Messinants

by S. H. Jucha

  “I think we were especially brilliant today,” Pickcit said.

  “I would credit His Excellency,” Tiknock replied. “I believe he will do what is best for Na-Tikkook.”

  “I agree. I was referring to outmaneuvering Master Roknick,” Pickcit replied. “The reports from Jittak were especially harsh and condemning of the humans. You’d think he was describing the Colony, when he was speaking about Aurelia, Captain Harbour, and the other empaths.”

  Tiknock eyed his lifelong friend and said, “I’m sure you noticed His Excellency’s interest in hearing how Aurelia’s emanations felt.”

  “Indeed, I did,” Pickcit replied. “And, I’m grateful he asked. It would have signaled Roknick of our leanings if one of us had expressed interest in the phenomenon.”

  “Do you wish to experience it?” Tiknock asked, nudging his friend.

  “From Aurelia, no,” Pickcit replied firmly. Then, with a grin, he added, “But from Captain Harbour, yes!”

  The two masters laughed uproariously, as they summoned their ride.

  Rictook announced his decision, which, as the masters anticipated, signaled a go-ahead. His Excellency’s command initiated days of analysis and planning. The dome’s records and Jaktook’s scope recordings revealed the extent of the damage to Pyre’s surface. Scientists and engineers had an annual’s worth of data. It provided them with a means of calculating the amount of heat remaining under the surface, which was created from the weapon’s energy, and the density of particulate matter in the atmosphere.

  The challenge for the scientists and engineers would be to design a device that could be manufactured, in a significant part, by the humans. That approach would limit the amount of material that would need to be transported through the Q-gate.

  The device would have to accomplish multiple jobs. It would need to be able to draw heat into itself from a broad area, eliminating the need to deploy a great number of the constructions. It would need to transform that heat into a form of energy that could be ejected into space, without harming stations or ship traffic or heating the atmosphere. And finally, some of that heat would be required to power the device to do such things as filter the atmosphere at a tremendous rate, compact the particulate matter, and spit it out in inert form.

  The two masters rubbed their hands gleefully at the thought of the task. They hadn’t been so enthused about a new challenge of this magnitude in a long time.

  -23-

  What If

  Knowing JOS tracking would report to the commandant when the Annie left Triton orbit and Emerson would tell Lise Panoy immediately, Harbour decided not to wait until Jessie joined her at Emperion before she broadcast her newest message. She chuckled to herself, imagining the commandant and the governor’s reactions.

  “Will you want to share the imagery from the dome that was seen on Captain Cinders’ last comm?” Dingles asked Harbour.

  “You mean the part where our spacers are surrounded by short, furry Jatouche?” Harbour asked. “You bet I do.”

  “Don’t you think we might be scaring the topsiders and downsiders?” Dingles riposted.

  “Dingles, ask yourself: How do you get an entire population to accept a monumental change in perspective?” Harbour said.

  “I have no idea, Captain. How do you do that?” Dingles asked, feeling he was out of his depth in this conversation.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea, Dingles,” Harbour replied, with a wry smile. “My intention is to continue throwing messages at Pyreans and see what sort of reactions they generate. Maybe that way we can figure out how to nudge them in the direction we want.”

  “Not exactly what you’d consider a tried-and-true technique,” Dingles commented.

  “Think of it this way,” Harbour replied. “If the image of peaceful aliens surrounding our spacers scares our citizens silly, what are they going to think if we tell them the aliens are ready to venture among them and help restore the planet?”

  “I see what you mean, Captain. It might be better to frighten them a little at a time instead of all at once.”

  “That’s the spirit, Dingles,” Harbour replied, slapping him on the shoulder and sending some emotional lift his way before she headed to her next appointment.

  Dingles turned and made for the bridge. On the way, the thought crossed his mind that some time, during the last year, his captain had eclipsed his ability to advise her on greater matters.

  * * * *

  “I presume you listened to that woman’s broadcast and watched the vid,” Lise said to Emerson, her temper barely under control.

