by S. H. Jucha
The couple enjoyed a quiet conversation throughout their meal, and Reiko found the food and drink delicious. She was amused by the difference in proportions they were served. The owner appeared to anticipate Franz’s needs, which were similar to those of the president.
When they finished, Franz stood up and offered her his hand. With the effect of the evening’s drink, the high-heeled boots were becoming an exceptional challenge, and Reiko worked to stifle a giggle. She almost asked Franz to carry her, although not as he had when they ran though her destroyer.
“We haven’t paid the bill,” Reiko objected. She glanced at the table. The table’s screen was clear — no bill showing.
“Don’t look at me,” Franz replied. “When I made the reservation, the woman who answered my call asked if I was dining with Commodore Shimada, the hero of Idona.”
“She did not,” Reiko exclaimed. Franz held up his hand to her in some manner that meant nothing to her but apparently meant he was telling the truth.
At the door of the restaurant, the owner asked if everything was to their satisfaction, but he was focused on Reiko.
“Yes, it was excellent,” Reiko replied, a warm glow from the dinner and Franz’s company infusing her.
“It was our pleasure to serve you, Commodore. Nothing is too good for the hero of Idona.”
In the couple of moments, during which Reiko’s mouth hung open, Franz was able to intervene and move Reiko along before she could think of a reply.
Feeling the best she had in a couple of years, Reiko was holding Franz’s arm with both hands while they walked back down the main corridor. At one point, she pulled on his arm to attempt to bring Franz to a halt, saying, “This is us.” It was a good thing Franz was attentive to her because she was sure her pull had no effect on his momentum.
Franz looked over Reiko’s head at the signage of one of the nicest sleepovers on the station, known for its elegant suites which were favored by yacht owners. He grinned as Reiko held up a key pass, realizing she had already rented a room.
The suites were as advertised, having been remodeled after business returned to the station. Inside, Reiko pointed to the luxurious bed and said, “Sit.” She strolled toward the door, turned, slowly undid her belt, and then dropped the shirt dress and her undergarments to the floor. Picking up the room’s controller, she dimmed the lights, saying, “How do you like your heroes, Commander … with boots on or off?”
* * *
While a feeling of contentment settled over the station, the notorious privateer Dimitri Agaloo, landed the luxury yacht, Bon Vivant in a bay at Idona Station. He and his crew had pirated the yacht forty-two days ago at the height of the turmoil.
Dimitri calculated the yacht was good for perhaps another thirty to sixty more days before he would be pressed to procure another ship once the rim’s databases were updated with the reported loss of the Bon Vivant. Such was the life of a privateer — take a ship, dump the passengers, maybe keep some women or pretty boys, and stay ahead of the militia and naval records.
It would have been smart of Dimitri to disguise his appearance, but he was a vain man, and he was in love with the images of ancient pirates, wearing his beard in braids and decorating them with semiprecious stones. Dimitri assumed that his reputation would protect him. His last visit to Idona was over a year ago and the pickings at that time were slim, to say the least. Since then, Dimitri and his crew spent the time roaming the moons of Saturn and Uranus.
Word reached Dimitri that the Harakens would soon be leaving Idona and the station was prospering, which had brought the privateer prospecting. Walking through the sub-level corridors and taking a lift to the station’s main corridor demonstrated to Dimitri just how much Idona had changed. It was clean, bright, and credits were flowing, making Dimitri’s hopes of some valuable scores soar.
What the privateer was unaware of was how much Idona had changed — shop owners and stationers were no longer the divisive and frightened individuals of a year ago. They had rebuilt their station and their lives together, adopting Idona as their home, and were willing to defend it.
Calls, originating along Dimitri’s path, flowed into militia administration headquarters, and when the privateer turned to enjoy a shop display, the reflection revealed four militia noncoms behind him. Dimitri attempted to brush off the militia with an innocent statement, while reaching to his ear implant to warn his crew, but swift hands pinned his arms and a metal-braided bag was slipped over his head, blocking comm calls to and from his ear implant.
Moments later, a squad of Haraken troopers and Lieutenant Morris surrounded the Bon Vivant and the crew was ordered to exit the yacht one by one. As they came down the gangway ramp, each was searched and taken into custody. The interior of the ship revealed three traumatized individuals, two girls and a boy, who had been severely used by the crew, and Terese and her team were called to attend the victims.
Lieutenant Morris requested the Haraken troopers march the privateer down the main corridor in full view of the stationers, and people came out from the shops, sleepovers, and restaurants to applaud the capture. More than one individual called out “well done” to Lieutenant Morris, who realized how much the station had come to mean to her.
* * *
Patrice Morris sat down at her small multipurpose desk and stared into the mirror. She had stripped out of her uniform and taken her three-minute allotted shower. It was her thought to go out tonight, to celebrate, but not as a militia officer — as a woman.
Since arriving at Idona, Patrice faithfully followed Captain Yun’s first day’s advice. He said, “Wear your uniform at all times, Morris, when you leave your cabin. It’s your best defense. Nobody bothers a militia officer, not even the rats.” It was days before Patrice learned that the rats were the rebel teenagers.
