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Sail the Sea of Stars - chapter 9

 
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 12, 2016 1:35 pm    Post subject: Sail the Sea of Stars - chapter 9 Reply with quote

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I was in a hurry to post the draft of this chapter, so it still needs corrections and revisions. But getting feedback on it will help me do that better, so here it is, warts and all.

Enjoy!
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Chapter 9

Candlelight Dinner


Dinner for the captain and his guests began promptly at 7:00. Naturally I was ten minutes late.

The main dinning hall (which used to be called mess halls, but somebody finally figured out that the name tended to kill people's appetites) was a good example of the efforts the Candlelight's designers made to provide an interesting environment. The dinning hall was wide and long, but the ceiling appeared to be low the first time you walked to room. Actually, it wasn't. The ceiling was twelve feet from the floor in every part of the room — but the floor was on three different levels. Therefore the ceiling was on three different levels as well. Each section of the floor (and the ceiling above it) was six meters by ten meters. As you walked across the room you either stepped up or stepped down when you reached an adjoining section.

The result made the room look smaller than it was because the lowest sections in the middle of the room had lower ceilings which blocked your view of the ceiling above the higher sections further away.

It might sound crazy, but it made each section seem separate and intimate — instead of one huge room with hundreds of people around you. It also reduced the noise level by making the sound waves turn so many corners.

Nearly all the ship's personnel below the rank of officer pulled periodic "food service duty" (which used to be called mess duty, a contradiction since the point was to clean up the mess). All the enlisted personnel got plenty of exercise while waiting on tables in the dinning halls up-and-down obstacle course.

The captain's table was capable of seating ten people, and on this particular occasion it was filled to capacity. I wondered if a few of the people who were dinning with the captain tonight were there only because of the over-crowded ship. But as it turned out, the only unwanted guest was me.

Dinner began on time, without me. Mr. Sinclair was seated on the captain's right, Dr. Carrington on his left. My empty chair was next to Dr. Carrington. The next three chairs, including the one at the end of the table opposite the captain, were occupied by some of Dr. Carrington's colleagues. Across from them were Mr. and Mrs. Boing — the latter of whom was the a former representative of the Altair system in the Alliance Sector Council of Regents. She was a plump, out-going woman, in contrast with her thin, quiet husband.

Seated between Mrs. Boing and Mr. Sinclair, directly across from my empty chair, was the beautiful dark-haired young woman whose life and I as heroically saved, despite my shaking hands and wobbly knees. When I came rushing up the captain's table at 7:10 I saw her sitting just across the table I wondered if fate was trying to reward me for heroism or give a nervous stomach right before eating.

Captain North wore a perfect poker face when when he greeted me cordially. "How kind of you to join us, Mr Newcastle." I wasn't fooled.

"Sorry, sir. I was held up by a problem that developed in sickbay."

"What sort of problem?"

"They were having trouble with the system which monitors the patients' conditions. The computer had a sudden attack of over-ambitiousness."

As I spoke, I looked around for a steward to take my order. The place was packed with crewmen and Rembrandt passengers. There was a long line of hungry people in the corridor waiting to get in.

The captain kept his poker face in place because he knew better than to act like he didn't know what I was talking about (captain's must be omnipotent and omniscient), but Dr. Carrington was a scientist, and scientists ask questions for a living, so he jumped right in with a polite smile and said, "Over-ambitiousness?"

"Right, Sir," I said with a grin. It was nice to have an appreciative audience for a change. "It seems the computer in the medical section recently learned the guioron gas, a newly developed synthesic, promoted the healing process in humans. Sickbay is loaded with wounded from the battle today, so the computer directed the life support system to lace the air with guiloron gas."

Carrington's smile looked slightly frozen. He wondered if I was putting him on. The man next to Carrington was lifting his glass to drink, just as I finished speaking. He suddenly snorted with laughter, filling his glass with bubbles. He grabbed a napkins and started dabbing at his dripping chin while he spoke hastily.

"But guiloron gas also causes mild intoxication!"

"Exactly. But the computer reasoned that a positive attitude would be helpful for both the patients and the medical staff. Sickbay was a very happy place for about thirty minutes."

Captain North's poker face was gone. He was beginning to look like he did when I'd stood before him in his quarters and wondered if I would be scrubbing latrines for a few months. "Why wasn't I informed about this?" Captain North said sternly.

"Dr. Hooper starting wondering why everybody suddenly seemed to like each other so much. He checked the environmental controls and figured out what the problem was. He reset the system and then called Fernie Mann." I turned to the others and said, "Fernie Mann is our chief computer specialists. But Fernie was busy in engineering, so he called me and said to check out the problem until he could get there. By the time Fernie arrived I had found the cause of it all."

"Over-ambitiousness," said Captain North, his poker face back in place now that he was sure everybody in sickbay wasn't peeling off their clothes and getting overly friendly.

"Right, sir. The computer meant well — but it got little carried away."

"A characteristic which you seem to possess," said North, referring to the log transfer.

"Uh...yes, sir. We aim to please."

I felt an annoying urge to giggle. Too many dignified people were staring at me in too polite a way. Except for the dark-haired girl. She wore a knowing smile that made me feel nervous and vain, simultaneously.

"Mr. Newcastle is a computer psychologist," said Captain North to his dinner guests. Then he turned back to me. "How is it you define your field?"

