The gallery felt large, but most of that was probably owed to the fact it was a meter taller than the one on the Ansari, and the fact everyone was still in micro-grav. Susan slipped a toe into an oversized foot loop to anchor herself. Apparently, the damage to their power systems was such that they hadn’t been able to restore artificial gravity, not even on a low power setting. Things onboard the Chusexx were desperate indeed. But if they were panicked, the two dozen Xre before her showed no sign of it. Not that she had the least idea what to look for as far as body language or … facial expressions were concerned.
“Ah, hello.” It seemed as good a place to start as any. “I’m Captain Susan Kamala of the CCDF Ansari.” Susan took care to point at herself, to avoid any confusion. “My people and I come in peace and friendship to offer you whatever assistance we can give.”
For their part, the Xre appeared unmoved by the announcement. Neither hostile, nor cowering. They just stared back at her, through dozens of unblinking eyes and thousands of lenses. Even as her marines filled in behind her, they just kept … looking. For an interminably long moment, the two sides exchanged glances in utter silence. Only when the last marine had cycled through and taken their place did the crowd in front of her stir. It was then Susan realized her mistake. The Xre were intensely communal. Almost, but not quite, a hive organism. They’d been waiting until her entire cell, or hill, or whatever, was present, probably out of courtesy.
She’d jumped the gun.
Susan was just about to repeat her announcement when it began. It was low at first, a humming, but not coming from any of the mouths of the aliens before her. Instead, the sound appeared to be generated from their legs being gently rubbed against their bulbous abdomens.
Then, the harmony began. It wasn’t singing as Susan understood the concept. In place of voices, there were whistles, clicks, and pure notes as if played through woodwinds. It built, slowly at first, with subtle undertones rising and falling from prominence among the layers of complexity until defining themes evolved as if out of chaos. Wave after wave of music washed over her, like she was a buoy floating on a rhythmic ocean of sound in the middle of a hurricane.
Susan completely forgot where she was and what she was doing under the melodic massage, the aural elation of it all. Her eyes closed, and she felt her consciousness melt into the music. Were there words and meaning hidden among the sounds, or were the notes just the meaningless beauty she heard through her ignorant, virgin ears? She didn’t know. She didn’t care.
Then, the piece faded, until all that remained was an echo of the melody that had been the backbone of the performance. Then, even that disappeared. In the aftermath of such an unexpectedly transcendent experience, the silence that followed felt like an insult. An assault, even.
Susan opened her eyes to see a droplet of water floating in front of her face. It was only then she realized she’d been crying, the half-formed tears blurring her vision until she shook her head and cast them into her helmet. Among all the danger and death and fear they must have felt, her hosts had decided to greet their enemies with that. She wanted to say something, gush over the performance, compliment the singers, something to express the gratitude she felt pressing against the confines of her soul before she burst, but no worthy words presented themselves.
As she struggled, one of the Xre, a beta caste if she was any judge, swung forward on one of its larger upper arms and placed itself slightly ahead of the rest of the group, but not separate from it.
It spoke softly. A rough translation came from speakers built into the corners of the space where they would most efficiently fill the room with sound.
“Contrite, Susan Kamala,” the synthesized English voice said in the alien’s stead. “Short time preparation. Song inferior.”
It took a moment for Susan to realize what the creature was trying to say. It was actually apologizing for the quality of the performance she’d just witnessed.
“No.” She waved her hands and shook her head. “It was beautiful. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”
The Xre held out a claw and pointed it at Susan’s face. “But you leak. You not are upset?”
Susan sniffled. “Humans cry for many reasons. These were good tears. I promise. Thank you for sharing your voices with us. They were incredible.”
The Xre looked back to consult with two others for a moment; one was of the larger alpha caste with their thicker bodies, twin arms, and quad legs. The various Xre morphologies were well-studied from cadavers left over after several different engagements in the last war. But their social hierarchies and even military chains of command remained opaque. Indeed, no one really knew if the Xre even bothered to make a meaningful distinction between civilian and military.
The impromptu confab ended. “Not disappoint?” the same alien asked.
“Far from it,” Susan answered.
“This pleases. I am Thuk. We early sing.”
“Captain Thuk, I’m honored to meet you, and your crew. I’m sorry your ship was damaged in the course of your duties. How can we help?”
Thuk conferred quietly with several other members of his crew before answering. “Rotting light corruption move through air tunnels. Trapped harmony. Wounded. Choke soon.”
Susan looked back at her people. “Anybody want to take a crack at that?”
“Rotting light…” a private first class ventured. Susan recognized him. He’d been blue a few weeks ago.
“Spit it out, PFC.”
“… well, ‘rotting light’ could mean hard radiation. Radiation is just higher-energy light further up the EM spectrum, right? Like the gamma leaking from their ass end. Radiation rots flesh, right? It’s probably contaminated
