Read Online The Sentinel (The Sentinel Trilogy Book 1) by Michael Wallace - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Wallace
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as pressurized fluid passed through improperly calibrated valves. The heat and humidity made Swettenham’s glasses slip down.
He pushed them back up and peered myopically at Li. “Why, sir?”
“Answer the question, Swettenham. What exactly did Koh hear?”
“Sorry, sir. I was just wondering what you’re afraid of. Um, let me see. The salutation only. We deciphered that first. Then Koh went off shift, and I kept on without her. That was a few hours ago.”
“A strange time to take a break. Right when you’re about to get a message from an unknown civilization.”
“We’d been working almost two days straight,” Swettenham said. “Anyway, she had it cracked—the code was working. Sir, what exactly are you afraid of?”
“Of factionalism, of course. I need time to process this before the Openers and the Sentry Faction start fighting over it.”
“What is there to fight about? This settles matters. You’re answering, of course. Right, sir?”
“Dammit, Swettenham. I’m losing my patience. Your job was to translate, not second-guess me, and not to grill me like you’re my superior.”
Li paused as a particularly loud gush of water flowed through the large green pipe on which they stood. The unmistakable odor of methane briefly colored the air before the filters carried it away. Missized valves, leaky seals, and knocking pipes—sooner or later they’d need actual repair and replacement.
“Sorry, sir. Shall I play the message again?” Too much eagerness in Swettenham’s voice.
“Yes, one more time.”
The engineer touched a button on his console, and the translation came directly into Li’s ear through the com link. Swettenham, listening to the same message, widened his eyes. His mouth hung open slightly and he breathed deeply, like a man hearing the chime of bells in an ancient temple, and not a rough translation as spoken through a cool, neutral computer voice.
Open transmission
Greetings, Singaporean Imperium,
My name is Captain Jess Tolvern of HMS Blackbeard of the Royal Navy of Albion. I serve at the pleasure of the Admiralty, under Admiral James Drake, and in the service of my king, His Royal Majesty King James the Fifth.
Albion was formed from a colony of settlers from the so-called Anglosphere in the early days of the Great Migration. Our language is a modern dialect of English, and our form of government is a monarchy supported by a parliament divided into two chambers. We have three principal colony worlds, but maintain extensive trade relations with two other groups: the Ladinos and the New Dutch.
Our kingdom exists on the opposite end of the Hroom Empire, the tall, bipedal alien race given to sugar addiction that has been suffering the depredations of Apex, a birdlike species that fights wars of extermination and . . .
The message continued like this, giving what seemed to Li to be unnecessary information. The first time, he’d been impatient to get to the why of the missive, but now he realized why the woman was so wordy. The Albion captain shared all of this information for his benefit, for his translators. That way he’d understand terms like “Hroom” and “Apex,” for which there was no connection between her dialect and the Old Earth version of English. It helped explain how Swettenham, Koh, and the brute computational power of the computer were able to give such a precise, and hopefully accurate, translation.
. . . We are aware of the fate of your people, and wish to help the survivors any way we can. Unfortunately, we have just survived an encounter with the enemy and are in no position to continue the fight. We request repairs and wish to share tactics and weapons. Only working together with various human and Hroom factions can we defeat an enemy that will otherwise leave the sector a burning cinder, its civilizations exterminated, its sentient races extinct.
Please send a response as soon as possible so we can effect a rendezvous.
End
He pushed them back up and peered myopically at Li. “Why, sir?”
“Answer the question, Swettenham. What exactly did Koh hear?”
“Sorry, sir. I was just wondering what you’re afraid of. Um, let me see. The salutation only. We deciphered that first. Then Koh went off shift, and I kept on without her. That was a few hours ago.”
“A strange time to take a break. Right when you’re about to get a message from an unknown civilization.”
“We’d been working almost two days straight,” Swettenham said. “Anyway, she had it cracked—the code was working. Sir, what exactly are you afraid of?”
“Of factionalism, of course. I need time to process this before the Openers and the Sentry Faction start fighting over it.”
“What is there to fight about? This settles matters. You’re answering, of course. Right, sir?”
“Dammit, Swettenham. I’m losing my patience. Your job was to translate, not second-guess me, and not to grill me like you’re my superior.”
Li paused as a particularly loud gush of water flowed through the large green pipe on which they stood. The unmistakable odor of methane briefly colored the air before the filters carried it away. Missized valves, leaky seals, and knocking pipes—sooner or later they’d need actual repair and replacement.
“Sorry, sir. Shall I play the message again?” Too much eagerness in Swettenham’s voice.
“Yes, one more time.”
The engineer touched a button on his console, and the translation came directly into Li’s ear through the com link. Swettenham, listening to the same message, widened his eyes. His mouth hung open slightly and he breathed deeply, like a man hearing the chime of bells in an ancient temple, and not a rough translation as spoken through a cool, neutral computer voice.
Open transmission
Greetings, Singaporean Imperium,
My name is Captain Jess Tolvern of HMS Blackbeard of the Royal Navy of Albion. I serve at the pleasure of the Admiralty, under Admiral James Drake, and in the service of my king, His Royal Majesty King James the Fifth.
Albion was formed from a colony of settlers from the so-called Anglosphere in the early days of the Great Migration. Our language is a modern dialect of English, and our form of government is a monarchy supported by a parliament divided into two chambers. We have three principal colony worlds, but maintain extensive trade relations with two other groups: the Ladinos and the New Dutch.
Our kingdom exists on the opposite end of the Hroom Empire, the tall, bipedal alien race given to sugar addiction that has been suffering the depredations of Apex, a birdlike species that fights wars of extermination and . . .
The message continued like this, giving what seemed to Li to be unnecessary information. The first time, he’d been impatient to get to the why of the missive, but now he realized why the woman was so wordy. The Albion captain shared all of this information for his benefit, for his translators. That way he’d understand terms like “Hroom” and “Apex,” for which there was no connection between her dialect and the Old Earth version of English. It helped explain how Swettenham, Koh, and the brute computational power of the computer were able to give such a precise, and hopefully accurate, translation.
. . . We are aware of the fate of your people, and wish to help the survivors any way we can. Unfortunately, we have just survived an encounter with the enemy and are in no position to continue the fight. We request repairs and wish to share tactics and weapons. Only working together with various human and Hroom factions can we defeat an enemy that will otherwise leave the sector a burning cinder, its civilizations exterminated, its sentient races extinct.
Please send a response as soon as possible so we can effect a rendezvous.
End
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