merwe for sealing the compartment from casual snoopers. His commdot in place, Werner calls the bridge.
"Mr. Grey, this is Dr. Werner. I am thinking that it would perhaps be easier for me to determine the current state of Mr. Bishop's corpse if the door to Sickbay were not locked, do you not agree?" A brief, somewhat uncultured reply from the bridge is immediately followed by the hiss of the sickbay door sliding open.
Werner crosses sickbay without hesitation and opens the hatch to the low berth compartment. He is immediately rewarded by a small, insistant tone, eminating from one of the nearby hibernation pods. Slowly, as he approaches Low Berth number 4, his eyes lock on the data display and the flashing lights.
Dr. Werner selects "OCCUPANT BIOLOGICAL STATUS" and his eyes widen in amazement as the diagnostics scroll by. So great is his surprise that he lapses into his (seldom used in the presence of the crew) native tongue. "Zum Teufel!! Vas ist das? Das ist unglaublich! DAS IST UNMOGLICH!!"
Goughzar looks about the Paladin bridge, and watches in amazement at the happenings. Growling under his breath he leaves Charyn in Dr. Morser's hands and links to Dr. Limner's room with the active intercom. "Dr Limner? How are you doing? Do you require anything?".
Assuming Dr. Limner is in relatively good shape, he turns back to the bridge terminals and begins talking to Iasic.
"Well Iasic, I realize you can't give us everything, though we may want it, but I was wondering if you might detail some physical information - general features and traits - of the inhabitants we will likely encounter first in our landing zone. If you can, I would also like a detailed scan and map transferred to the local storage that I might review the area where we will be landing".
With this done, he waits for any information to be transfered, monitors the ship's descent, and begins to get an overview of what Iasic thinks he might expect upon landing.
Meanwhile a very concerned Kimball Redd is kneeling of Ralf's inert body in the corridor to the airlock.
"The lights are on, but it looks like Ralf's not home. I'll bring him up to sick-bay."
He struggles to lift Ralf's suited body, he grumbles, "Ah, what am I, a weight-lifter or an Engineer ? - Computer, cut the corridor floor-plates to half gravity." As Ralf's apparent weight decreases, he comments, "That's better."
At Tweel's awakening, Christian swivels his head to look at him. "Ah, you're awake now, Hunter-Above." He turns back to his dhage holo, pondering his next move. "Oh, that's right, 'Vouf. Guess you missed it." He glances at Tweel. "He had to step out for a few minutes, something about going over to the Gemini Arbiter, I think. He should be back before long." Christian continues his game, pausing only to stretch briefly and take another sip of tea.
Tweel twists his head upside down to look at Christian in surprise, "We docked alrrready? Jussst how long wasss I out?"
Tweel stretches his wings, an action which takes nearly all of the available bridge space. He taps the intercom with a sharp talon claw, "Kar! Hunter-Chaser... Need any hellp?"
Quizzically, Christian turns his head to follow Tweel. "Docked? You mean with the Arbiter? No, we haven't docked with them. Try the inter-ship comm if you want to talk to 'Vouf."
Ger activates the intercome. "Jan, Did you want to send any communication to your patient? I assume that you are the one that the creature on the radio was talking about."
"Yes sir," comes the reply, "I just advised communications that my pager has gone off, indicating that Bishop is going through the revitalizing process. My limited paging system tells me he is doing well so far. However, to find out more I wouldn't mind having a channel available to communicate with the medcomp aboard the Alcyon.
"My concern, beyond Bishop, is that the medcomp may have been hit by the virus and linking up to it may jeopardize the Fingkisher, but that's something the commo people will need to assess.
"Sir, with a secure line I would be able to give you a status report on Bishop, and possibly on the state of the Alcyon."
Ger considers this for a moment. "Yes, certainly, as soon as we can get I'll have someone get you a spare channel, after all there are ten radio-type things on board, but you may have to wait for some assembly"
Yorblin responds, "Sir, it shouldn't take too long. I'll just ask. thank you."
