by S. H. Jucha
“Oh, black space,” Caspar Manfred muttered. “They have fish in the streams.”
Alphons smiled to himself. His first encounter with the enormous green space, which sat at the heart of the city-ship, had been much the same. He led them along gently winding pathways. For all intents and purposes, Alphons appeared to be acting as a guide for his junior captains, but that wasn’t his primary purpose.
As the New Terrans strolled among the soothing display that was the grand park, Omnians nodded to them. Occasionally, a young teenager smiled, frowned, and then recovered before passing.
“What am I missing here, Captain Jagielski?” Cyndi Voorhees asked. “We seem to confuse the teenagers.”
“They’ve recently received their implants,” Alphons replied. “They signaled you for your bio ID. It’s how they identify you and exchange basic personal info … something similar to a digital résumé. We don’t have implants, and the young ones were confused and probably a little disappointed.”
“Can we talk about implants, Captain?” Drew asked.
“That’s why we’re here,” Alphons said. He indicated a small knoll of grass next to a stream and sat.
“What’s your opinion, Sir?” Drew pursued.
“Well, let me put a hypothetical situation to all of you,” Alphons replied. “This will be a long voyage, and the encounter is expected to be prolonged. Imagine you’re sitting right where you are on this ship, when you receive warning of an imminent attack. It comes by way of an announcement over the park’s speakers. What are you going to do?”
“We’d have to race through this incredibly big ship, fight for space on the lifts, make it to a bay, and launch our travelers to return to our ships,” Caspar replied.
“Where are your pilot and crew?” Alphons asked. “Did they hear the announcement? How long do you wait at your fighter for them to arrive?”
“If we had the implants, could we notify them, even across the length and breadth of this ship?” Cyndi asked.
“Méridiens designed and built this ship, Cyndi. They thought of things like that. And even if you ever find yourself out of range of a ship or your people, the odds are good that a SADE will be near you. They can relay a signal much farther than your implant.”
“What are the other opportunities besides command communications?” Drew asked.
“Understand that a problem with comms will arise if some of your crew members don’t possess implants,” Alphons explained. “In which case, you might as well resign yourselves to standard procedures. However, let’s assume that there’s a one hundred percent adoption by your crew. Now, you can communicate to officers and crew with a thought. Your orders for the ship can be relayed to the ship’s controller in an instant. No more delays, which occur when you pass orders through layers of command. The same would be true for your pilots, navigators, comms, and gunners in the execution of their duties.”
“We’d get instant reports from medical, engineering, and the chiefs,” Cyndi mused.
Alphons nodded his head in agreement.
“I’m seeing the advantages, Captain,” Drew said, “But how do we sell it to the crew?”
“That part might be easier than you think,” Alphons replied. “What subject is topmost in the crews’ chatter?”
“Boredom,” the three junior captains echoed in chorus.
“As it was when we hunted the Nua’ll sphere,” Alphons agreed. “Aboard one of our ships, there were constant regulation violations. Aboard the other two, the infractions were minor because the chiefs had control, but there too the incidents were everyday occurrences. The crews had little to do, and boredom became a constantly mounting pressure.”
“How did the Omnians’ ships fare?” Cyndi asked.
“Oh, I found out later that they were having a good old time,” Alphons replied, chuckling about the memories.
“Okay, what’s the answer?” Caspar asked.
“Entertainment,” Alphons replied, raising his hands, as if the answer was self-explanatory. He waited a moment, appreciating his captains’ frowning foreheads.
“After the Omnians’ duty hours, they played games,” Alphons explained. He held up his hands to forestall questions. “Don’t ask me to explain how it works because I don’t know. They use their implants in teams to play against the others. Apparently, the competition gets fierce. Teams formed within ships, across ships, between officer groups, and among pilot commands.”
“Games? That’s the entire entertainment value of an implant?” Caspar asked dubiously.
“Just warming up, Caspar,” Alphons replied with enthusiasm. “How many vids did you bring with you?”
