by S. H. Jucha
“And I wasn’t comfortable being direct with him,” Miriam replied. “But, I’m the one who’s creating a sisterhood from my kernel. The only one who questioned that … the only one who came to me, prior to Mickey, with his concerns … was Alex. It’s time for Alex’s friends, for all humans, to understand how important he is to us.”
“Could not Julien make the argument better than us?” Luther asked.
“That was considered but rejected. None of us wish to burden Julien with this message. Alex and Julien are entwined to the extent that it’s difficult to predict what will and won’t be shared,” Miriam said. She was absolutely still, calculating futures.
“Understood,” Luther said quietly. “One not wholly human; one not wholly SADE.”
* * *
Alex and Renée met with a group of individuals representing the people who had chosen to live aboard the Freedom. Using the true power of implants, consensus was reached among each group, and a representative was elected to speak with Alex and Renée about their concerns. Seated in the small amphitheater were representatives of the ship’s cargo haulers; food service; food stock preparation; hydroponics; cabin service; maintenance for parks, systems, and engines; and many more.
They and the individuals they represented faced difficult decisions. Many wished to stay with the crew and residents who lived aboard the city-ship, but the reality of the Freedom becoming a warship worried them.
“Can you offer us some assurance, Alex, that this ship will not be put into harm’s way during the expedition?” a woman with a partner and two young children asked.
“None,” Alex replied. “The fact that it’s become such a powerful ship, in its own right, means it will play a major role in future encounters.”
“But it has rail-mounted beam weapons and fighters,” a man argued. “Surely those will provide adequate protection.”
“And what will the aliens, who exist beyond the wall, have as armament?” Renée asked rhetorically. “Will they be technologically more sophisticated than the Nua’ll, which might make them more dangerous?”
“Where will the two of you be when this ship reaches the wall?” a young woman asked.
Alex regarded Renée and grinned before he replied. “We’ll be aboard this ship. Personally, I’m not allowed to go out and play with the aliens until it’s considered safe.”
Chuckles made their way through the crowd, but it was muted and not shared by all.
“We realize these are challenging moments for everyone,” Renée said. “And we wish we could provide you with definitive answers, but we can’t.”
“But what will you do, if many of us choose to go planetside to Omnia City?” the first woman asked.
“There’s a waiting list of people who wish to go with us,” Alex replied quietly. “I don’t intend to bring them aboard except in cases of replacement. I’m not anxious to risk any more humans or SADEs than I have to.”
“Thank you, everyone,” Renée said, standing. “We’ll need your answer within eight days. Please record them with the ship’s captain, Commodore Cordelia.”
As the group filed out, Alex slid a hand into Renée’s and squeezed gently.
Renée sent to Alex.
Renée’s humor bubbled through Alex’s implant.
Alex kissed Renée on the temple, and she stroked his arm before they went their separate ways.
“Think of all the work your nanites will have to do, repairing the collagen damage caused by your frowning,” Alex teased Mickey. Alex slid his arm around Mickey’s massive shoulders. He was one of the few heavy-worlders who had the reach. He asked, “Why don’t you tell Uncle Alex all about it?”
Mickey stared at Alex for a moment, as if he’d lost his mind. Then he broke out in a loud guffaw. He was still chuckling, when he said in a timid voice, “Well, it all started when I was young.” Then it was Alex’s turn to laugh.
“Okay, Mickey, what’s up?” Alex asked, as they walked down a broad corridor.
“An element of your plan, Alex,” Mickey replied, “is your intention to track some of the weaker ships back to their home world?”
“It is,” Alex replied.
“How?” Mickey asked.
“Ahhh,” Alex said in a slow exhale.
Alex and Mickey chatted during the time it took to ride up four decks and traverse half the diameter of the massive city-ship. More than once, Mickey thought to share with Alex the discussion he’d had with Miriam, but, in the end, he chose not to speak up. It seemed that it was his burden to carry and discuss with the likes of Tatia and others.
When Alex and Mickey entered Tatia’s quarters, the women were seated at the central table. A holo-vid displayed a fight scenario reminiscent of the enemy ship arrangement met at the wall by the Redemption, Ellie Thompson’s Trident.
Vice Admiral Reiko Shimada tensed to rise, but she demurred, when Tatia remained seated. However, Reiko didn’t miss the subtle movement of Tatia’s hands. They’d tightened in a reflex and immediately relaxed. Reiko understood. Alex might own Omnia Ships, and he might have engineered the formation of an immense fleet from multiple worlds, but he’d placed battle control in Fleet Admiral Tatia Tachenko’s hands.
