Chapter One

SOLVING THE RIDDLES

SHARON FEINSTEIN
ENROUTE TO THE PARKINSON

 

Argale was the ugliest planet I'd ever seen. It was brown and dry and dying, with one little spot of green. One spot, on the whole planet, which could just sustain life.

 

Daktoy brought me here so I could see it for myself. I knew that we were living what the ZerShaz term 'chronical' , that is,  going to become part of their saga, repeated forever.

 

He couldn't make a mistake. He was Ki-ZerShaz, the 'god/king' who was responsible for what happened and what will happen.

 

I walk this horrible world where ZeSha had been enslaved for something like sixty earth sized years.

 

At night, the temperatures went down to Antarctica, in the day Ethiopia in the summer. You'd check the only visitors would be accidental and stay no longer than the time it took to get away.

 

And that's the irony. Cause on this ugly world is Immortality.

 

Drink the water, the one little stream of water, and never age. Cells don't die, so go on and on and on.

 

So here's the choice, continue with your lives, go on to nice fluffy worlds with lovely climates and lots of entertainment, or stay on the ugly world of Argale, but live forever.

 

The humans of the Gautier picked door number two.

 

Hide the spaceship inside a hill, live in it, and have the water delivered. Step outside once every other blue moon to freeze or bake, then get back inside, drink the magic water and live forever.

 

And let the Pig people enslave the ZerSha

 

Let the locals, who looked like Pigs on two feet.  enslave the ZeSha, and the scrawny little Kema folk to tend the ZeSha. And hide in the ship.

 

I go to the fountain and take some deep drinks of the magic water. My view is  take to Zechia, to a tropical island, make a lake, dump it all in and drink it till it is diluted to normal. That's because I'm human. Biologically, anyway.

 

ZeSha, whose metaphysics is a little different, couldn't see why anyone would want to live forever in the same body. But when you're dealing with a race where suicide is the leading cause of death, there's a cultural divide.

 

We wouldn't have known about Argale if the TSF Applewhyte hadn't told us. Well, not us. They thought they were sending a message to their Supreme Military Command.

 

Twelve years, lost in space, the Apples kind of missed the big event.

 

In 2496 there was a war. Human's lost. There is no Terran Supreme Military Command. There's the ZerShaz Empire. All messages sent to the known galaxy either go to them or keep going into the void.

 

"Let us depart..." Daktoy says, and I go with him to the veDak, and we're soon in space.

 

There's a question I want to ask; "Something's been puzzling me."

 

Daktoy pushes the little levers, engaging forward thrusters to slow the veDak, then turns his face to mine.  When I was living in Jamaica, five hundred plus years ago, the only time you could be sure of having a private conversation was in the middle of an empty field. It's the same today, only we do it in space, hundreds or thousands or millions of miles from living beings.

 

The light in the little flyer is dim orange, about the same as the night light I used to plug into the wall to guide me to the bathroom.

 

He looks almost human in the diffused light, the otherness fading into shadow, so his head doesn't seem that big, nor his eyes so large, yet, contrarily, it's obvious he's not human.

 

Sitting in the near dark, in the silence, he so very large, me so very small, I could almost be afraid of him. Almost, but not quite.

 

I pull my knees to my chest; this is a ZerShaz flyer, Zees usually sit with their knees up, so there's lots of space and it's really comfortable for me. Human built stuff puts my legs to sleep.

 

I take a breath before I speak, cause I don't want to sound too stupid. I start with facts.

 

"Daktoy, the Terran warship Gautier disappeared over eighty years ago, right?"

 

He doesn't even nod. He never wastes a movement.

 

"No body knows where. But, we find it on Argale."

 

He's looking into my mouth, waiting for subtitles. I know I should cut the chase, but I don't understand the question I want to ask, so have to bounce it around. I suppose I should do it inside of myself, and when I figure out what I want to say, talk. But that's not me.

 

"Okay, now, the ZerShaz ship, the ivKitri, disappears sixty years ago. Gone. Off the screen. But we find it on Argale."
I'm the only one he has patience with, and I can see I'm stretching it.

 

"Okay. Now. The Terran ship Applewhyte disappears twelve years ago. But it takes the Apple twelve years to reach Argale."

 

He takes a deep breath. I push on.

 

"But it takes us about what?  Like three, four months  flying from Earth to reach Argale."  

 

I stop talking. I think he's still waiting for the question. His eyes get a squinty look as if reading small print. And in his perfect voice: "The erssavi is nominated aKhtri, not ivKitri. "

 

I have to watch his mouth when he speaks, cause in Shaz, the first letter or letters are not pronounced. You make up your mouth like you're going to speak it, but don't, which effects the way the way the word sounds. And continuing in his 'lecture' voice.

 

" The disappearances of the vessels were due to the passage of an entity humans nominate Qintellum."

 

"And what do the ZerShaz 'nominate' it?" I ask, imitating the way he says 'nominate'.

 

He takes me in with his golden eyes, the diamond shaped pupil wide, and makes a human type shrug; "I do not believe the ZerShaz delved into the disapperance or cause, therefore did not need to define it." Continuing; "Terran theory is that Qintellum traverse at extreme velocity," he explains, "bending space, sucking vessels into its wake. Where a vessel ultimately arrives depends on it's proximity, it's speed, the rapidity of evasive tactics, even the shape of the vessel."

 

"Uh huh." I reply, leaning against my side of the veDak. He, on his side, raising a knee as a shelf, resting his arm upon it, aware I don't really understand.

 

I run my finger along the seam of his boot. Tight thin boots, just like his tight thin uniform. A kind of leather, made out of an animal called a chchpayn.  There's nothing special about the uniform, it's exactly the same as every other uniform worn by how many millions or billions of ZeSha. But he's in it.

 

"Shari," he explains, "if a ship was closer to the passage of the Qintellum, it would be pulled farther, faster. If more distant, the pull not as great. If a craft at the very edge of the force, it might be propelled in an opposing direction."

 

"Uh huh." I'm trying to visualise.

 

"I calculate the Gautier was distant from the passage, flung off course, when control gained, it was near enough to Argale to provoke landing. Perhaps there had been damage to the ship and the original landing necessary. When I examine the records of the Gautier I will be able to author a more precise determination."

 

That makes some sense. "And the aKhtri?"

 

"I assume their capture more turbulent and their release so close to Argale they were pulled into it's gravitation."

 

As the aKhtri was crewed by Zees who have faster reaction time, they'd of acted faster, maybe in trying to break free of the pull, lost control.

 

And using my own brain I puzzle out; "So the Apple was nearer the Qint ship so got dragged how many light years farther away before they could break free."

 

"Precisely."

 

The mysterious Qint ship races by invisible, ships are sucked in like a row boat when a tanker passes.

 

"Qintellum play a significant role in our lives." He offers.

 

I glance at him like, 'what?' then remember how we

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Publisher: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Publication Date: 03-07-2022
ISBN: 978-3-7554-0926-7

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