Post by Lorpius Prime on May 27, 2013 5:43:54 GMT -5
Elder Rokden guided their tram through several more frigid habitat zones. None of them looked quite as bad as the first, but it was still clear that the Tadpoles on the arkship were a people living on the sword's edge of their means. Pascual's teeth were chattering by the time they finally took a track off into a more enclosed and mercifully warmer area of the ship.
The car slowed and halted in a nondescript corridor. The walls and floors were metal, but streaked with rust or some other stains. Pascual thought of the living interior of their transport ship. Had it once been the same here, only for the flora to perish from cold or another deficiency? He rubbed his arms, trying to get his blood flowing again.
After conferring for a moment with one of the guards, Rokden led the Humans off the tram. They walked down a series of hallways laid out like a conventional Human office building blown up to one and a half times normal size. All of the doors they passed were shut tight, giving no impression of what they might contain. Pascual wondered how they even opened; there were no handles or control surfaces that he could discern.
Eventually, they turned a corner and found Captain Pakpeden waiting for them outside one such door. Pascual was actually a little startled that he recognized the other Tadpole so quickly. Either he was getting better at making out Tadpole features, or Pakpeden was peculiarly distinctive. Probably the latter; the shipmaster stood much straighter than other Tadpoles, and also sported a noticeably crooked jaw.
Pakpeden waited for the Humans to cross the hallway and shuffle to a stop in front of him before speaking.
"Elder Rokden has asked for you to visit our colony operations center," he said. His words were clipped, but lower-pitched than Rokden's.
"I respect the Elder's request," the shipmaster continued, "but I am in absolute command beyond this door. Please walk only where we guide you, and do not disturb my staff. Do you understand?"
Pascual nodded, and then glanced around to make sure his companions were doing the same.
"We do, Captain," he said aloud for clarification.
The shipmaster cocked his head for a second before nodding himself.
"Follow me, then." He turned around and pressed a hand against the doorway behind him. The metal door retracted slightly with a pop of pressurized air, then slid smartly aside and into the wall. Pascual was not sure if the door worked on a pressure mechanism that the Captain had engaged with a push, or if there was simply an electronic sensor that reacted to his palm.
Pascual entered behind Captain Pakpeden, followed in a line by Nadia, Lieutenant Ellis, and Dr. Poplawski. Rokden ushered them all through the door before entering himself, trailed by the four bodyguards.
The bulk of the operations center was laid out in the style of a command theater like Earth Fleet's crisis room or NASA's mission control. More than a hundred Tadpoles stood or sat on benches in front of rows of equipment consoles. Most included video monitors showing images of other locations. Pascual guessed they were communications stations, as most of the attendants were speaking, filling the room with a low roar of voices.
Captain Pakpeden led the Humans along a walkway which skirted around the theater. As they passed one row of consoles, one of the attendants who did not seem immediately engaged turned its head toward them. The Tadpole raised an arm for attention or in greeting, then plodded over towards their group.
"Dr. Poplawski! Ambassador Molinas!" the alien chirped in a relatively high voice for a Tadpole. "Welcome! It is good to see you!"
Captain Pakpeden allowed their group to stop for this interruption, but his expression was inscrutable. The new Tadpole did not salute or appear to acknowledge him in any way.
Behind Pascual, Gerald Poplawski glanced uncertainly to either side, then touched his temple.
"Um, hello," he said. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you." Pascual, who was just as clueless, smiled at the Tadpole and gave a slight shrug of his own.
"We have not met," the Tadpole said. "I am Forug, sibling to Dr. Vurk. He has told me about you. I am happy to have an opportunity to meet you in person."
Forug held out his right hand towards Dr. Poplawski. The NMC director sort of slapped the alien's palm rather than try to shake a hand three times the size of his own.
"Uh, it's a pleasure to meet you, Forug," Poplawski said. "I've come to think of your sibling as an esteemed colleague over these last months."
Forug's lips stretched open in something that might have been a grin, and he pivoted towards Pascual, arm still outstretched.
Pascual made his own fumbling pass at a handshake, "Honored to make your acquaintance, Forug." He turned and gestured towards his other companions, "These are Lieutenant Jason Ellis and Lieutenant Nadia Yatskaya of Earth Fleet."
He allowed the two Earth Fleet officers to offer their own brief greetings, and then said, "May we ask what it is you do here, Mr. Forug?"
Forug nodded, "I am… not certain what the best term for it is in your language." He uttered a Tadpole word that sounded like a rusty valve squeaking open in his voice. "I oversee and coordinate among teams of engineers, although my own technical knowledge is not comprehensive."
"We would probably call you a manager," Dr. Poplawski said, "or perhaps a supervisor or director."
"I understand," Forug smiled again.
Captain Pakpeden said a few words in his own language. Forug turned towards him and, after a moment's pause, answered back with his own chirps.
"I approve of that idea," Rokden said in English from the back of the group.
"Very well," Captain Pakpeden said, holding his arms behind his back in a stiff pose. "Mr. Forug will introduce to you the work he does with our surface habitat."
"My division has an office this way," Forug gestured further down the walkway. "It will be less noisy than in this area."
He happily stepped out in front of Captain Pakpeden to lead them all forward. Pascual wondered a little about Tadpole social formalities. The Captain, Elders, and their bodyguards all seemed to have some kind of system of rigid body language when they interacted. Forug did not, and neither did Doctors Vurk and Onadunwe, nor any other Tadpole, so far as Pascual could recall. Perhaps Rokden and Pakpeden were part of some sort of separate official hierarchy from everyone else, like the difference between Earth Fleet and the OES or the rest of Humanity. Or perhaps much of their formalities were simply expressed in a manner invisible to Humans, through the Tadpoles' broad array of pheromone senses.