“Morning, Sers,” Alex said with enthusiasm. “Mickey has a question.”
Mickey was momentarily caught off guard. He’d expected to be following Alex’s lead in the discussion.
Alex took a seat next to Reiko, smiled engagingly, and motioned Mickey toward a seat next to Tatia. The women turned expectant looks toward Mickey.
“Well, I was asking Alex if he was still planning to follow some of the technologically weaker ships from the wall back to their home world, and he said yes,” Mickey explained. “Then I asked him how, and we ended up here,” he added.
“And you can see why,” Alex said.
The two women shared knowing glances.
“So, Mickey needs to design a technique that we can employ to plant a comm transponder on a warship during a protracted fight,” Tatia reasoned.
“Precisely,” Alex replied.
“Oh, black space,” Reiko muttered, understanding the dangers of the maneuver.
“Well, I’m open to suggestions,” Tatia said, looking from Alex to Mickey.
“I’m thinking of our first encounter with the dark travelers at Bellamonde,” Alex said quietly.
“Talk about resurrecting the dead,” Mickey breathed out in a whisper. “I like it. That’s absolutely diabolical.”
“I thought you used nanites to identify the shell composition and break it down?” Reiko asked.
“We did,” Mickey replied enthusiastically, “but nanites can be organized to do anything we want. They can be attached to the base of transmitter and used like an adhesive to adhere the device to a hull.”
“Like you two errant delivery boys did when we returned to Libre to take on the Nua’ll sphere, and you planted comm devices on the shell of the dark traveler we captured,” Tatia said.
Tatia meant her comment as criticism for their dangerous stunt, but Alex and Mickey, who were grinning at each other, were having none of it. And, to Tatia’s irritation, Reiko was smiling and nodding her approval of the action.
“Mickey, how would you deliver this transmitter … Trident or traveler?” Reiko asked.
“Neither,” Mickey said, regarding Reiko apologetically. “It would have to be a Dagger.”
Tatia
regarded her fight scenario, which floated above the holo-vid. Ellie Thompson’s Trident contacted the enemy ships in open space, where the Freedom, Tridents, and freighters could operate, but not the travelers. She signaled the display off. When she glanced at Alex, his eyes crinkled in the merest hint of a smile. Tatia curtailed her smirk. She might be Alex’s weapons master, but he would always be the strategist, the one who thought far outside the box.
-4-
Mickey
Mickey spent another day wrestling with the decision he faced, without making any headway. Control of the numerous and complicated projects was slowly slipping through his grasp. He was spending an inordinate amount of time just traveling from the Freedom’s labs to Omnia City to the Sardi-Tallen platform and back. During the day, his implant message log backed up with requests, which kept him up late at night, while he responded. That, in and of itself, annoyed his Méridien partner, Pia Sabine, more than anything.
The men met at a lift that emptied near a broad corridor of shops and strolled toward the city-ship’s central park. As they arrived at the immense garden, Alex paused to enjoy the brilliant blooms on the trees, which had long since required trimming to prevent them pushing against the overhead deck 20 meters up.
Mickey briefly outlined the challenges for his project time that he faced and his worry that he might be failing to do his best.
“Mickey, you and I have always been hands-on people,” Alex said, “and you’ve had the luxury of operating in that mode far longer than me. In my lifetime I’ve experienced a series of events, which caused me to realize, time and time again, that I had to let go … my admiralty; my presidency; my son, Teague; and many others.”
“You’re saying it’s time for me to become an administrator,” Mickey said, with disgust.
“I think it’s past time to choose, Mickey. You can continue to be personally involved in a number of projects or you can drive all the engineering endeavors that we need,” Alex replied.
“But that’s part of the problem, Alex,” Mickey said plaintively. “I can’t encompass the extent of the technical programs underway now.”
“Of course, you can, Mickey,” Alex said gently. “You need assistance much like I have.”
“Like Julien?” Mickey asked.
Alex smiled at Mickey and laid a hand on his shoulder to halt their walk. Alex stared into the softly flowing stream with its multicolored fish. Beautiful and relaxing to regard, the water features served a critical function in the city-ship’s filtration process.
