Jatouche (Pyreans Book 3)

by S. H. Jucha

  “I want to go,” Sasha said defiantly. Deliberately the teenager didn’t look at Tracy. Lindsey had taught her that her stare intimidated people.

  Tracy looked at Lindsey, who wore a sympathetic expression. The thought crossed Tracy’s mind that a berth aboard the Belle would mean sharing the ship with Sasha, and upsetting one of the most powerful and willful empaths wasn’t a good start. She examined her reasons for not wanting to journey to Na-Tikkook. It wasn’t the Jatouche. She liked them. Then it struck her. It was the gates. Their journey through the domes had been fraught with fear. The team never knew what they might find on the other end of a Q-gate. However, Tracy also realized that the other end of the Triton gate pair was Rissness. It was a known and, more important, a safe destination.

  “I’ll go on one condition,” Tracy said, after her lengthy pause to think. “We journey between the Triton and Rissness domes and nowhere else. If these two journey anywhere else, I’m staying behind.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Harbour said, staring straight at Sasha, “because if they even so much as climb on another platform at Rissness, I’ll hear about it, and they won’t have a cabin on the Belle any longer.”

  “I think that’s a pretty clear message, don’t you, Sasha?” Lindsey asked.

  The women could see Sasha chafe at any restrictions being placed on her first opportunity to leave Pyrean space.

  Sasha was tempted to argue, but her glance around was greeted with implacable faces. “I accept this condition,” she said, controlling her ire.

  “Not good enough,” Harbour riposted. “Looks like everyone’s staying aboard the Belle.”

  “Why? What did I do?” Sasha exclaimed.

  Harbour could feel Sasha’s power coiling, and she prepared to meet it. But Lindsey laid a hand on Sasha’s arm, and the girl clamped her gates shut.

  “You do recognize that you’re speaking to the Pyrean Envoy, don’t you, Sasha?” Lindsey asked. “She’s responsible for our society’s relationship with the aliens. If she feels she can’t trust us in Jatouche space, then she can’t risk us going.”

  “I said I was okay with Harbour’s condition,” Sasha objected.

  Tracy realized the difficulty that Harbour and Lindsey faced with Sasha and possibly the reason she was being tasked to guide the empaths. She chose to step in and respond for Harbour. “Sasha, your power is great, but you haven’t got much experience outside this ship, much less on an alien world. You tried to evade future conditions that might be placed on you by accepting one condition, at this time. It was a clumsy attempt to fool us.”

  Sasha forgot Lindsey’s admonitions and glared at Tracy, who laughed in her face. “You were right, Envoy. While Sasha might be one of the most powerful empaths, we’d be better off replacing her with one or two other more mature empaths.”

  “I can be mature,” Sasha said hotly. It galled her that in a short space of time, she’d dismissed most of Lindsey’s training on how to cooperate with individuals.

  And Harbour, for her part, couldn’t believe the shift in Tracy’s attitude. Then she recalled that it was Tracy who had been frequently called on to keep her brother, Dillon, in line. Perhaps the young woman had found a substitute for her brother. Harbour hoped Tracy was up to the challenge.

  “Prove it,” Tracy said.

  “How?” Sasha replied.

  “Think about your reply to the Envoy and try again,” Tracy demanded.

  Sasha wanted to ask which response Tracy referred to, but she knew that was being petulant. She felt hemmed in by two keepers, and it occurred to her that she’d just been strapped with an Aurelia substitute. Tracy reminded her of her sister.

  “I promise to accept any conditions placed on me,” Sasha said unhappily.

  “Excellent,” Tracy replied. “I have only one. You won’t go anywhere, do anything, or say anything without the express permission of one of us.”

  “That’s not fair,” Sasha declared.

  “That’s my condition for going,” Tracy said, who eyed Harbour and waited for a reply. In turn, Harbour gazed at Sasha.

  “Well?” Lindsey prompted.

  “Accepted,” Sasha grumped.

  “Excellent,” Harbour said, clapping her hands once. “One critical word about Rictook’s treatment. You know the Jatouche are highly susceptible to our powers. Lindsey, you’ll determine the level of ministration with the ruler, and you’ll teach Sasha to maintain that amount of power and no more.”