They circled around the central theater and entered a short hallway which turned off to one side. Forug opened a door and then led them inside. The office looked like typical conference room, with a large table in the middle, atop which were scattered objects that might have been models or loose equipment.
Pascual had barely taken two steps over the threshold, however, when a hand clamped onto his shoulder and pulled him to the side. He collided with an interior wall as Nadia stepped smartly in front of him, keeping him pinned to the wall with her hand.
"Back!" she snapped at the other Humans.
"Gah—Na—wha?" Pascual stammered. Then his jaw fell open.
Just inside and to the left of the doorway, a creature the approximate size of a backhoe loader uncurled its limbs and swept its domed head around to gaze at Pascual and Lieutenant Yatskaya.
The charred, bitter aroma of the café made Yenga Goying snort as she entered. She had recently been forced to revise her estimation of Human beverages after discovering hot chocolate. But Yenga did not think she would ever get used to the smell of Human drinks.
The Human female, Gracia Ochoa, was working at her counter. She glanced up as the door shut behind Yenga, then waved over the heads of the Human customers between them.
"Hi Yenga! I was hoping you'd come by again. If you want to just have a seat, I'll bring you something in a minute after I'm finished."
Yenga appreciated the offer to get off her feet more than she'd expected. She looked around for an empty booth, and then wedged herself awkwardly into it. She had tried to manage her steps along the concrete sidewalks with better care this time, but the claws of her feet were still roughly abraded. She hissed softly to herself and tried to file them a bit with her fingers.
"Maybe, um, don't do that in public, Yenga," Gracia said a short while later. Yenga sat back up in her seat while Gracia placed a mug of warm liquid onto the table in front of her before sitting down on the other side of the booth. "I made you some hot chocolate again, since you really seemed to enjoy it last time."
Yenga lapped cautiously at the drink, last time she had burned her tongue. "It tastes different."
"No whipped cream, so it's not as sweet."
Yenga dipped her tongue back into the hot chocolate for a moment. "I like it better this way."
Gracia smiled. Then she placed a flat object on the table and slid it towards Yenga. "I wrote a letter to Hyong so that you could send it to him. I wasn't sure if you'd have to read it in order to send, so I tried not to put anything too embarrassing into it."
Yenga had not been expecting this, and she didn't know what to do at first. She picked up the letter—it was ink printed on what Yenga guessed were sheets of plant fibers—and stuck it awkwardly into her vest.
"I'll make sure he gets it," she said.
"Thanks!" Gracia's smile grew even wider, so that her eyes looked like they were trying to burst out of their sockets. Then it fell abruptly. "What's wrong, Yenga?"
Yenga gave a noncommittal grunt.
Gracia leaned forward and tilted her head so that her pink hair fell to one side. She tried to peer up into Yenga's eyes.
"You didn't come here just to say hi and get a cup of cocoa, did you?"
Yenga set her mug down and tapped a claw against the table surface a few times.
"Before I was assigned to the embassy," she said, thinking this was as good a place as any to start, "Operative Yaheek was the only deontologist on the staff."
"And what's a 'gyontolgiss'?" Gracia leaned back against her bench
"Deontologist," Yenga said, trying to enunciate as clearly as she could. Then she said it in her own language, "Operative Yaheek swears that is the best fitting English word, and the meaning is at least similar. It is a… philosophy, I think is the term. Our community believes that our actions should be restricted by a set of proper behaviors."
"Um, ethics?" Gracia asked.
"That sounds familiar," Yenga bobbed her snout up and down to show agreement. "Most members of our colony," she gestured towards the ceiling and the space beyond, "are members who believe as we do. But we are a trivial minority within the Republic as a whole. We are not popular, and most of our members were sent to this colony in order to remove us from the homeworld."
"Oh," Gracia sucked her lower lip in between her teeth, "I'm… really sorry, Yenga. I didn't know that."
"Thank you, but I am not personally distraught by this. I am too young to remember Karee. But I needed to explain the background. The Governor of our colony here, and most of his staff, are not deontologists. They are willing to act however they wish if it achieves their desires. Our groups are not often polite to one another, working together is very difficult."
Suddenly, Gracia flicked the fingers of one hand in a way that made a small popping sound. "You're lonely!" she exclaimed. "Hyong was the only person you got along with at the embassy! He was your only friend and now he's gone," she clapped her hand to her mouth and lowered her shoulders slightly. "I'm sorry, Yenga, that sounds really awful."
Yenga's wings started to unwrap from her arms, and she opened her mouth to respond angrily. But then she stopped herself. It was not what she had been trying to say, but Gracia's observation was not entirely incorrect, either. If Yenga was honest, it was part of why she had come here.
"You may be right," she admitted once she was certain she was under control again. "I was remembering what Hyong—what Operative Yaheek told me about his work here before my assignment. He found it very stressful. He found relief by leaving the embassy to interact with you Humans, which is how he met Professor LaRue."
"And me," Gracia grinned.
Yenga nodded. "He believes that Humans are more like we deontologists than the rest of our species. I accepted this, but did not begin to consider the implications until recently."
She raised her mug to her snout while considering her next words. The hot chocolate had cooled to a more tolerable temperature.
"I think," Yenga said slowly, looking into the mug rather than at Gracia, "that I would be calmed to express some of my frustrations to a Human, the way I would to my companions in the colony were I there. Unfortunately, the only Humans I know are my professional contacts. You are the only exception. I hope you are not offended that I have come here." Against her will, Yenga felt her wings squeezing with worry as she choked out those last words.
