ABLE (Jim Able: Offworld Book 1) by Ed Charlton (13 inch ebook reader txt) 📗

Jim was struck by how much smaller the scientist looked in person. On the talk show she had seemed tall and thin. In fact, her head barely reached the level of his shoulder.

“Would you like to see my craft?” Jim volunteered.

The scientist only nodded. They walked around to the front of the still-steaming flier. Jim gave a few of the operational details.

“You...go...,” began Madhar, “you go into space in this?”

Jim looked at his craft. It really did not look in good shape. The burned metal was a history of neglect.

“This perhaps isn’t typical of modern spacecraft.”

“Ah.”

There was another pause.

“Can you,” Madhar asked, staring again at Jim, “eat our food?”

“I’ve been looking forward to it.”

“Come inside, Jim Able. Welcome to my home.”

They walked side by side into the scientist’s home. It was a small two-story building. It looked as if it had been built from timbers cut on the property. The doors were simple painted boards, and what looked like plaster walls were decorated with photographs. Some pictured groups of students; several, Jim noticed, were taken outside on the dock. There were also family groups, recognizable from the formality of the poses.

“Why have you come, Jim Able?”

“To see you.”

Madhar smiled, unconvinced.

Jim continued, “I need to make contact with someone in your government. This is really an official visit. But your politics are confusing to an outsider. So, I thought you could help guide me. I don’t want to cause any alarm or be involved in any publicity. It’s a small matter that should not take long.”

“Our politics are confusing to us too. It must be a ‘small matter’ of great importance for you to travel—I would guess enormous distances—to be here, in fact, to be the first alien ever to visit us.” The scientist reflected, “If, as we suspect, there are many inhabited worlds, many races, surely making contact with a new one is something to be handled very carefully?”

“Indeed. And that’s really at the heart of the ‘small matter.’”

Jim paused. He was not sure about divulging all he knew, yet. “One of your race has already made contact with us.”

Madhar was silent for a long while. “How?”

“He has traveled, in a better-looking craft than mine, to a number of inhabited worlds.”

“A government representative?”

Jim smiled. “That is what I would like to find out. We’re interested in developing relations and opening avenues for trade, and we pay substantial rewards to individuals who play key roles in making that happen.”

Madhar shook her bumpy head and made a buzzing noise. “It’s not possible that the government could have built a spacecraft and kept it secret—perhaps some of the military could. But, even then, I would know at least someone whom they would have contacted for expertise. One person, did you say?”

“Just one.”

“Why one? I would have a minimum of four on any expedition.” She looked at Jim. “That anyone would risk space travel alone is astonishing.”

Jim smiled. “Sometimes no one will go with you.”

The scientist cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “Like visiting a small race of no particular note?”

“I’m glad I didn’t visit a politician first.”

They both laughed—in their different ways.

“I will help you if I can, Jim Able, but I don’t hold out much hope. It can’t be a government-sanctioned activity. We have to look to business, I think. But...” She gave Jim another strange look. She stood up and brought out a rectangular device. “Will you allow me to record part of our conversation?”

“Of course. As far as we are concerned, the niceties of isolation and initial contacts are, if not behind us, at least fuzzy. Your traveler has no doubt told tales of his experiences. Rumors can be dangerous. If I can help to bring out the truth, I will. Please record me. Ask me anything you like. We want to welcome you to the galactic community. Though I would rather not have this particular visit delayed by immediate publicity.”

Madhar set up her device and began to question her guest.

“How do you come to speak our language? Do you know you sound like you’re from Multoaf?”

“We’ve monitored your transmissions for a while. Your educational programs were very useful. I’ve been watching a lot of your TV.”

“Oh no! What must you think of us?”

“Out there, we try to communicate using a created language called Standard. I’ll leave a training unit here with you that you are welcome to replicate and distribute.”

“How has our ‘traveler’ been able to communicate?”

“He claims to have learned Standard from listening to local space traffic.”

“How has he done that? I’ve been listening for off-world signals for years and never heard a thing!”

“Well, the frequency bands we use normally are here and here on the spectrum.” Jim drew a rough sketch on a piece of paper.

“No, the only place long-distance signals are possible is down here. Up here, the interstellar noise wipes out anything else.”

“It begins there, yes, but above here it clears again and there’s a huge sweep of clean frequencies.”

“Aargh!” the scientist threw her head back and said something Jim did not understand.

“I must remember to ask you later. My vocabulary is limited in its range of polite, or impolite, expletives.”

Madhar nodded. “I work with students; they are a constant source of new profanities. Have no fear,” she jabbed her finger at him and smiled. “We’ll have you sounding like you’re from Trofa yet.”

As they talked, she served him a warm citrus-flavored drink and some small tasteless bread-like lumps.

“How do you manage to travel astronomical distances without growing old?” she asked.

“Hmm,” Jim nodded. “The whole galactic trading network is only possible because of one thing—the D-switch.”

“The what?”

“D-switch. It’s a small device that lets you enter in three relative spatial coordinates. You engage the device, and it takes you there.”

Madhar was not buying it yet. “Go on.”

“The time at which you engage the switch is the same time that you arrive at the new coordinates.”

The scientist swore again. “You have time machines?”

“No! I don’t know much about them, really! I just