  “I did,” Emerson replied. He was mentally and emotionally prepared for Lise’s call the moment he heard the announcement of Harbour’s impending broadcast. It occurred to him that no amount of monthly stipend from the governor was worth going under with her. This shift in his perspective stemmed from the current moods of stationers that he perceived, as he walked around the station.

  “It’s time to stop trying to delicately handle the problem,” Lise demanded. “I want you to arrest Jessie Cinders, when he next docks on a JOS terminal arm.”

  “I presume you have a charge in mind,” Emerson said, enjoying throwing Lise’s words back at her.

  Lise stared hard-eyed at her comm unit, as if doing so would transfer her frustration to Emerson. “What part of Harbour’s broadcast didn’t you understand, Emerson? She said these fuzzy aliens are considering whether to help us reclaim the planet.”

  “A lot of people think that might be a good thing, Lise. Every stationer knows the JOS is running out of room, and constructing another station will be incredibly expensive,” Emerson replied.

  “Well, I’m glad the topsiders think that the help of these aliens is a good thing,” Lise said sweetly, but Emerson could hear the poison in her words. “Did the thought not cross your topsiders’ little minds that the aliens might be lying? Their offer to repair our planet might be just an excuse to repair Pyre and take it for themselves. I suggest you and every stationer stop being so naïve, Emerson, and start thinking about how to keep Pyre out of the hands of these aliens.”

  Emerson had to admit that he had been so focused on outmaneuvering Lise that he hadn’t considered the possibility that the aliens might be as duplicitous as the governor. Then again, it was Jessie Cinders and Harbour who appeared to have adopted them, and, although they were pains in his backside, he knew that they weren’t people who could easily be fooled by others, even aliens. He was left with a difficult choice: Cut the governor loose and risk being outed by her or risk the ire of every spacer and a good many stationers by arresting Jessie Cinders.

  “I’ll take your suggestion under advisement, Governor, and inform you of my decision,” Emerson replied in a formal tone. “After all, there’s no hurry. The Annie has only recently departed Triton for Emperion, and I expect those ships to be there for many months. In the circumstances, it would be foolish to communicate our intentions beforehand. Good day, to you, Governor.”

  Lise was tempted to toss her comm unit across the room, but she had done it so often lately that she stayed her hand.

  “It appears that our control of the commandant is slipping,” Rufus said. He was seated on the couch with Idrian.

  To relieve her anger, Lise got up from her chair and walked to the room’s rear window to stare at the lush garden. She didn’t know why the view of flowering trees and plants calmed her, since she rarely walked through the expansive greenery.

  “Ever since we discovered the monitoring software on my comm device, the tension between him and me has been on the rise,” Lise replied. “I’m beginning to wonder if it wasn’t Emerson’s doing.”

  “That would indicate a third player,” Idrian suggested.

  “A third player or players on the station, who have access to the comm servers,” Rufus added.

  “Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Lise said, rounding to gaze at the two family heads. “And I have an idea of who that might be. Major Finian was the
key figure in the arrest of Markos Andropov. It’s quite likely that he’s become aware of our liaison with the governor.”

  “That could be extremely dangerous for us, Lise,” Idrian said, with concern.

  “Not necessarily,” Rufus objected. “If the major had something significant, he’d have presented it to the Review Board.”

  “Which means he’s either guessing or he’s obtained his information illegally,” Lise surmised, taking her seat again.

  “Either way, he should probably be dealt with, sooner than later,” Rufus suggested.

  “That’s entirely premature, Rufus,” Idrian countered. “We think there’s a third player. Lise thinks it might be Major Finian. We think that he’s guessing or obtained illegal evidence. That’s a thin chain of presumptions. In addition, you might consider that the major has shared his knowledge with others.”

  “Idrian is correct, Rufus,” Lise replied. “There’s too much that’s unknown in order for us to take action. However, if what we surmise is true, it means our communications with Emerson or topsiders, in general, are in jeopardy.”