Gracia was very still and quiet for a few seconds. Then, to Yenga's dismay, she snorted and began to laugh in sharp, low gasps.
Apparently she sensed Yenga's worry, because she waved a hand. "Of course I'm not offended, Yenga, don't be silly! I'd love to be your friend! And I'd love to help you find some others—other Humans."
She turned her head for a quick glance around the café. "I'll have to get up and help if the shop gets busy again, but I'm happy to talk in the meantime."
Yenga did not mean to sigh audibly, but she did anyway she was so relieved. She quickly buried her snout in her hot chocolate again to hide the noise.
"So what's bothering you?" Gracia asked.
That focused Yenga's attention. She had to restrain herself from ripping into the table surface or the seat cushions after setting her mug back down.
"I wholly despise my superior, Ambassador Goyeharg."
The Charterling was enormous. Watching video footage of the aliens standing next to Russian dignitaries had not even come close to preparing Pascual's mind for the reality of their size. The creature's forehead was larger than Pascual's not-inconsiderable chest.
It was also very close. Six black eyes the size of grapefruits were hovering just centimeters from Lieutenant Yatskaya's face. The Charterling was leaning forward on bladed limbs taller than she was. Those sword-like appendages projected from its wrists, and marked the alien as a male of its species. And they looked sharp enough to pare steel, because they were.
Pascual was quite certain that he would have soiled himself if not for what happened next.
"Hello," the Charterling said, in the husky tone of a flirtatious woman.
Pascual's sudden urge to laugh managed to cancel out his feelings of dread.
"Um, greetings" he stammered quickly. "I apologize; we were not expecting to meet a Charterling. Your presence startled us."
"Hello," the Charterling said again, with the exact same inflection. Its head bobbed slightly, and some kind of membrane flicked across the surface of its eyes. But it did not back up to give Pascual and Nadia any more space, nor did it say anything else.
Pascual realized that the Tadpoles were speaking rapidly amongst themselves just outside the doorway. He turned his head to see Elder Rokden and Forug squeezing their way past the others to come inside.
"I am sorry!" Rokden said. Forug stepped around him and began saying something to the Charterling, which swiveled its head towards him. "I did not realize that he was here."
"Ah huh," Pascual said, unable to form any more coherent thought just at the moment.
The Charterling emitted a barrage of groans and gurgles—Tadpole speech—towards Forug, then waggled its head towards Pascual and Nadia.
"He wants me to express his greeting," Forug translated. "And his apologies, as he does not actually speak your language."
"Hello," the Charterling said.
"Except for that word, I suppose," Forug added.
"Oh, um, hello," Pascual said to the giant alien. Then he nodded to Forug, "Please thank him for us."
"And could he please take a few steps back?" Nadia asked tensely. Pascual guessed that she was clenching her teeth beneath her mask.
"Mr. Forug," Rokden gestured.
"Of course, Elder," Forug spoke to the Charterling again. The alien turned and followed him to the other side of the conference room. Its hind legs were bent like a grasshopper's and looked like they ought to shake the floor with each massive step, but instead seemed to land with impacts little heavier than the Tadpoles' own broad feet.
"I apologize again," Rokden said as Nadia let Pascual step away from the wall and brush himself off.
The others were entering the room now. Captain Pakpeden walked up next to Rokden and said, "He is an engineer from the Charterlings' Navy whom they lent to us as an advisor. We had hoped that with their assistance, we might be able to fix the problems with the surface habitat we brought, as it was designed by the Charterlings. Unfortunately, it seems that no solution is possible."
"Still, we appreciate the effort," Rokden added.
Behind them, Lieutenant Ellis was looking from the Charterling to the surrounding room. He leaned over towards Dr. Poplawski and asked in a loud whisper, "How did he even get in here?"
The colony director shrugged.
Forug leaned over the far side of the conference table, manipulating some controls Pascual could not see. "My division is tasked with overseeing and maintaining our habitat on the surface of," a second's pause, "Titania. Have you been told very much about the habitat and its problems?"
"We've... heard some general descriptions," Pascual said. The Tadpoles he'd met on the Discovery had talked at length about the way the surface habitat was lethal to them, but while their fear and sadness had come across, Pascual could not really say he had gleaned any understanding of the physical circumstances.
"I believe Mr. Forug can show images and video that may permit better understanding," Rokden said.
"Yes, I can." An image appeared on the wall behind him, which had previously been a neutral gray color. The image showed a glossy reddish bundle of... something. Pascual could not interpret it further, there were no other objects to give an impression of scale, nor labels or descriptors, not that he could have read Tadpole language if there had been.
"This is the extreme environment habitat that was brought with our expedition. Our ancestors purchased it from the Charterling clan in our home system before the ship left, we could not have produced it ourselves. It would only be necessary in the very worst case scenario that no stable planetary bodies could be found at a reasonable distance from the star here. We were wise to take the precaution."
The image changed to show a reddish splotch against a gray field. Pascual presumed this was the habitat on the surface of Titania.
"The habitat can harvest most simple rocky materials to expand its physical shell. With significant power input, it can also generate respirable internal atmosphere."
Captain Pakpeden added, "As our ship's systems deteriorated, we considered using the habitat's systems to supplement our own atmosphere recycling. But the process was not suited to a closed environment, it generates a great deal of heat and chemical waste."
"The chemical waste has been the critical problem," Forug continued. "If we had attempted to operate the habitat processors during the voyage, we would not have survived."
