by Bodicea
“Damb,” said Eliza, suddenly, throwing aside the data pad she had been so assiduously trying to focus on.
“Agreed,” said Eddie Roebuck.
“Still no word on Matthew’s ship,” she muttered. “They have a double squadron of search and rescue ships looking for them. Communications hasn’t even picked up their transponder.
It’s as though they vanished without a trace.”
Eddie didn’t know what to say, but as usual, this did not stop him from trying. “If there’s anybody who could survive an encounter a giant space nasty, it’s Captain Starbuck? . I mean, okay, he has zero personality, and he’s short, but beauty, he can fly. I mean, it’s like he got short-changed on everything else, just to be a good flyer. I mean, he’s gonna come back. He’ll always come back.”
Eliza scowled. That was not what she was worried about. “There’s things out there, Eddie,” she said. “Terrible things. It’s like when the ancient proto-humans on Earth wandered away from the campfire and were eaten by predators.”
Eddie met her deep brown eyes and saw in them something he had never expected to see from Eliza. It was not vulnerability, but it was perilously close. It made him want to hold and comfort her, but he knew she’d snap his wrists, this from experience.
Instead, Eddie put his hand on Eliza’s shoulder. “Well, supposing now, just supposing Captain Starbuck doesn’t come back, I’ll always be here for you. You know that, don’t you?”
He was surprised that his hand was quivering when he finished, more surprised when she enfolded it in her own warm hand.
The commander tugged at the collar of his dress uniform. “I honestly don’t think I have ever been more annoyed in my entire life.”
“Aves Susan has cleared the Inner Marker,” announced a disembodied voice from Flight Control. A display showed the small ship angling toward the landing docks on the rear of Pegasus.
David Alkema, now sporting a lieutenant’s emblem on his dress jacket, offered him solace.
“Just get through this evening, commander. Tomorrow morning, we’ll fly back down to the moon base.”
“Za, my moon base,” Keeler said, feeling a little lighter. This job would not have been so bad if he could dispense with ceremonies like these and concentrate on archaeology. Earlier in the day, the small ship from the moon base had been received aboard Pegasus and quickly and quietly taken to a cargo bay for additional study. They knew little more about it now than they had when it was first discovered. The material of which it was constructed was still unidentified, and the interior had proven resistant to all manner of scanning technology.
“Aves Susan has docked.”
Keeler and Alkema stood a little straighter. Ex. Commander Lear was already in the Landing Bay, with a detachment of Senior Officers, including Eliza Change from Navigation, and the Chiefs of some of the ship’s minor departments. Lear had specifically requested that no one from Tactical Section attend. Lt. Cmdr Cuahatemoc Ojala, Chief of Engineering Core, had also begged off. Flight Cmdr. Collins reported that she would remain in Flight Operations, coordinating Search and Rescue Operations related to Recce One. A few of the other chiefs were stranded on the Isle of Mab owing to a systems problem on their Aves that was unlikely to be resolved “until we run out of tanning butter.” Nothing, however, made Commander Keeler feel the pang of absent friends more than the absence of Lt. Cmdr. Miller.
The side hatch slid open and two (female of course) technicians from the landing bays ran a safety ramp to the side of the ship. Several long minutes passed before Ciel emerged, followed by Tobias and Pieta. In clumps of threes and fours, the women of the Inner Circle emerged from the ship with their families and aides. Solay exited last, and stood at the hatchway overlooking the landing bay. She surveyed the half dozen or so Aves positioned in this particular bay, in various states of readiness, the machinery and technology that service and maintained them. She made no effort to veil her disgust. She seemed to take especial horror at the site of two mechanoids, working on the reactor-dome of one ship.
Lear led the visitors toward the reception area where Keeler and the others were waiting.
The commander turned toward the floor, a gloomy and bitter expression on his face. Alkema heard him count “3… 2… 1… and…” he raised his head again, smiling this time, a ritual that had served him well over a lifetime of fundraisers, staff meetings, anf family reunions.
