Читать книгу To The Stars - Назар Валерьевич Валеев - Страница 10

Kane and John had already spent a full day inside the capsules designed to prepare them for extreme overloads. In addition to diagnostics and correction of their physical state, the system was steadily imprinting into their minds several primary intergalactic tongues – among them the Vriinian language and Galacton, the official language of the Galactic Union.

Maarv, meanwhile, had completed his rehabilitation and was now fully healed from his wounds. He strolled with quiet satisfaction through the bright corridors of the Armaon, dressed in a new, comfortable outfit: a white elastic suit of soft fabric that hung loosely without restricting his movements, and light shoes to match.

He and Draam had already shared several meals together, and though at first Maarv had regarded with puzzlement the endless rows of food containers delivered from the flagship in such quantities one might think a small army had embarked with them – after these so-called «light» meals he could only admire Abuun’s foresight.

«It’s a good thing you’re not our Supreme Ruler», Maarv joked to Draam. «Our System could never afford to keep you fed!»

«He who eats well, works well», Draam replied good-naturedly. «And I work very well indeed!»

There was little reason to doubt it: in just a few days aboard the Armaon he had inspected, upgraded, and recalibrated every navigation and defense system of what was already one of the most formidable light cruisers in the Vriinian fleet.

When Kane and John finally stepped out of the capsules, they too were given new uniforms. At first glance they resembled military attire, yet they wore as comfortably as clothes one might lounge in at home. Both men looked astonishingly renewed: Kane’s old scars had vanished, while John appeared twenty years younger, more like a sturdy elder than an aging pensioner. Even his movements had grown lighter – a change he immediately noticed and, true to form, could not resist commenting on: «My glass shall not persuade me I am old.» Still, he thought, finding his backpack and getting a proper shave would hardly go amiss.

Maarv walked them through the astonishing ship, pointing out its features and functions.

«Armaon is, in many respects, a unique cruiser – the latest development, one that has no equal in our fleet», he explained, his voice steady but proud. «Technically, it carries the same capabilities as a heavy battlecruiser and matches it in both firepower and speed.»

He lifted his hand in a measured gesture, as though tracing the outline of an immense vessel in the air. «But unlike a battlecruiser, Armaon is many times smaller, far more maneuverable, and after a hyperspace jump its energy systems recover almost instantly, and that can make all the difference.»

As he spoke, his palm rested briefly against the wall, and the faint vibration of the living structure responded to his touch. «The ship was built using the latest biotechnologies and is, in essence, a living organism capable of self-restoration. Its brain is an advanced organoid intelligence that never stops learning, evolving, and expanding its vast archive of knowledge on all known planets, systems, and galaxies.»

Maarv turned back to them, his expression softening into a rare smile. «We call her Arma – she is everywhere, and you can speak with her at any time. I am certain you will become friends.»

They stepped onto the command bridge. In the center of the room, a vast virtual map of the starfield shimmered in the air.

«This is the navigation system,” Maarv explained. “It’s simple, convenient, and highly intuitive. And as I mentioned earlier – should the ship, heaven forbid, take a breach, it can seal it on its own.» His eyes slid toward Draam, who had just entered the bridge, towering over the others. «Provided, of course, the hole doesn’t exceed certain limits.»

Draam’s eyes flashed darkly. He was already more than weary of these jokes about patching up ships with his bulk. He stood a full head taller than Maarv and nearly half again as broad across the shoulders.

«Friends, allow me to introduce my comrade and colleague! This is Draam – the cornerstone of our safety! As steadfast as stone, and as swift as Armaon itself!» Maarv declared with a touch of ceremony. He then introduced John and Kane, adding that they had proven themselves remarkably reliable companions, and that it was thanks to them they had all escaped unscathed from the hunter-drone’s attack.

