Trace pushed his chair back. “Can I offer a drink?”
“I’m still on duty. Tea will be fine.”
Rolling his eyes, Trace poured and slid over a cup as a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “We’re going to have to keep them up there as long as we can. Alysia is too volatile, hampered by severely limited resources. More people pushing in would only inflame our situation.”
Deuce took a sip of tea. “These newcomers aren’t responsible for that comet’s damage.”
Leaning forward, Trace placed his cup on the desk. “The populace is looking for something to blame their woes on and, although Terrans saved Alysia, they would provide the perfect scapegoats. Besides, they are obviously more technologically and biologically advanced than we are. Another reason to fear them. Our people look up in the skies and see those ships circling and panic. I’m concerned too. I want to know all their secrets before I open my door.”
“They have brought in very sophisticated machinery to clean up the place. That Carter fellow appears to be the one that handles the equipment. I’d get our best mechanic up there to take a look if I were you, sir. Another thing Richard didn’t mention: the gravity is different from before.”
“Seriously? I need you back up there to nose around some more if that’s the case. What else are they doing?”
Rubbing a finger on the desk, Deuce answered, “If you can rustle up fresh produce, I’ll deliver it to the kitchens and pick up any new material off the recorder. It would also give me an opportunity to observe and ask more questions.”
“The orchards and farms south of here can’t provide much. They escaped damage, but the axial tilt has given them shorter seasons, causing the fruit trees to struggle.”
Deuce sipped his tea and raised an eyebrow.
Trace sighed. “More promising, Bogtown is drying up and all that decayed matter is providing incredibly rich soil.” Trace slapped a hand down. “I’ll talk to people and pry loose some fresh food. Meanwhile, I want you up there keeping an eye on things… especially Steele. Fate knows what that man will come up with next.”
Chapter 6
Riots in the Ship
Jacob, along with Merek, heard the shouts as soon as they stepped on board The New Found Hope. Agitated voices bounced off the ship’s walls, forming a cacophony of sound. Both increased their pace as they headed toward administration and an embattled Brad Cameron.
“Jacob, where are you?” Brad’s voice came through his comm, a pitch higher than normal.
“I’ll be there momentarily. Tell them to calm down.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last four shifts? We have a situation on board all the ships. They want to know why they’re still orbiting.”
Jacob tightened his fists. Idiots. All idiots. “Didn’t Jensen and the shipboard astrogators explain about the two moons crashing into each other? The commander had to take care of that situation before unloading anyone. The ships were actually safer than the planet. What? Does everyone have wax in their ears or shit for brains?”
They burst into Administration to see a shouting mob and a beleaguered Brad Cameron. Mika stood next to him, stun gun drawn… or at least he hoped it was phased to stun.
“Everyone shut up,” Jacob yelled. The mob pivoted to confront him and began tossing out questions and demands.
“He said shut up,” Brad shouted. “You can’t hear what he says if you’re all talking over each other.”
An uneasy silence descended. Everyone exchanged glances, their faces reflected frustration.
“Here’s what.” Jacob wasn’t comfortable taking the lead in the conversation, but right now, he held the information they wanted to hear. “We had to take the time and move one of the moons out of orbit before the two crashed into each other. That was explained to you, wasn’t it?”
A grumbled started up.
“Do you want to know what happens next?”
A few nods and gruff assents followed the question. Feet shuffled. Someone coughed.
“The commander is putting together teams to ready the station. That will require time as it’s not your five-star hotel at the moment. Each ship has been tasked to provide a qualified work crew. The Alysians have promised food and water, only they are in a crisis below because of suffering damage caused by a comet. Pull out your telescopes and take a look. Things are very bad down there.”
Voices flared up again.
Merek displayed his hands, palms out, and the protests subsided.
Jacob continued, “They require a quarantine period on the space station, and Commander Fujeint has agreed. She wants time to study what we’re getting into before heading onto Alysia. Work with Administrator Cameron.”
Brad forced a smile and raised a hand.
“Ships will each send fifty personnel for the first round. Another round of fifty from each will enter the station once the quarantine is satisfied, and the initial group has landed on Alysia. We’ll do this in stages and adjust as needed. Early volunteers should be prepared for sweat and sore muscles in getting the station decent, but they will descend to the planet and get first pick of the prime land.”
Shouts of protest erupted. “Which means more hard work clearing the land,” a loud voice objected.
Merek lifted his hand and signaled Mika, who waved her stun gun for emphasis. “Of course, you could always go back and try your luck on Poseidon. Do you want to repeat that disaster? The water world killed all who landed on it.”
The complaints tailed off.
Jacob spoke up, “We are in a no-win situation here. We don’t possess the resources to leave, and the planet is compromised with very stressed natives who can only provide limited resources. Rock and a hard place, folks. We also don’t want to be a scapegoat for their problems. So, settle in and relax. Tell your families that this could be a long process and patience is required.”
“How long?” A bearded, middle-aged male asked.
