Alpha Rising (10 page)

Wilde held the platter for Star. She took a
small serving and asked, “Who traveled to Baalbek for the
roast?”

“
No one,” Altemus replied.
“It’s from one of the previous trips made by the co-op crews. Held
in the storage freepository. The whole meal’s from the
freepository.”

Lavender Rose ignored the boring food
discussion and shamelessly scanned Bach’s physique. “Sooo,” she
growled in her throaty voice, “do you think your body has adapted
to our environment?”

“
Whew,” slipped from his
lips. “Physically, I feel fine. Haven’t made any adjustments so
far. The food appears much the same, but the clothes are
different.” He touched the emblem on his chest and looked around
the table at the others. “I’m sure I have a lot to
learn.”

“
Well let’s begin with an
entry-level primer,” Altemus offered. “Within our galaxy there are
zones, similar to solar systems. You are in the zone of Balal,
comprised of eleven planets, and you are on planet Jenesis. Our
zone does not have a sun. Balal’s slowly revolving planets derive
energy from three orbiting daystars that hold everything in place
while providing heat and light in varying degrees.”

“
Daystars?” Bach
asked.

“
Daystars are remnants of
exploded stars that orbit portions of our zone in unwavering and
perpetual paths. Unfortunately for Jenesis, a past disaster left
our planet shrouded by a dense dust cloud that prevents our
benefiting from the daystars’ direct light and heat. Our darkness
is so complete we can’t even see the stars. But, we harness and
download heat and energy from the daystars through scientific
means. The other planets’ benefits vary depending on their and the
daystars’ orbital patterns.” Altemus sipped from his glass. “I’ll
let you digest that for a moment.”

Bach talked to himself. “Zones instead of
solar systems and daystars instead of a sun?” He looked at Altemus
for affirmation.

“
Right so far.”

“
Let’s see if I have the
rest right. We’re in the zone of Balal, on the planet Jenesis, and
the continent of Dura?”

“
Correct,” Altemus said.
“Of three continents on planet Jenesis, two support life—Dura and
Ulwor. The uninhabitable continent where your ship crashed by the
death lake we simply call the neutral sector.”

“
When …” Bach searched
for words. “While flying here, to Dura, I saw something that sticks
in my mind. In the mountainous region to the left, there was a
bright beam of light streaming from space. It ended at the summit
of one small mountain, like a spotlight from infinity. What is
that?”

Altemus smiled. “What you saw is Mount Hope.
Our sacred area.”

“
Where does that light come
from?”

“
I wish I could answer that
in technical terms.” He stopped for a moment. “It’s unlike anything
we’ve ever encountered: an eye-blinding tunnel of light from space,
concentrated solely on that one mount, without deviating a single
degree. We’ve examined all possible explanations, but in the end
the only answer I can give you is that it’s a connection to a
divine power.”

Bach stared at Altemus for a moment, then
drank from his goblet. In the midst of technical conversation, he
noticed the water felt unusual in his mouth. He took another drink.
When he swallowed, it was almost as if it wasn’t there or went down
by itself. He remembered the bath water’s atypical characteristics
and came up with another question. “Other than the death lake, is
there ground water, oceans, or lakes?”

“
No,” Star answered. “Our
continents are bordered by cairns and gorges which were once oceans
and rivers. Only the death lake remains. We manufacture water—a
simple formula of hydrogen and oxygen, but we’re running low on
hydrogen. So we transport water from another planet, and also
recycle it. The eleven planets in our zone individually contain
water, vegetables, fruits, grains, minerals, herbs, and animal
sources. Dura has three, two-person, planet-hopping crews that
travel our zone in a food- and supply-sharing co-operative that
provides each planet the essentials to survive. We call it our
co-op. But our assets are rapidly diminishing due to enemy
intervention.”

“
It must be challenging to
carry out such missions,” Bach said.

“
Yes, and also rewarding,”
Altemus replied. “Our hard-working crews are very talented. Over
time, they’ve taught the other cultures a common language—the one
we’re speaking now. In return, many of us have learned their native
tongues.”

“
So those on other planets
speak a common language?”

