by S. H. Jucha
“They did, and they wish to meet. I’ve scheduled a rendezvous in two days, and we’ll host them aboard ship. There will be five of them. Three we know and two are new, Admiral Theostin and High Judge Bunaldi. More important, they want to be able to ‘speak plainly.’” Alex said, playing the speaker’s recorded voice from his implant.
“And do you know what they mean by that?” Renée asked, frowning at Alex for issuing the speaker’s voice from his mouth.
“I know what they want. The questions are: how do we go about discovering what we wish to know, and what do we choose to divulge to them?” Alex replied.
Renée uttered a sigh, stood up, slipped off her wrap, and threw it over her shoulder as she headed for their sleeping quarters.
“And why am I having the opportunity to admire you in this fashion at this time?” Alex asked.
“It’s because I know you, my love. You’re about to contact your people to discuss plans for this meeting. So while I get us more modest evening wear suitable for guests, I wanted you to see what was planned for you this evening, and that you’ll now be missing,” Renée replied with a hint of smile.
Alex smiled as he watched Renée’s bare behind disappear into their sleeping quarters. Then he commed his advisory group and requested they meet in his cabin. Since it was late, his people came in all manner of dress. Renée served thé while Alex related the speaker’s call and his intention to bring the five premier individuals aboard the Rêveur. “I’m thinking it’s time to let the Earthers get a peek at what they’re up against,” Alex said.
* * *
On the meeting day, the Earthers exited their shuttle into the Le Jardin’s bay to find four Haraken troopers in uniform waiting for them. Utilizing their translation equipment, the troopers guided their guests to a second bay. Inside sat one of the glistening blue, green, and cream craft, which the Earthers had wondered about since they first spotted the apparently engineless craft. Despite the vessel’s size and obvious weight, it floated more than a meter in the air above a cradle.
“If you will kindly board the shuttle, Sers,” a trooper requested when the Earthers lurched to a halt at the sight of the traveler. “Our president is waiting to greet you.”
“So the game begins,” Bunaldi whispered to Theostin as they stepped forward. But the high judge wasn’t as quick as Wombo, who needed no inducement to board. The huge man bounded up the steps into the shuttle’s interior like a child running toward his favorite playground.
The Earthers settled into their seats, which elicited various reactions as the nanites conformed the seats’ support to their bodies. Wombo couldn’t resist switching to new positions to see how far he could push the chair’s response until he heard García clear his throat, indicating Wombo should cease playing. This particular traveler was designated for their president’s use, so the interior appointments were the best that Harakens could provide, forcing the Earthers to grudgingly admire the craft’s interior.
“Well, they can do pretty. I’ll give them that. I wonder if they can fight as well as they can decorate,” Theostin murmured to Bunaldi, to which the high judge chose not to respond.
The interior lights dimmed when the hatch closed, and nearly a third of an hour passed while the Earthers waited for liftoff. Finally the cabin lights brightened again. “You may depart the shuttle, Sers,” a trooper announced as the rear hatch was lowered.
“Is there a problem with the craft?” Barbas asked.
“Of course not, Ser,” the first trooper replied. “We’ve landed aboard the Rêveur.”
“Not possible,” Theostin uttered under her breath.
“So that’s to be the nature of the game,” Bunaldi whispered to her. “It appears that we might just have met our match.”
The Earthers descended into a brightly lit bay. Obviously, it wasn’t the one where they started the journey. Two rows of troopers in dark uniforms awaited them. As one, they came to attention and saluted. The admiral and the major noted the coordinated precision of their movements. It was more machine-like than human.
At the end of the twin rows waited Alex, Renée, and Tatia with the twins standing behind them.
“Welcome aboard the Rêveur, Sers,” Alex said. “May I present, my partner, Renée de Guirnon, and Admiral Tatia Tachenko.”
“And how may we address you, Ser?” Bunaldi said, showing he was up to playing this game.
“You may call me President Racine, Ser,” Alex replied.
“And what world or worlds are you president of?” asked Theostin, her tone dubious.
“But, Sers, you haven’t introduced yourselves. Are we not observing the courtesies?” Alex replied, which earned him a broad smile from Bunaldi.
“By all means, President Racine, courtesies first,” Bunaldi said. “Allow me to present Admiral Samara Theostin, and you have met Speaker Antonio García, Major Kyros Barbas, and Administrator Olawale Wombo. I am High Judge Patricio Bunaldi.”
“Welcome, Sers,” Alex said graciously. “Please come this way. We have made preparations for your visit.”
As the Earthers walked the corridors of the Rêveur, the ship’s interior design mirrored the style of the shuttle they just departed — clean lines with no piping or venting to clutter the visuals.
Major Barbas caught Speaker García’s eye and nodded at a door as they passed. When García raised his eyebrows in question, Barbas whispered, “No labels,” and García nodded his understanding.
“It appears Wombo might be correct about Méridien communications,” García softly replied.
The Earthers watched the president walk up to a double set of doors which slid aside as he approached, and a low volume of casual noise reached their ears.
