SAVIORS OF THE GALAXY
In the beginning
a novelette by Michael E. Walston
Copyright 2011 Michael E. Walston
Cover by Michael E. Walston
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This book is dedicated to Kellie Hazell
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Table of Contents
Saviors of the Galaxy
Excerpt from "Panic Button"
Excerpt from "Holy Warfare"
Author's Afterword
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This novelette also appears in an e-book anthology entitled Incident on Sugar Sand Road and other stories (now on sale at various online retailers for $2.99), which contains five original tales. Excerpts from other stories in that book can be found at the back of this one. This story is a condensed version of the first section of an upcoming novel, but it stands on its own. Additional material will be restored to the full-length version.
Saviors of the Galaxy
Back to Table of Contents
1
The Reeshi Moon was a haven for oxygen breathers.
It gleamed against the dark of space with soft luminous shades of green and violet and tan, wrapped in bright golden clouds. Its Jovian primary glowed balefully in the distance, girdled with bands of bronze and crimson.
A Zhianese dreadnaught approached it slowly, a hulking black ovoid mass with downspread tendrils that seemed to reach toward the little orb like the talons of some malevolent predator.
They would probably find their human here, where it would likely be the only one of its kind.
They were here to reclaim it—and dispose of it. The arrogant little creature could not be allowed to live, considering what it knew.
If it had told anyone, it would suffer in agony as it died.
2
The human suspected he was being followed.
The street lay deserted before him. The murky violet sky spread above him, streaked with acidic golden clouds. The ancient metropolis surrounded him, somber square masses of weathered brown stone. Tangled dark greenery sprouted copiously from cracked pitted surfaces, despite the cold gloom and the brisk moaning wind.
A crumbling, overgrown ruin, abandoned at present—or so it appeared—but the Reeshi weren't bothered by unkempt vegetation or eroded facades.
He turned abruptly, hoping to glimpse his pursuer.
A huge alien being, sort of a cross between a walrus and an octopus, ducked into the mouth of an alley. It was the only sentient in sight and it seemed to be getting closer.
He consulted the flexible silver databand he wore around his head, and it informed him the establishment coming up on his right was a bar called 'The Watering Hole'. They were common in this part of the city.
He had to smile at the name—it wasn't a very original one. An unprepossessing structure of dark tan block, the tavern wouldn't have seemed out of place in many human settlements, other places and times.
Its door was tall and square, wide enough for ten bipeds to pass abreast, a bright silver surface. A small segment of it, just big enough to admit him, vanished into mist at his approach.
Strange ethereal sound patterns—alien music?—emanated from the opening. A reek of stale smoke drifted outward.
He halted, wondering if this was really such a good idea. Again he faced flat metal. He took another step and the opening reappeared, emitting sounds and smells as before.
Well, he wanted to get off the street and he could certainly use a drink. His databand assured him this place could provide it.
Entering, he stopped to wait for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Reeshi eyes didn't require much light.
The air was warm and pungent. He took off his jacket and laid it over his arm.
One of the little creatures rushed up to him. "May I serve you, good sir?" Its speech resembled cricket chirps, but his databand routed a translation into his brain.
"I'd like a drink. Something alcoholic."
It was vaguely simian in appearance, having soft yellow fur and a large round head, with huge golden eyes that were multifaceted like those of an insect.
What might it make of him? A human in dark blue clothing with long brown hair, pale green eyes, a salt-and-pepper beard, and a noticeable paunch could well seem exotic here.
It wore no databand but it obviously had access to translation, for it gave a little hop. "We've a number of such beverages. Something sweet? With a fruit base?"
"Anything like beer?"
It cocked its head. "Grain based? High carbohydrate content?"
"Something like that."
"Oh, yes, good sir! I have something like that. How will you comport yourself while you imbibe it?"
"Could I sit at a table by myself? On a chair?"
"Is the table necessary? I can get you the chair."
"It isn't crucial. But it gives you someplace to put your drink."
The Reeshi thought this over. "Oh, certainly! It takes time to metabolize the alcohol. To feel the full effect."
The human nodded. "That's it exactly. Reeshi don't drink, I take it?"
"Of course we do!" It paused. "Oh, a context error. No, we don't drink alcohol, but we do have our vices. I can accommodate you, good sir! Follow me."
It led him across the room. In the dim reddish light he couldn't see well, but the floor underfoot was stone, and the furnishings were all of some black, resinous substance.
There were perhaps a dozen species in evidence, about fifty sentients in all. Most of them were locals, their various homeworlds lying within a hundred light years of this one, the exception being a wolfish Yulian—one of the galaxy's more widely traveled types.
He saw no other genus known to humanity, but that wasn't surprising; he was fairly sure he was a long way from anyplace humans had ventured before.
He had a moment's satisfaction at the thought.
They sprawled or crouched on the floor, or occupied various types of chairs or racks, ingesting or smoking assorted substances, conversing in myriad tongues.
The music came from a dais at the far end of the room, where catlike musicians in swirling blue fog coaxed soft, soothing sounds from their instruments; he didn't recognize the species. Nobody was paying them much attention—a common fate for lounge combos across the galaxy.
The Reeshi stopped. It indicated a low black stool, and then grabbed a taller one and placed it near the first. "Your table and chair, good sir."
The human laughed. "That will be fine."
The Reeshi stared for a moment in puzzlement, and then scurried off. With a sigh, the human seated himself. The Reeshi came back shortly with a huge tankard of beverage.
The human sipped at it gingerly. It tasted like beer. Strong beer, in fact. And it was cold! He felt his body begin to unwind.
"Satisfactory, good sir?"
"Excellent, thank you." He decided against saying it was the equivalent of several beers—after all, he wasn't complaining.
The Reeshi left. The human looked around warily. He saw no creature like the one he'd feared was tailing him.
As he drank, he watched the door. What would he do if it entered here?
A strange being turned to stare at him, and then rose from a crouch and moved toward him with a scuttling motion. It wa
s rather like a giant cockroach walking erect; it was covered by a glossy shell, lustrous and glistening, gray with pearl highlights. He tensed as it approached.
"May I join you?" it asked. Its speech was a string of staccato clicks.
He hesitated, consulting his databand. He'd received local orientation courtesies on arrival, of course, but information about this being didn't seem to be readily available.
He didn't want to risk offending it. "All right."
It lowered itself to the floor, its eyestalks swiveling toward him like serpents. It was slurping liquid from something resembling a cocoanut, using a long red straw—or was that its tongue?
The requested data finally arrived, falling into patterns in his mind. This was a Dalhou, hailing from a world several thousand light years distant—as much a foreigner in these parts as he was. Dalhou were gregarious, and they were considered excellent conversationalists.
By whom? The data packet didn't say.
"Well, stranger, we may be the first of our kinds ever to meet," said the human cautiously. By now he had a bit of a buzz on.
The Dalhou was still for a moment. Then it gave a twitch. "That must be so! Forgive my silence, I was consulting my implant about you. You're a human, far from your home, like me. We could indeed be the first."
"Honored to meet you." He took a long pull on his beer. "My name's George Wells."
"I'm called Lychel."
"What brings you to this planet, Lychel?" There, a test of its conversational powers.
"I like to travel, George. And I do a bit of trading."
"Hey, I'm a trader too."
"You have a ship?" asked Lychel.
"The Lucky Star," said George. "You?"
"My vessel is called the Agreeable Path."
George grinned. He