“Greetings, First Advocate Ciel. So good to see you again.” Ciel still could not bring herself to look him in the eyes. “Greetings to you commander.”
“I trust you had a comfortable flight.”
“It was sufficient.”
Solay, who had earned herself an unpleasant nickname in Keeler’s private thoughts, pushed her way to the front. “I made some calculations during our flight,” Solay said, showing a bit of paper with some calculations written in an alien alphabet on it. “You may find this interesting. Based on the mass of your vessel and the speed of our journey, I calculated that one of your … Aves … uses more energy in a single transit to your ship than the city of Concordia generates in one hundred and forty-five days.”
“Really?” Keeler responded.
“How can you justify such a massive expenditure of energy?”
“Because walking to the ship would take too long,” Keeler answered. “Now, if you will all follow Executive Commander Lear, I believe she has arranged a tour for you. I am sure you will find any number of things that will amaze and offend you. So, let’s not tarry.”
“Come this way, everyone,” Lear said quickly, leading the group to a waiting caravan of transport pods. When he was sure Solay wasn’t looking, Keeler turned to Alkema and made the twirling finger “loony tunes” gesture next to his ear.
The tour proceeded through the ship’s recreational gardens to the inhabitation area, where Lear showed them guest quarters where they could, if they so desired, remain on board. She then took them to Hospital One, where Dr. Cingulus explained the available medical technology to them. They were taken to Primary Command, and shown various operations centers for Environmental Systems, Flight Control, and Navigation. (Lear had intended to show them the Power System Distribution Operational Center as well, but thought that Solay might be a bit overwhelmed figuring out the Pegasus could produce more energy than her own sun.) They were then shown a few of the scientific laboratories where the biology, geology, and anthropology of various worlds were studied.
After deliberately avoiding anything related to the ship’s weapons systems or certain disreputable establishments in the UnderDecks, the tour ended in the Jade Ballroom, where a sumptuous dinner and reception had been prepared.
The walls of the Jade Ballroom were constructed of artificial marble, colored soft green and alabaster. Luscious green velveteen draperies hung from the wall. Lear had ordered the light adjusted to the visible spectrum of Bodicéa. Music, the Overture and Concerto for Public Service, by the renowned (on Republic) Republic composer Gavin Nestlé, wafted unobtrusively over the main floor.
A large table was set up in the center of the dance floor. No one expected dancing at this event. The table was matched to the walls and floors. Its surface was cut through with geometric shapes and inlaid with colorful tiles. Thirty-two of the ship’s officers and their families, along with the Inner Circle of Twelve, even with some of their family members or life-mates ion attendance, made for less than one hundred people in total in a room designed for events of three hundred. Lear wondered if she should have chosen an even smaller space.
“Everyone, if I may have your attention, everyone,” Lear called out. “Everyone, please, if you would please find a seat at your table, we may begin dinner, and afterwards, the ship’s children would like to perform a song in your honor.”
Oh, Mother of God, Keeler thought.
“Trajan, why don’t you go extend your greetings to Pieta,” Lear suggested to her son.
“Why not Marcus?” Trajan countered. “She’s not as mu
ch younger than he.”
Marcus gave a rather sickening grin. “I don’t want to move in on Trajan’s girlfriend.”
Somewhere, there was a law of dramatics requiring Trajan to say “She’s not my girlfriend,”
but the boy refused, defiant child.
“Both of you go,” Lear ordered. “Try your best to make a favorable impression… make friends with her I mean.”
Having dispatched the children, Lear took a seat between Ciel and Commander Keeler, looked at the array of spoons, forks, and eating sticks and realized to her horror that the catering crew had set a traditional Republicker table service instead of the Bodicéan service.
Armatrading had dropped the ball. Lear would have to have some words with her when this dinner was over.
She had, however, managed to cobble together enough volunteer food servers to dismiss the and/oroids who usually served at these occasions. Lear had thought they would make the Bodicéans uncomfortable. It had never occurred to her that having inexperienced personnel drip wine and drop dishes would make them any less uncomfortable.