"I handle problems that are caused when a computer exceeds or misinterprets its programming. We call it software cross-interpretation — a computer's tendency to do a little more than it's supposed to. The more sophisticated computers these days will sometimes have moments of . . . well, of self-awareness. Actual sentience. They act a little like amnesia victims. They know everything except who they are. It's an illusive phenomenon which some experts deny the existence of."

"Well, that's not quite true, David," said Dr. Carrington. "Some experts just explain the phenomenon less colorfully. However, I for one agree with you. I believe it is the first indications of computer sentience. Despite the fact that fictional stories have been filled with sentient mechanisms for hundreds of years, it has never come to pass in real life. A truly self-aware computer is still the elusive goal of computer designers. Yet, lately it would seem that computers have achieved sporadic self-awareness."

"Why sporadic?" said Mrs. Boing. "Why not all the time?"

"That's the mystery. Nobody knows."

Mrs. Boing turned to me. "Your profession, computer psychology, must be fairly new then."

"Yes, ma'am. There are only about two thousand of us in the Alliance Armed Forces."

"Galaxy wide? You must feel very honored."

"No, just lonely."

"Exactly how do you solve these problems that are caused by software cross . . . ummm."

"Cross-interpretation."

"Oh, right. So, how do you fix a misguided computer?"

"I just talk to it. For instance, the problem in sickbay was easy. I just asked the computer why is had spiked the air with guiloron gas. But usually it's more complicated. The computer doesn't know it's making a mistake, and I don't know exactly what question to ask it."

"I don't think I fully understand," said Mrs. Boing.

"Well, here's another example. Awhile back back our chief engineer, Jimmy Lewton, was doing some experimenting with the new fuel flow mixtures for the sub-light engines, using computer simulations for his preliminary tests. Jimmy came up with a way to increase the efficiency of the sub-light engines, but his new process caused and increase in radiation. To use Jimmy's new process the engines would have to be shielded better."

Mrs. Boing was nodding, and since her eyes weren't getting that glassy look folks get when their bored, I continued.

"The process Jimmy discovered would have made certain areas of engineering dangerous for humans, even tough the sublight engines would have been a bit more efficient. Jimmy couldn't find a way to correct the problem without a major re-design of sub-light engines, so he just logged his findings and dropped his project. But shortly after that our helmsman reported power fluctuations in the sub-light engines. The strange thing was that problem would disappear as soon as Jimmy started checking the machinery in the appropriate section of engineer."

Mrs. Boing proved she was one sharp cookie when she smiled faintly with a twinkle in her eyes as she nodding her head slowly. She had already figured out what came next in my story. But she didn't steal my thunder by blurting out the answer, and nobody else at the table gave the slightest indication that they had figured out the mystery yet — except for Captain North and the chief executive, Mr. Sinclair, both of whom remembered the incident. But the other folks at the table were listening intently, intrigued by the problem.

"This went on for almost a week," I continued, basking in the adoration of my audience. "Finally Jimmy decided that maybe the problem was computer related rather than mechanical. Fernie Mann and the other computer specialist ran a battery of test on the computer. They couldn't find a thing wrong. Reluctantly Fernie gave me a crack at the problem. He doesn't quite know what to make of computer psychology. Anyway, after a ten-minute discussion of the problem with the computer I discovered that it was using Jimmy's modified fuel flow whenever there was nobody near the section of engineering that was made dangerous by the raditation."

Mrs. Boing was giving me a bright and happy I-just-knew-it grin, but her face was invaded by a puzzled look and she said, "But how did the computer know when there were people in the area?"

"Interior cameras. Military spacecraft are riddled with them. As soon as anybody got near the dangerous section of engineering — like Jimmy Lewton checking on the problem — the computer just switched the fuel-flow systems back to normal."

"Fantastic," said Dr. Carrington.

"How bizarre," said Mrs. Boing.

"Truly nutty, yes indeed," I said, tickled pink that I'd actually entertained this highly intelligent group instead of wearing out my welcome with overly technical story.

"Was the computer actually hiding it's activities?" said Mrs. Boing.

"No, not at all. As screwy as it may sound, the computer was just doing it's job. It's designed to make the most efficient use of the machinery and the fuel, so when Jimmy unwittingly handed it a better way to do it, the computer used it. Of course, the computer is also programmed to protect sentient life, so it switched the systems back and forth, depending on if it was safe."

"But didn't anybody think to ask the computer why the sub-light engines were fluctuating?" said Mrs. Boing.

"No, because everybody thought they already knew the answer to that question." I gave Mrs. Boing a few seconds to see if she'd figure it out. And bless her heart, she did.

"Oh, of course!" she said, beaming at me again. "They thought there was something broken — some sort of periodic failure of the system."

"Right," I said. "It didn't occur to anyone that the sub-light engines were working better than usual because of a periodic improvement the computer was using. In other words, whenever the computer was asked what was wrong with the sub-light engines, the computer insisted there were no problems. In a sense, it was right. An improvement in performance isn't caused by a malfunction."

Mrs. Boing and I had become good buddies because I had sprung a pop quiz on the group and she had made an A+. And Dr. Carrington also had a proud look on his face as he turned to the other dinner guests and said, "Mr. Newcastle's publication on this subject is filled with such fascinating examples."

Speaking for the first time, Mrs. Boing's quiet husband said, "You've publish a piece on this subject?"
"Yes, sir. I co-authored it with the computer specialist on my last starship assignment."

