Messinants

by S. H. Jucha

  Inside the study, Harbour pulled down the two cushions from the couch and threw them on the floor. Tacticnok’s small, sharp teeth were shown in appreciation.

  Once the two females were comfortable, Tacticnok said, “I would learn more about empaths.”

  “Ask your questions,” Harbour invited.

  “How many more exist on the stations and on your planet?”

  “Only children, who have yet to develop their powers, are found on the JOS, Tacticnok. To our knowledge, no empaths are presently in the domes.”

  “Then your empaths, here aboard the Belle, are but a small percentage of humans.”

  “An extremely small part,” Harbour agreed.

  “Are they disappearing?”

  “No, the number is slowly rising, but it’s the power they possess that’s growing.”

  “Aurelia is young,” Tacticnok commented

  “Yes, and she’s strong.”

  “As strong as you?” Tacticnok asked.

  “One day, perhaps. Her power is still increasing.”

  “I’m told she has a younger sister, who is also powerful.”

  “Sasha, yes.”

  “As strong as you?”

  “Again, perhaps one day,” Harbour replied.

  “I see no males who have these abilities,” Tacticnok said.

  “This phenomenon is peculiar to human females because of their genetic makeup,” Harbour replied.

  That piece of information seemed to resonate with Tacticnok, and, before the Jatouche could ask something else, Harbour asked, “Why the questions, Tacticnok?”

  “Jittak fears your empaths. He’s made this abundantly clear to Master Roknick,” Tacticnok replied.

  “I don’t understand the word master, as you employ it,” Harbour said.

  Briefly, Tacticnok explained her father’s advisors and the power they wielded. Then she continued their discussion, saying, “That empaths are exclusively female will carry weight in the upcoming arguments that I expect Master Roknick to make to His Excellency.”

  “Why should the subject of empaths be a source of discord?” Harbour asked.

  “We’re helping you recover your planet, Harbour,” Tacticnok said, her yellow eyes locking with Harbour’s grays. “Do you wish anything else from us?”

  “Yes,” Harbour replied, sitting up on her cushion. “I want Pyreans and Jatouche to become friends.”

  “This word friend is not used by the races,” Tacticnok replied. “Among members of the alliance, we would refer to contracted relationships as allies.”

  “Then I want our two species to become close allies,” Harbour insisted.

  “And how do you think that will happen?” Tacticnok asked.

  Harbour stared at the Jatouche, thinking furiously. Nothing came to mind, forcing her to admit her shortcomings.

  “Tacticnok, you must understand that humans have been here for hundreds of years. In that time, we’ve had no contact with our own people on Earth, and we’ve had no contact with any other intelligent life forms until you arrived. We wouldn’t have any idea how to develop an alliance.”

  “Then it’s fortunate for you that we’re friends,” Tacticnok replied, grinning. “I’ll help you take the first steps that will introduce Pyreans to the Jatouche.”

  “Thank you,” Harbour replied, reaching out a hand that Tacticnok took in her small padded one.

  “But be prepared, Harbour. The first steps are easy. They are there to demonstrate a willingness to listen to each other. Afterwards, negotiations will begin, and they can be arduous.”

  “I understand,” Harbour replied.

  “I wonder if you do,” Tacticnok said. “I think you’ve not put together the reason for this conversation. Whom would you send to represent Pyre? Your commandant? Your governor?”

  When Harbour bristled, Tacticnok chittered. “I thought not. Then whom?”

  Harbour ran through the names of people she trusted. First and foremost among them were Jessie, Henry Stamerson, and Major Finian.

  Again, Tacticnok displayed her humor at Harbour’s struggle. “I would guess the one name that hasn’t occurred to you, Harbour, is your own.”

  “Tacticnok, I was elected captain only a year and a half ago by our calendar. It will take me years to properly learn this job and its responsibilities.”

  “Perhaps this isn’t the position you were meant to hold, Harbour.”

  Harbour opened her mouth to object, but Tacticnok cut her off with a wave of a hand. “But, then again, Harbour, you couldn’t represent Pyreans anyway.”