“
Well, no. Everyone
understands and can speak one common language, but they generally
converse in their native tongues among themselves.”

“
Another question,” Bach
said. “If the commodities transported by co-op crews are shared
from planet to planet, are they sold or is this all
free?”

“
Nothing is sold.” Star
replied. “Even though the planets’ resources are unique to their
environments, none can function independently since the changes to
our galaxy.”

“
Changes?” Bach
asked.

“
You’ll quickly
understand,” Wilde replied. “Jenesis’s decline began after a
barrage of meteorites damaged our energy core. That also caused the
dust cloud surrounding us.”

Lavender Rose scooted her chair close to
Bach’s. “In the past, our planet’s internal energy core was in
perfect balance to support life,” she said, scrutinizing his face
with her mysterious gray eyes. “But the meteorite disaster
negatively altered that power and also drastically impaired our
natural use of heat and light from the daystars. Now, we harness
the remains of our planet’s energy to generate light—the faint
golden glow you’ve seen.” She placed her hand on his arm. “We
control the light cycles here at the complex. How about I give you
a tour later?”

Wilde cleared his throat and stared at his
loquacious colleague from across the table. “Don’t assume the
position of welcoming committee, Lavender Rose. Bach will have
plenty of time to see everything.” He hesitated with a little huff.
“Where’s he going to go?”

Star turned the conversation to something
more enjoyable. “Bach, try this sparkling water from planet Gihon.
It springs naturally from the ground. We only serve it on special
occasions.” She filled miniature goblets the size of a shot glass
with an effervescent liquid, then set one in front of him and each
of the others.

“
Go easy,” Altemus warned.
“The intoxicating effect comes quickly for some.”

Bach eyed the aquamarine-colored drink,
amazed at the crackling sounds coming from the small amount of
liquid. As he lifted the tiny goblet, thousands of exploding
bubbles shot like stars from the bottom of the glass to the top,
and audible rips popped in sequence like a string of firecrackers.
He set it down and looked at the others. All watched, but none
spoke. He drew the goblet to his lips, only to inhale fumes that
took his breath away. He gasped, faked a smile, and bravely took a
sip. A pause of contemplation followed. “Mmmm, lemony.” A second
later, he went owl-eyed. “Oh, wow, my lips are numb … my toes are
tingling. Whoa!”

Star said, “Perhaps you’d better wait before
drinking more.”

He licked his lips.

Lavender Rose’s attentive smile gave way to
a schoolgirl’s giggle. She snatched the goblet from Bach’s hand
with gravelly voice crowing, “Oh, no. We forgot to clink glasses to
drive out the spirits.”

Laughter made its way around the table, and
the hosts raised their small goblets, clinking one against the
other.

Bach looked on, bewildered. “Spirits?”

Star said, “On planet Gihon, the residents
believe that there are impious spirits living in the sparkling
water with powers to make you do foolish things. But the spirits
dislike the sound of bells because a call to worship begins with
ringing bells—”

Lavender Rose broke in. “So we clink glasses
before we drink, making the sound of bells to drive the naughty
spirits away.”

Bach touched his glass to hers. “But I drank
before I clinked, so what’s gonna happen to me?”

Lavender giggled. “Whoooee, too late
now.”

Feeling giddy, Bach thrust his glass upward
with a mischievous grin, then downed the remains in one audible
gulp. “Too late now!”

Lavender Rose, fully aware of the drink’s
effects, raised her goblet to Bach and, in a voice like honey
poured over sandpaper said, “To the most incredibly fascinating
alien I’ve ever known.” She swigged down the aquamarine liquid,
aligned her empty goblet with his, leaned sideways on folded arms,
and pressed against him like a cat wanting attention.

Wilde snapped, “This isn’t a social event,
Lavender. It’s Bach’s orientation.”

She replied with a silly grin. “At least I
have a social life.”

“
You call annoying people a
social life?”

“
Eat a camling,” she fired
back.

“
Camling?” Still tipsy,
Bach stifled a laugh. He didn’t know what a camling was, but the
strange word, and Lavender’s counterattack on Wilde struck him as
funny, and the more he thought about it the funnier it got. He
fought to suppress his amusement.

