their first steps towards the stars. Bud Faragon, the Admiral and military man, had been immediately taken by the thought of what the Heshe tech could mean for humanity's war machine. At the same time Bud Faragon, the man and father, was aware of the awesome responsibility the Heshe technology represented. That which could heal a body or repair a starship, could just as easily be used to do the reverse.
There was an inherent danger when integrating new technologies within a society. Just as a parent keeps matches away from children, the Heshe had kept certain technologies, technologies that humanity was not mature enough to handle, away from mankind. Humanity and the GCP recognized this discernment was a critical aspect of surviving the cultural shock such technological advancements represented.
The GCP existed in part to explore and exchange technologies with member races. Cultural discernment was a part of that sharing process. The race that had attacked the Yorktown and stolen data had bypassed this discernment. This was concerning on many fronts. Irresponsible use of technology could damage a society and lead to war, death, and destruction. The Admiral had lost some of his own children in those first days of the D'lralu war, as humanity struggled to grasp and understand how to best use this gift the Heshe had given them. The father in him wanted no more sons and daughters lost because of what had been stolen today, and yet he knew such a hope was fleeting at best.
He turned from the window and spoke to the pilot. "Ensign, go ahead and take us in. I've seen enough."
***
Rasta-Tckner awoke still pinned to a table. Instinctively he reached for the hive mind. For a second he connected via his purely organic hive node. This node operated in what humans called a frequency modulation mode. That of course meant it was limited to the speed of radio waves. The hive mind was currently engaged in a much tighter synthetic quantum entangled link. By comparison, the latency of his radio link was slow and from the hive mind's perspective, his thoughts crawled at a similarly slow pace. His mind was expelled from the link without so much as a conscious thought by the hive mind.
Rasta-Tckner never felt so alone. All he had wanted to do was help. It had been said by the famous Hymenopteran philosopher Yrogerg-Eriuqam in the time before technology that ' No good deed goes unpunished. ' It seemed this was sometimes still true. Never the less, the optimist that was Rasta-Tckner refused to give in to pessimism. His captors were only responding in kind to the treatment they had received at the hands of hive.
He noted the wound to his leg had been patched with some type of chemical adhesive. It was effective but the smell was atrocious. It smelled like the scent plants gave off when they were allowed to ferment, producing hydroxylated sugars. The only good news was that such compounds were often used by medical personnel to sterilize surfaces, so he knew his injury was disinfected.
With a soft click his restraints were retracted and he was able to right himself on the table. A basin was visible in the corner of the small white-walled room. He noted the temperature, air pressure, humidity, and oxygen levels seemed to be ideal for his species. He guessed the biopsy taken earlier had been used to determine the specific needs of his physiology.
The basin, when he inspected it , was divided into two sections. One side held water while the other held a slightly sweet synthetic nectar. It seemed his captor wanted him to survive a bit longer.
***
Commodore Cat Kimbridge surveyed the scene from the edge of a platform mounted on their improvised dirigible. The Heidman , or at least a piece of it, was just ahead. Lieutenant Scott and Ricky Valen were both swinging their rope 'toss and pull' anchors. One after the other. They weren't making great speed but they were making steady progress. On the positive side, the piece of the
There was an inherent danger when integrating new technologies within a society. Just as a parent keeps matches away from children, the Heshe had kept certain technologies, technologies that humanity was not mature enough to handle, away from mankind. Humanity and the GCP recognized this discernment was a critical aspect of surviving the cultural shock such technological advancements represented.
The GCP existed in part to explore and exchange technologies with member races. Cultural discernment was a part of that sharing process. The race that had attacked the Yorktown and stolen data had bypassed this discernment. This was concerning on many fronts. Irresponsible use of technology could damage a society and lead to war, death, and destruction. The Admiral had lost some of his own children in those first days of the D'lralu war, as humanity struggled to grasp and understand how to best use this gift the Heshe had given them. The father in him wanted no more sons and daughters lost because of what had been stolen today, and yet he knew such a hope was fleeting at best.
He turned from the window and spoke to the pilot. "Ensign, go ahead and take us in. I've seen enough."
***
Rasta-Tckner awoke still pinned to a table. Instinctively he reached for the hive mind. For a second he connected via his purely organic hive node. This node operated in what humans called a frequency modulation mode. That of course meant it was limited to the speed of radio waves. The hive mind was currently engaged in a much tighter synthetic quantum entangled link. By comparison, the latency of his radio link was slow and from the hive mind's perspective, his thoughts crawled at a similarly slow pace. His mind was expelled from the link without so much as a conscious thought by the hive mind.
Rasta-Tckner never felt so alone. All he had wanted to do was help. It had been said by the famous Hymenopteran philosopher Yrogerg-Eriuqam in the time before technology that ' No good deed goes unpunished. ' It seemed this was sometimes still true. Never the less, the optimist that was Rasta-Tckner refused to give in to pessimism. His captors were only responding in kind to the treatment they had received at the hands of hive.
He noted the wound to his leg had been patched with some type of chemical adhesive. It was effective but the smell was atrocious. It smelled like the scent plants gave off when they were allowed to ferment, producing hydroxylated sugars. The only good news was that such compounds were often used by medical personnel to sterilize surfaces, so he knew his injury was disinfected.
With a soft click his restraints were retracted and he was able to right himself on the table. A basin was visible in the corner of the small white-walled room. He noted the temperature, air pressure, humidity, and oxygen levels seemed to be ideal for his species. He guessed the biopsy taken earlier had been used to determine the specific needs of his physiology.
The basin, when he inspected it , was divided into two sections. One side held water while the other held a slightly sweet synthetic nectar. It seemed his captor wanted him to survive a bit longer.
***
Commodore Cat Kimbridge surveyed the scene from the edge of a platform mounted on their improvised dirigible. The Heidman , or at least a piece of it, was just ahead. Lieutenant Scott and Ricky Valen were both swinging their rope 'toss and pull' anchors. One after the other. They weren't making great speed but they were making steady progress. On the positive side, the piece of the
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