Caspar thought and then replied, “A little over a hundred.”
“How many of them have you seen?”
“Most of them,” Caspar replied. “I was hoping to trade vids with my officers. Wouldn’t you know it … we share much the same tastes.”
“How would you and your crew like access to a library of tens of thousands of vids?” Alphons asked, grinning. “Oh, yes,” he added, when the junior captains appeared incredulous. “Renée de Guirnon ensures that every ship equipped with implant-capable crew has a copy of her personal library.”
“How can she have watched that many vids?” Drew asked.
“I don’t think she has, Drew,” Alphons replied. “I think she started collecting them. After a while, people gave her their copies. I understand she received quite a treasure trove from Sol. She amassed these vids for the enjoyment of the ships’ crews. You’d be surprised to learn that copies of her library are embedded in the controllers of scout ships.”
“The SADEs watch them?” Cyndi asked in astonishment.
“Apparently, there are some devoted fans of certain genres,” Alphons said, his humor evident.
“What about Oliver’s admonishment, Captain?” Caspar asked. “He seemed fairly certain that implants tend to eliminate some of the issues stemming from dishonesty.”
“I’ve had discussions with Admiral Tachenko and Vice Admiral Shimada about the value of implants,” Alphons replied. “I suggest you do the same. You’re sitting here in this wonderful park. All around you are people who’ve adopted an implant. Go talk to them. Ask them your questions.”
“Captain Jagielski, it’s probably none of our business,” Cyndi began, “and I don’t mean to pry into the horrific events that surrounded the taking down of the Nua’ll sphere, but could you tell us how you think an implant might have helped you there?”
“Insightful question, Cyndi,” Alphons replied. His eyes took on a faraway look, as he recalled the calamitous end of Admiral Tripping. “Our comm systems operated by voice. The Omnians originated thoughts in their minds or kernels and then bounced them through controllers. They were efficient; we were not. In the final moments, we lacked unity with the Omnians, and that allowed a foolish man to lead his crew to their deaths.”
“Have you made your decision, Captain Jagielski?” Caspar asked.
“Certainly have,” Alphons replied. “If Alex hadn’t offered it, I was going to ask for both medical procedures. I refuse to be put in that situation again. The aliens we might face will be using every advantage they possess. I intend to be doing the same.”
“So, you’re intending to get the cell gen injections,” Drew pursued.
“Same reasoning there,” Alphons replied. “In the immediate future, they might save my life, with their ability to close smaller wounds. I’ll worry about what comes after the expedition if I live that long. Now, I’ll leave you to talk among yourselves. Afterwards, I encourage you to speak to the Omnians before you offer these technologies to your crews.”
-6-
Tough Decisions
Alex stared into the mist surrounding him in the refresher. His implant’s chronometer would have told him how long he’d stood in there, but he didn’t care to consult it.
A fleeting image had plagued his dreams for months, possibly longer, but it had been so vague, as
to suggest hundreds of ideas to him. At first, he thought it was a dim vision of twin stars. They’d remained that way for a while — two soft glowing yellow lights in his memory’s mist.
Now, Alex let the refresher’s mist imitate his dreams’ tenuous memories. This was the first opportunity he had to examine the suggestion while awake. Alex had halted every implant application, including comms, to focus on the lights.
Ever so slowly, the twin illuminations sharpened. There was detail in them — similar to each other but slightly different — and that eliminated the idea that they were stars.
“What are you?” Alex muttered. He breathed deeply in and out, relaxing his mind. It was extremely uncomfortable for Alex to have his implants offline. He felt unanchored, imagining he’d leapt back in time, as if the past three decades were merely an illusion. His mind told him that he wasn’t in the city-ship’s refresher. Instead, he was asleep in his pilot’s seat aboard his mining tug, the Outward Bound.
Get hold of yourself, Alex thought, shaking his head, focus on the two orbs.