Tweel turns his attention to the Iasic terminal. He flips his head upsidedown in surprise and disgust. "Grreat Hunterrr, he'sss playing Muzak at uss! We may have to trry thosse anti-virrus prrogramss again!"
"Thank you Iasssic, you sssay that the inforrrmation we have rrrequessted would clearrrly overrrload our currrent data banksss. Howeverrr, if you could brriefly fly overrr a few questionsss, I think that we can all look down on thisss frrrom a grreaterrr altitude."
"Quessstion one: It is apparrant that the Rrring iss inhabitted by many intellligent sspeciess of ssophontss. Who iss rrresponsible forr the constrrruction of the Rrring? Wasss it an intersspecial efforrt? If ssso which sspeciess werrre involved?"
"Quesstion two: By ex-examination of our data banksss, I assume you may underrrstand the sscale of te-techlnological levelsss. What te-tech level (in ourr unitss) wasss utilizzzed in the consstruction of the Rrring, and what isss the te-tech level used in itss maintainance? And what te-tech level werrre you consstrructed?"
"Quesstion three: How lllong ago wass the Rring built?"
"Quesstion fourrr: We arrre going to meet with some dellligation of sssome sssort. Thiss impliesss therrre is ssome sssorrt of goverrning body in the Rrring."
Tweel sighs heavily at the thought of an advanced government. Surely a truely advanced group of sophonts should have evolved to the point where they can handle anarchy. We may be tech 4-5 but.. How I miss home!
"Arre thesse rrreprresentatives of the Rrring asss a whole or sssome sssubsset of it?"
"Quessstion five: In my own planetss hisstorrry, ourrr firrst contact with humanss prroved dissasterouss. Frrrankly, I would advisse you to be 'Sssusspiciousss' of humanss. Is therrre any inforrmation you rrrequirre to assisst you in yourrr invesstigation of usss?"
Quessstion tten: Iss therrre any inforrmation you feel we should have when flying into sssuch a meeting?"
Tweel spreads his three fingered talons, and turns to Christian, "Therre we go.. Ten ssimple questionsss.... I wonderrr iff we'll get any ussseful answerrrs..."
Etienne once again stares at the display, but shortly the fingers of one hand start tapping faster and faster on the arm of his acceleration couch. He suddenly sits up and addresses empty air. "Monsieur Iasic, while you probably know of me from the files onboard the Alcyon, please allow me t introduce myself. I am Etienne de Mer, helmsman of the Kingfisher an Transport team leader. If I may ask a favor, would you please contact Dr. Karl Morser and ask him about Leadfoot? It may have slipped his mind in all the confusion but your aid in a certain investigation could be very useful."
The screen then fades back to the familiar logo, but this time with no background music.
_Hello, Mr. de Mer, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I have directly patched your com unit to the room which Dr. Morser currently occupies. I hope that this will facilitate your job, and if there is any other way in which I could be of assistance, please do not hesitate to ask._
Several minutes pass. Once again, the "IasicNet" symbol bursts on screen, with a bluster of musical fanfare.
_I have accessed MasterSPU and constructed the following answers to Tweel's inquiries. I sincerely hope that these are general enough to meet the parameters defined in the request. I cannot say that I fully understand what Tweel meant to say when he requested that I "briefly fly over a few questions", but I have done my best to extrapolate a rough meaning._
Iasic then replays a recording of Tweel's question, and answers each in turn.
_The Great Race constructed the ring. I do not know of a name for them in your language. However, this is an illustration of a representative member of the Great Race._
Iasic then displays an image on one of the Aurora's holo-panels of what appears to be a very large Droyne, with a larger-than-normal brain case. The "IasicNet" logo shrinks to occupy only the extreme right side of the screen.