The bird's eye image of the habitat changed to a video. Several Tadpoles stood in a room. If anything was unusual about them, Pascual could not tell. There was no audible sound from the video, and the aliens' body language was still too unfamiliar to him. They were not wearing the heavy coats of the other Tadpoles on the arkship, and did not appear to be injured. Any meaning or impact of the scene was lost on Pascual.
Forug said, "Both the atmosphere generation and physical expansion processes of the habitat produce waste chemicals that are mostly but not completely expelled outside the structure. Surface residues and trace amounts of gas contaminants remain inside.
"Thus far we have identified three separate compounds that are profoundly toxic to our Enharg. Two of these are lethal at such low concentrations that it is effectively impossible for us to fully decontaminate the habitat. Doing so would require us to, in effect, build a separate sealed shelter inside the shelter, and remediate the surfaces and environment for years.
"We do not have the industrial capacity nor the time required to do this."
"Excuse me," Doctor Poplawski spoke up now, "you said that these materials are toxic to your Enharg specifically? Do you mean the rest of your body—I'm sorry I forget the term you used for yourselves, but the bulk of your form is unharmed by these substances?"
"Correct, Doctor," Forug nodded his broad head. His own Enharg appeared somewhat deflated behind. "At worst, some of these chemicals may mildly increase the risk of cancers in our Maklig over many years. But this is a very minor hazard compared to the risks of remaining on our ship and further taxing the systems here. The Enharg, however, begin suffering serious damage to their nervous tissue within hours of exposure to the habitat's interior. After a day or two, the damage is unrecoverable, and the Enharg die within the next few days without exception."
"I'm sorry," Pascual said. He did not feel helpful saying it, but the gravity of the moment seemed to call for some expression of sympathy.
"Can..." Lieutenant Ellis started, then paused a moment to find his words, "forgive my ignorance, but can your Maklig survive on their own, without an Enharg?"
"Yes." Forug changed the video again. This new one showed another room with more Tadpoles, or perhaps they were the same Tadpoles only recorded later. They were different now. The puffy black masses on their backs were gone, or reduced to tattered scraps clinging to the edges of the concave surface of the Tadpoles' backs.
Tadpoles—and now Pascual mentally thinking of the Maklig half of the species as just "Tads"—were much thinner without their fungal symbiotes. The Enhargs—"Poles" in Pascual's mind now—must have been at least a third to half of their bodies by volume. The Tads were deep at the shoulders and hips, but they looked a little bit like gorillas without their backs and scooped out by a spoon. The backs of their heads were similarly concave.
Tadpoles' skin usually appeared slightly mottled shades of dull yellow or orange. The exposed hollows where these Tads' Poles had been was pale ivory, and white liquid that Pascual suspected was blood oozed from many points and formed little trickles down their backs and legs. If the biology wasn't so alien, Pascual was sure it would have been nauseatingly horrific.
"Our Maklig descended from creatures that survived independently," Forug said. "Our evolution into a union with the Enharg was relatively recent in the history of our biosphere. We are effectively two different species, and both are still capable of surviving separately, though not in a manner that either would consider desirable or even very meaningful. Our Enharg are actually the ones that are best prepared to exist separately. And they do, as fruiting spores and unintelligent colonies little different from other sessile life on our planet. All healthy Maklig, however, are immediately colonized by Enharg after hatching, and rarely separated before death. But the Enharg are not a biological necessity and a separated Maklig could live on until perishing of malnourishment, infection, or injury."
On the video, the sickly Tads had barely moved. Some had taken one or two listless steps in no particular direction. Pascual's growing impression was that these were zombies, husks of formerly intelligent creatures now robbed of either higher thought or motivation.
"This is the fate to which millions of us have been condemned," Rokden said. "The fate to which the other Elders and I were still daily sending thousands right up until your colony ships entered range of our transports."
"Most of the effort of my team here is spent attempting to coordinate the Maklig to keep themselves alive, and to keep the habitat functioning," Forug said. "It is very difficult."
The display switched again to a lone Tad standing in front of some mechanism on a wall. The hollow on its back did not look as grievous as those in the previous video, but still unsettlingly empty.
This video had sound. Low burbles of Tadpole speech were playing over the video of the single Tad as it swayed placidly.
"The voice is one of my technicians, Nitotnet," Forug said. "She is attempting to talk this Maklig through closing a hatch so that the section of habitat beyond may be safely adjusted."
The burbling continued for several seconds. Pascual could not understand the meaning, but he recognized that the same sound was being repeated many times. Eventually the lone Tad lifted its arms to grasp part of the mechanism in front of it. Nitotnet's voice bubbled excitedly for a second, and then began repeating another series of commands.
The human delegation watched in silence. After a few minutes, the Tad managed to perform three critical manipulations of its controls, and a large reddish door descended to close off the hallway to its right. The Tad let its arms fall to its sides and began swaying in place once more.
"In the last year," Rokden said after a grim moment,"the most common cause of death in our population has been suicide. Almost one in ten of the individuals selected for transfer to the surface habitat have found ways to die before boarding their transports. Some have even attempted to disguise themselves and hide their presence in the ship, or done violence to the ship's crew and council staff to resist transfer."
Captain Pakpeden gurgled, and Pascual did not think he was wrong to infer anger, "The order of our whole civilization has been dissolving. I do not like relying on the help of outsiders, but if you Humans really have saved us from this collapse, then I will thank you just as much as our Elders."
Pascual inhaled to clear his head and puff up his chest a little as he stepped forward. "Well I cannot say we are here only to give charity. But after seeing what you have all been suffering," he nodded towards the monitor still showing the lonely Tad by the hatch, "I think all of us will be very pleased if we are able to spare you any more."
"Yes," Doctor Poplawski said, and sniffled a little, "very much so."