“Don’t know, yet. The commander is still working out the details. But she has been promised a large plot of prime real estate due to her recent efforts at removing the moon threat. She wants to nail down a few more issues before making a fleet wide announcement. The last thing we need now are ships swirling with rumors that aren’t true. That will only serve to agitate everyone. Brad will set up committees who will communicate with all the ships. They’ll provide answers to any questions and work to calm down the panic.”
“Gee, thanks,” Brad muttered.
“Where do I sign up?” asked one sturdy looking woman.
Jacob swung around and faced Brad. “Our esteemed administrator would be a good start. We need to do the same on all the ships. Help me make this arrival an orderly transition where no one gets killed or hurt due to stupidity or ignorance.”
Brad stepped forward. “All right. You heard the man. Either Virginia or Nora will take names for the committee.”
A stunning blond edged forward. “I’ll help too.” She smiled at Brad.
“Amanda,” Merek breathed.
Brad took her arm and pulled her away. “I could use your help. You remember how the place works?” She nodded and threw an anguished glance over her shoulder at Merek. Then her attention turned wholly to Brad as Merek slipped away.
***
Elise watched from her perch in the Operations Center as the first Terrans stumbled onto the space station. She was uneasy with the lighter gravity, so she requested that Jimbo install the graviton generator to provide a heavier gravity. She simply couldn’t deal with the unsettling effect of using centrifugal force to simulate gravity, and she knew the arrivals would have difficulty too with that approach.
Richard stood next to her in regular ship attire, having shed his quarantine suit in a leap of faith. He acted very confident that no alien bug would lay him low. And it wouldn’t, most likely. Secretly, she had slipped nanites into his tea to protect him. As yet, he hadn’t mentioned any changes in gravity, but she knew he must have felt th
e difference. Amusement twinkled in his eyes as he watched with her through monitors as the first stationers disembarked.
Down below, a motley group disgorged from Captain Naomi Johnson’s Pilgrim’s Pride. Merek had a team around the perimeters whose purpose was to shepherd the fifty newcomers through the arrival process. These first were a poor representation of the Terran species as they stumbled off the ship, hugging their possessions and staring about in confusion.
Carter had designed a conveyor belt on which they were ordered to place their possessions. Merek’s team directed them to cubicles where they changed into flimsy robes. While they went through decontamination, their ship clothes and possessions passed through a separate sterilization process.
Merek tried to assure them by saying, “Everything is tagged and will be returned to you.”
Nervous banter tried to hide their fear of the new and unsettling situation.
Merek tried not to listen to the ridiculous comments, but he couldn’t help overhearing them.
“Crimey, Jake, but you got skinny looking chicken legs,” burst forth from one heavyset woman.
“Legs may be skinny, but I have other more exciting parts to show you if you’ve a mind, darling.”
“No, that’s okay…”
“Now them elephant thighs of yours…”
“Watch your tongue, old man, or you’ll lose it.”
“Move along; move along.” Merek shook his head at the rude comments spawned by frightened people.
“Gads, Jake, you should see the caboose on Hilary.”
“Shut up, Fred,” a female voice shouted back. “You’re no beauty yourself, so shut your fat mouth.”
“Hey, Jake likes a woman he can get a hold of. I bet he could really get a good grip on that ass of yours, gal.”
“If he so much as touches me, he’ll be holding nothing but broken fingers.”
“Move along!” An exasperated guard motioned her forward.
A line of women stood at the decontamination exit handing out freshly cleaned station outfits.
“Lord, got me a clean pair of pants.” A muscular brown-eyed male chortled, stepping into the clothes.
“Best you’ve smelled the whole trip,” his scrawny sidekick drawled.
“I work in hydroponics. Give a guy a break.”
“Give a friend a break. Try a shower once in a while.”
“This is where we’re going to live?” An expensively dressed, blond male flailed his hands out. “It’s primitive and smells.” He scrunched up his face into a disdainful sneer.
His attractive female companion brushed back her honey-blond hair, saying, “What did you expect? A five-star hotel where they turn back the sheets and leave a mint on your pillow? Didn’t you get the memo, Brent?”
“Yeah, yeah, I listened to Fujeint’s announcement, but somehow, I thought it would be more, ah, acceptable for human habitation.”
“Once you apply your computer wizardry, the place will be five-star. I plan to start a café where people can meet new friends from other ships.” She gave him a bright smile.
“Move along; move along.”
***
Up in the Operations Center, Naomi’s voice came through Elise’s comm. “My group is on station, Elise. My assistant, Ted, notified your guy, Jacob, that Pilgrim’s Pride has unloaded and is ready to depart. Jen Childes on Storage Locker is running up my backside and eager to be at dock.”
“Copy that, Naomi. Take her away. We’ll be ready for Storage Locker next. Just clear the dock your soonest.”
“Roger that. On my way.”
Elise turned to the nervous Alysian operator beside her. “She’s leaving and Storage Locker is coming in.”
They nodded and smiled, but she didn’t think they understood a word she said.
***
The station shuddered slightly as the huge ship, Pilgrims’ Pride, powered out. Down in receiving, several wide-eyed Terrans stumbled and tried to regain their balance.