"I'd love to read it," said Mr. Boing. I suddenly remembered that he had authored a collection of non-fiction works about technology's influence on various sentient species. Now I had two Boings in my personal fan club.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

My self-confidence had been bolstered by all this admiration, so I met the steady, green-eyed gaze of the young lady across the table and held it to see which of us would blink first. Suddenly I realized that Captain North had not actually introduced me to everyone when I'd first arrived. I put on my best boyish grin and said in a Cary Grant voice, "Hello, I'm David Newcastle."

"Oh, I'm sorry!" said Captain North, suddenly realizing that while he'd sat there trying to appear omniscient and omnipotent like a good captain, he had forgotten be a good host. "Mr. Newcastle, you've already been introduced to Dr. Carrington, of course, and next to him is Dr. Billings, Professor Connery, and Professor Henning. And this, of course is Mr. and Mrs. Boing." Mrs. Boing's chubby cheeks were lifted high by a bright smile that demonstrated one of the reasons she was a successful politician. Her husband smiled faintly and nodded once. If he hadn't spoken a moment ago I'd still be wondering if he was mute or just henpecked.

Captain North paused and smiled at me for a moment, knowing that the next name was the one I really wanted. Finally he said, "And this is Miss Danceea Aberron."

The young lady was wearing a secretive smile. "Mr. Newcastle and I met earlier today." She dropped the bomb with casual grace, as if she were telling them we'd had lunch together. Then she detonated it. "He saved my life."

Boy, that did. Everybody spoke at once, but the only comments I could make out were from Carrington when he exclaimed, "What! Mr. Newcastle, you amaze me!"

"Me, too!" said Captain North when he lost his calm composure for a full five seconds. He was looking at me as if he doubted I was the real David Newcastle. By this time I wasn't sure myself. I'm not normally the life of the party — but then, this certainly hadn't been a normal day.

I gave the captain a brief account of the incident involving Danceea. My efforts to minimize the drama only embarrassed me even more, because Danceea smiled at me across the table, amused by my clumsy attempt at humility. Dr. Carrington, however, acted like a proud father whose son had found a single inexpensive cure for cancer, old age, and stupidity. The brotherhood of computer specialists finally had a two-fisted champion who could beat up Marines and steal their lunch money.

I was definitely enjoying all this attention, but I wondered what I could for an encore. Today's act would tough to follow.

One of the stewards finally noticed my late arrival and took my order. Everybody else's dinner arrived about a minute later, but I knew the cooks in the kitchen would be told my meal was for one of the guests at the captain's table and they'd probably throw my order together from dishes already prepared for other people. Meanwhile, Dr. Carrington wanted to hear all about the pirate ship's computer and how my interactive enhancement with the Candlelight's computer had circumvented the other ships efforts to withhold the information about the meltdown.

I still had the interface headset in a side pocket from when I'd dealt with the problem in sick bay earlier, and I told Carrington how it allowed me to interact with the ship's computer through Gracie, my programmed attempt to achieve artificial intelligence. The key was the way I'd given the computer a detailed understanding of the uniquely human manner that specific individuals like Gracie Allen (a comedian from the 20th Century) had tuned logic on its ear and entertained millions with her quirky way of thinking.

The results were surprising. Gracie, the computer program, had a knack for solving problems in new and startling ways.

My usual shyness began to reassert itself and I stumbled through my description of the incident on the Beltherian ship, keenly aware that Danceea (what lovely name . . . ) was smiling at me from across the table, her gorgeous green eyes pinched slightly at the corners. Even when I wasn't looking at her I knew I was the focus of her attention, and it made me want to hide behind my chair. I suddenly yearned for a little of that guiloron gas to mellow my nerves.

I finished the story for Dr. Carrington just as my food arrived, and I gladly let the conversational spotlight move away from me. Mr. and Mrs. Boing were engaged in conversation with Danceea, while Dr. Carrington and I discussed the Candlelight's computer systems. Carrington was amused by my reference to the various subsystems aboard ship as a kind of invisible society, a subculture of noncitizens who were not regarded as sentient. We both agreed that the computers weren't being mistreated, just misunderstood.

I noticed that the executive officer, Sinclair, was discussing Beltherian history with Danceea and the Boings. Sinclair had done an extensive study of the rebellious colony world. Everybody knew a little about how the Beltherians had come into being, because it was such a strange story. But Danceea confessed that she knew almost nothing of their origin, so Sinclair grabbed the opportunity to impress her with his knowledge.

I let my own conversation with Carrington fizzle out, and then I started following theirs. The stewards came to clear the dinner dishes away and serve coffee and dessert. Sinclair gave every indication that he was going to make a lecture out of his explanation, although to be fair he was an entertaining speaker and a charming man. I suddenly disliked him for exactly those reasons.

Sinclair was leaning towards Danceea, keeping his voice low so she would have to lean towards him and give him free close-ups of those emerald eyes while his nose wallowed shamelessly in her heady fragrance. Sinclair's voice was noticeably deeper and more manly than usual.

To quote Sherlock Holmes, the game was afoot.

"Mankind's very first form of hyperdrive was pretty slow compared to the ones we use now. It took anywhere from eight months to two years — those are Earth/standard time units — to get from one colony world to another. Supply ships were often crewed by married couples who would arrive at their destination with a new baby and then apply for citizenship at the colony. Colonist who wanted a free trip back to Earth would replace the crewmen who stayed, and that kept the colonies' gene pools nice and fresh. Of course, the long trip back to Earth was just as likely to end with a few new little people aboard, too."

I was impressed. Sinclair was actually making the history of colonization sound sexy. Even I was getting a trifle aroused with mental images of starship crews turning the gravity off and playing bumper cars with their naked bodies. Danceea seemed to be leaning even closer to Sinclair than she really need to.