«I’ve already heard enough about how you ‘escape unscathed’», Draam grumbled, clasping the Earthmen’s hands with surprising warmth. «That’s why I’m here. And some freshly minted captains still need someone to wipe their noses…»

«Pay no heed to his grumbling, nor to that fearsome look he wears to terrify the living», Maarv whispered in a stage murmur loud enough for the whole bridge to hear. «He will go through fire and water for his friends.»

They moved up to the command bridge. In the center, a large virtual chart of the starfield hung in the air.

«Now that we’re all here, please look at the map», he went on. With a flick of his fingers, the projection tightened its focus. «To reach the Galactic Council, we must first secure the backing of at least two races that hold seats there – obtaining the so-called Ticket. Our time is short, so we’ll have to strike a golden mean: optimize the choice by distance and try to keep the risks to a minimum.»

He rotated the starfield a fraction and indicated a large, pulsing point. “One race that can help us is in this galaxy – using your names, in the Milky Way, in the Scorpius Cluster, in one of the Perseus Arms.» He slid the map outward; a second marker kindled on the edge of a neighboring spiral. «The other lies in Andromeda, near the Cassiopeia you know.»

Kane and John exchanged a quick look, lost amid the crush of planets, systems, and clusters. Catching it, Maarv softened his tone and gave them a brief, reassuring nod. «For most of us, it will be not only crucial but highly instructive as well – none of us has been out that way, save for Draam.» Draam, arms folded, gave the slightest tilt of his head by way of confirmation.

«And the Galactic Council itself», Maarv concluded, enlarging a pale blue knot of stars, «sits on a very beautiful green world in the Pleiades, a planet called Ilion.»

A clear, melodious voice with warm undertones suddenly filled the bridge а – it was Arma.

«Star charts, like any other data, can be virtually uploaded into your consciousness», she said, her tone calm yet subtly resonant.

«But it’s far more engaging to study them with your own eyes», Maarv countered gently, glancing at Kane and John with a faint smile. «The amount of information already loaded into you through the capsules is enormous; it will take time for it all to settle and be fully absorbed.»

«And what exactly is this Ticket?» Kane asked, leaning forward with curiosity. «Why can’t we simply fly straight to the Council and appeal to their sense of justice?»

«The traditions stand», Draam replied with a hint of irony. «To my mind, it’s more symbolic than anything else – certainly not the embodiment of some higher wisdom or great galactic truth. Be that as it may, without a Ticket you won’t even set foot in the Council chambers. Everyone knows it, though no one can say exactly why. Quite contradictory, isn’t it?»

«A contradiction born of ignorance», Maarv countered. «Fragments of the Ticket are given to each High Councillor upon entering the Council, and they are free to dispose of them at their discretion. Only in this way can young worlds, just beginning to set their cosmic course, obtain support when it is needed or make themselves known in order to become part of the Galactic Union.»

The Armaon’s powerful engines were in cruise. The ship was preparing for a hyperjump, and, just to be safe, Maarv double-checked the coordinates of Destination One – a planet called Omera, home of the Star Masters.

«I never imagined that once you became captain you’d turn into such a bore», Arma’s voice drifted above them like a cool cloud.

«You’re still far too young and carefree a ship», Maarv shot back. «When you’re at least two hundred years old, we’ll see what you turn into.»

Two days later, the ship emerged from hyperspace near the target system and began its approach to the planet of the Star Masters. Kane had buried himself in the intergalactic star charts compiled over millennia of Vriinian voyages and research – a monumental labor of countless generations. He studied with care and persistence, poring over the histories of other races and the intricacies of new languages, with a special focus on Galacton.

Of course, he had also explored every corner of the ship, venturing even down to the main hypergraviton reactors, and had grown close to Arma, who tirelessly answered his endless questions. She showed him holographic projections of systems and nebulae, of exotic planets teeming with strange and often astonishing forms of life.

John, meanwhile, had spent the entire journey in deep scientific discussions with Maarv, learning much about the far-flung fields of knowledge in which the Vriinians and other sentient species had advanced far beyond humanity. Maarv was quietly astonished at the eagerness and curiosity with which his human companions absorbed every detail, adapting themselves so quickly to a universe that was, until recently, utterly unknown to them.