Every day, morning and night, Patrice donned her uniform — the cloak of the militia, as she thought of it, and was loath to be without it despite the fact that Reiko was wearing her uniform when she was attacked. In Patrice’s mind were burned the images of Reiko after her beating, and, to this day, she couldn’t believe the Harakens not only saved the commodore but restored her looks.
But people’s attitudes on the station were changing, had changed, and Patrice was still a young woman and not too bad looking, if she said so herself. Making up her mind, Patrice pulled out her face kit, which hadn’t seen the light since she moved into the assigned, utilitarian, and oh-so depressing cabin. She selected her favorite mask, positioned it on her face, and triggered it. The mask was a young UE woman’s favorite form of makeup — instantly applied — in this case, bright, fluorescent colors with the sparkles that Patrice favored while at the naval academy.
Looking in the mirror, Patrice could hear her mother saying, “Oh, dear, you look like a 200-credit an hour girl,” and Patrice had to agree this time. She reached for the bottle of de-mask, sprayed it over face, waited a minute, and brushed the light powder off.
At the bottom of her face kit was an unused mask, an academy graduation present from her mother. Smiling to herself, Patrice opened the package and applied the mask. She kept her eyes closed, a little afraid to look in the mirror — reluctant to think she was leaving the vibrant days of the youthful academy cadet behind.
When Patrice did open her eyes, she was surprised. It wasn’t the boring makeup application she expected. The colors were subtle, blended, but artfully highlighted her features, and there was a touch of soft sparkles at the corners of her eyes that her mother knew she loved.
“Mom, who knew you had so much style?” Patrice said to her mirror then hurried to change. She dressed in a pair of skin-tight, black, dragon-scale motif pants, pulled on a pair of black, calf-high, spike-heeled boots, and slipped over her head a dark-red top with balloon sleeves but with an open back and daring, drop front.
For her first venture out, Patrice chose an upscale bar frequented by shop owners, captains, and officers as a place to meet and talk. When she stepped thro
ugh the door, a maître d’ guided her into the dim but tastefully lit interior. Conversations stilled the deeper into the bar Patrice walked, and she was tempted to spin around and exit as quickly as her spike-heeled boots could carry her. While that thought was rolling through Patrice’s mind, the bar’s customers, who had been staring at her, begin politely applauding and then broke into cheering. More than one sharp whistle of appreciation cut the air, and Patrice blushed.
A liner captain and a sleepover owner hurriedly stepped beside Patrice. The two men eyed each other for a moment and then seemed to reach a simple agreement, each extending an arm to her. Patrice smiled and took both of the offered arms. Walking toward a vacant table, the two men were grinning as if they had won the evening’s grand prize.
-34-
After a half year at Idona, the Harakens began the process of disentangling themselves from the affairs of the station. Their advanced technology had to be replaced with UE substitutes or reclaimed — financial applications, controllers, upgraded transponders, security sensors, holo-vid, nanites chairs, and food dispensers with stock. It was acknowledged that the recovery would be incomplete. For instance, the upgraded transponders were embedded in large metal-heavy rocks headed inward just waiting to be recovered by some inquisitive individual.
As for the stationers, they wanted to resume a life punctuated by normalcy, perhaps even boredom. Most of them were emotionally drained by their experiences with the Harakens. Life-and-death struggles tend to do that.
Julien was with Alex when the president asked the scientists if they wished to stay at Sol or return to Haraken. The scientists struggled momentarily with their implants but managed to form a conference.
* * *
Later, Olawale sat with his friend, Francis Lumley, telling the captain of his decision to return to Haraken, when the ex-administrator came to the critical question he sought to ask. “What do you say, old friend, do you have one more adventure left in you?”
Lumley couldn’t say he was surprised by the offer. Since he arrived at Idona with Tribune Brennan, the thought had surfaced many times. Like Olawale, Lumley was without family, and his closest friend was telling him that he had decided to return to a faraway star.
“You would need to gain the permission of the president, correct?” Lumley asked cautiously, not wanting to get his hopes up unnecessarily.
Olawale’s bright white smile flashed. “I have already asked President Racine, and he said, ‘Men of Captain Lumley’s qualities are always welcome on Haraken.’”
* * *
Before the scientists and Lumley left for Haraken, they requested an opportunity to speak with the tribunes, and Julien hosted a conference between the two tribunes, the scientists, and the captain.
“I’m not sure what your intentions are for the Tribunal’s structure now that the high judges are in disgrace,” Olawale began, “but we have some suggestions for you.”
It took a bit of effort for Woo not to comment. She thought the ex-administrator was taking advantage of the situation, but she recalled it was due to the scientists’ analysis of the UE’s intentions that Alex Racine chose to journey to Sol instead of waiting for the UE to come to him with an armed fleet.
“We would ask you to consider a five-person, governing body,” Olawale continued.
