by S. H. Jucha
“Aye, aye, Commander,” Jess replied smartly. He’d hoped for the opportunity to travel with the visitors.
“May I accompany Captain Cinders, Commander?” Tacnock requested.
Tzeena knew the pair was inseparable. Their personal bond was formed on the cycle of the Colony’s invasion, but it had always been that way between Pyreans and Jatouche. Despite their physical dissimilarities, their races shared similar societal attitudes.
“Permission granted, Captain Tacnock, provided the visitors permit it,” Tzeena replied.
Tacnock flashed his teeth at his bridge crew. He was thrilled, although not everyone shared his enthusiasm for experiencing what the visitors offered.
“Captain Tacnock and I are excused from duty to sail with you, if that’s acceptable,” Jess said, resuming the conversation with Olawale.
Despite not understanding the concept of being picked up, Jess eagerly coordinated with Tacnock to select a trajectory that headed them toward the moon’s station and put distance between the squadron and them.
Patrice eyed the Rêveur’s bridge crew. It was a desultory bunch of faces. A first contact with an alien race had resulted in the consignment of the crew to slow death. That insidious manner of demise forever lurked in the minds of those who plied the dark.
“Esteban, I need to speak with Lucia,” Patrice requested.
The SADE understood Patrice’s intentions. They’d used this technique many times already. Esteban linked to Lucia and nodded at Patrice.
Patrice knew that she had no expectation of privacy unless she requested it. If she’d learned one thing, it was that Omnians preferred to share. Their implants supported that, and it kept their society open and communicating with one another. There were secrets, but the vast majority of those were held by the SADEs at the behests of the various parties.
“Captain Bellardo, you couldn’t have known of this race’s penchant for abandoning its crews,” Patrice said. “We’ve entered a war zone. Our early encounters will bring unintended consequences. The races who are defending this system are requesting our help, and we need to learn what’s been transpiring in this part of the galaxy.”
Across the fleet, crews stopped to listen, as implants and ships’ comms were employed.
“I agree,” a Sol Enclave (SE) Trident captain said before the other two SE captains echoed his sentiment.
Olawale remained online and sent,
The Rêveur and the Judgment swept around the moon and sailed toward the defenders’ two ships.
Control was passed to Orbit. He communicated to the packet ship captains, directing their navigators onto the courses and velocities he required. Via the Rêveur’s controller, Orbit eased the liner between the small ships.
Francis Lumley ordered the crew chiefs to prepare for capture. In turn, the crew chiefs signaled the opening of the bay doors, and pilots launched the twin bay’s travelers to clear the tethering beams. The chiefs and their crews stood by on the starboard and port sides of the liner. Ensconced in environment suits, they watched the packet ships slide into view against the inky blackness of space, and the chiefs ordered the tethering beams powered.
When Captain Lumley received Orbit’s message of ship alignment, he sent to the crew chiefs,
Six tethering beams latched on to the two packet ships and held them tight. Then Orbit gently accelerated the Rêveur, careful not to exceed the maximum acceleration the packet ships’ crews could withstand. The SADE had determined that their engines were efficient but undersized, which allowed the liner to cut the packet ships’ travel time to the moon’s station in half.
Tzeena watched the visitors, with his packet ships in tow, sail away. Immediately, he placed a call to Fleet Commander Soshona to warn her of the visitors’ impending arrival.
-3-
Face to Face
“Your Excellency, I’ve urgent news,” Fleet Commander Soshona announced, entering the defenders’ planning room.
The young monarch, Talsoma, glanced up from the table screen and replied, “Report.”
Soshona briefed Talsoma and her advisors on the arrival of the humans’ fleet from outside the system.
Talsoma was young when the role of ruler was thrust upon her. Her patriarch was the monarch’s eldest. He should have inherited the throne, but he was journeying with his siblings when the Colony invaded the Sylian dome and cut off the possibility of his return. Talsoma was eighteen annuals in age when that happened. At twenty years of age, the aging monarch passed away, and she was the next in line.
At the present time, Talsoma had ruled for eight years, and she’d matured quickly under the unrelenting stress of the Colony’s efforts to overtake the Sylian system.
“When are the humans expected to arrive?” Talsoma asked, ignoring the question of how the visitors managed to make the Sylian system in the first place.
“They’ll soon make our orbital station,” Soshona replied.
“They’re already approaching the planet?” an advisor asked incredulously.
Talsoma silenced her advisor with a slash of a hand. Soshona’s statements were facts and not to be foolishly questioned. To the young monarch, the visitors’ efficient dispatch of a Colony shuttle, the attaching of two packet ships for transport, and the swift arrival overhead indicated the possibility of them being great assets to the defenders.