«You see, Maarv», they explained to him over yet another meal in the ship’s mess, where a vast oval viewport revealed the breathtaking immensity of space, “it’s like suddenly being admitted to a school of magic, where you can turn into anything you wish, enchant objects, or gain supernatural powers!”

Trying to explain the very notion of magic to Maarv, however, proved far from easy. The Vriinians had no such concept, for their culture had never known literature in the sense familiar to humankind. What they called literature was bound up with art and served purely aesthetic purposes. The Vriinians could perceive a far broader spectrum of colors than humans, shades and subtleties invisible to the human eye.

Maarv also explained how they managed to journey between galaxies.

«There are several very ancient races in the known universe», he began, his voice steady, though his eyes gleamed with quiet reverence, «that set out to explore the stars many millions of years ago. They move across the void, raising bridges between galaxies – what you call wormholes. Time for them is only a convention; they exist under their own physical laws. These bridges endure for ten or twelve thousand years on average, and then they close… only for new ones to appear elsewhere.»

As he spoke, he spread his hand across the air, and a shimmering holographic map bloomed into view before them. Points of light flared along the spiral arms of the Milky Way, marking the nearest of those ancient passages. «We have long since learned to recognize these bridges, to find them, to use them – as have many other races.»

He paused, resting a hand lightly on the glowing projection, as though feeling its pulse. «This knowledge transformed our lives. It opened the way to distant galaxies and made us part of a vast Galactic Empire. Yet the effects of such bridges on living organisms remain uncertain. That is why we rely on ships equipped with the most powerful and swift hypergraviton drives.»

A faint, almost mischievous smile touched his lips. «Just like our Armaon.»

«Who are the Star Masters?» Kane asked. «And why is our first route leading to them?»

«They are one of the most mature races known to us», Draam replied. «In their time, they helped us Vriinians when we were still young and had only just opened the path to the stars. Sadly, only few of them remain now, and most prefer to wander in small groups across different worlds. It was they who created the artificial sun of Ilion – a true wonder of the galaxy!»

«Many regard them as seers», added Maarv. «It is said that their prophecies almost always come true. Here, on Omera, stands their main temple with the High Priestess, and all Star Masters obey her without question. By the way, nearly all of them are telepaths, so you’d better keep an eye on your thoughts.»

Maarv chuckled, while Draam suddenly burst out laughing, as if recalling something amusing. Then he said, «You see, our thought process is multi-channeled. Alongside the main stream of reasoning, which some of the Star Master telepaths might be able to ‘hear’, there are several secondary ones. And that, I assure you, is not without its uses!»

«Exactly so», Maarv agreed. «And thanks to that very trait, on his last visit Draam managed to fleece them thoroughly at cards. I have a feeling that certain someones among them still remember it all too well. The problem is – those very someones are precisely the ones we need to see. So don’t expect a warm welcome.»

«Don’t worry», Draam reassured them. «I still have a few aces up my sleeve, so with any luck we’ll manage. Besides, who wouldn’t be glad to see old friends?»

Although the planet itself was open to visitors, the planetary defense grid immediately demanded the ship’s identification and the purpose of its arrival.

«Enjoy your stay», came a courteous voice through the speakers. «Proceed to the nearest spaceport of your stated destination, landing pad twenty-seven.»

Dressed in the uniforms of Vriinian star-scouts, Kane and John were nearly indistinguishable from Maarv and Draam. Along with their gear, each had been given a wrist communicator for staying in contact with one another and with Arma, who wished them a pleasant excursion and promptly sealed the hatches tight the moment they stepped off the ship.

«Just like a child who can’t wait to get rid of her parents for a while», Kane remarked. Then, with a crooked smile, he added, «Behave yourself and don’t make a mess.»

«I’ve seen your cabin, Kane», Arma retorted. «And I doubt you’d notice the difference even if I opened the hatches at night and let the local drifters settle in.»