Sinclair continued to spin his tale of erotic space exploration. "Let me think, now . . . the first seven colony worlds were in the star systems of Tau Ceti, Eta Bo??tis, Alalia, Altair, Capella. . . ummm . . . Hydra, and Laodameia. The most distant colony from the Earth, and from its nearest neighbor, was the one in the Laodameian system. The colonists named the planet Beltheria in honor of a man of Middle Eastern descent who died while repairing a malfunction in the colony ship while it was en route. He saved their lives. It's ironic that his name is now held in such dishonor."

Sinclair paused to take a sip from his water glass and give his audience a chance to say something — common courtesy for folks who don't want be thought of a bore. But Danceea waited patiently, her eyes aglow with genuine interest. Sinclair dove back in.

"Anyway, it took two years to get from Earth to Beltheria, and eight months to reach it from Olympus, their nearest neighbor in space. So, even though mankind had achieved interstellar travel, the colonies were virtually on their own. It just took too blessed long to get from one place to another. None of the colonies expected their neighbors to drop by for a visit."

Sinclair paused when he noticed that several other people at the table were now listening to his lecture. He looked pleased. He raised his voice a bit and started looking around as he spoke.

"About eight years after the colony on Beltheria was established, they were hit by a massive crop failure that nearly wiped them out. Help couldn't reach them in less than eight months, even if the colony on Olympus had possessed enough food and enough starships to send any. And remember, even a message took eight months to reach Olympus, because mankind didn't have jinn wave communications yet. So, the Beltherian colony fought its lonely battle with starvation. Somehow it managed to survive, though thousands of people died."

"How terrible," said Danceea.

"Well, yes, of course" agreed Sinclair, "but equally terrible was the fact that after the Beltherians began to get back on their feet, the government fell into the hands of some very corrupt, unprincipled men. During the crisis it had been necessary to enforce absolute martial law. These men set about making sure that the government retained its dictatorial powers. Before Earth or any of the colonies knew it, Beltheria was under a dictatorship that surpassed even Nazi Germany."

"Who?" said Danceea.

"An earlier example of man's capacity for total evil," said Sinclair. Boy, he was really laying it on thick. Danceea had one elbow on the armrest, her gorgeous chin resting lightly on her delicate hand, giving Sinclair her undivided attention, along with a spike in his blood pressure.

"The Beltherians made a strong comeback after their crisis," continued Sinclair, loving every minute of this. By now everyone at the table was mesmerized by his presentation — even Captain North, who probably wrote his college thesis on this subject and knew even more than Sinclair. "Several years went by, with the Beltherians becoming more and more secretive in their communications with the other colonies. Suddenly in 2189 Earth received word that Beltherian forces had attacked and defeated the colony of Olympus, their nearest neighbor."

The crowd was thorough hooked. Sinclair was proving to be quite the story teller.

"A year later Beltherian ships attacked the colony world of New Wyoming. But during the fourth week of the battle, a convoy of cargo ships arrived from Cheyenne, the colony in the Capella star system, and they used their long-range message lasers and signal pods as make-shift weapons. Most of the cargo ships were destroyed, but they were able to turn the tide for New Wyoming. The Beltherians were forced to retreat, but it was only a temporary set-back. For the next four years Beltheria made an earnest effort to conquer every human-inhabited planet."

Sinclair paused like a good public speaker just to make a quick assessment of his audience and decide whether to give them the long version of the short version. Danceea answered the question for him by requesting additional info about a specific point. For Sinclair this was like the patron of a four star restaurant asking the chef for a second helping.

"But what were the other life forms of the galaxy doing all this time?" said Danceea. Her gorgeous nose was closer to Sinclair's than overly suspicious fathers allowed their teenage daughters to get to boys who weren't married to them yet.

Sinclair gave her a patient smile and answered with tender affection. "They were staying out of it, just as they do nowadays with any conflict confined to a single species. The various life forms are expected to solve their own problems. Besides, mankind didn't even know there were other intelligent beings in the galaxy. The Alliance of Sentient Life was waiting for mankind to learn about it and apply for membership."

This was a new concept for Danceea. She was a child of the modern Alliance, and the dark days of mankind's first efforts to venture out into the stars before knowing he was surrounded by ancient, space-faring empires which avoided contact with this new and potentially troublesome species was difficult to understand. It was strange to think of humans feeling alone in a galaxy while we were surrounded by thousands of star traveling civilizations.

The first century of mankind's interstellar colonization was like a blind and deaf man wandering through a crowded shopping mall, unaware that the people around him were carefully stepping out of his way as he groped from one place to another while he felt alone and lost amidst a crowd of thousands.

Ever new species who joined the Alliance of Sentient Life went through this ordeal. The Alliance did not contact a new race the moment they developed hyperdrive. The Alliance waited until the blind man discovered he was not all alone, without help from anyone else. With some species this took centuries. With other it never happened. These were the ones who dropped back, loosing their advanced technology because of tragedies like plagues or global war.

The vast distances that separated star systems are simply too great for the mind of man to comprehend. A starship can travel from one stellar empire to another and sail right past a thousand star systems which have intelligent life in them — without ever knowing it. The galaxy is so incredibly immense, and hyperdrive is so insanely fast, that every star a ship passes might contain an unknown civilization with billions of beings who aren't aware that they're surrounded by a galactic society which interacts and communicates on a daily basis.

