by S. H. Jucha
“You won’t need your ear comm, Captain.” She waited while he slipped it out and pocketed it. “My translation program will handle our language needs. We’ll start with simple sending and receiving then turning your implant on and off for privacy.” She signaled Julien to turn on the program and slid her hands under his.
“Close your eyes, Captain. Think of me. Continue to think of me. For each person the initial access of their implant is slightly different, but you will sense when I’m present. Don’t worry if it takes a while to accomplish these first steps.” A moment later, she received a comm signal from Alex.
Terese chuckled in her background.
Renée sent him a simple greeting. He twitched and clenched her fingers tightly then quickly relaxed his hold.
he replied, his words tinged with wonderment.
She sought his implant and connected. She was about to request he try another blocking technique when she realized she sensed a nothingness. It was different from any connection she’d ever experienced with a Méridien.
she asked. Then she received, and gasped. She hadn’t erected any barriers due to Alex’s novice state, and somehow he’d detected her background links. he sent through her link. All of them could hear Terese’s laughter and clapping hands.
Momentarily, Julien responded,
Before she could become concerned, she received images of herself, Terese, and an odd silhouette of a man in a long coat and a strange hat, which she took to be Julien, each floating in a soft, liquid bubble. Their access hadn’t been blocked, but accepted then isolated by Alex’s technique, allowing his comm to suppress theirs.
It was Julien’s turn to chuckle, but all he said was,
Alex sent images of their bubbles popping, followed by the message,
After his remarkable beginning, they moved through new programs as fast as Alex could adopt them. Once informed of an application’s purpose, he often manipulated it before Renée could instruct him. Hours later, a spike of pain accompanied his thought, and he dropped her hands and grabbed the sides of his head.
“Enough for now, Captain,” Julien announced, resorting to the bridge speakers. “You have covered more tonight than the brightest Méridien children do in their first half year. I’ve switched off the program so you can rest. Otherwise it will interrupt your sleep until you acquire more control.”
Alex opened his eyes as he stood up. He was weaving slightly, and his vision was blurred as if seeing the world through a new and strange view.
Renée slipped under his arm to steady him. “It will pass, Captain, after a night’s rest,” she said and guided him back to his cabin.
Terese slipped in behind them as Renée steered Alex onto his bed. She pressed a hypo to his neck, and his grimace faded as he fell back. As they struggled to remove his ship boots, Terese quipped,
Julien chimed in, After a pause, he continued.
Renée felt out of her depth.
she said, laughing softly as she left the cabin.
Renée knew Terese’s injection would allow Alex to sleep through the night. She was pleased he had his first cell-gen injection. The nanites would work to repair his stressed neural connections. She touched his bare arm, his dense muscles warming her fingertips. Ignoring any thoughts of self-reproach, she climbed onto the bed and curled up next to him.
-29-
To create the missile components, fuels, explosive compounds, and signal buoys, Julien created a new line of GEN-3 machines that were installed on Barren Island. Since the machines were vital to their militaristic plans, they decided to take a duplicate set with them.
When the stage-1 missiles were ready, Julien requested daily test flights from Commander Jameson, and Lieutenant Jason “Jase” Willard happily flew each trial, much to the exasperation of Lt. Andrea Bonnard, who was aching to have her turn. But with the completion of stage-1 tests, flights were scheduled twice daily, and Commander Jameson assigned Andrea to Dagger-2 for the day’s second flight.
Andrea had not been born to well-to-do parents. After public school, she had enrolled in TSF, which had provided her with a salary, room, and board. But, best of all, TSF offered her the opportunity to fly. She qualified for shuttle pilot’s school and graduated top of her class. At the end of her five year enlistment, she left TSF for a job flying for the Ministry of Space Exploration. But within two years, the bloom wore off as the repetition of the job wore on. Then the aliens arrived and Barren Island announced it wanted fighter pilots. Her dream job had arrived.
Julien had the pilots practicing what he anticipated would be real world conditions. Their Daggers twisted and flipped as they sought to evade the imaginary beam shots he programmed into their controllers. Even with their inertia compensation systems, the pilots were adding bruises on top of bruises by the end of each flight.
When the first chase trial was scheduled, Andrea found herself paired against Lt. Robert Dorian, pilot of the newly tested Dagger-3. Her fighter was armed with loads of two-stage missiles. Jase, having piloted the previous, single fighter test, fumed as he watched the action from the flight terminal, the concept of pilot rotation grating on his ego.
The two pilots ran through several chase scenarios while Julien tracked Dagger-2’s ability to hit Dagger-3, which stood in for the silver ship. When the trials were completed, Julien adopted a lesson from Alex, who had a penchant for experimentation. He sent new coordinates to the controllers and switched off the pilot’s helmet telemetry. It was a test of nerves for the pilots to sit blind in ships controlled by the advanced Méridien computers. Some pilots argued that they were just backups for the controllers, but Andrea knew it wasn’t so. The trick was to discover the right balance. But at the moment, sitting in the dark, her Dagger shooting through space, it was downright scary, to say the least.