Playing it for all she could, Lavender
leaned over, put her lips against his ear and whispered, “Wilde
needs a camling.”

Bach’s cheeks ballooned out and he let go a
laugh so hard he could barely catch his breath. In no time, both
roared with raucous abandon. Trying to stop only caused a round of
snorting cackles that fueled the hilarity. Oblivious to his
surroundings, Bach halted for a tear-filled peek at Lavender, but
it just made matters worse.

“
Eat a camling!” He howled,
holding his stomach, then caught his breath for a moment, wiped his
eyes and looked at Lavender Rose. “By the way … what’s a
camling?”

Air spewed from her cheeks. “Wilde’s idea of
a good time.”

“
Lavender, that’s enough!”
Altemus said sternly. When she ignored him, he slid a bowl of fruit
across the table to Star. “Find a firefruit. At the rate they’re
going, they’ll be laughing all evening. I’d prefer to give the
antidote and continue the briefing.”

Star searched through the bowl and plucked
two fuzzy red berries from a cluster. “Bach! Lavender! Catch.” She
lobbed the fruits across the table.

Bach snatched his berry midair, with one
hand.

Lavender’s landed on her plate. She tried to
pick it up, but her numb fingers squeezed too hard and it spitched
to the floor. “Ohhh,” she sighed, leaning over farther than
necessary to ensure body contact with Bach. Then she pulled herself
up hand-over-hand on his body and dangled the fuzzy fruit by its
stem in front of his face, taunting, “Doooon’t eeeeat it,
Baaaach.”

Grinning, he dangled his berry by the stem
and replied, “Ooooh kaaay.”

Star tried to get his attention. “Bach,
firefruit’s an antidote for intoxication. Please eat it. You’ll
recover immediately. Let’s finish your orientation.”

Bach paid no attention.

Altemus raised his voice, “Lavender Rose!
Eat the firefruit!”

She tauntingly wrinkled her nose, then
leaned on Bach and fed him her firefruit.

He sucked the marble-sized sphere from its
stem and smacked his lips, savoring the hot cinnamon flavor.
Grinning, he leaned sideways and fed his firefruit to her. Both sat
closed-eyed and smiling while the fruits dissolved in their mouths
and the aquamarine liquid’s intoxicating effects wore off.

Star slid a plate of desserts toward Bach.
“Try a spiced cream tart. They’re made from mots, flavored beads
that grow in pods on planet Maon.”

Bach selected a green-frosted tart. He
smelled it. “Mmmm, smells like vanilla coffee. Do you eat like this
all the time?”

“
It used to be better,”
Lavender replied. “But you can get everything you see here, and
more, at the refectory during the daylight phase.”

“
Daylight phase? I hadn’t
thought about time,” Bach said. He looked at his earth watch. “How
is time measured on Jenesis?”

“
We regulate periods of
manufactured light into two equal segments to coincide with our
body’s natural wake/sleep rhythm,” Altemus said.

“
Sounds like a 24-hour day
on Earth.”

“
Right. We simulate what
used to be the natural light and dark periods. And be forewarned,
when we ‘turn out the lights,’ so to speak, blackness outside the
Skyprisms is total, except for the barely visible beam on distant
Mount Hope.”

“
We experienced the total
darkness when we first crash landed,” Bach said. “Then, before our
eyes, the planet seemed illuminated from within with the beautiful
golden glow. So that’s considered daytime?”

“
Yes. You’ve had your first
experience with a light cycle,” Altemus replied. “Call it day and
night if you like. The golden light isn’t as bright as we want, but
it’s the best we can do with our remaining energy.”

“
The superior intelligence
of your race is remarkable.”

“
We’d advance dramatically
if we had more materials to work with.”

Bach mumbled, “I have a lot to learn.”

Altemus put a dark brown dinner roll on
Bach’s plate and reached for a bowl filled with pastel colored,
nickel-sized balls. “Here, Bach, try these flavored spreads.
Sweetcream’s my personal favorite, the little yellow ones.” The
patriarch slathered the spread on a roll and reminisced. “Your
space station reminds me of our technology long ago. It’s much like
one I designed in my youth. Back then we called ours
Kingships.”