Linking implants with Mickey, Alex quickly added Trium, a SADE, who flew a scout ship, to demonstrate a concept to Mickey.
Alex and Mickey listened, while Trium summarized the implementation of Luther’s design in the manufacturing process and the quantity assembled.
When Trium paused, Alex requested more details. Immediately, Trium delved into which labs had been assigned what aspects of production, quantities expected from each, and delivery dates.
When Trium paused again, Alex sent,
Alex grinned at Mickey and privately sent to his engineer,
Alex closed his link with Mickey and stared quietly at the engineer, who was deep in thought.
“Is Julien your assistant, in this regard?” Mickey asked.
Alex burst out in laughter, attracting the attention of others enjoying the park.
“Mickey, Julien is my friend, my confidant, and my advisor, although not always in that order. He brings to my attention any issues that require my guidance, but every SADE employed by Omnia Ships fulfills the concept of assistant. They’re the epitome of a collective entity, where it concerns data and projects. But don’t get me wrong, Mickey, they’re unique individuals whose kernels are embedded with human morals. One day, I’d love to find out how Shannon Brixton’s House manages to create new SADEs with these uniquely human characteristics.”
“Then I need gatekeepers, SADEs, who will be responsible for directing and monitoring the engineering projects, and they’ll inform me when they need my input,” Mickey reasoned.
“Precisely, Mickey,” Alex replied. “But, you sound as if you think your role will be strictly reactive. It won’t be. The SADEs will free you from dealing with the minutiae. You’ll be able to focus on the bigger picture, dream up new ideas, such as ones that we’ll need to deal with those beyond the wall. When your concept is ready, you’ll pitch it to the SADEs and stand back. It can be an invigorating experience.”
Mickey’s heavy hand reached out, and Alex clasped it. “Time for me to become a big-picture dreamer,” Mickey said.
“Admirable decision, Mickey,” Alex said. He laughed and walked away.
While Mickey stared at small fish darting through the stream’s engineered plants, which were covered in special nanites, it occurred to him that he had the perfect candidates to support him.
After the two SADEs were recruited by Mickey to be his engineering directors, they connected briefly with Julien, who added Trium. It was Julien whom Trium had sought for a translation about Miriam’s feelings.
Miriam understood Julien’s conundrum, and she sympathized with him.
This was the issue that the SADEs hoped to prevent Julien from having to confront. Among the SADEs, there was no individual above Julien who was more respected and whose opinions were more frequently sought.
SADEs knew the numbers. They were a minority among humans, and, at the moment, had no method of procreation, which could produce an individual with a distinctly unique personality. While humans grew quickly in number, the SADEs mysteriously materialized a few at a time from the labs of House Brixton.
Yet, humans were a paltry number in comparison to the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of races that waited beyond the wall. And not only were these adversaries supposedly vast in number, they had demonstrated an extremely antithetical attitude toward new sentients in the human sphere of the galaxy.
For Julien’s part, he endeavored to promote the bond between humans and SADEs. At times, that meant buoying up the SADEs’ sense of importance in the roles they played even at the expense of his best friend and other humans. In this case, what he told Trium was correct. The SADEs needed humans to release Mickey from the mundane work to focus on the confrontation to come. Every ounce of creativity would be needed to outmaneuver the formidable foes they’d face.
* * *
The evening after recruiting Miriam and Luther, Mickey finished a quick stint in his cabin’s refresher. Pia was working late at the medical suite. He made a cup of thé and settled on the salon’s couch. This was his usual habit to catch up on the day’s messages, and this time there were plenty.
Mickey smiled, thinking the engineering teams were in need of his careful guidance. He opened the first message in his implant’s queue. It was a brief report from Luther notifying him of the day’s production of comm-delay units and that they were on track to meet the expected delivery time.
Moving quickly to the next message, Mickey discovered a similar report from Miriam about the control tests of the city-ships’ rail-mounted beams. Cordelia was satisfied with the controllers’ responsiveness. However, she was requesting a war game to simulate an enemy attack on the Freedom. Mickey approved the idea, sending the message to Tatia, for scheduling, and to Miriam, for coordination.
Item after item either reported the successful progress of an operation or requested his permission to proceed to the next step. In the latter cases, the process was outlined in detail and the reasoning advanced. Mickey read, approved, and sent a quick reply.
Before Mickey’s thé was finished, his implant message queue was empty. He sat on the couch, staring at the far bulkhead.