Her fighter decelerated then stopped. She heard Julien say begin and her helmet display lit up, telemetry fully restored. Her controller immediately located Dagger-3, and she launched into attack mode, flipping her fighter around, and accelerating under full power.
Lt. Dorian located his adversary and went into evasion mode. He slid behind a freighter, which was pulling out from the orbital station, and earned the Captain’s displeasure via a complaint to TSF.
Andrea fought to tag Robert’s fighter, and, inevitably, her stage-2 missile caught Dagger-3 in the fuselage, splattering a dollop of nanites on the hull.
The encounter was an epiphany for Julien when he compared the results of his planned encounters to the pilots’ unfettered competition, realizing just how inventive Ne
w Terran minds were when circumstances demanded it.
* * *
Commander Jameson reported to Alex that four Daggers were operational, and the base had trained ten fighter pilots, six crew chiefs, and twenty-eight service personnel. Missile production would be completed and ready for loading before the Joaquin finished their repairs.
Alex decided it was time to put his next enlistment step into action and requested Tatia, Terese, Pia, and Geneviève join him in his cabin. When they were assembled, he said, “I have a job for the four of you. I would like you to spend two or three days at Barren Island entertaining the pilots and crew.”
Pia twigged to it first. “Ah…are we recruiting or culling, Captain.”
“Culling, Pia,” he said, sending the list to their implants. “This is the Commander’s roster of trained pilots and crew.”
“Captain, isn’t this rather sexist on your part?” Tatia’s voice rose with indignation.
“Sexist? Considering the fact that you are all women, perhaps,” Alex replied, not attempting a defense.
Tatia turned to the Méridiens for support but found only smiles on their faces. When they were dismissed, she remained behind, asking for a moment of his time. “Captain, what am I missing here? I want to feel indignant, but the women look as if you told them they’re going on a holiday.”
“They are going on holiday. This is their first trip off the Rêveur. I’m only sorry that it’s winter on Barren Island.”
“But what do you expect from them, Captain?”
“I expect them to do whatever they want. They aren’t children. They know what I need to know. In terms of recruitment, the Méridiens have been ahead of me since day one. And I might point out to you that you have benefited from that process as much as anyone.”
Blood flushed up Tatia’s neck. She stood up, clenching her fists. “Are you saying that…that Alain deliberately…”
Alex cut her off. “Don’t attribute New Terran behavior to the Méridiens. They’ll do what comes natural to them—meet people, get to know them, make friends. So, when they recommend someone, it’s someone they trust. End of story.”
Tatia sat down heavily at the table, chagrined at her outburst.
“I expect in your mind I’m sending these women to sleep with the crew. If so, you don’t understand them yet. They will engage the pilots and crew in conversation, recording and comparing notes the entire time. That’s the power of the implants. When they’re done, I’ll have a psychological profile on each of these people complete with vids, should I wish to review the footage.”
“Reconnaissance at its best,” Tatia acknowledged, mulling over what Alex said. “My apologies, Sir, I didn’t give them—or you—due respect. But then why am I going?”
“I’ve told Commander Jameson that my First Mate is conducting a readiness inspection.”
Understanding dawned on Tatia. “So the base will be concentrating on me, worrying about the inspections, and the crew will be happy to chat with our Méridiens, selling their side of story as to why they should receive high marks. Captain, I do believe you have become an aficionado of sneakiness.” With that, she stood, saluted and requested to be excused.
Later, Terese sent Alex a vid. Tatia had apologized to the Méridien women, her demeanor of self-control, usually first and foremost, was not in evidence.
Alex had watched Tatia’s friendship with Alain bloom into a love affair. The two stole moments together whenever they could. Alain never shirked his duties, but in his free time he could often be found in his cabin, on a comm connection to TS-1 and Tatia. He was pleased that Tatia was starting to realize Alain was not an exception to the Méridiens but was typical of them.
-30-
In the end, Alex decided on a civilian organization for the crew since they had no authority to operate as anyone’s military. And there was always the distinct possibility that they’d arrive in orbit around Méridien, the hull full of weapons, only to find the entire Confederation at peace, the attack on the two Méridien ships an anomaly committed by a passing rogue. The thought kept him from being too presumptuous.
Julien relayed the Joaquin’s message that the construction bays were ready. The primary bay wouldn’t fully accommodate the Rêveur. A third of the ship would extend outside its structure, preventing the bay doors from closing and requiring all exterior hull and engine work be performed by EVA crews.
To provide a second bay for the Outward Bound, President McMorris ordered a partially constructed shuttle be moved and parked on a holding arm of the station. Compensation was paid to the Purity Ores mining company for the delay. The CEO, Samuel B. Hunsader, was outraged, but he kept his opinions to himself. At the moment, the President was a very popular man. Méridien medical nanites were saving lives and healing crippling injuries, and the news media coveted the stories, frequently crediting the Pact and McMorris in the same line.