Witfield, busy performing his duty on the bridge, has part of his attention focused on IASIC's presentation to Tweel (as the broadcast does not appear to be tight-beam). When Isaac announces the ring world was built by the great race, and shows the picture of a large Dryone, Witfield exclaims, "I knew it, I knew it had to be them!"
Dr. Tweel bobs excitedly on his perch, singing to himself, *Key-Har! Further evidence the Droyne were the connected with the ancients!*
_Based on the scale you use, I can accurately extrapolate technological advancement to Tech Level 17. The construction of the Ring, its maintenance, and my own construction are significantly more advanced than Tech Level 17._
Tweel looks over to Christian. "Krrr! They can teach uss a thing orrr six..."
_The ring has been fully operational for 10,635,554,759,707 of your seconds._
Tweel whistles a quick series of notes to Triple Three.
The robot quickly replies "337,251.22906 standard years."
Tweel's head flips upside down. *Correct time period... an ancient site... a fully intact and operational ancient site...*
*Great Hunter, Macin, you were RIGHT!*
_I am not aware of any formal delegation preparing to meet you at the landing site designated by the R-Alpha Master SPU. If representatives of any of the races which inhabit the Ring are nearby, you may interact with them at your leisure._
_Having had the concept of suspicion presented to me by Bhyarrvouf, I have determined that none of the Visitors pose a direct threat to either the Ring or to myself. Therefore, I have no need of suspicion. As I have already explained, I find it to be an inefficient concept. Although in the context of a savage and barbarous culture, I do now understand its value._
A large question mark then appears on the screen.
_There was a discrepancy in the number order of questions presented to my by Tweel. Numbers six through nine were not received, and therefore have not been answered. I suggest that the question presented by Tweel as number ten should be renumbered to the more logical label of "question six" for ease of future reference.
Tweel clucks under his breath, then sings in his native tongue, *Sorry, I tend to fly best in base six.*
_Only the suggestion that you do not interact with the resident races of the Ring in a hostile manner. MasterSPU would almost certainly take steps to prevent such an eventuality from occurring._
Tweel then switches back to his stilted galanglic. "Sssince therre iss no forrrmal deligation..." Tweel visibly relaxes at the thought of not having to fly against such a beast, "With whom arrre we to meet? If no one, Why you dirrrecting uss to thiss parrrticularrr site?"
Tweel then sings, *There may be hope for anarchy yet...*
"Alssso. llet me rrreiterrate one quesstion: Are therre any quessstionss you have about usss that you have?"
Tweel add's an afterthought to his latest barrage of questions:
"Iasssic, since therrre arrre sso many ssspeciess on the Rrring, a I am flying overrr unfamiliarr terrain. Arrre you awarre of any Ael Yael inhabitantsss? It seems that with ssuch a diverrsity as you indicate it could be posssible that therrre may be some of my own k-k-kind therre."
"Oh, I alssso suppose that the Humanss and Assslan woulld be interrresssted if sssome of theirrr numberrr werrre therre ass well..."
Tweel streches his wings to touch the opposite bulk heads of the Aurora's bridge and refolds them. He glances up at the ceiling as he waits for a reply.
Suddenly, a further thought occurs. "On a differrrent courrrse, I would sssuggesst that you eliminate the muzak from the prresentation forrmat... If you doubt me I ssuggesst you consssult the lllibrary data file: rec.music.synth.muzak.death.death.death. It showsss that sssome ssspeciesss sssufferrr adverrsse effects when ex-ex-expossed to it. Sssome morrre than otherrrs...."
"The Asslan might open firrre on you..."
Redd carrys Ralf's body into the lounge, staggering a little under the higher gravity. Dave Sokuku is still staring at the empty space that Ian stepped into when he disappeared through the ring's teleportal.
"Give me a hand with him will you..." grunts Redd, as he struggles with Ralf's fully restored weight. As they lay Ralf on one of the bench seats, Redd asks, "What was that from Ian about going over to the shuttle? "I didn't think they were that close yet?"
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