The moment Alex considered the lights to be orbs, the details sharpened until they stood out in the mist. They were the yellow eyes of a Dischnya, and they pleaded with him. Alex had seen those pair of eyes before. “Homsaff,” he said quietly into the refresher’s warmth, and the eyes faded away.
Alex released a sigh. He was content to have the mystery of the image solved, but he was unsettled by its message. The young, fierce, Dischnya queen was at the heart of his prophetic dream. She’d been training with warriors at an Omnian military academy. The academy, run by ex-Sergeant Major Myron McTavish, had given young and old Dischnya warriors an opportunity to test their skills in modern combat techniques and preserve a bit of their fierce heritage.
* * *
“Looks like Alex is preparing to visit the Dischnya, specifically Homsaff,” Tatia said to Reiko and Cordelia.
“Why?” Reiko asked.
“Dreams would be the most probable answer,” Cordelia interjected.
Tatia nodded her head in approval of Cordelia’s comment, and said, “Renée relayed to me that Alex was being pestered by a dream for months. Apparently it resolved itself in the refresher.”
Reiko’s face screwed up in displeasure. She fought accepting what most Omnians accepted as truth. She preferred to believe that Alex had unresolved concerns about the future that tended to come true. It was merely coincidence, nothing more. No one chose to debate the subject with her. They simply ignored her rationale, and it frustrated her.
“This is no way to fight a war,” Reiko grumped. The truth was she had begun to accept the concept of Alex’s precognition, but was unwilling to admit it.
“It does run counter to logic, Reiko,” Cordelia replied sympathetically. “But Alex has defied the probabilities to an extent that the SADEs accept Alex’s dreams as a gift, imaginings of futures to come and not the unburdening of his subconscious mind.”
“Putting the argument aside, specifically, why are we visiting the Dischnya?” Reiko asked.
“I anticipate that we’ll be recruiting them as some kind of ground force,” Tatia replied.
“And we’re doing this because Alex wants them aboard our ships?” Reiko asked, incredulous at the suggestion.
“Renée said Alex needs them,” Tatia replied simply.
“Before you object, Reiko,” Cordelia said firmly. “It’s more than likely that the Dischnya will reside aboard the Freedom, not your Tridents. If that’s true, they’ll be my concern not yours.”
Tatia leaned back to watch the drama play out. Reiko was a vice admiral, but her command was the Trident squadrons. On the other hand, Cordelia was the commodore in charge of the city-ship, the freighters, and their defense. Both individuals reported directly to her. SADEs tended to be considerate of humans and their needs, but in command situations those concerns could be considered weaknesses.
“Ground forces require deployment,” Reiko replied, leaning on her United Earth military training. “That means our travelers would have to get in close to a base on a moon or a planet. Those fighters will need overwatch, which involves my Tridents. I don’t have a specific objection to the Dischnya. I just don’t like the concept of ground operations. Too many of them in Sol went belly up soon after our shuttles landed. Our fights should be limited to naval engagements, where we have the most expertise.”
“I believe, Reiko, you’ve missed the critical word that Tatia used. She didn’t say that Alex wants them; she said Alex needs them,” Cordelia admonished. “In Renée’s parlance that means Alex will recruit the Dischnya. He accepts these dreams as a form of prophecy even though he hates to admit it. He doesn’t know why he’s supposed to take them, but he will do so anyway. He’s learned not to ignore his dreams.”
“Debate’s over,” Tatia announced firmly. “We’re needed in a bay to accompany Alex planetside.” Tatia grinned at Reiko when she emphasized the word needed and enjoyed the scowl Reiko returned.
In the bay, the three commanders met Alex, Renée, and Julien. The group ascended the steep hatch steps of a traveler and took seats for the short flight to the Dischnya plains.
Omnia had unusual geographic and climatic features. It was composed of two large continents and hundreds of moderate to small islands. The Dischnya occupied one continent, and Alex started Omnia City on the other.
Each continent had a wide swath of dry plains that ran through the equatorial belt. To the north and south of each continent were thick, nearly impenetrable forests that received the bulk of the planet’s water. The Omnians drilled on a slant to bring the forests’ underground reservoirs to the Dischnya’s new habitats and Omnia City.