  “Understood, Envoy,” Lindsey said, and then the women excused themselves.

  Harbour strode to the bridge to send Jaktook a message. She found Jessie there reviewing the courses his ships would take to join the Pearl.

  “Birdie, can we make a call to the Triton dome?” Harbour asked.

  “Begging your pardon, Envoy, but I think you’ve spent too much time among the advanced aliens. We don’t have an ID for our dome,” Birdie replied.

  “Contact Aurelia, Birdie. She’s on the JOS,” Harbour requested.

  Jessie tapped the navigation officer on the shoulder and signaled him to wait. He was keenly interested in this conversation.

  “Afternoon, Envoy. How can I help you?” Aurelia replied congenially to Birdie’s request.

  Harbour smiled at the maturity that Aurelia’s voice projected. It was light-years away from the frightened and unsure young empath who Jessie rescued.

  “Aurelia, can the Belle communicate directly with the Triton dome?” Harbour asked.

  “Negative, Envoy, you don’t have the tech with which to key the console,” Aurelia replied. “According to Kractik, she’s not aware of any alliance race that has that capability. However, you can get Kractik’s attention.”

  “How?” Harbour asked.

  “Can you hear me, Birdie?” Aurelia asked.

  “Standing by, Aurelia,” Birdie replied, poising her fingers over her comm board.

  “Point a comm antenna, the strongest one you have, at Triton,” Aurelia said. “Oh, is the dome side facing us?”

  Navigation checked on Triton’s position and nodded to Jessie. “It is, Aurelia,” Jessie affirmed.

  “Antenna’s ready,” Birdie sang out.

  “Send a repetitive signal, Birdie, as if you were tapping out a music beat,” Aurelia said. When there was no answer forthcoming from Birdie, Aurelia started snapping her fingers to some unknown tune, and Birdie copied the cadence on her comm panel.

  Within a few minutes, Kractik’s face appeared on a separate monitor, “Are you requesting contact, Envoy?” Kractik asked, when Birdie accepted the call and activated the bridge’s vid pickup.

  “I am, Kractik. I need to speak with Jaktook,” Harbour requested.

  “Please be patient, Envoy. Jaktook is below deck,” Kractik replied. She touched her ear wig and mouthed something.

  Harbour signed to Birdie to mute the bridge side of the Triton connection. When Birdie signaled that was done, Harbour said, “Aurelia, well done. That was clever of you.”

  “Good to know it worked, Envoy,” Aurelia replied. “We can use this technique in the future to initiate communication from the stations or ships to the dome, as long as someone is standing by to recognize the console’s reaction. Anything else, Envoy?” Aurelia asked.

  “Thank you, Aurelia, you’ve been quite helpful,” Harbour replied, and Birdie closed the connection.

  While Harbour waited for Jaktook, Jessie sidled close and whispered, “I was dubious about what Aurelia could achieve trying to decrypt the dome’s glyphs, but it’s evident that she has a sense of the way the domes and the consoles work.”

  “I would characterize it as a form of intuition that perceives the minds of the Messinants,” Harbour whispered in reply.

  “That’s a creepy thought,” Jessie admitted.

  “Empaths can be a creepy lot,” Harbour riposted. She accompanied her remark with a wry grin, and Jessie bobbed his head in a combination of admittance and apology.

  “Here, Envoy,” Jak
took said, which drew Harbour’s attention, and Birdie opened the ship’s audio pick up.

  “Jaktook, His Excellency has been extremely generous,” Harbour said, “and I wish to reciprocate with a small gift.”

  “I’m sure His Excellency will appreciate whatever you choose to send, Envoy,” Jaktook replied. “Will it be aboard your ships?”

  “They will be,” Harbour replied.

  “They?” Jaktook inquired.

  “This is a special gift from me to Rictook, Jaktook,” Harbour replied. “Two empaths are prepared to attend His Excellency and alleviate the pain of his final days.”

  Jaktook’s slender jaw fell open. When it closed, he said, “Truly a magnificent gift, Envoy. His Excellency, the members of the royal family, and Jatouche citizens will be forever grateful. Who’s coming?”

