Free The Myriad: Tour of the Merrimack #1 by R.M. Meluch Page A

distance in local units!”) Farragut called to all present.
    A xeno fed him the Myriadian translation of six thousand, four hundred parsecs.
    The Archon looked profoundly impressed by the reply. The females looked quite vacant, as if they could not count that high.
    Donner asked in wonderment, “Where is the kzachin you came by?”
    Farragut glanced to Augustus, as all the xenos tapped at the language modules.
    (“I’m pulling up ‘hollow,’ for kzachin ,”) said Farragut, perplexed. (“Is he saying they travel between planets by ‘hollows’ or did he change the subject again?”)
    Augustus answered in Myriadian, “Ask the Archon if his people used the kzachin to travel to this world from Origin.”
    Donner reacted as if a chair had spoken. He would not address a minion, so rather than ask Augustus to explain himself, Donner demanded from Farragut, “What do you know of Origin!”
    Farragut deferred. “Colonel Augustus, what do we know of Origin?”
    Augustus answered immediately, “The sun is orange. The air is thin. The oceans are less than one percent saline. Origin is larger than Arra, but it is sixty percent the density. Native-born T’Arraiet have a much higher bone density than natives of Origin. A day on Origin is thirty percent longer than on Arra. The period of revolution around Origin’s sun is roughly half a T’Arra year. How are we doing?”
    Donner looked astonished.
    (“I sense a direct hit, Mr. Holmes,”) Farragut commented to his Roman Intelligence Officer in English.
    Donner exclaimed, “You have been to Origin!”
    Farragut shook his head, then remembered that the gesture did not translate. Spoke, “No. It’s all deduction. From what you are, he can figure back to where you must have come. He is particularly gifted that way.”
    “May I have him?”
    Refusing a request for a gift was always a dicey thing. Farragut demurred, “Actually, he is on loan to me. He is not mine to give.”
    Donner beckoned the captain closer, advised softly, “Then you should give him back. He bears you no good.”
    Farragut nodded. Very astute observation from an alien species. But then one would not expect the Archon to be the dimmest star in the cluster.
    “Can you tell me, then, where Origin is?” Donner challenged.
    Before the captain could answer, a large, collared animal trotted into the chamber. A boxy-headed, muscular dog-thing. It looked up at its adored master, Donner, then veered to the line of Marines along the wall.
    The husky dog-thing raised its hackles and growled at Colonel Steele.
    The Archon pointed at Steele. “That one bears me ill.” The Archon’s guards stiffened, and the Marines stiffened in response.
    “No,” Farragut tried to tell him.
    “Oh, he does,” Donner insisted, knowing.
    “He does,” Colonel Steele confirmed for him.
    And on second look, Farragut agreed that gentle lies were probably a bad approach here. He explained, “My ship tripped a minefield at the perimeter of your Myriad. Colonel Steele lost a man.”
    “The minefield was not meant for you,” said Donner. “You must not take it as hostility, Captain Farragut.” Donner offered no apology to Steele.
    “Who were the mines meant for?” Farragut asked.
    “Not for you.”
    His dog-thing growled.
    “Oh, sit down!” the Archon commanded.
    The dog-thing squared itself like a gargoyle opposite Colonel Steele, sat.
    The Arran women tittered behind long, graceful hands, an infectious sound, and in a moment the Earth Marines lost the fight to contain their sniggers. Donner scowled at the women, and Farragut stared at his Marines in confusion. (“What is it?”)
    At that, the Marines sputtered, and the Arran women bubbled with giggles.
    Flight Sergeant Cole blurted in English, (“They look like bookends, sir!”)
    Kerry Blue yelped, stifled a laugh with a whimper. The Arran women tittered, not understanding the words, but the pitch of the voices translated well enough.
    “Bookends,” Augustus