by Jim Rudnick
Located at the most inward edge of the Barony space realm, Throth was a new world with seas, landmasses, and yet not a single sentient being. Their star was a relative newcomer to the galaxy, a B-class blue white-giant star that burned hot but had in this case, relatively few gas giant planets. Inside the Goldilocks zone where life was possible lay Throth, young yet full of animal life and not a single human or alien life-form had yet crawled out of their seas.
Helena knew that her father had always wanted to populate the world, but just had never gotten around to it before he had died. He used to say had the planet had big game like the huge Jaels of Anulet or even the lizard-like Daal of Quaran, it might have helped ... but the biggest creatures on Throth were all much smaller.
I will need to speak to stepmother, she realized, and that alone was enough to almost stop her cold. She sighed in frustration.
Her stepmother was the Baroness and had married Helena's father ... coming from inward to take over the Barony when her father had died with its billions of inhabitants spread out on its nine-member planetary realm. Now they were locked into the daughter/stepmother relationship dance that Helena realized would last and last ... neither really friendly, neither really openly adversarial.
I will probably never ever be the leader of our realm, what with the Baroness being only ten years older than I am, she thought. But she could still help manage the realm and the opportunity this gave us, she knew. If she could talk to the Baroness and convince her that allowing the aliens to settle on Throth as their own world would mean she would have added another world to the realm, the Baroness might agree with all the voting and RIM Confederacy advantages that would accompany that change in the Barony's status.
This would help both the Barony and the aliens. It would be Lady St. August’s leadership in this matter that would supersede any RIM Navy prerogatives. It would also put a stop to anything Captain Scott might be dreaming up too. Time to EYES ONLY the Baroness, explain the state of affairs here with the aliens ... and see if she would back the idea and enable both the Barony and the aliens to find a solution to the problem.
This would work and she counted on her stepmother realizing too that by taking in the aliens, by donating a world, that the Barony would become one of the largest member realms of the RIM Confederacy.
"Possibilities, possibilities ..." Helena said to herself as she stared off toward the Marwick and thought of that elbow grasp ...
#
"It is 240 plus years, Captain Pankov," Vetochkin said, his voice as smooth as a callus on velvet. He stared at the Drozir Captain, waited, and was rewarded with a shrug.
"Sir," Pankov said calmly, "yes, the aliens appear to not care very much about the distance nor the time—for us using the TachyonDrive, it's forty days away, but for them it is two centuries and more. I do not see how that could be this 'advantage' you talked about for either us here or for Novertag either. Sir," he added.
"Novertag, have you not remembered, Captain, has a whole continent that we have never had any population upon. Never settled, barely explored, not mapped, and yes, free for the giving. Do you see what I think we can offer these aliens, Pankov?"
"Sir, I believe that Captain Pankov stated that these aliens wanted only a free world, one never settled, one with no sentient life at all," the Drozir XO said. He knew that no one had ever lived on the continent called Yassuk for at least the past millennia or so and it had lakes, valleys, mountains,, and game.
"Yes, XO that is true, but carefully weigh our empty continent only about seven years away from here at the alien ship’s speed ... versus 240 years to the edge of the RIM. And both you and I know that on this vector course, there are no worlds they will find that could become their home. None. So it's either our offer right here, right now, or they face the true blackness of space outside of our galaxy."
He looked at them both, nodding to them, and then pointed in the direction of the alien ship that lay to port.
"Plus the best card that we can play ... if they choose Novertag, the crew who make the decision will live to see their new world and not have to end their lives never knowing where their Sleepers—their children will end up. What could be a better offer? With our help, this tribal society will meld in nicely on our world. They will become a part of the Secretariat and learn to bow to the power of the people."
The three men stared at each other, each lost in thought.
"Perhaps, you need to connect to the Secretariat to look for guidance on this," the XO said, and the Captain nodded too.