“I need a report about these humans,” Talsoma said. “Any information before meeting them will be invaluable.”
“The visitors say they’ve been searching for the Pyreans’ colony ship, and they’d like coordinates for Pyre’s star,” Soshona replied.
“Would they?” Talsoma mused.
“I’m told Captain Cinders explained to the expedition leader, Olawale Wombo, that it would be necessary to retake the dome to view its star display,” Soshona added, displaying a brief flash of canines.
“That was quick thinking by the captain,” Talsoma commented. “I wonder to what extent these humans could be induced to help us.”
“The visitors requested Captain Cinders accompany them planetside, and Captain Tacnock was granted permission to travel with them,” Soshona said. “Until the visitors possess ear wigs, only our Pyreans can speak to them. In addition, Commander Tzeena tells me that Captain Cinders seems to have established a rapport with their leaders.”
“And Tacnock?” Talsoma queried.
“Where Jess goes —” Soshona said.
“Tacnock goes,” Talsoma finished and grinned. She dismissed Soshona and her advisors. The visitors represented a tremendous advantage in the fight against the Colony. It was an opportunity she couldn’t afford to squander.
“I could use your advice, Father,” Talsoma whispered to the empt
y room. She possessed images of her father, but she was too young to have absorbed much wisdom from him.
The visitors’ initial impressions would be paramount, Talsoma reasoned. The throne room had been used only once eight years ago for her ascendency occasion. Since then, it had been lovingly cared for by the royal staff, but she’d never had another meeting there. To Talsoma, it seemed presumptuous for her to sit on the throne.
* * * * *
As the Rêveur neared Talseseena Station, the liner released the packet ships and decelerated. The packet ships sailed onward, seeking docks at one of the station’s numerous long terminal arms.
“Olawale, originally this station was the system’s primary hub,” Jess said. “It was the transfer point for citizens and guests between the dome and the planet. Freighters delivered their goods here. Then shuttles transferred those materials to the station orbiting the planet. Now, it’s used as a construction site and staging point for the packet ships before they sail for the moon’s station.”
“A what?” Jess asked.
“Your shuttles are warships ... fighters?” Tacnock asked, which Jess repeated to Lucia for him.
“We can evacuate any number of construction bays of their vehicles to make room for your landings,” Jess offered.
“We’ll need time to clear the bay of anything flammable, unless you can use attitude jets to guide your ship into the bay,” Tacnock said, which Jess repeated. The laboriousness of the three-way conversations reminded Jess to collect some ear wigs at the station.
Jess and Tacnock filed those pieces of information away. They were quickly collecting fascinating technological data points about the visitors.
As Tacnock’s packet ship docked, he communicated the visitors’ needs to the station director, who took convincing that the arriving ship was without jets and didn’t burn reaction mass. With Jess’s added persuasion, the director ordered the emptying of a bay of construction vehicles.
Patrice requested a side conversation with Olawale. He indicated a quiet area of the bridge, and she shook her head and led him to the captain’s cabin. It was the nearest cabin to the bridge, and it was one of the few cabins Patrice could locate. With their implants, the Omnians hadn’t bothered to label the doors of the Méridien-built liner.
Olawale triggered the cabin door aside for Patrice.
Inside, Patrice eyed Olawale for a moment. Then she said, “No pun intended, but we’re entering uncharted territory, and you and I have to come to an understanding. We came to this part of the galaxy to find the Honora Belle and the descendants of our colonists. But all this,” she said, waving an arm around her, “is something else entirely.”
“Patrice, considering your history with us, you had to know that there was the possibility of encountering more than Earth’s colonists,” Olawale said.
“I’m not lamenting what we’ve found, Olawale,” Patrice replied. “I think it’s fascinating, but it does change our situation.”
“How?” Olawale asked. He was concerned about what was bothering Patrice.
“We’ve entered a conflict zone,” Patrice said. “You know well that I knew the Omnians when they were the Harakens. Despite the name change, they’re the same people inside. And you, you might have been an Earther once, but you’re now just like the rest of them in this fleet. All of you want to help these ... these individuals.”
Olawale tried to interrupt, but Patrice waved him off.
“I don’t have a problem with you aiding these races against their enemy,” Patrice continued, “but you need to remember that your assets are the Rêveur and the Judgment. Three Tridents out there belong to the Sol Enclave.”
Olawale folded his arms and waited. Patrice wasn’t wrong about what she’d said, but he was sure that she was building to a point that she wanted to make.
Patrice saw Olawale’s body posture, and she regretted what she had to say. Through Olawale’s efforts, the Omnians had given Sol huge technological advances. Then they’d generously offered to assist with the search for the Honora Belle.