The galaxy is a sea of stars, and the ships which sail across it rarely notice the billions of fish just beneath the surface.

Suddenly it occurred to me that I could easily steal some of the limelight from good old Mr. Sinclair. I envied him for enjoying so much of the girl's attention, so I nerved myself to compete with him for it.

"Excuse me," I said politely. "Would you like a visual to go with this?"

"What do you mean?" said Sinclair.

I donned the interface headset and whispered the words that activated the Candlelight's main computer.

"Good evening, Gracie, and how are you?"

I'm fine, George. Who are all these people? Are they relatives of yours?

I whispered a few quick words to Gracie, and then I smiled at Sinclair the way cats gaze at goldfish. "I can pull holographic images from the ship's library, illustrating the historic events you're describing."

As I spoke, a five-foot wide inverted pyramid of thin silver rods dropped down from the ceiling. It stopped when it was suspended three feet above the center of the table, pointed downward. The space inside the pyramid was filled with a soft blue translucent glow.

"No trouble at all," I said cheerfully. "You just go right ahead."

Sinclair knew full well what I was up to. He was going to be hard pressed to keep his lecture lively enough to compete with a lot of flashy images. I figured he would make an effort to keep the narrative fast and varied, hoping I wouldn't be able to match the pace. Sinclair gave me an annoyed look and resumed his history lesson.

"It was that slow hyperdrive that did it. Mankind had established a few colonies within a two-hundred light year sphere of the galaxy — a galaxy that is over a hundred-thousand light years across. Yet mankind thought of his own local region as being vast and empty because it took him so long to cross it. For that reason, the war between the colony worlds became known as the Slow War, because fleets of ships traveled for months or years before reaching their objectives."

As Sinclair spoke I quietly told Gracie to produce images that illustrated the various subjects I would name. I gave her plenty of leeway in the selection of the images. I knew I could set up some of the categories in advance so that while Sinclair spoke I could cue Gracie with a word or two to get the appropriate images. The trick was to be flashy rather than completely accurate.

When I finished my instructions, Gracie called up some quick battle scenes while Sinclair spoke about the Slow War. The upside-down pyramid above the table suddenly filled with images photographed by exterior cameras of starships during the war. Space was criss-crossed by missiles and lasers, the primary weapons of the Slow War. At first Sinclair tried not to look at the images so they wouldn't distract him while he was presented his impromptu lecture. But since Danceea was gazing up at the images, Sinclair couldn't just stare at her lovely profile, so he watched the holographic images too.

"Beltheria was grimly determined," continued Sinclair, "and they proved to be a fearsome adversary. The Beltherians returned to New Wyoming and conquered it, although New Wyoming and Olympus continued to resist covertly. Earth didn't even enter the war until the third year, because of the distance and the time it took to send messages back and forth by automated faster-than-light spacecraft. But Earth didn't have to go all the way to Beltheria to take part in the war. The Beltherians brought the war to them."

Inside the pyramid, Gracie was having a ball. Fleets of ships maneuvered in battle. I told her to change the scene each time Sinclair described a new event. This kept the show energetic, frequently cutting to new scenes within the existing subcategory. Everybody at the table was gazing up at the busy splash of 3-D images. Even Sinclair was beginning to enjoy the collaboration.

"The colonies that had not been subjugated were able to muster a fair defense, but only by using every resource they had. Beltheria had been preparing themselves for years, so it wasn't long before the other colonies were in bad shape."

In the pyramid Gracie displayed ruined cities swept by fire. Crooked lines of starving people walked slowly across a bombed-out wheat field, foraging for food. Everyone at the captain's table suddenly felt guilty for gobbling down a banquet.

"But Earth was no struggling colony world, and when the Beltherian forces drew near the home planet of mankind, they were met by wave after wave of well-armed starships. The true picture of Beltheria's treachery had taken a long time to reach Earth, but Earth responded to the threat with everything that the loosely allied nations could provide. It took two more years to carry the war all the way back to Beltheria, one hundred and ten light years from Earth."

Gracie outdid herself. A titanic space battle raged in miniature above the table. Then the combined fleets of Earth and the colonies were seen approaching Beltheria. The planet looked small compared to the armada descending on it.

Sinclair responded like P.T. Barnum. He gave it his all and dazzled his audience with a pitch that mesmerized the crowd and brought a flush to their checks as they gazed up the bright images which filled the silver rods inside the pyramid above the table.

"The Beltherians refused all offers to negotiate an end to the war. Earth and the colonies were the bitter victims of Beltheria's ambitious designs, so they needed little encouragement to fight their enemy to the death. The planetary defenses were eventually smashed, and the Beltherian civilization was almost bombed out of existence. But the Beltherians fought savagely to the very end, destroying half the fleet that had come to end the war."

The space inside the pyramid was filled with surface-to-space missiles, automated armed satellites, and a moon-based laser cannon that could cut starships in half from one hundred thousand miles away. The people at the table were were looking up with their mouths hanging open and they didn't even know it.

"Finally Beltheria was reduced to an ugly, crater-pocked planet filled with starving, mindless mobs who fought among themselves in the rubble of the ruined cities for what little food they could find. The weary winners of the Slow War could do nothing to help, even if they'd wanted to, because the remnants of the fleet had to make the long journey back to their own hungry, war-torn planets. Beltheria was left to her fate."

Inside the pyramid: Departing warships, leaving Beltheria behind. Then I told Gracie to let the pyramid go dark inside, just for dramatic effect. Sinclair paused for a moment to provide transition. Boy, were we good.

