The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Guardian

Geary’s skin prickled slightly. He looked around and saw Dr. Nasr nodding in approval.

“The people here set up an isolation screen around this whole area,” Nasr explained. “They have activated it as a precaution against contamination.”

“What is to happen?” one of the people from Earth asked.

“This is the Dancers’ show,” Rione replied. “We’ll have to see what they do.”

A circular opening appeared in the side of the Dancer craft, expanding from a tiny point to a large access. From the bottom of the opening, a short and broad ramp extended to touch the ground.

“Has this happened before?” another of those from Old Earth asked. “And how often? Or is this the first time an intelligence not our own has set foot to the soil of humanity’s Home?”

“They picked an odd place for it,” Senator Costa grumbled.

“Out of any place on Earth, they picked our land,” a woman from Earth declared proudly.

“But why would that matter to these aliens?” the first man asked pointedly.

“The Dancers always have their reasons,” Charban said, “even if those reasons don’t always make sense to us. I see something moving inside their shuttle.”

Two of the Dancers came out onto the ramp, wearing protective suits that helped mask their hideous-to-human-eyes appearance. Like a giant spider mated with a wolf was how most people described the Dancers. This was the first time Geary had seen one in person, and he was grateful for their wearing the protective gear even as he felt ashamed of that reaction.

The Dancers were carrying something between them, walking with a curious slowness.

It was an oblong container, made of some clear substance, about two meters long and perhaps a meter wide and deep.

Inside it . . .

“Ancestors preserve us,” Senator Suva gasped. “A human?”

Dr. Nasr walked up to the container as the Dancers lowered it to a level patch of ground with the same slow, careful movements. He looked down, then pulled an instrument from his belt and studied it. “A human who died a very long time ago. The body has been protected inside that container and thus preserved by natural mummification. The body is wearing some sort of protective suit. There is no sign of trauma. I cannot say how they died, but this person was not slain by violent means.”

Another Dancer came forward, holding out a much smaller container, this one opaque.

Dr. Nasr took the box with a slight, respectful bow, then looked inside. He reached in and held out some small objects. “Does anyone recognize these?”

One of the Earth representatives came forward and took them gingerly. “Ancient data-storage devices. Even if these have been protected and stored properly, it’s very unlikely the data on them still exists in readable form after so long. We might be able to recover something, though.”

“What of this?” Dr. Nasr held up a metal pin that glinted with color in the bright sun.

More of the people from Earth came forward, studying it, then one held it out toward Geary and the others from the Alliance. “In the old form of the language, it says Operation Long Jump.”

“What was that?” Geary asked, looking at the pin but not touching it. It didn’t seem right to mar this object from history with the touch of his fingers.

“I’m checking.” Another Earth representative was consulting a data pad. “There is little here. Secrecy in the old days and destruction of records since then have cost us much information. What our historians have pieced together is that Operation Long Jump was one of the earliest attempts to use jump space to reach other stars. Several of the experimental ships were lost, some automated and some with human pilots. Subsequent experience proved those jumps were aimed too far, beyond the ability of jump drives of that time to work properly.”

“They didn’t come out of jump,” Desjani said, her voice filled with horror. If there was one thing that could seriously rattle any sailor, it was the prospect of being trapped in jump space. “They died in jump. May the living stars have mercy on them. All the way to Dancer space? Decades, maybe, in jump. This person must have died long before coming out of jump space. There couldn’t have been enough food, water, and life support on their ship to survive a fraction of that time, even if being alone in jump space that long didn’t drive him or her insane.”

“There is no sign of violence,” Dr. Nasr repeated. “Self-inflicted or otherwise. Perhaps oxygen or other critical life support failed, bringing as peaceful an end as this poor pilot could hope for.”

“But the ship carrying this pilot did come out of jump eventually,” Charban said. “How?”

“Who knows?” Desjani said. “Why would anyone want to conduct experiments that involve tossing something into jump space when there isn’t any expectation it would come out again? No human would agree to that, once they understood what was going on, and why waste automated ships?”