Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [80]
The small hydrogue sphere hung like a microscopic jewel high above the ring plane of Osquivel. It had been damaged, its alien occupant killed during the EDF’s brazen military attack—apparently, one of the only hydrogue casualties of the great battle.
“The candy store is open for business. What should we try first?” Kotto rubbed his gloved hands together, wishing he could pressurize the artifact so he could work in a shirtsleeve environment, but the systems were a mystery. He didn’t even know how to close the hatch yet. At least closing it would probably not be traumatic for poor GU, who had been hurled into space by the unexpected explosive opening of the sphere.
“There’s so much here to understand.” He looked around at the strange shapes, the smooth panels, the odd inverted geometries. “We need to figure out a way to defeat these ships.”
“We will do our best to assist you, Kotto Okiah,” KR said from his station. “However, compies are limited to straightforward analytical processes.”
GU added, “Intuitive leaps are reserved for our human masters.”
Pacing in his environment suit, Kotto said, “Just help keep my mind on track. How to fight against a hydrogue ship—that’s the question. Don’t let anything distract me from the main objective.” That was one of his weaknesses: A fascination with everything led to perpetual distraction.
“For instance, I’d love to figure out the propulsion system these hydrogue ships use. Warglobes are fast long-range spaceships, but they don’t require ekti.” He touched the uneven knobs and protrusions of an alien technical station that looked as if it had been made by pouring molten glass. “And these controls aren’t like anything I’ve ever seen—not human, or Ildiran, or even old Klikiss technology. Just understanding the embedded liquid-metal electronics would open up possibilities for—”
“Is this an instance in which we should tell you to focus your thoughts on the primary objective, Kotto Okiah?”
Kotto stuttered to a halt, then cleared his throat. “Yes...exactly. On the other hand, let’s not be too rigid. No telling where a given line of investigation might lead. We have to think outside the box, to use an old phrase.”
“It is a conundrum,” GU said.
“Don’t be a show-off.”
Kotto stepped in front of the flat trapezoidal panel surrounded by strange symbols, destination coordinates similar to those used in ancient Klikiss transportals. How could the vanished insectile race and the incredibly strange hydrogues have anything in common? Had one race obtained transportal technology from the other?
Hoping to make the connection, Kotto had reviewed the small amount of available information published by Hansa scientists. Before the trade embargo against the Big Goose, Roamers had downloaded all public-access technical reports. However, as best he could tell from the documentation, the Hansa scientists didn’t know how the transportals worked either.
He read the discovery papers written by xeno-archaeologists Margaret and Louis Colicos. Recently, a quiet but reputable researcher named Howard Palawu had been given the task of analyzing the alien transportation system. He’d had a habit of posting his thoughts and conjectures in daily logs for anyone who chose to read them. The entries had ended abruptly, though, and Kotto learned that Palawu himself had vanished through a Klikiss transportal.
Now, as he stared at the transport panel and the symbols, GU walked up to him. “You are wool-gathering again, Kotto Okiah.”
“Wool-gathering? What’s that?”
“Thinking unrelated thoughts, becoming lost in a reverie irrelevant to the task at hand.”
“Did someone upgrade your vocabulary program?”
“Wool-gathering is a common, though somewhat archaic, phrase. Would you like me to give its derivation?”
“No. You’re right—I was distracted.” He sniffed. “But if we figured out how to control the