  “I’m sending Lindsey and Sasha,” Harbour replied. When she saw Jaktook’s eyes narrow, she quickly added, “Lindsey will determine the dosage that your ruler can accommodate, and she will teach that to Sasha. I expect His Excellency’s treatment to last for many days. Only Sasha can keep up that length of continuous service.”

  “We trust your judgment in this, Envoy,” Jaktook said, although to Harbour he didn’t seem convinced.

  “In addition, I’m sending Tracy Shaver to act as their guide,” Harbour continued.

  “How is she faring?” Jaktook asked with concern.

  “I think minding Sasha will give her a new focus. That was her role with her sibling,” Harbour replied.

  “Tracy will enjoy her welcome among our citizenry, Envoy,” Jaktook replied. “She has no concept of the gratitude that awaits a Pyrean explorer on Na-Tikkook. I would wish you to experience it.”

  “Perhaps, someday, Jaktook, but there are pressing issues here,” Harbour replied. A small part of her was jealous. The thought of experiencing the gratitude of an entire race for what she had accomplished was enticing. This was as opposed to the decades of fear and other negative emotions her presence had engendered among Pyreans.

  “So it is for all of us who’ve accepted titles and responsibilities, Envoy,” Jaktook said. “As for myself, I would wish to be by Tacticnok’s side in these final days of her father’s life.”

  “We help our citizens where and how we can, Jaktook,” Harbour replied. “Our ships are ready and will launch within hours,” Harbour said, ending the comm.

  Soon after the comm to Triton, Harbour and Jessie exited the ship. Before Danny undocked from the JOS terminal arm, Harbour had a final word for the two pilots. “You two be safe at Triton. Hear me?”

  “He won’t be,” Claudia said, hooking a thumb at Danny, who frowned. “But that’ll be my job. You can count on it, Envoy.”

  “I do,” Harbour said, sending an affirmation of her affection for the couple before she exited the shuttle.

  Jessie noted Harbour was exceptionally quiet, as they made their way down the terminal arm. “Thoughts?” Jessie asked.

  “Hmm …” Harbour murmured.

  “I was wondering why you’re so quiet,” Jessie inquired.

  “I suddenly feel a great emptiness,” Harbour said.

  “And rightly so,” Jessie replied. “Why do you think spacers have such a bad reputation for the way they spend their downtime?” he asked.

  “I hadn’t given it any thought,” Harbour replied.

  “A crew is crammed into a ship. The captain and officers keep them constantly busy to prevent boredom and sloppiness. Then they battle the dangers of space, searching for metal on chunks of rocks. They’ll race the days. Whether they’re successful or not, the ship’s dwindling resources will force them to return to the JOS. On station, they’ll have a week, maybe two or three if they’ve made a good haul, to decompress. And you know what they’ll be feeling?”

  “A great emptiness?” Harbour guessed.

  Jessie winked at her, as they joined the queue for the transition to the station. They hadn’t been in line for long, when they heard the whoosh of the cap doors opening and heard, “Envoy, your cap is waiting.”

  Harbour looked up and saw spacers at the front of the line. They were waving her forward.

  “That’s your due, Envoy,” Jessie said. “You’re giving those spacers something else to live for besides the rigors of mining.”

  Harbour walked to the front of the line, with Jessie following. As she passed the spacers, she sent a wave of appreciation their way. Jessie and she joined the others already strapped into the cap, and Harbour had a moment to witness the smiles on the faces of the spacers she’d passed.

  “Feel better?” Jessie asked, leaning close to Harbour, as the cap began to move.

  “Much better,” Harbour acknowledged, with a smile.

  -45-

  Left Out

  In the morning, after a quick meal in her cabin, Harbour commed Liam and asked for a meeting. Two hours later, Harbour and Jessie walked into the commandant’s office.

  “I used to hate coming here,” Harbour remarked, when Liam stood from behind his new desk to exchange greetings.

  “And now?” Liam inquired.

  “It’s worse,” Jessie shot back, and the threesome shared a laugh.

  “I was curious if you could share the status of your investigation into Emerson’s death,” Harbour requested.

  “I don’t see why not,” Liam replied. “The investigation is closed. It’s been ruled a suicide by the medical director.”

  “Suicide?” Jessie questioned.