The video display changed back to a blank wall. Forug said, "I understand that adapting your colony infrastructure into habitation we can use has already required a great deal of effort, and much more is required to finish the task. But I am looking forward to the work."
The car slowed and halted in a nondescript corridor. The walls and floors were metal, but streaked with rust or some other stains. Pascual thought of the living interior of their transport ship. Had it once been the same here, only for the flora to perish from cold or another deficiency? He rubbed his arms, trying to get his blood flowing again.
After conferring for a moment with one of the guards, Rokden led the Humans off the tram. They walked down a series of hallways laid out like a conventional Human office building blown up to one and a half times normal size. All of the doors they passed were shut tight, giving no impression of what they might contain. Pascual wondered how they even opened; there were no handles or control surfaces that he could discern.
Eventually, they turned a corner and found Captain Pakpeden waiting for them outside one such door. Pascual was actually a little startled that he recognized the other Tadpole so quickly. Either he was getting better at making out Tadpole features, or Pakpeden was peculiarly distinctive. Probably the latter; the shipmaster stood much straighter than other Tadpoles, and also sported a noticeably crooked jaw.
Pakpeden waited for the Humans to cross the hallway and shuffle to a stop in front of him before speaking.
"Elder Rokden has asked for you to visit our colony operations center," he said. His words were clipped, but lower-pitched than Rokden's.
"I respect the Elder's request," the shipmaster continued, "but I am in absolute command beyond this door. Please walk only where we guide you, and do not disturb my staff. Do you understand?"
Pascual nodded, and then glanced around to make sure his companions were doing the same.
"We do, Captain," he said aloud for clarification.
The shipmaster cocked his head for a second before nodding himself.
"Follow me, then." He turned around and pressed a hand against the doorway behind him. The metal door retracted slightly with a pop of pressurized air, then slid smartly aside and into the wall. Pascual was not sure if the door worked on a pressure mechanism that the Captain had engaged with a push, or if there was simply an electronic sensor that reacted to his palm.
Pascual entered behind Captain Pakpeden, followed in a line by Nadia, Lieutenant Ellis, and Dr. Poplawski. Rokden ushered them all through the door before entering himself, trailed by the four bodyguards.
The bulk of the operations center was laid out in the style of a command theater like Earth Fleet's crisis room or NASA's mission control. More than a hundred Tadpoles stood or sat on benches in front of rows of equipment consoles. Most included video monitors showing images of other locations. Pascual guessed they were communications stations, as most of the attendants were speaking, filling the room with a low roar of voices.
Captain Pakpeden led the Humans along a walkway which skirted around the theater. As they passed one row of consoles, one of the attendants who did not seem immediately engaged turned its head toward them. The Tadpole raised an arm for attention or in greeting, then plodded over towards their group.
"Dr. Poplawski! Ambassador Molinas!" the alien chirped in a relatively high voice for a Tadpole. "Welcome! It is good to see you!"
Captain Pakpeden allowed their group to stop for this interruption, but his expression was inscrutable. The new Tadpole did not salute or appear to acknowledge him in any way.
Behind Pascual, Gerald Poplawski glanced uncertainly to either side, then touched his temple.
"Um, hello," he said. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you." Pascual, who was just as clueless, smiled at the Tadpole and gave a slight shrug of his own.
"We have not met," the Tadpole said. "I am Forug, sibling to Dr. Vurk. He has told me about you. I am happy to have an opportunity to meet you in person."
Forug held out his right hand towards Dr. Poplawski. The NMC director sort of slapped the alien's palm rather than try to shake a hand three times the size of his own.
"Uh, it's a pleasure to meet you, Forug," Poplawski said. "I've come to think of your sibling as an esteemed colleague over these last months."
Forug's lips stretched open in something that might have been a grin, and he pivoted towards Pascual, arm still outstretched.
Pascual made his own fumbling pass at a handshake, "Honored to make your acquaintance, Forug." He turned and gestured towards his other companions, "These are Lieutenant Jason Ellis and Lieutenant Nadia Yatskaya of Earth Fleet."
He allowed the two Earth Fleet officers to offer their own brief greetings, and then said, "May we ask what it is you do here, Mr. Forug?"
Forug nodded, "I am… not certain what the best term for it is in your language." He uttered a Tadpole word that sounded like a rusty valve squeaking open in his voice. "I oversee and coordinate among teams of engineers, although my own technical knowledge is not comprehensive."
"We would probably call you a manager," Dr. Poplawski said, "or perhaps a supervisor or director."
"I understand," Forug smiled again.
Captain Pakpeden said a few words in his own language. Forug turned towards him and, after a moment's pause, answered back with his own chirps.
"I approve of that idea," Rokden said in English from the back of the group.
"Very well," Captain Pakpeden said, holding his arms behind his back in a stiff pose. "Mr. Forug will introduce to you the work he does with our surface habitat."
"My division has an office this way," Forug gestured further down the walkway. "It will be less noisy than in this area."
He happily stepped out in front of Captain Pakpeden to lead them all forward. Pascual wondered a little about Tadpole social formalities. The Captain, Elders, and their bodyguards all seemed to have some kind of system of rigid body language when they interacted. Forug did not, and neither did Doctors Vurk and Onadunwe, nor any other Tadpole, so far as Pascual could recall. Perhaps Rokden and Pakpeden were part of some sort of separate official hierarchy from everyone else, like the difference between Earth Fleet and the OES or the rest of Humanity. Or perhaps much of their formalities were simply expressed in a manner invisible to Humans, through the Tadpoles' broad array of pheromone senses.