“Join us for a meal, Sers,” Alex said and led the way to the front of the hall. Bunaldi and Theostin exchanged glances and then followed the president.
The Earthers were introduced to Julien and Z, who waited at the front table. When they sat down, their chairs began conforming comfortably to their bottoms.
“I can understand your pleasure, Administrator Wombo,” Alex said when he noticed the smile cross the big man’s face. “There can be painful challenges when large bottoms occupy small seats.”
Wombo let loose a boom of laughter that could only come from a chest the size of his, but he quickly curtailed it when he caught sight of the high judge’s censuring stare.
“You want us to join you for a meal?” asked Theostin when glasses of water and aigre, the tart Méridien juice, and cups of thé were set before them.
“We noticed that you and your people deferred from food or drink at our fête, Speaker García. We wish to assure you that your health would not be placed at risk, Sers. If you will trust our intention and technology, Terese will ensure your safety,” Renée said, indicating the ship’s red-haired medical officer who appeared at Wombo’s elbow. “Who would like to volunteer for the test?”
Theostin should have been concerned that she would be allowing an advanced civilization access to her DNA and blood, but eyeing the striking redhead, she quickly replied, “I will volunteer,” and her eyes followed Terese’s hips as the Méridien gracefully strolled to her side.
The admiral shivered slightly as nanites attached the device. It wasn’t a reaction of disgust but one in anticipation of a more intimate contact.
When Terese’s reader concluded its analysis, she removed the attachment and gave the admiral a bright and winning smile. “Our food is fine for our guests, Ser President,” Terese said, nodding and touching hand to heart to Alex, a small show for the audience. “Although, no aigre for them.”
Alex sent privately.
Food was placed on the table in the small Méridien serving dishes, and while four of the Earthers hesitated, Wombo transferred a few spoons of one dish onto his plate and tasted it. “This is delicious,” he exclaimed.
Renée clapped her hands. “It was my hope you would enjoy our food, Administrator Wombo,” she exclaimed. “You seem the adventuresome type. Now, as you are close to my partner’s size, you should follow his lead,” and Renée proceeded to empty half the serving dish onto his plate. “These will be replaced as they are emptied. Never worry, Administrator, we have plenty.”
“I find it curious, President Racine,” Bunaldi said, “that you wear this exalted title, but the dishes are not even crafted for people the size of you and the admiral.”
“It’s an interesting story, Judge Bunaldi, but one I doubt you will be privileged to hear for quite some time, if ever, but, of course, that depends a great deal on you, doesn’t it,” Alex replied, taking a moment to shovel some food onto his plate, tear a roll, and sop some juice, before popping the roll into his mouth.
Bunaldi slowly added food to his plate. He was thinking furiously how to get ahead of the president. Holding the meeting in the midst of his crews’ meal was a master stroke. It said, “We are happy to entertain you in front of our people, and we have nothing to fear and are congenial people.” From Bunaldi’s point of view, the trick was to determine how much was fiction and how much was fact.
“I wonder if you understand by now, Judge Bunaldi, that our worlds will not be subjugated by your United Earth, and you can’t take them by force,” Alex said casually, continuing to enjoy his food.
Theostin glanced toward Admiral Tachenko to gauge her reaction to her president’s words and was surprised to see a smile on the woman’s face that was directed her way. The Méridien admiral was either supremely overconfident or knew something Theostin didn’t know. The thought that it might be the latter sent a small icy chill up her spine.
“Confident words, President Racine,” Bunaldi replied. “I applaud your camouflage. You’ve been able to hide your military force so carefully that we’ve seen no evidence of it.”
Theostin wanted to join the conversation, but she was transfixed by Admiral Tachenko. Even as the Méridien ate, the woman never diverted her eyes from Samara. She felt as if she was being measured. For decades, Samara Theostin rose in the UE Navy’s ranks, with the quick and decisive defeat of one rebel colony after another. Now, she wondered if she was meeting an enemy who was her equal … or maybe superior.”
Alex paused and then said, “I agree, Julien.”
Wombo halted his brimming spoonful of food in mid-air and stared at Julien, then the president. When he turned to look at his compatriots, he found they were doing the same thing.
“As you can communicate silently, Ser Julien,” García said calmly, “would you be so kind as to repeat aloud what you said to your president?”
“Please, Speaker García, call me Julien. As a SADE, what you would call an artificial intelligence, I do not pretend to the appellation of ‘Ser.’ What I said to President Racine was, ‘It appears our Earther cousins are more sight challenged than we thought.’”
Silence greeted Julien’s words. Only one person, Wombo, seemed excited at the prospect of meeting a walking, talking, human-appearing avatar of an artificial intelligence. His mouth hung open, and his eyes gleamed.
“These are nice parlor tricks, President Racine,” Theostin said, finally breaking away from Tatia’s stare, “but you offer no proof. I could call myself an intelligent robot and who would know the difference.”
“But isn’t that the point, Admiral Theostin?” asked Z, who was wearing his banker’s avatar. “We are indistinguishable from humans, an indication of the level of technology you face.”