In the quiet that followed, Boris added, “We have witnessed balanced and considered opinions by the court judges here at Idona, who are more representative of the span of people.”
“That’s true, Tribune Woo,” Brennan agreed. “I have been impressed by the quality of judgments handed down by the panel against those who are convicted.”
“How do the judges at Idona relate to our Tribunal?” Woo asked, unsure of the comparison.
“By representing a greater cross-section of the people of Sol,” Nema explained. “Your Tribunal consists of three individuals, who represent the most powerful entities in the system. We would suggest eliminating the judiciary, and ask you to consider adding two positions, filled by representatives of the people, one individual elected from residents of the inner zone and the other from the rim people.”
“So, if the military, commerce, and two representatives from the people occupy four positions, who do you suggest occupies the fifth seat?” Woo couldn’t believe she was asking the question, but then again, she thought, Why stop now?
“That’s why you’re the tribune,” Lumley said laughing.
“Careful, Captain, you still report to me,” Woo said, feeling that the conference was exceeding her patience.
“Actually, no, Tribune Woo,” Brennan said. “Captain Lumley resigned his commission. He’s chosen to accompany his friends to Haraken.”
“I meant no disrespect, Tribune Woo,” Lumley apologized. “I believe if you look at the trial transcripts you will see what we are trying to tell you — the fundamental concept is balance. No one represented group having sway over the others. You have commerce and the military represented. When you add two representatives of the people, you have balance.”
“So I ask again, who are you suggesting for the fifth member of this body? We must have someone to break the deadlocks,” Woo said.
“Tribune Woo, Yoram Penzig here. Please, do not consider that I’m being facetious when I say a perfect fifth member would be a Haraken, human or SADE.”
That did produce an extensive period of silence.
“Someone who doesn’t have a stake in the outcome, a neutral,” Brennan finally said, understanding dawning.
“But who would that be in our system?” Woo persisted.
“That’s where you misinterpreted my laughter, Tribune Woo,” Lumley said. “We have no idea, but you are considered one of the UE’s most brilliant women, and we hope that through your efforts you will discover who that fifth person, that neutral person, should be.”
“I must say, your ideas have merit. Julien, could you — never mind. I just received notice that the court transcripts are on my console. Thank you, Julien.” The thought crossed Woo’s mind that she would accept Julien as the fifth individual, and the realization took her aback. Seven months ago, I didn’t know AIs existed. Now I want one to help us govern our system.
“People, if you think of who this fifth person might be before you leave, please don’t keep it a secret,” Woo said as she signed off.
* * *
After the conference call with the scientists and Lumley, Woo connected briefly with Brennan.
“The enclave’s high judges have been accounted for,” Woo announced. “Two bodies were discovered when the judges chose to commit suicide. Three judges with their security personnel attempted to fight their way past the militia when they were discovered. Those three are dead. The remaining ten high judges were taken into custody.”
“What about Tribune Lucchesi?” Brennan asked.
“The tribune seems to have met with an unfortunate accident … and before you ask, it wasn’t me.”
“The enclave?” Brennan suggested.
“I would think so. Lucchesi outlived his usefulness to the enclave and probably became an embarrassment.”
“What are your intentions with regard to the high judges that you’ve arrested?”
“I think we’re done with those types of questions for criminals, Ian,” Woo said, the tiredness in her voice evident. “If we intend to make a clean break of our past procedures, then I don’t think just because the enclave had a habit of conveniently making people disappear means that we should take the easy way out.”
“Why not announce that the high judges are being held for trial, but that these trials will not com
mence until the new laws are in effect for the courts?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth, Ian … you’ve been hanging around the Harakens too long,” Woo said, a small laugh escaping. “I think the new laws have to be our priority, and the records of Idona’s judicial panel might just be our guidelines.”
“Announcing this systemwide while we have the Haraken probes will give the incarcerated hope. It would go well to keeping a lid on emotions while we shift our policies,” Brennan suggested.
“We will need that. The Harakens have set our people’s hopes for the future very high, and it will be our undoing if we don’t live up to those hopes.”
* * *
Catching Brennan in the main corridor before the tribune caught his naval clipper for the trip back to Earth, Alex wished him good fortune and offered a final word of advice. “Please do your best to see that the UE leaders keep their word to the people of Sol. You wouldn’t want us to come back.”
Brennan saw the polite smile the president added, but it didn’t appear to reach the man’s eyes. But rather than take umbrage at the implied threat, Brennan grinned. “Thank you, Mr. President. That’s just the sort of message that I will be pleased to deliver to anyone foolish enough to resist the implementation of the changes we expect to make.”
Alex extended his hand, and the two men shared a warm handshake and conspiratorial smiles.
After Brennan left, Alex contacted Woo with Julien’s help.
“Greetings, Tribune Woo,” Alex began when the tribune answered her comms console in her bedroom.
“Mr. President,” Woo replied, “I understand you are days away from leaving our system. I can’t say that I will regret your departure, despite all you’ve done for the UE.”
