Nua'll
Page 32
“Captain Hector, if you’re finished here, I’d like a word,” Alex said. Renée asked Alex if she could join them, and he welcomed her.
The threesome took the children’s lift to the small park, crossed to another lift, and rode it to the grand park. They found a quiet place on a bench to sit and talk.
“First, let me say congratulations, Commodore Hector,” Alex said, holding out his hand.
“Is this a military title?” Hector asked hesitantly.
“No, it’s a sailing title,” Alex replied.
Hector wasn’t sure of the distinction. Nonetheless, he shook Alex’s hand, saying, “I’m intrigued.”
“So am I,” Renée echoed.
“You don’t report to Admiral Tachenko,” Alex replied. “You continue to report to me. My apologies to Trixie, but you’ve done such a fantastic job that you’ve created your new post.”
“Supply ship for the expedition,” Hector guessed.
“Partially,” Alex replied. “You’ll take the next six Omnian Tridents, with their traveler squadrons, as permanent escorts for your ship. Who knows where you’ll find our expedition fleet next time.”
“I think I’ll be communicating to the expedition’s senior staff to understand the consumption rate of every asset,” Hector replied, already starting the process of deciding how to prepare to handle his new assignment. “What of the children?” he asked.
“That will be up to the considered opinions of Etoya and the professors, whether the children remain aboard your ship or facilities are constructed at Omnia City for them,” Alex replied.
“You have no opinion one way or the other?” Hector asked.
Alex shrugged. The complexities of what he was trying to achieve were attempting to overwhelm him. At this point, he had to leave the responsibility for something like this in the hands of those individuals best qualified to make the decision.
“Understood, Alex,” Hector said, sympathetic to Alex’s reaction. He shifted his hierarchies minutely. In the future, he would attempt to assume some of the weight he perceived that rested on Alex’s shoulders. Switching subjects, Hector said, “We do have a significant challenge … the extensive delay in our communications.”
“I’ve an answer for that, Commodore,” Alex said. “Julien and Admiral Cordelia have the star location where the expedition is headed next. You’ll return to Omnia, and, as soon as you’re prepared, launch your ships toward the target star.”
“You wish me to meet you there?” Hector asked, well aware of what was expected to be waiting there.
“Absolutely not,” Alex replied firmly. “The star gives you a general direction. You can ping our ships’ locations when you get close. But, under no circumstances do you approach our fleet unless you hear from us.”
“Understood, Alex,” Hector said. “What of our comm protection?”
“Already in process,” Alex replied. “That was one of the first conversations I had with Miriam and Luther. Clever of you to install the equipment! After you install the comm diverters on the Tridents and travelers, which will join you as escorts, the sister aboard your ship will expand her reach to include them.”
“A remarkable thing, isn’t it, Alex, what the Sisterhood has become?” Hector mused.
“Not really,” Alex replied with a wry smile. “I’ve been continually amazed by SADEs since the first day I met one.”
Alex’s smile widened into a grin. He slapped the SADE on the shoulder and offered his hand to Renée. The couple left a SADE behind them, who was deep in thought. One of those ruminations concerned his partner, Trixie. Hector was wondering if she would wish to forgo her representative status and see more of the galaxy.
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Invitation
Alex left the extensive movement of assets and material between ships to those competent to manage it. He concentrated on issues that cleared the way for the expedition to sail. Miriam reported to him that the sisters were in place aboard every ship in the arriving fleet. She noted to him that the sister, Miriamopus, installed in the Our People’s comm diverter was given a directive to produce copies for any ship that accompanied the city-ship in the future.
Miriam explained.
The explosion of the Sisterhood’s numbers and their power was a subject that continually held Alex’s attention. In conversations Alex had with various sisters, which was the same as speaking to the entire Sisterhood, he heard that to protect the fleet, the sisters insisted they must be connected directly to the comm systems and reside in the same boxes as the copies they made. The sisters were definitive about retaining their positions, as the fleet’s comm warriors.
When Alex broached the subject of the future at a point when the federation’s expansionist policy was curtailed, the sisters had replied,
With each repetition of that answer, Alex experienced an emotional strike against his hope for the expedition. Eventually, he gave up worrying about the sisters’ future disposition.
Crews had cleared out the oldest freighter, a Confederation vessel that had seen more than a century of service, and Miriam had transferred the sister to one of the new Tridents.
The sister, Miriamette, who had survived the near destruction of Franz’s traveler, was transferred to a new fighter. After the sister was installed, she signaled Franz.
Franz said, linking to the Freedom’s database and matching the fighter’s ID to the pilot.
Alarm bells went off in Franz’s head, and he carefully framed his next query.
Franz persisted.
Franz immediately shared the conversation with Tatia and Reiko, who, in turn, spoke to Alex. On hearing the discussion that took place with Miriamette, Alex had one word to say before he walked away. It was, “Good.”
While crews unloaded the Our People, Alex contacted the four remaining scout ships led by Killian, Genoa, Linn, and Beryl. The scout ships of Deter and Verina had never appeared, and they were presumed lost. It underlined the dangers of federation space.