  For a moment, Harbour was relieved. Then a bit of curiosity mixed with consternation flared. “And why not?”

  “Well, for one, you’re an empath.”

  Harbour drew breath to pronounce that concept foolish, when the entire thread of the discussion occurred to her: Jittak, Master Roknick, and human empaths. Rather than voice an objection, Harbour’s cool eyes examined Tacticnok carefully. It hadn’t been until this moment that Harbour understood how Tacticnok’s life, as a royal daughter, had prepared her to envision futures and work toward them.

  “And how would you resolve this dilemma, Tacticnok?” Harbour asked evenly.

  “I’m pleased you asked,” Tacticnok replied. “From our discussion, I gather you possess the greatest power among your empaths.”

  “Probably,” Harbour replied. “It’s not something we test against one another.”

  “Commendable,” Tacticnok replied. “I wish to experience it.”

  “Why?” Harbour asked.

  “That’s simple. Jittak will argue that empaths must be barred from ever visiting Na-Tikkook. I must have experiences to present in rebuttal.”

  “Your argument won’t work, Tacticnok. From what I’ve learned, the Jatouche are quite susceptible to our sending. Demonstrating my power would only prove Jittak’s point.”

  Tacticnok waved her hand, indicating she thought otherwise, but Harbour wasn’t finished. “And there’s something that you might not have considered, Tacticnok. All emotions can be sent by an empath.”

  The royal daughter’s eyes widened. “Any emotion?” she queried.

  “Joy and hate, sympathy and anger, love and fear … you understand?” When Tacticnok nodded, Harbour added, “And emotions can be sent with equal force if the empath feels them. Now, do you still want to experience a sending?”

  Tacticnok swallowed in trepidation, but she quelled her fear. “Yes, I do, but, if you don’t mind, select for me a gentle emotion.”

  Harbour smiled. She spun up her power, enveloping the appreciation she felt for Tacticnok’s help. Holding back most of her strength, she opened the gate and let the emotion sweep over the little Jatouche.

  Tacticnok’s eyes fluttered, and a small moan escaped her mouth. She melted into the over-sized pillow and curled into a fetal position, rocking gently back and forth.

  Harbour let Tacticnok experience the pleasure of her sending for a full two minutes before she eased off, as Aurelia had advised her to do with the Jatouche.

  Tacticnok lay quiet, enjoying the emotional glow. Finally, her eyelids struggled open. She propped up on an elbow, and her bushy tail swept across her legs and lay still. “Perhaps, Jittak is right but for the wrong reason.”

  “How so?” Harbour asked.

  “If human empaths were among us, your kind would be given whatever you want in order for us to continually enjoy this pleasure. Our society’s industrial output might eventually grind to a halt,” Tacticnok explained. “You wouldn’t need to conquer our world, as Jittak proposes. We would hand it to you.”

  “There would be an easy fix for this problem,” Harbour replied. “The empaths remain at Pyre.”

  “That’s a possibility,” Tacticnok offered. “But, I prefer you as the emissary to my world. We must find another way to surmount this challenge. Besides, did you not say that empaths are slowly growing in number and power? What then, when your kind is numerous and more powerful than you, wi
ll empaths wish to do? Are they to live on a single world, while other humans travel to distant places? Those who journey would return and share wondrous stories of their travels. What would empaths think then?”

  “Your arguments are valid, Tacticnok,” Harbour admitted. “And you think far into the future, which is something I’ve rarely done. I’ll consider your words.”

  “That’s all I can ask,” Tacticnok replied. “Before I go, I wonder if you’ve thought what would happen to Captain Cinders if you were to spend much of your time at Na-Tikkook.”

  Tacticnok’s comment caught Harbour off guard. She blinked twice. Moments before, her thoughts had spun, imagining various futures, most of which frightened her. Now Tacticnok had added another consideration that further complicated her thoughts. All she could do was laugh. It was long and hard, and she held up her hands in defeat.