They circled around the central theater and entered a short hallway which turned off to one side. Forug opened a door and then led them inside. The office looked like typical conference room, with a large table in the middle, atop which were scattered objects that might have been models or loose equipment.
Pascual had barely taken two steps over the threshold, however, when a hand clamped onto his shoulder and pulled him to the side. He collided with an interior wall as Nadia stepped smartly in front of him, keeping him pinned to the wall with her hand.
"Back!" she snapped at the other Humans.
"Gah—Na—wha?" Pascual stammered. Then his jaw fell open.
Just inside and to the left of the doorway, a creature the approximate size of a backhoe loader uncurled its limbs and swept its domed head around to gaze at Pascual and Lieutenant Yatskaya.
* * *
The charred, bitter aroma of the café made Yenga Goying snort as she entered. She had recently been forced to revise her estimation of Human beverages after discovering hot chocolate. But Yenga did not think she would ever get used to the smell of Human drinks.
The Human female, Gracia Ochoa, was working at her counter. She glanced up as the door shut behind Yenga, then waved over the heads of the Human customers between them.
"Hi Yenga! I was hoping you'd come by again. If you want to just have a seat, I'll bring you something in a minute after I'm finished."
Yenga appreciated the offer to get off her feet more than she'd expected. She looked around for an empty booth, and then wedged herself awkwardly into it. She had tried to manage her steps along the concrete sidewalks with better care this time, but the claws of her feet were still roughly abraded. She hissed softly to herself and tried to file them a bit with her fingers.
"Maybe, um, don't do that in public, Yenga," Gracia said a short while later. Yenga sat back up in her seat while Gracia placed a mug of warm liquid onto the table in front of her before sitting down on the other side of the booth. "I made you some hot chocolate again, since you really seemed to enjoy it last time."
Yenga lapped cautiously at the drink, last time she had burned her tongue. "It tastes different."
"No whipped cream, so it's not as sweet."
Yenga dipped her tongue back into the hot chocolate for a moment. "I like it better this way."
Gracia smiled. Then she placed a flat object on the table and slid it towards Yenga. "I wrote a letter to Hyong so that you could send it to him. I wasn't sure if you'd have to read it in order to send, so I tried not to put anything too embarrassing into it."
Yenga had not been expecting this, and she didn't know what to do at first. She picked up the letter—it was ink printed on what Yenga guessed were sheets of plant fibers—and stuck it awkwardly into her vest.
"I'll make sure he gets it," she said.
"Thanks!" Gracia's smile grew even wider, so that her eyes looked like they were trying to burst out of their sockets. Then it fell abruptly. "What's wrong, Yenga?"
Yenga gave a noncommittal grunt.
Gracia leaned forward and tilted her head so that her pink hair fell to one side. She tried to peer up into Yenga's eyes.
"You didn't come here just to say hi and get a cup of cocoa, did you?"
Yenga set her mug down and tapped a claw against the table surface a few times.
"Before I was assigned to the embassy," she said, thinking this was as good a place as any to start, "Operative Yaheek was the only deontologist on the staff."
"And what's a 'gyontolgiss'?" Gracia leaned back against her bench
"Deontologist," Yenga said, trying to enunciate as clearly as she could. Then she said it in her own language, "Operative Yaheek swears that is the best fitting English word, and the meaning is at least similar. It is a… philosophy, I think is the term. Our community believes that our actions should be restricted by a set of proper behaviors."
"Um, ethics?" Gracia asked.
"That sounds familiar," Yenga bobbed her snout up and down to show agreement. "Most members of our colony," she gestured towards the ceiling and the space beyond, "are members who believe as we do. But we are a trivial minority within the Republic as a whole. We are not popular, and most of our members were sent to this colony in order to remove us from the homeworld."
"Oh," Gracia sucked her lower lip in between her teeth, "I'm… really sorry, Yenga. I didn't know that."
"Thank you, but I am not personally distraught by this. I am too young to remember Karee. But I needed to explain the background. The Governor of our colony here, and most of his staff, are not deontologists. They are willing to act however they wish if it achieves their desires. Our groups are not often polite to one another, working together is very difficult."
Suddenly, Gracia flicked the fingers of one hand in a way that made a small popping sound. "You're lonely!" she exclaimed. "Hyong was the only person you got along with at the embassy! He was your only friend and now he's gone," she clapped her hand to her mouth and lowered her shoulders slightly. "I'm sorry, Yenga, that sounds really awful."
Yenga's wings started to unwrap from her arms, and she opened her mouth to respond angrily. But then she stopped herself. It was not what she had been trying to say, but Gracia's observation was not entirely incorrect, either. If Yenga was honest, it was part of why she had come here.
"You may be right," she admitted once she was certain she was under control again. "I was remembering what Hyong—what Operative Yaheek told me about his work here before my assignment. He found it very stressful. He found relief by leaving the embassy to interact with you Humans, which is how he met Professor LaRue."
"And me," Gracia grinned.
Yenga nodded. "He believes that Humans are more like we deontologists than the rest of our species. I accepted this, but did not begin to consider the implications until recently."
She raised her mug to her snout while considering her next words. The hot chocolate had cooled to a more tolerable temperature.
"I think," Yenga said slowly, looking into the mug rather than at Gracia, "that I would be calmed to express some of my frustrations to a Human, the way I would to my companions in the colony were I there. Unfortunately, the only Humans I know are my professional contacts. You are the only exception. I hope you are not offended that I have come here." Against her will, Yenga felt her wings squeezing with worry as she choked out those last words.
Gracia was very still and quiet for a few seconds. Then, to Yenga's dismay, she snorted and began to laugh in sharp, low gasps.