"Yes, Politico Vetochkin, I agree here that this is the best policy. We are so lucky that Novertag lies here at the inward boundary of the RIM for us to be able to offer this ... all we need to do is get the Ikarians to accept our offer ... when it is authorized, that is ..." Pankov said as he left the room. They all then turned to look out the Ready Room viewport at the huge alien ship that lay beside them.
"Chubarov, let's see if you can get me EYES ONLY with the Premier—this would be up at the Secretariat Level Zeta-1—and don't delay, Lieutenant," Vetochkin said as he slipped into his chair at the console in his quarters.
He'd come directly there after leaving the captain and XO in the Drozir's Ready Room and had contacted the ships science officer immediately. Moments later, the whirling logo of the Supreme Council Premier appeared on the screen first, followed with the unsmiling face of the man who was the Secretariat himself.
"Commissar Vetochkin, what do you have to report?" he said quietly, his eyebrows arched highly above his deep blue eyes. Anatoly squared his posture up and remembered to speak slowly.
"Premier, as we know now, the aliens will be needing a place to land, to settle, and to make their own. My suggestion, Premier, is to offer them the use of Yassuk, and by doing so, we would gain the upper hand over the whole of the Confederacy. We would populate the whole sub-continent, we would gain new followers, and we would also be the guardians of their sleep technology and a ship, Premier, that is the largest we have ever seen ..."
He spoke slowly so that the much older Premier could both hear him and comprehend; older people needed that, he knew. Of course, why the man who was over 120 years old would ever even be the Premier was the real question, but he put away the thought of his own rise to the Premiership and nodded as his head of state spoke finally after digesting that information.
"Anatoly—is that correct? We could yes, become the home of these, what 10,000 new citizens, but at what cost? And would the Confederacy help in that matter?" he finished off.
He's missed it, Vetochkin realized.
"Premier, the thing to remember is that we—Novertag and the Secretariat—would control the aliens as they would be under our guardianship. That would include all of their Sleepers, their ship, and yes, their technology too."
His Premier nodded. Then he nodded again and half-turned away. And then he turned back.
"Yes, Commissar, yes, I agree ... and will sanction this action on behalf of the Secretariat. We are to become the home—new home for these aliens ... get that done, and I want confirmation on this back as soon as possible. Fulfill your duty, Anatoly ... and I can promise you a seat on the new Security Council. You will be rewarded for this, Commissar ... and rewarded well!"
The console screen went black, and Vetochkin leaned back, knowing he had to sell the idea to the aliens and thought that nothing could be easier ... especially as he would be saving the lives of all of their elders. He smiled and then smiled again ...
#
The admiral was not impressed, but in fact seemed more than upset, Tanner realized, and he tried to sit up a bit straighter as he talked to the head of the RIM Confederacy Navy. Perhaps it's the slight stammer that sometimes happened when he'd had a few ... perhaps not, Tanner rationalized and nodded back to his boss.
"Sir, yes, Sir, Admiral. We all felt at our de-briefing that what we learned appears to be as honest as could be, Sir. These are a tribal culture of aliens, who simply are looking fo
r a new home. One that they can settle alone ... that is as I said, their Sachem said, they want no one else already on the planet that they find. Sir," he added.
The admiral just stared at Tanner and waited.
Tanner fidgeted a bit in his chair and tried not to look away, not that there was much to look at in his Ready Room. The viewport showed the Nugent and the alien ship, with just a sliver of the Bunker Hill to port. Behind and above the console that held the admiral's image was the cupboard where he kept one supply of Scotch, and he'd already poured a strong double into the coffee cup at his elbow. Sipping from the cup, he nodded to the admiral and sipped again.
"Sir, Lieutenant Paterson, our science officer, reports that on this vector course, there are zero planateas ... sorry, Sir, I meant planets that could be suitable for the aliens. In fact, Sir, Paterson reports that there are less than three such worlds in all of the RIM. Sir," he finished a bit lamely. Such was the state of the empty but viable worlds here at the edge of the galaxy ...