"And so, the long process of rebuilding began," Sinclair said as he began the next chapter in his history lesson. I whispered into the mic of the interface headset and gave Gracie the new categories for the images to be displayed next. After a few moments of preparation, the pyramid lit up again. There were bright images of reconstruction, renewal, and expansion — cities, roads, and cultivated fields, and space stations which were under construction.

"Seventy years went by. The Rolls Royce laboratories developed an improved hyperdrive, and suddenly it was possible to travel between colonies in a matter of days rather than months or years. The economy of every inhabited planet boomed when commercial trade between them became profitable for the first time. Every mother's son got himself a starship and loaded it with anything which was common in one place but rare and valuable somewhere else."

In the pyramid, starships whizzed by — big ones, small ones, beautiful ones, downright hugely ones. Huge tankers in long convoys. Expensive stellayachts all alone. Everyone at the dinner table was grinning up at the images.

"Shortly after the new hyperdrive became available, an expedition from Olympus journeyed to Beltheria to see if the survivors — now two generations removed from the original war-makers — wanted to be forgiven and helped. The expedition, comprised of six starships, found Beltheria guarded by hundreds of automated armed satellites. The expedition was greeted by a flurry of surface-to-space missiles, about half of which malfunctioned. Several of the starships were damaged. The Beltherians radioed the expedition that they were ready for an attack, and that they would allow no starships to land. They made it plain that they would not be deceived by talk of a truce."

In the pyramid: Scenes of the Beltherian's defenses.

"After an entire week of trying to convince the paranoid Beltherians of their good intentions, the expedition gave up and returned to Olympus to report the condition of the Beltherian civilization. Apparently the dictatorial hierarchy still held the populace under iron control, convincing them that retaliation from the enemy could come at any moment. The planetary defenses had been partially repaired, crudely expanded, and poorly maintained, while the people lived in utter poverty."

Gracie showed some rather graphic and depressing scenes of what life was like on Beltheria: dirty streets in shabby cities, with malnourished children and sad-faced adults. I was about to tell Graice to change the scenes with Sinclair saved me the trouble.

"On Earth and the colony worlds there was enough residual hatred for the Beltherians to prevent much support for any efforts to change things on Beltheria, especially since they would have to fight another war to do it. So, they posted reconnaissance drones in the Beltherian system, well out of range of the satellites and missiles, and then they just went on about their business. Beltheria remained an armed hermit, terrified that the skies would someday fill with enemy warships, bent on revenge."

Sinclair paused, gazing into his coffee cup, his face solemn and sad.

In the pyramid: News headlines of the Beltherian reaction to peace overtures, and then scenes of the reconnaissance drones keeping an eye on Beltheria from two hundred thousand miles away. Again I told Gracie to let the pyramid slowly go dark. I felt like a cinematographer, editing footage for a documentary. It was fun!

Sinclair leaned back and put his hands behind his head as he smiled at his audience. "With the new hyperdrive, the galaxy opened up for mankind like a flower in bloom."

I nodded and smiled at Sinclair in tribute to the poetry of this description — and then I whispered frantic instructions to Gracie, telling her what scenes would visually top it. The pyramid lit up with starships as they plunged towards the bright pool of the galactic core. Others were seen as they emerged from the dark cloud of a gigantic nebula.

Sinclair was smiling and nodding, tickled pink by the way I was making him look so good.

"To our great surprise, we suddenly found ourselves among many species of space-traveling life forms, most of whom were banded together by the eons-old Alliance of Sentient Life. Since the beginning of it's existence, eighty eight thousand Earth/standard years ago, the sole purpose of the Alliance has been to protect the prosperity caused by interstellar trade. War is considered bad for business because it kills customers, and therefore peace is maintained through the combined might of the Alliance Armed Forces. The Council of Justice mediates disputes between member races, and the Council's decisions are enforced by the military."

In the pyramid there were scenes of the Council of Justice in session. Many different species were represented in the scene. They served as judges, translators, legal advisors, technical advisors, ambassadors, and scores of other vital positions.

"The Confederation of Mankind was invited to join the Alliance. We were informed of the rules and warned of the consequences of aggression. Earth and our colony worlds enjoyed a brand new boom in their economies as merchants learned of new markets for everything imaginable. In an inhabited galaxy there is always somebody somewhere who needs a commodity you can acquire cheaply and sell for a sizable profit."

Danceea unconsciously raised her hand like a little girl in school, then quickly lowered and blushed as she said, "Sorry. Old habits die hard. I've spent so many years in universities."

Sinclair affected a scholarly expression and spoke in a deep voice. "Miss Aberon, in the second row. Do you have a question?"

"Yes, Professor," said Danceea, smiling like the teacher's pet. "I've heard that the long-running economic boom has sometimes wrecked global economies. Is that true?"

Mrs. Boing spoke up, smiling just enough to show she was in on the game. "I'd like to answer that if I may, Professor Sinclair." Our teacher folded his arms in a dignified manner and nodded. "Thank you, sir. Danceea, it's true that a galaxy-wide market contains such an abundances of goods that any planet whose economy is dependent of the rarity of things like, for example, gold or diamonds will be violently effected when starships filled with gold or diamonds start arriving, ready to do business. But the Alliance helps to lessen the economic impact in situations like that by imposing a five year moratorium on the importation of specific items when a new species joins the Alliance. This gives the new member time to restructure their economy so it's not based on something which is no longer rare, thanks to the booming galactic trade."