To this day, the edict against flying over the dreaded green, as the forests were called by the Dischnya, still stood. Flits, the favored anti-grav personnel transports of Omnians, were programmed to prevent their riders straying over the green and the oceans. Only one individual, Z, was known to have investigated the green and survived. Z’s condition, when he returned, spoke of the venomous and treacherous fauna and flora that waited within the seemingly inviting woodlands.
Thrown technologically backward by being stranded on Sawa Messa, as the Dischnya originally referred to their planet, the separation of the two cultures by an ocean allowed the Dischnya time to adopt the Omnians’ technology and ways. And they’d been doing just that. Within six short years and with the aid of a training academy run by ex-Sol scientists and SADEs, many young Dischnya had embraced Omnian technology, mastered the human language, and begun servicing the buildings, which housed their nests.
The domination of the old queens, who previously held exclusive sway over the nests, was fading. Originally, it was a scent-based allegiance, but Emile Billings, the New Terran biochemist, had eliminated that issue. Now, the Dischnya intermingled without concern.
Perhaps, the culmination of the Omnians’ efforts to elevate the Dischnya to their civilization’s former standing occurred when a group of young Dischnya, who had formed a collective, wanted to sell their surplus crops to the Omnians. It was a simple idea, but it required a great deal of difficulty to implement.
The Dischnya used barter systems between the nests. The Omnians’ banking system ran on credits, which were virtual funds. To make matters worse, humans and SADEs accessed their accounts and moved funds by directives from their implants.
The SADEs tackled the problem by opening two physical banking outlets on the Dischnya continent. Omnians paid for the crops with credits, and Dischnya walked into an outlet and requested Omnian services and equipment equivalent to the funds in their accounts. It wasn’t the best of methods, but it worked for now.
Alex’s traveler dropped next to one of the Dischnya’s structures, which housed the nest of Queen Nyslara. The hatch opened briefly, and Renée quickly descended the steps.
Alex kept watch through the traveler’s controller of the environment surrounding Renée. It wasn’t necessary, when she was among the Dischnya,
but old habits died slowly.
A cry went up among the Dischnya, who had observed the traveler’s landing and realized it was Renée who disembarked. The high-pitched howl of a young female echoed their call, and the slender figure broke from behind the structures surrounding the main building. The long, hock-shaped legs of the Tawas Soma heir, Neffess, covered the ground in loping strides. She was too big to leap into Renée’s arms, as she loved to do when she was a young pup. Instead, Neffess executed a sliding stop, her claws seeking purchase in the hard ground, and the two females hugged.
Alex saw Nyslara, the Tawas Soma queen, exit the building, and he signaled the pilot to head to their destination, the Dischnya military academy.
The academy had grown quickly from its initial days. Then its number had plateaued and begun to shrink, as Omnian education and training slowly overtook the desires of the warrior mentality. In its present state, Myron McTavish and his remaining staff trained a third of the number the academy had once held.
“Admiral,” Myron greeted Tatia, delivering a sharp New Terran Security-style salute. Then he added a brief “sir” to Alex. “How can I help such distinguished guests?” Myron asked.
Myron’s mistake was in regarding Tatia, when he spoke. In turn, she glanced toward Alex.
“Ah,” Myron said, turning his attention to Alex.
“How many Dischnya are still training?” Alex asked.
Myron hesitated. He knew full well that Alex had access to the numbers enrolled in the academy, which meant the question had layers. A quick check of Tatia’s face revealed narrowed eyes, and Myron had an inkling that this was a test, of some sort. Mentally, he put together the impending expedition’s departure and the arrival of both Alex and Tatia — strategist and fleet commander.
“You’ll want to know how many Dischnya I can put into the field,” Myron said, drawing out his words, his Scottish heritage coming to the forefront. “More than that, you’ll want to how many of those warriors would be willing to join the expedition.”