"We do realize that too, Captain, but you are not to tell the aliens. Is this something that they will have trouble digesting ... that according to you, if they can't find a suitable world, then they're leaving the galaxy. Which I personally think is a bad idea," Admiral McQueen said as he shook his head. "And that's something that you are not to mention, Captain, understood?"
Nodding, Tanner took another large sip of his coffee and then added something else.
"Sir, for your information, we awoke this morning to find that the Sterling and Lady St. August had left the area ... destination unknown, Sir," he added, wondering what the admiral would add to that.
"She was saddled upon you, I realize," McQueen said dryly, "but that was because she is a Royal, and she was under direct control—not by me, mind you, Captain, but by the Confederacy Council itself. It was their doing, and not my own. And I'm sure that I'll hear lots more about this at the RIM Confederacy Council meeting next month. And yes, I have no idea as to where she has gone or why I'd care either—between us only, Captain," he added but slightly backed up a bit on his obvious distaste for a Royal and half-turned to his desk.
Peering at a folder full of reports, he selected one and turned back to face Tanner who was just putting down his now empty cup wishing he'd made it a triple.
"Captain, your mission—docs to follow—is, again, simple. Since your first contact with the aliens, your job is to maintain your control of the situation. You will accompany them until your relief appears. We will be combining some RIM diplomats and a few scientists and send them out on the Eridani, and they should arrive within about five to six weeks or so ... ‘til then you're in charge. I will be moving the Bunker Hill and Nugent off and back into their own missions soon enough, and a reminder that you will need to watch the Novertag frigate the Drozir carefully too. No one to gain access to the Keshowse or the aliens without your direct approval, and you will need to accompany any boarding party requests. Keep a watch on them, Tanner ... we do not need another Sleeper ship incident so this one is up to you. No mention of that either, Captain, and I'm not remiss in asking you to handle this, am I?" McQueen asked as his head slightly tilted to one side.
Tanner had been nodding now for a few seconds.
"Not at all, Sir ... may I ask once this babysitting duty is over where will you send the Marwick next?" He hoped that the boundary buoy repair mission duty was long gone.
"Don't know as yet, but there will be something for you to do, Captain. Dismissed," he finished off, and the screen in front of Tanner faded to black.
He quickly stood and grabbed the half-empty bottle of Scotch from the lowest cupboard shelf and had a quick swig before he sat back down. Filling the now empty coffee cup was what he tried to do, but the bottle was empty before the cup was full. He knew he should go out to the bridge, which lay beside his Ready room, for coffee to fill up the cup, but he didn't bother. He had a sinking feeling that the boundary buoys were back on his upcoming mission list again, and he simply said 'damn' and rose to stare out of the viewport at the Keshowse as she lay to starboard.
Aliens who'd rather face the blackness of the space between galaxies than join another world as immigrants. That seemed odd, he thought but then rationalized that particular point of view by remembering that for the aliens, everything demanded respect. Its people, its society, and yes, even its planet had to be respected, and for them that meant no planet already populated could be joined ... the circle had to start with them. He nodded and slugged down the final few mouthfuls of Scotch and was surprised to find the cup now empty.
Grinning to himself, he chuckled right out loud as he knew the Officers’ Mess down on Deck Twenty-three had lots and lots of Scotch, so he'd pop down there for a nightcap and then hit the bunk. “Sounds like a plan,” he said as he took five purposeful deep, deep breaths and moved to the Ready Room exit door. Exhaling as much as he could, he thumbed the keypad and walked quickly through the bridge toward the lift door.
"Captain on the bridge," Lieutenant JG Whiteside announced from his seat at the science console, and he quieted as Tanner merely waved at him as he strode by.
"Sir, can we—" Lieutenant Ashley was about to say but was interrupted by Tanner.
"Stow it, Lieutenant, I'm gone ... see the XO if needs be.," The lift door opened, and he made his escape not bothering to turn to the still open door until it closed behind him.
