by S. H. Jucha
Morris nodded at the tribunes and cleared her throat, twice. She summarized the station’s financial trends for the past three decades — docking fees, bay fees, service fees, and distribution of those funds. While she spoke, Cordelia ran a series of vids that the repair teams were collecting of pre- and post-repair jobs.
“I’m sorry to report, Tribunes, that much of the funds for station maintenance has been diverted,” Morris said, ducking her head.
“Diverted where?” Ian Brennan demanded, leaning forward onto the table.
“Your Major Lindling and his family have become wealthy individuals, while your station suffered,” Alex said. “From the records we’ve recovered, the past four senior militia officers have all participated in the looting of station funds. When was the last time any of you sent an accountant to check on station finances?”
Lucchesi and Woo looked at Brennan, but he was staring with disgust at Woo.
“I see,” Alex said. “Well, at this rate, you probably would have lost this station to catastrophic accident in another decade or so. As it is, I’ve decided to turn it back into a going concern.”
“Looking at those images, I would surmise, President Racine, after decades of neglect, you don’t have the workforce to manage the extensive repairs that have accrued,” Brennan challenged.
“Oh, but I do, Tribune Brennan, with the shop owners, the militia, the rebels, and my people working side by side, we’re making great progress,” Alex replied.
“What?” Lucchesi cried, disbelieving he heard correctly. “The rebels?”
“Um … I meant to clarify that, Tribunes,” Morris stammered. “In the recordings you saw, most of those working with the militia aren’t stationers. They’re … um … they’re rebels.”
“It’s actually working out quite well,” Alex said cheerfully. “We’ve had a few incidents, but nothing more than fistfights.”
“And you expect us to believe this?” Lucchesi asked.
“It’s as the president says, Tribune Lucchesi,” Morris replied respectfully. “My people have been assigned work details, and we are cooperating with the rebels, the station personnel, and the Harakens.”
“How many of your people survived the fight, Lieutenant?” Woo asked. “And I presume that Major Lindling and Captain Yun are dead.”
Alex gave Morris an encouraging smile, which Woo interpreted as the victor lauding over the captured.
“Major Lindling had us build a barricade in the main corridor admin area and ordered us to fire on the Harakens when they breached our admin doors,” Morris explained.
“And?” Woo pressed.
“Nothing, Tribune. Our guns were rendered inoperable. Something about nanites,” Morris replied and shrugged her shoulders. She appeared apologetic and confused.
“Nanites, Sers,” Alex said. “Just another piece of technology we possess that triumphs over your great forces. We don’t need size to defeat you. Although, we have twenty-eight more carriers, just like the two here at the station.”
Alex’s people kept their faces carefully schooled, but implant comms were burning the air.
“Julien, what is our latest fighter total?”
Julien calculated the minimum number of fighters that twenty-eight nonexistent carriers could land and came up with approximately 13,000, but he decided to join in Alex’s game. “As of the latest count, Mr. President, we have 32,319 fighters.”
“Apologies, Julien,” Z added, “but that number doesn’t take into account the pending production of the newest version of our fighters.”
“True, Z,” Cordelia chimed in. “Production will be completing 116 fighters a day by now.”
Woo glanced at Lumley, who shrugged his shoulders as if to say it was possible.
“So you’ve advanced technology, you’ve a powerful military force, and you have our station, Mr. President. What’s next?” Brennan asked.
“What’s next is we negotiate a resolution to rectify this incredulously poor diplomatic start by your people. We negotiate a peace.”
“There’s no reason that can’t be accommodated,” Lucchesi replied, smiling.
“And there lies the problem, Tribune Lucchesi. I don’t trust you,” Alex replied, leaning toward the vid pickup. “Your two most senior people, the speaker and the high judge, were two of the most duplicitous men I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. And, I have it on good authority that they are symptomatic of your political hierarchy, which puts me in the difficult position of deciding how to deal with you three.”
“I would like to know how you can make statements like that without even knowing us. Good authority, indeed!” Lucchesi replied.
The Harakens’ vid pickup opened wider. Arrayed behind Alex was a group of senior people.
“Olawale!” Lumley exclaimed, forgetting in whose company he sat and jumping up.
“Francis, my friend,” Olawale said, standing as well, his huge smile a blaze of white in his dark face. “It’s good to see you well.”
“That Ser Wombo and these other senior scientists would rather risk fortune with a strange civilization than stay with their own people speaks volumes, Tribunes,” Alex said.
“If you can’t trust us, then why even come here?” Woo asked.
“To prevent you from sending a fleet to my worlds,” Alex replied. “If we see any sizable fleet forming or ships heading out of system in the same direction as our worlds, for whatever reason, we will destroy them. No warning; no questions asked. In the meantime, I’ll continue with my experiment.”
“And that experiment is the station,” Brennan pursued.
“Exactly, Tribune,” Alex replied.