  “Tacticnok, you challenge me in so many ways that I can’t begin to keep up with you,” Harbour said. “How are you doing this?”

  “Easily, Harbour. You work every day to manage this ship and this project. And, you’re calculating the actions of these rulers that you see as dangerous to Pyre’s development. I’ve the luxury of sitting back and watching all of this unfold. And, my father has taught me that a wise leader makes no decision until he or she has considered the impact on future generations.”

  With those final words, Tacticnok wished Harbour a good day and left.

  -35-

  Gas Attack

  The YIPS was a massive construction. Its size prevented it from having the sort of engines necessary to maintain it in a low orbit, as was the JOS, which was tethered to the planet. Instead, it kept a geosynchronous orbit by holding the station farther out.

  A huge gravity wheel — with administration, cabins, dining facilities, and communication antennas — was located at one end. A long, thin axis ran from the wheel to the far end where the furnaces were located. The axis had two levels: a personnel walk transport on the top and a cargo transport on the bottom. The lower section could move slush through compression lines or ore along an enclosed conveyor system.

  Located along the axis were the terminal arms that reached out like the legs of a gigantic spider and allowed room for the docking of spacers’ mining ships.

  Aft of the axis, far away from the gravity wheel, were a series of sections where engineers and techs worked to fabricate and manufacture the equipment produced by the furnaces or the labs.

  It was the axis that David identified as the optimum point of attack. It had taken him longer to determine the best location than he originally allowed. The challenge was that Olivia Harden kept an irregular schedule. Her meeting times shifted daily, and she inspected metal pourings and assemblies without notice. Worse, at the end of the day, the engineer didn’t return to the gravity wheel but left for the Belle.

  Another problem for David was that he didn’t know what the cylinder contained, and that, in and of itself, was unusual. He considered the possibility of wearing a vac suit and releasing the cylinder’s gas as he approached Olivia. But, he dismissed that approach for two reasons: the deadly eyes of his contact and the increased amount of coin. Both items were an indication of the danger the gas represented.

  A complication of that particular scenario would come from residue that might cling to his vac suit, if he was too close. Minute amounts of the gas could contaminate him afterwards when his skin touched the vac suit. In order to prevent that, he would have to undergo a decon routine, and that would raise eyebrows, if anyone checked the log. If he chose to forgo decon, sniffers might pick up residue on his suit and condemn him.

  When the phase was reached, where Jatouche equipment mated with the outer cases and parts built by the YIPS, David was provided with an opening. It became Olivia’s habit to check on the progress of the assemblies, a few times a day, and her last inspection always fell at the day’s end. The clincher for David was that Olivia took the same route from the assembly site to the shuttle.

  David’s shift ended hours before Olivia finished her day, which allowed him to watch and ensure that the engineer’s habit was consistent. When he was confident that her routine was established, he examined the route, looking for the perfect opportunity.

  Unfortunately, David saw no easy means of executing the attack without being present. Once Olivia left the assembly site, her path took her through the passenger level of the axis to a terminal arm that led to the docking gangway of the Belle’s shuttle. That route was finished in smooth walls, with gravity bars overhead.

  The clean walls didn’t afford David a place to hide the cylinder, with its accompanying trigger. In addition, he needed a means of timing the gas release. It would look odd for him to place the cylinder, loiter at the junction of the axis and a terminal arm in his vac suit, and wait for Olivia to pass. In the end, David decided that the attack must be delivered up close and timed with the engineer’s passage through the axis.

  On Olivia’s last inspection for the day of the assembly site, her face twisted into a smile, as she patted Drigtik’s furry arm. “Perfect fit,” she declared, watching the techs successfully slide a piece of Jatouche technology into a housing manufactured by YIPS engineers. “As I would expect,” Olivia quickly added.

  Drigtik’s teeth were shown at Olivia in appreciation of her compliment.

  “It’s been a good day,” Olivia declared. “Let’s catch a shuttle.”

  “Fruit juice,” Drigtik declared in anticipation.

  “You’re going to turn yellow and red if you keep drinking those concoctions,” Pete said. “Oh, wait, you already are!”