“Is this meat?” Ciel asked, holding a piece of roast beast in her eating sticks, a distasteful expression on her face.
“Roast beast,” Keeler answered heartily. “If you squeeze a bit of the juice into your dipping sauce it will enhance the flavor. It’s the custom in the city where I lived.”
“We don’t eat meat,” an advocate explained. “The Goddess teaches that killing animals for food was wrong.”
“Very wrong,” said another advocate darkly. She both looked rather harshly toward Executive Commander Lear, as though she were the ambassador of the Goddess’s Will on Pegasus.
“What Vesta taught was that sacrifice and cruelty to animals was a form of evil,” Keeler put in, academically, not being a follower of Vesta himself. “At the time of Vesta’s First Incarnation, Earth was over-run with pagan and animist cults that sacrificed animals in rituals intended to call up dark power. Vesta wanted her followers to honor life, so, according to her version, keeping animals alive let one draw continuously on the power of life and of light. She never forbade killing animals for food, only that such animals be humanely maintained prior to their harvest.”
“Most of us keep animals for that reason,” one of the Bodicéans said.
“Which was impractical on Republic,” Lear explained. “On our planet, the custom is to keep gardens and plant life throughout our homes.”
“Anyway, we don’t kill animals for meat,” Keeler continued insistently. “I’m not sure of the precise mechanics of the process, but I know we can produce meat without killing the beast.”
Alkema knew of course. “We can extract a sample of cells from an animal, and then culture the cells to produce meat. It actually is advantageous, because the same animal can produce hundreds of times its own weight in protein over a lifetime.”
Solay was not placated. “You still eat the flesh of the animal, which is potent patriarchal symbolism. You kill an animal, establishing your male dominance, and then you burn and consume it. That’s how male-dominated culture works, conquer, destroy, and consume.”
“Well, admittedly triumphing over a plant isn’t very challenging, but I assure you, good woman, no animals were harmed in the making of this meal,” Keeler repeated. He dug into his roast beast, and heartily extracted a dripping slice. Of course, cloned meat was not as juicy or as tasty as the real thing, but he kept this datum to himself.
This seemed to placate them, although they all passed on the flesh course. The Bodicéans did manage to find objectionable content to the soup course (too rich), to the wine (too refined, a good wine retains some essence of the ground and the Earth in which it grew { referring to bits of mud, presumably, thought Keeler}), and the desert (apparently, cooking fruit was inappropriate to the present season).
At the conclusion of the meal, the dishes were cleared. Then, Lear gave a overlong speech praising the beauty of Bodicéa, praising the great compassion its leadership had for their people, hinting at the wondrous opportunity for both peoples, and then, perhaps having run out of good things to say about the leadership, praising the beauty of the planet again. She then, passed the speaking wand to Ciel.
“I wish to thank the commander for her warm greeting and for the sufficiency of her cordiality,” Ciel began.
“I would like, now, to discuss certain resolutions approved by the council with regard to our present situation. Commander, our resolutions should be just between the Council and your ship’s senior leadership. Perhaps, this would be a good time to dismiss the children and civilians.”
Lear agreed of course. “If your people will accompany Specialist Armatrading to the reception hall, the children will be performing a song and dance.” Probably a lot more entertaining than the song and dance they’ll be performing here, Keeler thought.
Tobias stood and approached the dais. “If it is acceptable, I would like to pass on the recital.”
“Impudent man,” one of the advocates hissed.
“Ought to keep his place,” whispered another.
Tobias walked forward as though not hearing them. “It is really more a show for the women, and I fear I would not appreciate it. Perhaps, I could see more of your ship, instead.
Maybe, Lt. Alkema would deign to accompany me.”
“He may,” Keeler said. “If he wants to.”
“Will you be needing me, sir?”
Keeler leaned over and whispered, “This is your chance, go for it.” Alkema stood. “There are some other places I could show you.”