“Holy Shit!”
A woman cuffed a teenage boy. “Jack, how many times I told you not to swear so much. Makes you sound low deck.”
“The station wobbled.” Wide eyes in a young man’s pale face stared at his mother.
“Big ships like ours moving in and out make themselves known.”
“Makes a person religious,” said a thin nervous fellow.”
“Henry, everything makes you religious.”
Henry peered into her face. “I look at you, my dear, and see heaven.”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Get real.”
“Move along; move along.”
Pilgrim’s Pride eased off as The Storage Locker arrived. Out along the dock, frantic Terrans worked feverishly with Alysian dockhands to secure the new ship.
***
Up in the Operations Center, Captain Jen Childes chortled into Elise’s comm, “Greased her in slick as a man’s…”
“Nice job, Jen,” Elise interrupted. She rubbed her forehead to calm a beginning headache.
The dance on the dock grew progressively more frenetic. Storage Locker unloaded and the New Frontier queued up.
Richard leaned toward her. “That Jacob fellow appears to have his end of things well in hand. How are you managing with the ships?”
Glancing over, Elise grinned. “Greased that last one in slicker than a…”
Richard raised his eyebrows.
Elise paused. “We’re doing very fine, thank you.”
“You know there’s a shuttle due to arrive from the Democratic Union. Deuce is bringing food and blankets.”
Her eyes widened. “I have ships scheduled on the dock full time.”
“Can’t we simply fit the shuttle in between ships?”
“We’ll need to change the dock clamps.”
“Oh, right. Forgot about that.” Richard began a rapid-fire discussion with the Alysian station controllers.
Elise pressed her comm. “Stand by, Captain Bradley. There’s inbound shuttle traffic from the planet. You may have to pull your ship out of the queue so we can make a clamp change.”
A string of curses let her know James Bradley was not pleased.
“They’re bringing food,” she admonished the irate captain.
Finishing his discussion, Richard clapped his hands in delight. “They don’t expect the shuttle for another half shift. We’ll have time to unload and change clamps, but the next ship may be behind schedule.”
She nodded. “Commander Fujeint here. James, you’re going to be okay, though you need to push your people out as fast as you can.”
“Copy that, Elise. I’ll put on a hurry.”
***
Eventually, twenty-eight ships and an Alysian shuttle disgorged their precious cargoes. Elise called for a break to sort out the arrivals.
Deuce came in with boxes of fresh produce, blankets, water, and supplies. The early arrivals, having found their assigned units and unpacked, crowded the main entry. Willing arms carried boxes to the kitchens while the rest were loaded onto the rail cars for delivery.
“What’s this?” A plump woman held up a round, orange fruit with a velvety surface.
Deuce shuffled over, still in a quarantine suit. He pointed to the fruit. “It’s a pachet.”
“Pachet.” The woman sounded out the word and rolled the fruit around in her hands.
“What’s it taste like?”
Deuce’s ability to speak Terran was still rough, but he’d spent time trying to learn. He’d made friends with a fellow named Tate Chattam who had set him up with a translator.
“It’s for you.” He motioned that she should take a bite.
Hesitantly, the woman bit into it, and an expression of astonishment crossed her face.
“Edith, this tastes like heaven.” The woman thrust the fruit at her companion while juice dribbled down her chin.
As Edith bit into the succulent peach-like fruit, her eyes gleamed. “Does taste mighty fine.” She grinned.
; “I want a taste.” A gangly, dark-haired woman pushed in.
“Then put on an apron and help us get this food out to the starving masses,” ordered Edith.
Chapter 7
The Gebbit Caper
Richard faced his fellow Alysian. How was Deuce going to connect with the Terrans if he stumbled around in that ridiculous marshmallow outfit? “Take off that damn suit,” he grumbled.
“I might contract some violent alien disease,” Deuce protested. Richard imagined the tan face paling to cream behind the faceplate.
“You’ll be fine.”
Deuce shuffled. “And you’re going to guarantee that?”
Richard sent him his best glare. “Yes, I’ll guarantee it.”
Deuce paused to think it over. Then, he pulled off his helmet and stripped off the suit. “Fate, I hate this outfit.”
“You look ridiculous.”
“It’s cumbersome. Hard to move around in.” Deuce toed the bulky outfit to one side.
“No, I mean you look ridiculous right now. What are you planning to do, give them a song and dance show?” Richard stared at Deuce’s white silk shirt and dark silver pants. Heavy electronic jewelry encircled the man’s neck and waist, supposedly connecting him electronically to the I.N.Sys network, and more.
“I need this stuff to function,” Deuce said, caressing his electronics.
“Go grab a stationer’s top from one of the assistants. Blend in, Deuce. If you’re going to play at being a spy, act like one.”
With a short nod, Deuce took off to find camouflage. Richard was right behind him when suddenly, Deuce pulled up short so quickly that Richard nearly rammed into him.
Somewhat Alien: The Station (Terran Trilogy Book 2) Page 4