  “Is it true that alcohols consumed copiously destroy brain cells?” Drigtik innocently asked Olivia. Then he glanced up at Pete, examined him carefully, and said to Olivia, “Yes, I guess it’s true,” which set Olivia laughing, Drigtik chittering, and Pete grumbling, having been bested in the exchange.

  Olivia, Pete, and Drigtik made their way out of the assembly clean rooms. As the threesome entered the passenger level of the axis, a vac-suited tech, identified by the suit color, entered the broad corridor ahead of them and preceded them down its length. Within a few moments, the tech turned down a terminal arm and disappeared from sight.

  A few moments later, Hadley and Jensen exited an airlock along a YIPS terminal arm. They’d finished their shift, having been assigned to check airlock seals. As they entered the terminal arm, they passed a vac-suited tech with no name patch. The helmet was enclosed and the faceplate shielded, which made identification impossible. Nonetheless, the two techs raised a hand in passing, and the stranger did likewise.

  Olivia and her friends reached the intersection where the tech had disappeared. Pete, who was nearest the corner noticed a small device peeking out at eye level. He was attracted to it by the hissing sound it issued. No sooner had he thought to mention it to the others than his nose, mouth, and lungs filled with a sweet-smelling gas.

  After passing the unknown tech, Hadley and Jensen heard a soft hissing. They adopted emergency procedures that had been rehearsed since day one on the YIPS. Hands slapped down faceplates, and suits ordered to switch on air supplies. Yanking sealant and hard patches from their kits, the techs raced toward the sound, expecting to find a small puncture in the bulkhead, possibly created by the high-velocity strike of a speck of space dust.

  Instead, when the techs reached the corner, they identified the source of the hissing as coming from a tiny cylinder. They also managed to frighten the threesome who faced them. Two humans and a Jatouche screamed in panic. One human picked up the furry alien, and the three fled down the passageway toward the aft end of the YIPS.

  Hadley reached for the cylinder, which was about head high and pointed toward the axis walkway, as the hissing ceased.

  “Whatever it was, it’s empty now,” Hadley said to Jensen.

  “Admin, this is Jensen,” the tech called over his suit comm. “Activate emergency procedures. Gas released at corner of axis upper level and te
rminal arm four.”

  “State status of personnel and type of gas released,” the emergency officer replied.

  “This is not a YIPS containment issue, admin,” Jensen replied. “It’s a deliberate attack. I believe an individual dressed as a tech planted a device designed to debilitate two humans and a Jatouche.”

  “State the nature of their injuries,” the officer requested, while signaling Evan of the emergency.

  “Unknown,” Jensen replied. “The three of them freaked when they saw us and ran away screaming.”

  “Say again?” the officer asked.

  “Admin, this is Hadley. I’m guessing, but it’s likely this was plumerase gas.”

  The emergency protocol officer was about to respond, when Evan rushed into his office, cut the relayed signal to his comm unit, and leaned over the officer’s comm panel.

  “This is Evan Pendleton, are you positive it was plumerase gas?”

  “Negative, Sir,” Hadley replied. “The cylinder that released the gas is tiny, approximately six centimeters. It’s designed to cover a small area. However, the reactions of both humans and a Jatouche were identical. I think they’re suffering from hallucinations. They saw Jensen and me fully enclosed in vac suits. I can’t begin to think of what imagery that generated in their minds under the influence of this nasty gas.”

  “Which only the downsiders can make,” Evan muttered quietly to his security officer. “Hadley, Jensen, stay put and protect the device for investigation. We’re shutting down that section and sending you emergency protocol staff.”

  To the officer, Evan said, “Get it done, and shut down all shuttle service. I don’t want the perpetrator getting off the YIPS.”

  “What about arrivals?” the officer asked.

  “No arrivals,” Evan confirmed. “Except for those authorized by Captains Harbour or Cinders,” he quickly added.

  Why me? Evan mentally asked himself, as he picked up his comm device, stepped out of the officer’s office, and pulled up his contacts. He selected the Belle.