“I want to go with Lt. Alkema,” Pieta shrieked across the ballroom.
“Pieta!” Ciel called sternly, but the little girl was already walking up between the tables.
Pieta shrieked again. No words came with it, just the shriek and the implied threat to keep shrieking unless her demands were met.
“It’s okay,” Alkema said. “I would be glad to have the lovely Pieta come with me.” Trajan stood. “I would like to be excused, as well,” he asked.
Lear gave him a severe look, but Lt. Alkema was already on it. “It’s good. In fact, anyone who wants to pass on the song and dance recital, come with me.” He gestured toward the door and left, followed by Tobias, Pieta, Trajan, and Marcus. The other officers and civilians followed Armatrading.
Keeler looked around. “Well, now that there’s no one here but us kids, let’s get started.” Alkema led Pieta and the guys eleven decks down and two hundred meters forward to a large open space on the mid-deck of Pegasus. “These are the Midnight Gardens.” The Midnight Gardens were dominated by a domed ceiling outlined in wrought iron, producing the effect of walking through some ancient botanical garden. Projected behind the girders was the image of the night sky on Sapphire, during a conjunction of three full moons.
Ulysses, looking dark and sullen like the face of a petulant child, hung just underneath Hyperion, who blazed brightly, pastel yellow and pink like a ripening melon. Making a transit high above and behind was Rogue, little more than a small white disk.
The garden itself was filled with strangely delicate plant-life. Pale white flowers and leaves were turning outward toward the moonlight. They seemed almost luminescent, seeming to produce the halo-effect Sapphireans called “night-glow” that hung around them like angelic auras.
“These are the moon-blossoms, and those are the ghost-flowers, and faded lilies, night-clover, and on the side of that tree, there’s a vine of lunar lilacs growing.”
“It’s beautiful,” said Tobias.
“They only flower in moonlight. We believe they were discovered on a planet with a very long day-night cycle. Possibly, during the day, the sunlight became too fierce for flowers to thrive, so they adapted to a night-time existence. Some of our agro-botanists think they might be native to Sapphire, though, because their cellular structure is identical to our native plant life. Those trees over there are growing moon fruit. It isn’t ripe yet, when it is, you peel it and
eat it like an orange. The fruit itself is blue. You have to eat it at night because it sours in daylight.”
Pieta, was holding on to Alkema’s hand, and held it still as she reached with the other one and brushed the petals of a moon-blossom. It recoiled from her touch, as moon-blossoms did.
“You can make a garden like this when you come to live with me in Serenopolis,” she said, swinging his hand. Alkema blushed. He heard Trajan Lear snort in an undiplomatic way.
“It sounds like she has her mind made up,” Alkema said to Tobias.
“Her mother is the First Advocate,” Tobias said by way of explanation. “Her grandmother was in the Inner Circle, her great grandmother was as well, and her great-aunt was First Advocate. She knows she’ll always get what she wants, and after all, you’re just a man.” He looked admiringly over the arboretum. “We could never have anything like this.”
“I thought your world was big on gardening.”
“Not this… your ship. Spaceflight. We would never go into space. Far too dangerous.
Avoidance of physical injury is an obssession with the Outer Circle. They’ve banned contact sports, mountain climbing, anything that could potentially cause injury. They would never allow anything as dangerous as space travel.”
“Most of the things that make life worth living are at least a little dangerous,” Alkema said.
Suddenly, he remembered Commander Keeler’s speech in the Aves. Most of the things that made life worth living weren’t things you discussed with your mother, either.
“Have you spoken with your commander about what I told you, on the Isle of Mab.”
“I have,” Alkema answered.
“And…?”
“The commander has a lot on his mind. Normally, he would assign one of most trusted officers to investigate, but his most trusted officer is … is missing right now. That leaves me, I’m afraid.”
“What have you concluded?”
Alkema turned to the girl. “Pieta, do you need anything to drink?”
“I need to pass water,” she said.