  The shocked expressions on Rufus and Idrian’s faces disgusted Lise. She wanted to sneer at them and decry their weak minds.

  “We have to communicate on a daily basis with stationers, Lise,” Idrian objected. “What are we going to do, if security is monitoring us?”

  Lise stuffed her indignation back in its box. “Simple, Idrian. Keep your calls clean. If you have something manipulative to communicate, have someone else make the call. Or, I don’t know, send them a printed message if you can’t trust anyone to do it for you. Get inventive. It’s not my place to help you figure out how to get around security’s surreptitious surveillance of us.”

  “This subject aside, Lise, what are we going to do about the aliens?” Rufus asked. After the meeting, he intended to take Idrian to task for displaying weakness to Lise.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Lise replied. “The commandant does have a point, even if he made it obliquely. We have time. The aliens might not come through on their offer. Even if they do, any equipment they intend to introduce has to come through the domes. That will give us an opportunity to negotiate with the topsiders under what circumstances they’re allowed to do this. There’s no way we’re opening up this planet to the likes of stationers and spacers.”

  * * * *

  Jessie arrived at Emperion, transferred from the Annie to the Spryte. Immediately, the Annie’s crew joined the rotation of spacers responsible for moving the slush, much to the relief of those who had been hard at work for weeks to best the past trip’s production rate.

  Harbour was disappointed that Jessie didn’t visit the Belle after arriving and found an opportunity to talk to Ituau in the cantina one evening.

  “Getting some much-needed rest?” Harbour asked, as she came up from behind Ituau.

  The other spacers who stood at the tall, drinks table with Ituau glanced at Harbour. They were looking for a sign as to whether the captain wanted a private conversation, and Harbour signaled them to stay.

  However, Ituau wasn’t fooled by Harbour’s casual approach and knew exactly what the captain wanted to know.

  “If I knew being captain required so much work, I think I wouldn’t have been so excited to accept the appointment,” Ituau quipped and downed the last of her drink.

  A resident, who was earning extra coin as a server, passed by, and Harbour caught her attention. “Another round for these thirsty spacers on the captain’s account,” she said.

  The spacers who’d been nursing their drinks finished them off in a hurry in anticipation of the free ones.

  “I would imagine Captain Cinders wouldn’t have that much to do after the way you’ve kept the crew busy, Ituau,” Harbour suggested.

  “Good thing the captain is back,” Nate said. “Ituau was trying to work us to death.”

  “You’d think you don’t like the prospects of a pile of coin,” Ituau riposted.

  “Can’t spend it if I’m dead, Ituau,” Nate shot back, and the spacers chuckled about the exchange.

  “Captain has been a bit irritable after he returned from Triton,” Buttons, an aging spacer, commented.

  “That’s nothing much,” Nate said. “Just too many questions.”

  “What do you mean too many questions?” Harbour asked.

  The spacers glanced toward Ituau, as if it were her place to discuss the captain’s business in an open forum.

  “You know how it is, Captain,” Ituau said. “Spacers are a practical bunch. Once they heard there was the prospect of aliens coming to help recover the planet, they started discussing what it would take to facilitate the project. You know, the details of transport, design, manufacture, and every other little bit of calculation.”

  “And?” Harbour prompted.

  “We didn’t come with many answers, Captain,” Buttons continued, since it appeared that Ituau had given them permission to talk. “So, naturally, we asked —”

  “Captain Cinders,” Harbour finished, laughing.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Buttons agreed, grinning self-consciously and fingering one of the larger metal buttons festooned on his vest.

  “And did your captain provide you with the answers you sought?” Harbour asked. She was enjoying the moment with the Spryte’s crew. They were like her spacers, open and forthright. Why can’t most people be like these individuals? Harbour thought.

  “I think that’s what’s bothering the captain,” Nate offered. “Too many questions and not enough answers.”

  “There’s still the possibility that the aliens aren’t coming back,” Kasey suggested.