Apparently she sensed Yenga's worry, because she waved a hand. "Of course I'm not offended, Yenga, don't be silly! I'd love to be your friend! And I'd love to help you find some others—other Humans."
She turned her head for a quick glance around the café. "I'll have to get up and help if the shop gets busy again, but I'm happy to talk in the meantime."
Yenga did not mean to sigh audibly, but she did anyway she was so relieved. She quickly buried her snout in her hot chocolate again to hide the noise.
"So what's bothering you?" Gracia asked.
That focused Yenga's attention. She had to restrain herself from ripping into the table surface or the seat cushions after setting her mug back down.
"I wholly despise my superior, Ambassador Goyeharg."
* * *
The Charterling was enormous. Watching video footage of the aliens standing next to Russian dignitaries had not even come close to preparing Pascual's mind for the reality of their size. The creature's forehead was larger than Pascual's not-inconsiderable chest.
It was also very close. Six black eyes the size of grapefruits were hovering just centimeters from Lieutenant Yatskaya's face. The Charterling was leaning forward on bladed limbs taller than she was. Those sword-like appendages projected from its wrists, and marked the alien as a male of its species. And they looked sharp enough to pare steel, because they were.
Pascual was quite certain that he would have soiled himself if not for what happened next.
"Hello," the Charterling said, in the husky tone of a flirtatious woman.
Pascual's sudden urge to laugh managed to cancel out his feelings of dread.
"Um, greetings" he stammered quickly. "I apologize; we were not expecting to meet a Charterling. Your presence startled us."
"Hello," the Charterling said again, with the exact same inflection. Its head bobbed slightly, and some kind of membrane flicked across the surface of its eyes. But it did not back up to give Pascual and Nadia any more space, nor did it say anything else.
Pascual realized that the Tadpoles were speaking rapidly amongst themselves just outside the doorway. He turned his head to see Elder Rokden and Forug squeezing their way past the others to come inside.
"I am sorry!" Rokden said. Forug stepped around him and began saying something to the Charterling, which swiveled its head towards him. "I did not realize that he was here."
"Ah huh," Pascual said, unable to form any more coherent thought just at the moment.
The Charterling emitted a barrage of groans and gurgles—Tadpole speech—towards Forug, then waggled its head towards Pascual and Nadia.
"He wants me to express his greeting," Forug translated. "And his apologies, as he does not actually speak your language."
"Hello," the Charterling said.
"Except for that word, I suppose," Forug added.
"Oh, um, hello," Pascual said to the giant alien. Then he nodded to Forug, "Please thank him for us."
"And could he please take a few steps back?" Nadia asked tensely. Pascual guessed that she was clenching her teeth beneath her mask.
"Mr. Forug," Rokden gestured.
"Of course, Elder," Forug spoke to the Charterling again. The alien turned and followed him to the other side of the conference room. Its hind legs were bent like a grasshopper's and looked like they ought to shake the floor with each massive step, but instead seemed to land with impacts little heavier than the Tadpoles' own broad feet.
"I apologize again," Rokden said as Nadia let Pascual step away from the wall and brush himself off.
The others were entering the room now. Captain Pakpeden walked up next to Rokden and said, "He is an engineer from the Charterlings' Navy whom they lent to us as an advisor. We had hoped that with their assistance, we might be able to fix the problems with the surface habitat we brought, as it was designed by the Charterlings. Unfortunately, it seems that no solution is possible."
"Still, we appreciate the effort," Rokden added.
Behind them, Lieutenant Ellis was looking from the Charterling to the surrounding room. He leaned over towards Dr. Poplawski and asked in a loud whisper, "How did he even get in here?"
The colony director shrugged.
Forug leaned over the far side of the conference table, manipulating some controls Pascual could not see. "My division is tasked with overseeing and maintaining our habitat on the surface of," a second's pause, "Titania. Have you been told very much about the habitat and its problems?"
"We've... heard some general descriptions," Pascual said. The Tadpoles he'd met on the Discovery had talked at length about the way the surface habitat was lethal to them, but while their fear and sadness had come across, Pascual could not really say he had gleaned any understanding of the physical circumstances.
"I believe Mr. Forug can show images and video that may permit better understanding," Rokden said.
"Yes, I can." An image appeared on the wall behind him, which had previously been a neutral gray color. The image showed a glossy reddish bundle of... something. Pascual could not interpret it further, there were no other objects to give an impression of scale, nor labels or descriptors, not that he could have read Tadpole language if there had been.
"This is the extreme environment habitat that was brought with our expedition. Our ancestors purchased it from the Charterling clan in our home system before the ship left, we could not have produced it ourselves. It would only be necessary in the very worst case scenario that no stable planetary bodies could be found at a reasonable distance from the star here. We were wise to take the precaution."
The image changed to show a reddish splotch against a gray field. Pascual presumed this was the habitat on the surface of Titania.
"The habitat can harvest most simple rocky materials to expand its physical shell. With significant power input, it can also generate respirable internal atmosphere."
Captain Pakpeden added, "As our ship's systems deteriorated, we considered using the habitat's systems to supplement our own atmosphere recycling. But the process was not suited to a closed environment, it generates a great deal of heat and chemical waste."
"The chemical waste has been the critical problem," Forug continued. "If we had attempted to operate the habitat processors during the voyage, we would not have survived."
The bird's eye image of the habitat changed to a video. Several Tadpoles stood in a room. If anything was unusual about them, Pascual could not tell. There was no audible sound from the video, and the aliens' body language was still too unfamiliar to him. They were not wearing the heavy coats of the other Tadpoles on the arkship, and did not appear to be injured. Any meaning or impact of the scene was lost on Pascual.