“After you repair it, then what?” Woo asked.
“You don’t understand, Tribunes. I’m not going to just repair this station. I’m going to return it to prosperous operation.”
“But for what purpose?” Lucchesi asked.
“It’s a lesson for you, Tribunes. When you figure it out, please comm me. Have your comms personnel place a call to Idona Station as if it was in your planet’s orbit. Our SADEs will do the rest. I’ll be in touch,” Alex said and cut the connection.
Realizing he was still standing, Lumley sat back down, a small smile on his face. He couldn’t be happier for his friend, Olawale, who had found the better way of living that he was hoping to discover.
Lucchesi shoved back his chair and hurried his bulk out of the room as fast as he could. He had no desire to participate in the after-comm analysis he was certain his colleagues wanted him to join.
“Are you hungry, Captain?” Woo asked. “We would like you to join us for some dinner and extended conversation.”
* * *
Lumley was allowed to eat his entire meal in peace, and a generous meal it was. Dessert and a port were served and consumed before the conversation began.
“Could the Harakens have twenty-eight carriers of the size reported at Idona Station?” Woo asked Lumley.
“Consider, Tribune Woo, that the Reunion entered a system with a reportedly single colony of just a half million people and one of those monster carriers was present. A single carrier on station, armed with 256 fighters, for one small colony,” Lumley said, posing the rhetorical question.
“My guess,” Lumley continued, “is that the Hand of Justice met several of these carriers at New Terra. Twenty-eight carriers and tens of thousands of fighters spread among their home worlds would suggest why the president has the assurance to come light years to our system with only two carriers.”
In the quiet that followed Lumley’s statements, the captain took the opportunity to ask the question that drove him to be on his best behavior wi
th the tribunes. “What about my crew?”
“The Haraken president’s call, a no-delay comm from Idona Station to Earth, will be around the globe by morning, if I know my military grapevine,” Woo said. “There’s no more need to hold your crew. They’ll be released in the morning. We’ll expect their cooperation, of course. The story will be that isolation was necessary to ensure that no microorganisms were carried back to Earth after contact with the aliens.”
When Lumley’s eyebrow rose in question, Woo amended, “After contact with these distant humans.”
“Why resurrect the station? What’s the lesson we’re supposed to get?” Brennan asked. He looked at Woo, who just returned his stare, before Brennan turned to regard Lumley.
“I can’t say that I know what’s in the president’s mind, but I could hazard a guess,” Lumley replied.
“Do educate us, Captain,” Woo said, gesturing toward Lumley with her crystal glass of fine vintage port.
“I would like to be forgiven in advance for what I’m about to say, Tribunes.” When both nodded to Lumley, he put aside his glass of port and leaned on the table. “I believe the president came here as he said to prevent our fleet from arriving in one of his systems without his foreknowledge. It’s the sort of smart strategic move that I think he would make, but now he’s stuck.”
“What do you mean stuck?” Brennan asked.
“The Harakens strike me as honorable people, so I don’t think they’ll be the ones to start a war, even though they might well be the ones who end it. Problem is they find us despicable and corrupt. So how do you start a dialog with people you can’t trust?”
Lumley sat back in his chair and regarded the two tribunes, who appeared lost in their own thoughts. He didn’t have a clue as to the answer to the question he just asked, but he hoped he had presented the Harakens’ conundrum properly.
“By not employing dialog,” Brennan said, suddenly sitting upright and spilling his port. “You don’t talk; you do.” He looked expectantly at the table’s other diners. “Don’t you see? The president has had the inside story on us from the beginning … first from our over-ambitious high judge and speaker and then from our scientists who defected. So when the president takes Idona Station for his headquarters, he finds a perfect example of our systematic failures — people rebelling against harsh policies, corruption of militia officers, and critical infrastructure repairs ignored — the works.”
“The images of the station before repair were appalling,” Woo agreed. “I wonder how many other locations we have that are in as bad a shape as the station, which we are completely ignorant about.”
“Probably more than we care to contemplate, but that’s not the lesson we’re supposed to be learning. The captain gave us the clue,” Brennan said, hoisting his glass to Lumley. “The Harakens are honorable people. Look at the president’s goal and how he intends to get there. He’s teaching us that if you remove the strife between our people and give them a common goal that supports their welfare … watch what happens.”
“Do you think that he can succeed?” Woo asked.
“I have no idea, but let’s face it,” Brennan replied. “We’re out of our depth here. President Racine might as well truly be an alien. His mindset is worlds away from ours … no pun intended … and his people possess technology that we can’t even conceive.”
“So what if we learn this lesson … unite and things will be better?” Woo asked, shaking her head at the preposterousness of it all. “What could we do with it? We can’t replicate it. No one would accept this concept coming from the Supreme Tribunal.”
“Maybe you won’t have to worry,” Lumley said, leaning back into his chair with a grin.