"Who enforces the restrictions," said Danceea. "The Alliance Armed Forces?"

"No, my dear," said Mrs. Boing. "The government or governments of the affect planet set up systems to enforce the laws. If the government is honest and fair, things go well. If the government is corrupt, the black marketers get rich. The Alliance doesn't meddle in the business of individual planets or planetary alliances — unless they start shooting at each other."

The dinner guests laughed, and I saw Sinclair wait patiently to see if the conversation would move into new areas or he would be asked to continue he history lesson. When the encouragement did come, it was from an unexpected source. At the far end of the table sat Professor Henning, and he hadn't uttered a word since I had arrived. But just when I thought the competition between Sinclair I was over, ending in a split decision, Professor Henning spoke up and surprising everyone.

"Mr. Sinclair, you were telling us about the pros and cons of a galactic market place."

Sinclair looked around quickly to see if anyone was rolling their eyes and wishing he would shut up. But several people — including Danceea — were nodding and smiling, so Sinclair dove back in. He glanced quickly at me to see if I would rise to the occasion. I gave him an evil grin and leaned forward like an Olympic swimmer about to start a race. We were off again.

"And thus began the new era of prosperity for the human race. Men grew rich overnight simply by finding a consumer need and serving it."

I put my hand over my mouth as I whispered into the mic and gave Gracie some specific instructions. The pyramid lit up with a colorful outdoor marketplace scene, populated by roving shoppers of every shape, size, and color. Next came a spaceport scene, crowded with starships, many of which were being loaded with cargo. Sinclair looked as pleased a new papa with triplets as he watched images appear out of thin air, making him look like a wizard whose words were made real by the power of magic.

"During this time, the Alliance decreed that the Beltherians had chosen independence from the Confederation of Mankind when they rejected Earth's offer of peace and enforced their isolationism with military might. And since the Beltherians had lost the technological ability to build hyperdrive spacecraft, the Alliance declared them a restricted star system until such time as they advanced enough to apply for membership."

Danceea remembered not to raise here hand before she said, "How did the Alliance enforce their restriction?"

"The Alliance posted surveillance satellites throughout the Beltherian system so that anyone who illegally entered the system, such as bootleggers, would be detected. The satellites also monitor conditions on Beltheria so that the Alliance could stay informed of their technological progress. The Beltherians weren't even aware of the satellites, because the devices were so small and so distant from the planet."

Professor Connery spoke for the first time, perhaps thinking he wouldn't be asked back to the Captain's table if he didn't contribute something to the conversation. He had certainly won the Good Listener Award.

"The Beltherians spent over 100 years warring amongst themselves," said Professor Connery. He fidgeted a bit when everyone turned to looks at him, but he forged on. "There were periods of almost planet-wide barbarism, but there was always some form of hierarchy that held on and maintained a portion of the planetary defenses. Finally they managed to pull themselves up to a pre-war level. A new planetary dictatorship was established and the various barbaric regions where either annihilated or their population was broken up and sent to education centers for training so they'd fit in with this new world of technology."

Everyone was focused on Connery, but it became apparent after a few seconds that he had nothing else to add. So, Captain North spoke for the first time in a long while, realizing the Connery needed to be rescued from the spotlight.

"That period of Beltherian history has always fascinated me. Over a period of just thirty years the Beltherians went from barbarism to spaceflight. I wrote my college thesis on that period."

I kept silent, but I mentally patted myself on the back for predicting that very thing twenty minutes ago. Sinclair was quick to cover any mistakes he might make in the next part of this lecture.

"Please correct me if I get any facts wrong, Captain."

Captain North smiled and said, "Ah, but if they're wrong, they aren't facts." The group chuckled, including Sinclair. "I'll just correct the errors and leave the facts alone." North waved his hand towards his executive officer, encouraging him to continue. Sinclair watched everybody's gaze swing back towards him, and suddenly looked like a kid on Christmas morning. He dove back into his narrative with obvious enthusiasm.

"The Beltherians began to make technological advancements at an alarming rate. The Alliance surveillance satellites reported a great deal of interplanetary activity, such as colonies established on two of the planets in the Beltherian system. Then they detected short test flights of hyperdrive spacecraft which ventured a few light years from the home planet. Their progress was surprising rapid."

Above the table, interplanetary ships with odd shapes plied the gulf between the planets in the Beltherian system. They were obviously hi-tech designs, but they had an odd appearance, unlike the familiar look the spacecraft used in Earth's solar system, two centuries ago.

"Finally, a fleet of heavily armed warships ventured out of their star system with great caution, just to see what the rest of mankind was up to. The Beltherians must have been shocked when they found themselves smack dab in the middle of a vibrant galactic society, populated by several hundred thousand species of sentient beings, all of whom were united in their determination to prohibit wars between species — wars which might rock the commercial boat and disrupt the golden gravy train."

The pyramid displayed images of Beltherian diplomats, physically less genetically altered than the Beltherians who were down in the Candlelight's brig. They were shown meeting with representatives of the Alliance. I saw Danceea grow pale, a hard look of hatred and revulsion crossing her face. I quickly told Gracie to depict more scenes of the galactic prosperity and peace. The disturbing images were replaced by majestic scenes of Candlelight-type starships cruising in formation.



"The Beltherians joined the Alliance as a separate political entity from the Confederation of Mankind, thereby gaining the right to govern themselves any way they wished. If the Confederation of Mankind tried to interfere, the Alliance would actually protect the Beltherians."

Reluctantly I told Gracie to display Beltherian merchants dealing with other life forms.