“You need to share the expedition’s leadership, Olawale. I can’t allow you to unilaterally send Earther ships and crews into harm’s way without my approval,” Patrice stated forcefully.
“Done,” Olawale replied.
“Done?” Patrice queried.
“Your request is fair,” Olawale said. “I don’t know why you thought that this had to be a private discussion.”
“Was it private?” Patrice asked.
Olawale grinned, triggered the cabin door aside, and asked, “Shall we return to the bridge?”
“I thought not,” Patrice grumped, as she led the way out of the cabin. “Do we need to make an announcement?” she asked, as they crossed the bridge passageway.
“Omnians already know,” Olawale replied. “I suggest you promote one of your captains to senior captain, and let that individual make an announcement to your warship crews.”
“What about Lucia?” Patrice asked, suddenly concerned for her friend’s position in the fleet.
“Lucia has been promoted to the rank of commodore,” Olawale replied. When Patrice turned a quizzical expression his way, he explained, “While I’m happy to share expedition responsibilities with you, Patrice, neither of us has the expertise to command warships. If there is a reason to engage our ships in a conflict, and you commit your forces, then Commodore Bellardo must have ultimate authority over your Tridents. Are we agreed?”
Patrice considered her options, and then she replied, “Agreed.”
“Please ensure that you make that clear to your new senior captain,” Olawale stated. “Lucia has been informed of our agreement and has accepted the arrangement.”
That Lucia had to agree to the new convention reminded Patrice of Alex’s strict admonishment to Olawale. At the discretion of the senior warship commander and on matters of security, the expedition leader’s control would be superseded for the duration of the danger.
“Esteban, may I have your services?” Patrice requested. She reversed course and headed back to the captain’s cabin.
Esteban signaled the door open for Patrice, and accompanied her inside. “Whom do you wish to promote?” he asked her.
For a brief moment, Patrice was irritated by the rapid pace of Omnian communications and decision-making. Then she realized her anger was directed at the time and opportunities lost by Sol through the centuries of stultifying control by the previous government, United Earth.
“Do you have a suggestion, Esteban?” Patrice thought to ask.
“Not directly,” Esteban replied. “I’m not an expert on the subject, but I know who is most proficient.”
“Commodore Bellardo,” Patrice suggested.
“Precisely,” Esteban replied. “Do you wish to consult with her?”
“Please,” Patrice replied.
Esteban linked with Lucia and briefly explained the circumstances.
In Patrice’s ear comm as relayed by Esteban, she heard, “Congratulations on your elevation, Patrice. How can I help you?”
“I’m seeking your advice, Commodore,” Patrice said, letting Lucia know that she was up-to-date on her promotion.
“Captain Tenard,” Lucia replied.
“What?” Patrice asked.
“You wanted to know who I’d recommend for senior captain of the Sol Tridents, didn’t you?” Lucia asked.
“Yes, I did,” Patrice replied, �
��but why Oleg Tenard? I would have thought he would have been your second, if not third, choice.”
“This isn’t something I can easily explain, Patrice,” Lucia replied. “You’ve always operated under the rule of law, as specified by your superiors. Out here, there is no one to appeal to when conflicts arise, and they’ll come at us in many different shapes and sizes. Worse, we’ve no set of rules that guide our response to any one condition. Survival depends on a flexible mind. I know Captain Tenard has an unassuming personality, but he has the right mindset.”
“You’re aware that if it comes to a conflict, and I agree to commit Sol’s Tridents, that they’ll be under your command,” Patrice said. “In which case, I believe it’s best to accept your recommendation. You’re the individual who’ll have to command them.”
Esteban nodded at Patrice, indicating that the link had been closed.
“My captains, please,” Patrice requested of Esteban.
“I’ve sent requests to the captains to occupy their cabins for a private conversation with you,” Esteban replied. “Do you wish to communicate to Captain Tenard first?”
“Yes, thank you,” Patrice replied.
When Oleg answered the comm call in his cabin, Patrice explained what had transpired. She finished with the announcement of his promotion to senior captain.
“Thank you for the honor, Patrice,” Oleg replied. “I’ve one question. Does this mean that our Tridents will be required to operate independently of the Omnians?”
“No,” Patrice replied. “In all actions, you’ll be under the command of Commodore Bellardo.”
“That’s good. You had me worried for a minute,” Oleg replied, with obvious relief. “We’ve learned to fly these warships, maintain them, and fire their weapons, but we’re not proficient at fighting them in a coordinated action.”
“I don’t mind admitting, Captain, that we’re all a little unprepared for what we’re finding,” Patrice said. “By all, I mean those of us from Sol. We must rely on the Omnians to guide us. They’re the experienced individuals in first contacts and conflicts.”