-9-
Twenty-eight carriers wasn’t the only lie Alex told the Tribunal. Progress on the station wasn’t proceeding as smoothly as Alex might have indicated. In fact, there were many more complications to sorting out the issues on board the station than Alex and his people could have conceived — everything was far from copacetic.
To begin with, the rebels suffered from a lack of quality medical care and insufficient nutritional intake. Some of the rebels displayed symptoms of genetically inherited diseases, and others suffered from ailments and accidents, displaying arthritic joints, poorly healed multiple fractures, and severe burns.
In preparation for the journey to Sol, Terese Lechaux, the Harakens’ senior medical expert, ordered the medical teams to initiate the manufacture of large quantities of medical nanites. Her intentions were to be prepared for her people’s treatment.
Terese was observing vid streams of the rebels as they emerged into the outer ring, courtesy of the SADEs’ transmissions to the fleet, when the sight of a young boy with burns along one side of his face and into his scalp galvanized her. She organized her people and commandeered three travelers, which were landing at the station within hours and were filled with medical teams, equipment, containers of medical nanites, and GEN machines. Julien was conscripted to assist Terese in reprogramming the medical nanites, which were set for a 180-day lifetime in order to cure some of the rebels’ more obstinate medical problems.
A little-used medical facility was commandeered by Terese, and Haraken crew began clearing out the outdated medical supplies and equipment, replacing it with the fleet’s surplus stock. Once the facilities were ready, Terese waited impatiently for the first patients to arrive. She intended to service every rebel, even the healthy, using the medical nanites to bolster their health. However, despite sending medical personnel to collect the first groups of rebels, none arrived at the medical station.
Terese hurried to the meeting hall, working her way through the rebels lining the corridor and up to the table where the main constituents sat.
“Pardon me, Ser Fowler, we need to deal with an important issue before we continue,” Alex said.
“You’re Ser Fowler, I believe,” Terese said firmly to Nikki, her hands on her hips and an impatient look in her eyes.
“Allow me to present our chief medical adviser, Ser Terese Lechaux, Ser Fowler,” Alex said as diplomatically as he could. “She obviously is ready to help your people with medical issues.”
“We’ve just met you,” Nikki said. “I have no idea what medical experimentation you wish to perform on my people.”
“Medical experimentation —” Terese replied hotly, which caused more than one Haraken within earshot to wince. Fortunately, Terese was interrupted, before she could continue.
“Ser Lechaux, allow me to help,” Wombo said, stepping forward. “Ser Fowler, my associates and I are UE scientists who left the explorer-ship Reunion while it was in the Haraken system. We’ve received medical treatment from Ser Lechaux and her people, and I can tell you that your people will be most carefully treated and will enjoy health improvements that you can’t imagine.”
Wombo explained to Nikki the ills that the Harakens had cured for him. The other scientists joined in and related their personal stories of ailments cured by the Harakens’ amazing medical technology.
“Okay, okay,” said Nikki, raising her hands to back off the elderly scientists who had crowded around her and urged her to reconsider her decision. With the scientists eagerly sharing their ages, Nikki admitted that they did not look their advanced ages and possessed robust, healthy glows.
“I better not regret this,” Nikki said, staring intently at Terese. “You can start with the worst cases, but know that I’ll be closely monitoring your efforts.”
“I would have started with the worst cases, Ser Fowler,” Terese replied, locking eyes with Nikki. “But I will treat all your people. I can do no less.” Terese
spun around and left as quickly as she had arrived.
“Bit of a whirlwind personality there,” Nikki said quietly.
“You have no idea,” Alex and Tatia said simultaneously, and they shared small smiles, relieved the issue was easily resolved.
The scientists were constantly concerned they’d send uncensored thoughts to their new hosts. To complicate matters, their visuals often selected the message recipients. In their excitement, they sent messages to everyone in sight instead of the intended individuals. To the scientists’ relief, the Harakens found each sharing amusing rather than taking umbrage over the faux pas.
* * *
Another immediate requirement for the rebels was a substantial increase in the quality and quantity of their food intake. Cordelia supervised the offloading of a third of the fleet’s food dispensers and stocks. She selected three closed restaurant locations, equally spaced around the station, and the fleet crew went to work opening the sites, cleaning them, and installing the dispensers and the food stock tanks.
The food supplies were insufficient to feed the rebels for more than three-quarters of an Earther year, but it would be long enough to ensure their return to health and see an increase in food shipments to the station.
In an insightful move, Cordelia collected the first individuals completing their medical treatment in Terese’s clinic and took them to the meal room.
“Jason,” Cordelia said to the young boy, who had been badly burned. The medical nanites would need several Earther months to replace the badly scarred skin, restore the scalp’s follicles on one side of his head, and give little Jason a full head of hair. “I’m going to teach you and your friends to order your first Haraken meal. Then all of you will teach anyone else who has received medical treatment, but only those who have visited the medical clinic. Am I understood?”