  “Don’t think so, Kasey,” Harbour said, and the crew’s casualness disappeared, as they focused on her.

  “You know something, Captain?” Ituau asked.

  “I might not know Captain Cinders as well as the lot of you do, but I do know one thing about him,” Harbour replied. “He’s an excellent judge of character.” The crew nodded their agreement, and Harbour added, “His judgment might apply equally well to aliens. Captain Cinders believes they’re coming back, which means we should start thinking like that. To that end, keep working on your questions.”

  “Captain,” Ituau said, touching her fingers to her brow, as Harbour smiled at them and walked away.

  “That was odd,” Nate said to the group, after Harbour was out of earshot. “I had the feeling that she wanted to talk about something else.”

  “She did,” Ituau said. The other spacers waited for her to say more. Instead, she took a deep pull on her drink, and they moved on to other topics of conversation. Ituau spared a glance for Harbour, as she exited through the cantina’s hatch, her figure momentarily outlined by the corridor’s brighter lights.

  “Dingles, you busy?” Harbour called on her comm unit.

  Dingles wiped his hands. He was in the kitchen with Nadine, making a late-night snack. The two of them had discussed several times the question of his full-time availability to Harbour. As Nadine had put it, “The woman has too much on her shoulders as it is. She needs all the help we can provide her,” and Dingles had wholeheartedly agreed.

  “You want to join us, Captain? Nadine’s making a green, and I’m fixing something edible,” Dingles replied.

  Harbour could hear Nadine’s laughter, and her heart warmed at the thought that two of her favorite people had found each other. Before Harbour could reply, she heard Nadine say, “If it’s not a private conversation, Captain. Come on over, put your feet up, and relax with us.”

  “See you two in five minutes,” Harbour replied and closed her device. She could use a green, as she was in the habit of spreading emotional support wherever she went. By the end of a day, her body demanded the nutrients contained in an empath’s green. But, more than that this evening, the austere formality of the captain’s quarters had no appeal for her. She’d spent her life in a small cabin aboard the JOS and then later aboard the Belle. Cramped quarters were fa
miliar to her, and some time with good friends appealed to her.

  Minutes later, Harbour tapped twice on Nadine’s cabin door and entered.

  Nadine, who had heard Harbour’s relief at the invitation, met her at the door, handed her a green, and waved her toward a seat in the corner of the small salon.

  “My chair. You rescued it,” Harbour exclaimed.

  “It was a young couple with a baby who got your cabin,” Dingles said. “They didn’t have any use for such a ratty, old thing.”

  “Hush, you old fool,” Nadine said, lovingly swatting Dingles’ arm. “Don’t listen to him, Captain. He didn’t give the couple a choice. He grabbed some crew and hauled it over here straightaway. It’s been waiting for you.”

  Tears glistened in Harbour’s eyes, and Nadine hushed her. “You’re probably draining much-needed minerals, Captain,” she said, hugging Harbour and sending all the comfort she could muster.

  “What did you want to talk about, Captain?” Dingles asked. He received a sharp glance from Nadine for redirecting the conversation, but he ignored it.

  “This is a what if conversation, Dingles,” Harbour said, pausing to drain half of her green, before she settled into her old reading chair.

  “What if what?” Dingles asked, claiming a seat beside Nadine on the couch.

  “What if the Jatouche return to help us with the planet?” Harbour replied.

  “I don’t follow you, Captain. What specifically are you asking me?”

  “That’s just it, Dingles. I’m asking about everything. What do we need to do to help them … to enable them?” Harbour asked. She finished her green, and Nadine silently stood, took her glass, and proceeded to prepare her a second one.

  “I can provide some of the bits and pieces, Captain, but I certainly can’t perceive the overall strategy and most of the parts,” Dingles replied.

  “And that’s why I’m here,” Harbour replied enthusiastically, which confounded Dingles and Nadine, who peered at her lover from the kitchenette.

  “Do greens have negative side effects that I’m not aware of?” Dingles quipped. His tone indicated that there was a serious element to his question.