  “All indications point to that,” Liam said. “According to the medical director, Theo Formass, Emerson selected a plant distillate, which is commonly used as a tincture, but it requires a solution of fifty parts water to one part oil. Moreover, it’s for topical applications. I’ve been told that spacers and stationers often have their skin rubbed raw by vac suits and maintenance gear. The tincture prevents infection of the exposed skin.”

  “Dreeson oil,” Jessie exclaimed. “I’ve used it myself.”

  “According to Theo, who handled the autopsy, Emerson rubbed a quantity of the pure oil directly on his lips and ran his tongue over it,” Liam explained.

  Harbour shuddered at the image of a human being choosing to end his life that way. “Emerson must have been totally devastated by his election loss.”

  “Upset, pissed off, distraught,” Liam enumerated, “I can believe any of those, but suicidal … no. Emerson wasn’t the type to take his life. After he had some time and regained his balance, he’d have found a way to regain a position of power … topside or downside. That was the type of man he was, and if anybody should know that, I would.”

  “But you have no reason to suspect it wasn’t suicide,” Jessie pursued.

  “Unfortunately, none,” Liam replied. “That’s why the case is closed.”

  “Let’s talk about another subject,” Harbour said, and she brought Liam up-to-date on the communication with the Jatouche and the effort of their ships, which had sailed yesterday evening.

  “Twenty-seven complete intravertors, four more shells, and they’re willing to build our platform,” Liam said in wonderment. He sat back in his chair, and tears formed in his eyes.

  “It’s hard to take in,” Jessie commiserated.

  Liam regarded Harbour. “You did this,” he said.

  “We all did this,” Harbour replied. “It started when empaths began sparing spacers from security incarceration. It accelerated when we rescued Jessie’s sorry butt off Triton. One thing has led to another. It’s always involved Pyreans fighting for a better life for us all. Some have helped; some have been obstacles.”

  “I’ve been racking my brain for a way to stretch the Pyrean Green fund to cover the costs of these projects,” Liam said. “Now, I might be able to use the coin for other things.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Liam,” Jessie said. “People donated their coin for a specific reason. I think you’d need permission to apply those funds to other projects.”

  “Besides,
Liam, you might be paying it to us, or more specifically, to the Belle,” Harbour added.

  “Why’s that?” Liam asked.

  Harbour lifted an eyebrow at Jessie, who took that as a sign to initiate negotiations.

  “Liam, you might want to calculate the following,” Jessie began. “Storage of intravertor crates, storage of thirty-three intravertors until the platform is ready, and YIPS cabins for thirty to forty Jatouche engineers and techs.”

  “You don’t really want to have the Jatouche hosted by the YIPS, do you?” Liam asked Harbour.

  “No,” Harbour replied, “but is it fair for the Belle to be offline while these projects go forward? They benefit all of Pyre, and that was the purpose of the fund.”

  “You also need to consider that the Belle and my ships have been providing transport from Triton to Pyre and back for the Jatouche and their equipment,” Jessie pointed out.

  “I propose this, Harbour and Jessie,” Liam said, leaning back in his chair. “Detail the cargo space the equipment occupies, the work details, and the shuttle time to lift the Jatouche and materials from Triton, your transport charges, and your daily cost for hosting and storage, and I’ll request the comparable items from the YIPS.”

  “Another thing to add to the mix is the energy delivered by the intravertors to the YIPS,” Jessie added. “Launching thirty-three intravertors should power one-and-a-half lines of the YIPS. What’s that worth to the stations?”

  “I’ll have to form a board of some sort who can advise me on the value of these things,” Liam suggested.

  “I can volunteer one person to be on your advisory board,” Harbour said. “Speak to Dottie Franks. She might have been a little shaky, in the beginning, as a delegate. But she’s become an ardent supporter of our alien relationships and the future of the planet.”

  “I appreciate the suggestion, Harbour,” Liam said. “The advisory board can give me recommendations, and I’ll apportion some of the Pyrean Green funds to reimburse you,” Liam replied.

  Liam was feeling fairly good about his negotiating position. That was until he heard Jessie say, “That’s not good enough.”

  Momentarily, Liam was at a loss for a response.