A minute later on Deck Twenty-three, he turned to starboard and ambled toward the Officers’ Mess, entered, and made his way to a solitary spot on the long table in the center of the room. A steward appeared in moments, and after asking the captain what he'd like, he simply reached onto his tray and dropped down the fresh glass and bottle of Scotch that had been there all the time.
"Appears you know my routines there, Steward ... ah ... Steward Stevens, right?" he said and grinned at the man who was before him.
"Correct, Sir, as always," the steward said and returned back to the end of the service bar in the corner of the mess. There were only a couple of other officers present in the mess, Tanner noted, and they were all busy playing cards or chatting. No one to bother me at all, he thought, as he poured three fingers of his favorite Black Scotch into the rocks glass and added a cube or two for a change.
He stared off out the view-port at the Keshowse and wondered what the aliens would do when they learned there weren’t any unsettled worlds before the blackness out past the RIM. He wondered about the Sleepers themselves, and how could someone have decided to put children into cryonic stasis. He wondered how the parents of those Sleepers must have felt to see their children leave their world for parts unknown. He wondered what those parents must have felt day after day, year after year, not knowing what lay in their children's futures, or if they even had a future.
He polished off that first drink, swirled the now smaller ice cubes around the shallow glass, and reached to refill the glass, but another hand beat him to the bottle.
"Sir, permission to pour," the XO said and sat beside his captain.
"Absolutely, Craig," Tanner said and waved to the steward for a new glass, "and you can have one too. That's an order, XO!" he added but smiled as he said that.
The new glass was presented, and the XO poured and sat back.
"Permission to—" he started, and Tanner finished it for him.
"Aye, XO ... you may always speak freely—especially with a Scotch in hand."
"Sir—Tanner, I thought it only right that I perhaps speak up about ... uh ... about life on board the ship. Sir," he said, only pausing near the end of his sentence.
"On board the ship?" Tanner asked with a half-assed smile, "or do you mean in my life, Craig?" He had no idea what his XO meant to say but thought offering up a tangent would be better than whatever Craig wanted to talk about.
"Yes, simply, Captain, it's you I'm worried about," Craig said. Plainly. Nicely. But still out there.
Tanner stared at him, then at his Scotch, and then back to his XO.
"Me, XO? Why would you be worried about me and over what issue? Orders lately? Maintenance routines? Shift changes for CPOs perhaps? What could you possibly be worried about? Did I spill coffee again on the bridge deck?" He chuckled a bit at that and tossed off half his drink in one big gulp.
"It's what's inside that glass that worries me, Tanner," Craig said as he stared directly at his captain. He didn't look away. His stare is uncomfortable, Tanner thought as he slid his eyes down to his glass.
"Nonsense, Craig ... I drink like others do, socially and yes, once in a long while perhaps more than I should. But that's it. I drink a bit because I want to, I need to, and that's my own personal business," Tanner said as he finished his drink and slammed the glass down on the tabletop.
"And as you know, the Navy—every single Navy all across the galaxy—has some kind of a mess just like this one. Not a problem at all, Craig ... so stow it!" he said a bit more forcefully than he wanted as the chatting officers across the room had stopped talking and stared.
"Dismissed. Steward, clear the mess, captain’s orders," he said roughly and ignored the XO who tried to slide in a word or two, but he was having none of it. About time the crew present learned who the captain of the Marwick was ... and the mess when empty would still have Scotch, he thought, as the few officers filed out of the mess.
"Ice, more ice, please, Mr. Steward," he intoned and slopped more Scotch into his glass, wondering if he'd finish the bottle or just take it back to his quarters. Maybe here he imagined and poured yet another.
#
The Baroness of Neres inspected the next row of her EliteGuards and found fault with only one more of them.
"Provost, what is the required placement on the forearm of the EG chevrons?" she queried. She knew, of course, that it was to be midway between the cuff bands and the elbow fold, but she liked testing the leader of her bodyguard force too.