“We …? Are you saying you’re one of these artificial intelligences?” Barbas asked.
“The term is SADE, Major. Do please keep up. And, yes, I am a SADE — one already known to you,” Z replied.
“You’re mistaken. I’ve never met you before today,” Barbas said, searching his memory to double-check himself.
“But you have, dear Major,” said the voice of Miranda Leyton. “Of course, I was wearing a much more enticing outfit when you were enjoying my company then.”
Major Kyros Barbas stared in horror at Z. First disgust and then rage burned through him. He couldn’t believe the horrendous trick that had been played on him. Before he could be restrained, Barbas jumped up and launched a meaty fist at Z’s face. The blow was stopped centimeters in front of Z’s face by the SADE’s hand, which held the major’s fist in a metal-alloy grip.
“Now, Major, is that any way to treat a woman?” Miranda’s voice purred.
“Sit down, Major,” Bunaldi ordered in an iron voice. When the officer failed to move, Bunaldi was forced to raise his voice and order him again to be seated. Barbas sat down heavily, grabbing a cup, and gulping down some water. His face was suffused with blood, embarrassed for lusting after a non-human, and he stared with hatred at Z, who politely smiled back.
“So, President Racine, all this …” Bunaldi said, swinging his arms to indicate the meal room and the ship, “is to demonstrate your superiority, your technological advantages.”
“It is hoped you will see reason, Judge Bunaldi, and return home. As I said, our worlds won’t join United Earth, and a war holds only ruin for your forces,” said Alex, his eyes boring into Bunaldi’s.
“So you say,” Theostin said, adopting a smirk to underline her doubt.
Alex was tempted to reach across the table and smack the smirk off her face.
Alex turned and offered Renée a small, crooked smile. His partner always demonstrated a keen ability to diffuse a situation, especially where it concerned Alex’s anger.
Wombo, recognizing another moment of silent interplay between the Méridiens, itched to learn what it would feel like to converse mind to mind.
“Just what would convince you, Judge Bunaldi, to leave our corner of the galaxy alone?” Alex asked.
“I will give your question some consideration, President Racine, and see if there is something that could convince us to leave,” the high judge replied.
“Very well, Judge Bunaldi. Please, Sers, enjoy the rest of your meal in peace,” Alex said and silence descended over the table as everyone returned to their food and drink, all except Barbas, who sat brooding in silence, not touching another mouthful of food.
When the meal ended, the crew turned in their chairs to face the head table. The motion of so many bodies caused the Earthers to alternate between gazing around the meal room and turning to look at Alex for an explanation.
“Your pardon, Sers, this is a Méridien tradition,” Alex said. “One guest provides a story in return for the meal. It is recorded and shared for posterity,” Alex added, tapping his temple.
No one responded, and Alex was about to excuse them to return to their ship via his traveler when he heard Wombo say, “I would be privileged, President Racine, to be the first Earther to have his story recorded by your people.”
“Should I stand?” Wombo asked. He got to his feet when Alex nodded.
Wombo spread his arms in apology. “I wish my life contained a tale of tragedy or heroism to make this moment more … momentous.” He gr
inned by way of an apology and shrugged his massive shoulders. Many of the crew saw reflections of their leader in the huge man’s gentle ways. Wombo ducked his head while he considered his next words, and then he straightened up and in a loud, clear voice began his story.
“Instead, let me tell you about a dream. Once upon a time, there was a young boy, who dreamed of becoming a scientist. He dreamed of traveling to the stars and discovering new and wonderful worlds. As a young man, he worked hard, doing everything asked of him, but over time, he found less and less joy in his work. One day, the man, who by now was in his later years, was offered an opportunity to participate in one of his peoples’ first journeys to the stars, and he was again full of hopes and dreams, a young boy’s excitement alive in an old man’s body. To the scientist’s amazement, that journey brought his dreams to life. He found a wondrous world full of things that only occurred in his daydreams. Today, standing here, the boy and the man thank you for making his dreams come true.”
Whatever reception Wombo had expected from his story, it wasn’t the one he received as the entire crew stood and cheered. He grinned as he turned to the president and found the Haraken leader and his associates standing with hands over hearts and heads bowed. It was in stark contrast to the scowls and irritated looks painted on the faces of Wombo’s own people.
Wombo, facing a critical decision point in his life, decided he was done with the UE. He turned back to the cheering and applauding crew and raised an arm in salute, and they shouted even louder. Turning back to the president and finding him and his people still frozen in their postures, he drew himself up to his full formidable height and returned their poses, his hand over his heart, as earnestly as he could.
Alex brought the meal to a close and escorted his guests back to the bay and the traveler.
Bunaldi and Theostin put their heads together the entire way, and as the group approached the bay’s airlock, Bunaldi cleared his throat, causing Alex to stop and face him. “President Racine, I believe we’ve conceived a means by which we might settle our impasse. We propose a contest. If we win, you gain us a face-to-face meeting with the Confederation leaders, and if you win, we’ll leave the system.”