"Because the Beltherians are such small fish in such a big pond, the Alliance doesn't consider them to be a threat to peace of the galaxy. But the Beltherians are breeding themselves to be the ultimate warriors."

In spite of the look on Danceea's face I supported Sinclair's point for the sake of Mrs. Boing, the ex-council member. Maybe she still had connections and could pass Sinclair's warning on to the right people. I called up images from an educational video on Beltherian physiology: night vision, fortified bone structure, genetically enhanced muscles structure. Sinclair say what I was doing and nodded to show his appreciation.

"The Beltherian government has flagrantly violated Alliance mandates, and they've demonstrated their willingness to support narcotics smuggling, illegal weapons running — and of course, acts of piracy."

At my general request for images on the subject, Gracie displayed videos of the battle the Candlelight had fought this very day! I saw Danceea's face turn white when she realized what she was looking at.

"Perhaps I'm especially concerned about the Beltherian's threat to all the member species of the Alliance because they're the same species and me."

Gracie displayed Beltherian warships, Beltherian troops on parade, Beltherians in combat with Candlelight personnel just hours earlier! I wanted to stop it for Danceea's sake, but there were bigger issues to consider, so I let the images run.

"They're completely unmerciful, physically superior, and extremely intelligent. As we all saw today, in combat they're both savage, cunning, and ruthless."

More scenes of combat. Sinclair and I were both caught up in our enthusiasm for the subject. I was telling Gracie to illustrate his remarks with a montage of images. Sinclair's face was flushed and he eyes were narrow slits as he gazed up at the scenes in the pyramid.

"Despite the Alliance and all its military might — "

Another scene of galactic stellacruisers on patrol soared above the table.






" — I think the we should be ready to act quickly and decisively when it comes time to deal with what is, in fact, a race of rabid dogs!"

I told Gracie to show Heckle and Jeckle during the battle, but she didn't quite get the reference right. Suddenly a cartoon bulldog standing on two legs appeared in the pyramid with his paws clutching a crow name Jeckle, while his pal named Jeckle snuck up behind the bulldog with a massive mallet, and — Pow!








The whole group exploded with laughter. I whispered hasty insults to Gracie before I managed remove the cartoon from the pyramid, while my face invented new shades of red.

Dancee's laughter was a musical sound that rose in volume until it became a healthy haw-haw-haw. Mrs. Boing's laughter was especially robust, with the added feature of jiggle cheeks and wobbling bosoms, her eyes pinched closed and her small mouth wide open. Dr. Carrington, his colleagues, and the quiet Mr. Boing were all enjoying themselves with dignified restrain. Captain North was fighting a valiant battle to remain reasonably composed. Starship captains are not supposed to fall off their chairs yucking it up at the dinner table.

Danceea proved to be his undoing. Laughter is contagious, and she was helpless with it. She was deep into that laughter which empties the lungs and won't allow a refill. No sound, just a lot shoulder-shaking and a complete inability to sit up straight. Captain North succumbed to the moment by putting his right elbow on the table and covering his face with his hand, where it lost a major portion of its calm detachment.

Sinclair's laughing eyes met mine and he held up his hands at shoulder level, palms toward me — a symbolic gesture indicating that he surrendered. The cartoon climax, despite being an accident, had been a flawless bit of showmanship.

Slowly everybody recovered their composure. Danceea dabbed tears from her eyes. She kept looking at me and getting the giggles all over again. Finally, right out of the blue, she said, "I wonder if Mr. Newcastle would consent to show me around the ship."

Captain North immediately saw the value of getting me out the area so that dignity could be restored, and he quickly said, "Oh, I'm quite sure he would."

"At the moment I'm not sure I know my way around the ship," I said, sending Danceea into another brief fit. "But I'll give it a try."

We said our farewells to the others and headed across the multileveled floor towards the dinning room entrance. As we passed through the wide doorway, Randy Henson and Bill Jenkins — aka Heckle and Jeckle — came strolling by. Just like Hope and Crosby they went simultaneously googled-eyed at the sight of Danceea, then they both grinned at me and spoke in perfect unison.

"Heeeeeellooo, David!"

"Hi, guys," I replied casually and kept right on going. When we'd left them behind Danceea leaned close and spoke quietly.

"Who are those guys?"

"If I told you . . . you wouldn't believe me."

________________________________


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Is there no man on Earth who has the wisdom and innocence of a child?
~ The Space Children (1958)


Last edited by Bud Brewster on Mon May 07, 2018 8:51 am; edited 2 times in total
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Gord Green
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Joined: 06 Oct 2014
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 12, 2016 6:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I very much like the exposition of the history through the dinner discussion . It does seem a bit long, but the "back story" was facinating and well thought out.

Perhaps the description of the dining area was a bit excessive and wordy and could be shortened or eliminated.

Also the two discussion topics could be related in separate incidents at different times. They each were important but could be held in different contexts.

Like this very much!
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Bud Brewster
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Joined: 14 Dec 2013
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 12, 2016 8:11 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Gord Green wrote:
I very much like the exposition of the history through the dinner discussion . It does seem a bit long, but the "back story" was facinating and well thought out.

Perhaps the description of the dining area was a bit excessive and wordy and could be shortened or eliminated.

Also the two discussion topics could be related in seperate incidents at different times. They each were important but could be held in different contexts.

Like this very much!

I wondered about those elements myself. Good suggestions. I'll give it some thought.

Thanks.
Very Happy
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~ The Space Children (1958)
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