In concert with A Little Shove, Alex, piloting his tug, positioned the Rêveur bow-first into the bay’s opening. He released his tractor beams and repositioned his ship at the Rêveur’s stern to act as a brake while the other tug stood off. EVA crews in powered exoskeletons attached cables to eyelets Julien had propagated on the hull’s bow and amidships. The cables slowly inched the multi-decked ship into the bay until the crew boss called all stop.
Alex released his tether and slid his ship into the assigned construction bay. Several of the crew had journeyed with him to prepare the ship for its transformation, cleaning out the galley and removing his personal belongings. As bay services were attached to the hull, Alex ordered Tara to shut down, his voice thick with emotion.
“System shut down in progress,” were her last words.
TSF troopers met Alex and his crew outside the bay’s airlock and accompanied them through the station back to the Rêveur. The Méridiens’ heads swiveled at the sights and sounds of restaurants, clubs, retail shops, and people crowding the corridors. And the civilians reciprocated by stopping and staring at the Méridiens.
By the time Alex and company returned to the Rêveur, the majority of the crew, except for some department heads and much of engineering, had left on holiday. New Terrans would visit with family and introduce them to their Méridien friends and lovers. Each Méridien had wrestled with the awkward task of choosing among the several invitations offered by their New Terran crew mates. While on holiday, the Méridiens and their hosts would enjoy specially planned festivities—music concerts, holo-light shows, museum tours, and a visit to the spectacular Corona Mountains.
The Corona Mountains were a potent symbol to the New Terrans. The colonists had landed their shuttles near the mountains, which were heavily laced with monazite crystal causing the exposed cliffs to glow with soft yellow light at sunset on certain days of the year. The luminescent display had become a beacon of hope for the struggling colonists.
Tatia and Alain were waiting at the airlock for Alex. Tatia sent.
Alex replied to both of them.
Wearing huge smiles, the two quick stepped down the gangway. They’d be staying at her father’s farm. Her parents would meet her Méridien lover and say goodbye to their only child, who would be leaving for the stars.
The remaining crew members moved their possessions into the foremost berths, often doubling up. The ship was sealed aft of them since the possibility of catastrophic decompression outweighed any potential discomfort. It would take six, full, 30-hour days, with three shifts of crew working around the clock, to remove the damaged FTL engines, cut away damaged frames, and excise the hull and internal sections to make way for the port bay.
Alex joined Renée and Étienne on the bridge. His attempt to convince Étienne to join the crew on holiday had failed. His shadow refused to take leave unless ordered to go, which seemed counter-productive to enjoying a vacation. So Alex had relented.
Senior Engineer Mickey Brandon was delegated as Officer in Charge of the R
êveur, and with TSF security in tow, Alex, Renée, and Étienne caught the next shuttle. Both of his guests had made several trips planetside, but those had been State visits, T-site inspections, meetings with Ministers, and conferences with scientists. This was their first New Terran holiday.
Two hover-cars waited for them at the shuttle terminal—one for them and one for the troopers. In the more than one hundred days since Méridiens first set foot on New Terra, not a single negative incident had marred their time on planet. Then again, no one had told the public of the attack on the Rêveur lest fear run rampant through the population that dangerous aliens might have followed the Méridiens to New Terra.
An hour outside the city, their hover-cars parked on a landing pad in front of a home nestled deep in the woods. Tall trees surrounded the two-story, grey stone house. Christie dashed pell-mell down wide stone steps, passing her parents, and jumping into her brother’s arms. She hugged both Renée and Étienne, quickly taking charge of Étienne, hooking an arm through his and pulling him along. “You have to see our home,” she exclaimed. Alex felt a twinge of regret for inflicting his little sister on his escort.
After the round of greetings, the family and their guests walked into the quiet warmth of the house. Two troopers took packs from their hover-car’s rear compartment and followed them inside. The other two took the second hover-car and left for a nearby inn.
Renée loved the home’s furnishings. Heavy wooden furniture covered in natural textiles was arranged around an inviting fireplace in which soft flames, emanating from gas pipes, danced around carved stone logs. A natural wood floor, something unseen on Méridien except in the oldest of Houses, was covered with woven rugs of subtle tones. The furnishings were comfortable and personal, which seemed to her to describe Alex.
But the new home, courtesy of the family’s lucrative earnings from Alex’s g-sling program, hadn’t proved to be sunshine for everyone. Christie felt isolated in the country just as she had during the years in space. She was a gregarious person. The one balm to her tortured existence was her newfound fame as the sister of Captain Racine, the hero of the Rêveur rescue and the discoverer of New Terra’s first aliens. Half a year ago, her comm center had filled up, and it remained full today. Now, her brother’s guests were going to make her even more popular. She’d accepted a major news producer’s offer to interview a Méridien from her home. It would be the planet’s first Méridien interview, a great coup for the network…and for Christie. Now, she only had to ask Étienne’s permission, the part she’d neglected to mention when she’d sold the idea to her parents.