Forug said, "Both the atmosphere generation and physical expansion processes of the habitat produce waste chemicals that are mostly but not completely expelled outside the structure. Surface residues and trace amounts of gas contaminants remain inside.
"Thus far we have identified three separate compounds that are profoundly toxic to our Enharg. Two of these are lethal at such low concentrations that it is effectively impossible for us to fully decontaminate the habitat. Doing so would require us to, in effect, build a separate sealed shelter inside the shelter, and remediate the surfaces and environment for years.
"We do not have the industrial capacity nor the time required to do this."
"Excuse me," Doctor Poplawski spoke up now, "you said that these materials are toxic to your Enharg specifically? Do you mean the rest of your body—I'm sorry I forget the term you used for yourselves, but the bulk of your form is unharmed by these substances?"
"Correct, Doctor," Forug nodded his broad head. His own Enharg appeared somewhat deflated behind. "At worst, some of these chemicals may mildly increase the risk of cancers in our Maklig over many years. But this is a very minor hazard compared to the risks of remaining on our ship and further taxing the systems here. The Enharg, however, begin suffering serious damage to their nervous tissue within hours of exposure to the habitat's interior. After a day or two, the damage is unrecoverable, and the Enharg die within the next few days without exception."
"I'm sorry," Pascual said. He did not feel helpful saying it, but the gravity of the moment seemed to call for some expression of sympathy.
"Can..." Lieutenant Ellis started, then paused a moment to find his words, "forgive my ignorance, but can your Maklig survive on their own, without an Enharg?"
"Yes." Forug changed the video again. This new one showed another room with more Tadpoles, or perhaps they were the same Tadpoles only recorded later. They were different now. The puffy black masses on their backs were gone, or reduced to tattered scraps clinging to the edges of the concave surface of the Tadpoles' backs.
Tadpoles—and now Pascual mentally thinking of the Maklig half of the species as just "Tads"—were much thinner without their fungal symbiotes. The Enhargs—"Poles" in Pascual's mind now—must have been at least a third to half of their bodies by volume. The Tads were deep at the shoulders and hips, but they looked a little bit like gorillas without their backs and scooped out by a spoon. The backs of their heads were similarly concave.
Tadpoles' skin usually appeared slightly mottled shades of dull yellow or orange. The exposed hollows where these Tads' Poles had been was pale ivory, and white liquid that Pascual suspected was blood oozed from many points and formed little trickles down their backs and legs. If the biology wasn't so alien, Pascual was sure it would have been nauseatingly horrific.
"Our Maklig descended from creatures that survived independently," Forug said. "Our evolution into a union with the Enharg was relatively recent in the history of our biosphere. We are effectively two different species, and both are still capable of surviving separately, though not in a manner that either would consider desirable or even very meaningful. Our Enharg are actually the ones that are best prepared to exist separately. And they do, as fruiting spores and unintelligent colonies little different from other sessile life on our planet. All healthy Maklig, however, are immediately colonized by Enharg after hatching, and rarely separated before death. But the Enharg are not a biological necessity and a separated Maklig could live on until perishing of malnourishment, infection, or injury."
On the video, the sickly Tads had barely moved. Some had taken one or two listless steps in no particular direction. Pascual's growing impression was that these were zombies, husks of formerly intelligent creatures now robbed of either higher thought or motivation.
"This is the fate to which millions of us have been condemned," Rokden said. "The fate to which the other Elders and I were still daily sending thousands right up until your colony ships entered range of our transports."
"Most of the effort of my team here is spent attempting to coordinate the Maklig to keep themselves alive, and to keep the habitat functioning," Forug said. "It is very difficult."
The display switched again to a lone Tad standing in front of some mechanism on a wall. The hollow on its back did not look as grievous as those in the previous video, but still unsettlingly empty.
This video had sound. Low burbles of Tadpole speech were playing over the video of the single Tad as it swayed placidly.
"The voice is one of my technicians, Nitotnet," Forug said. "She is attempting to talk this Maklig through closing a hatch so that the section of habitat beyond may be safely adjusted."
The burbling continued for several seconds. Pascual could not understand the meaning, but he recognized that the same sound was being repeated many times. Eventually the lone Tad lifted its arms to grasp part of the mechanism in front of it. Nitotnet's voice bubbled excitedly for a second, and then began repeating another series of commands.
The human delegation watched in silence. After a few minutes, the Tad managed to perform three critical manipulations of its controls, and a large reddish door descended to close off the hallway to its right. The Tad let its arms fall to its sides and began swaying in place once more.
"In the last year," Rokden said after a grim moment,"the most common cause of death in our population has been suicide. Almost one in ten of the individuals selected for transfer to the surface habitat have found ways to die before boarding their transports. Some have even attempted to disguise themselves and hide their presence in the ship, or done violence to the ship's crew and council staff to resist transfer."
Captain Pakpeden gurgled, and Pascual did not think he was wrong to infer anger, "The order of our whole civilization has been dissolving. I do not like relying on the help of outsiders, but if you Humans really have saved us from this collapse, then I will thank you just as much as our Elders."
Pascual inhaled to clear his head and puff up his chest a little as he stepped forward. "Well I cannot say we are here only to give charity. But after seeing what you have all been suffering," he nodded towards the monitor still showing the lonely Tad by the hatch, "I think all of us will be very pleased if we are able to spare you any more."
"Yes," Doctor Poplawski said, and sniffled a little, "very much so."
The video display changed back to a blank wall. Forug said, "I understand that adapting your colony infrastructure into habitation we can use has already required a great deal of effort, and much more is required to finish the task. But I am looking forward to the work."