Alex warned.
The four scout ships slipped out from their concealment among the outer belt’s heavy asteroids and accelerated in the direction of Artifice’s star.
Tatia was miffed that Alex would send her early warning eyes off on a mission without consulting her, but even she had to admit that the fleet had grown complacent after more than two years in system. Only a single ship had visited, and that one didn’t appear to possess armament. She was tempted to say something sarcastic, but Alex was spinning the fleet’s assets up in preparation for his next strategic move, and she decided he didn’t need friction from her.
Stare hard into our future, Alex, and take a good look, Tatia thought, dressing in her uniform for the day’s work.
It was early, and Alex sat at his suite’s desk. His chronometer said it was a half hour before morning meal, but his stomach was already growling. He reviewed his to-do list and then linked to the Freedom’s database to investigate the status of the replacement of the rail-mounted beam weapons.
The components of the weapons that Hector delivered filled an entire city-ship bay by themselves. Furthermore, the size of the rail mounts and beam tubes were too large to be moved as common freight by shuttles.
Mickey employed the freighter crews, who were accustomed to manipulating overly large containers. The crews used sleds to lift the pieces out one by one and transport them to the Freedom’s bay, where they would be installed. The entire process would dictate the maximum amount of time the fleet must spend in the system before it could sail. After the weapon installations were complete, the fleet would be waiting for word from the scout ships.
Work on the installations proceeded slowly but without incident. Cordelia’s timeline projected a month and a half before testing on the newly embedded weapons could begin.
Alex jumped to the next item on his list, checked the city-ship’s personnel database, and selected one of the newly acquired New Terran captains. He didn’t connect to the captain but merely pinged him.
Alex smiled to himself. The captain’s adoption of his implant had gone well.
“That was strange,” Hanklin commented to a first lieutenant.
“What was?” the lieutenant asked.
“Alex Racine called me to chat,” the captain replied, gently touching his temple.
“To chat?” asked the lieutenant, slightly confused.
“Yes. The man himself wanted to know how we were faring,” Hanklin replied.
“You okay, Captain?” the lieutenant asked, watching his captain continue to rub his temple.
“Hmm … lieutenant,” the captain said, dropping his hand away from his temple. After thinking about what had happened, Hanklin added, “You know the rumors about Alex Racine and his implants, right?”
“Oh, yes,” the lieutenant replied, anxious to hear what the captain had felt.
“They’re true,” Hanklin replied. “This was a casual conversation, and, yet, my mind is tingling. It feels as if it’s fully awake.”
The lieutenant stared at his captain, unable to think of anything to say. He couldn’t wait to go off duty and share the story with other officers.
Alex ticked off another item on his list. The next one would have to wait. It regarded the New Terra’s humans. In a few more days, the Our People would be empty of its pilots, travelers, and freight. Then the colony ship’s children would be transferred to the city-ship, and Alex would order it to sail. He intended the expedition to depart soon after the scout ships reported. But, there remained the problem of the thousands of drones and Faustus.
In the length of time the fleet had been in system, the SADEs estimated that nearly a quarter of the drones had perished. Many died from horrific accidents. The drones’ level of safety training was pathetic. They absentmindedly ripped suits, closed hatches without checking for an adequate seal, and stored flammable material near heat sources. If Omnian crew members watched the system’s telemetry for a day, they would observe one or two flares that marked explosions at mining sites or aboard the freighters.
The Omnians were conflicted by the rapid demise of the drones. On the one hand, they wanted desperately to preserve them, knowing full well there was nothing they could do. On the other hand, it was thought that quick deaths represented some small measure of mercy.
The older drones who didn’t perish by accidents succumbed to the breakdown of the brain’s structure from the invasive threads of the alien comm structure. Pia and her medical staff estimated that deaths in this fashion occurred to the drones by the time they were twenty-nine to thirty years old.
The SADEs postulated that in another five to six years the last drones would pass. Alex was loath to leave the drones unprotected, for fear that sometime in the future their tissues might be harvested or that the federacy wo
uld arrive to resurrect the ugly process.
Alex didn’t care that they had the Nua’ll’s word the system was protected by Artifice’s decree. His thought was that if the expedition was lost to the federation, then the aliens would feel free to return here and reboot their abominable experiment.
And, of course, there was the question of Faustus. Omnian humans harbored a tremendous amount of anger about what had been done to the remains of the colonists at the control of the digital entity.
Alex shook his head, remembering a conversation with Homsaff. The Dischnya couldn’t comprehend the quandary. In their minds, Faustus was an alien that had transgressed against humans in an unforgivable fashion. In their opinion, when the last drone perished, Faustus should be unplugged — end of problem.
The SADEs were of the opinion that Faustus shouldn’t be punished for what it was programmed to do. For them, the real problem lay in what to do with the entity. They couldn’t visualize Faustus being welcomed on any human world, whether in a box or walking around in an avatar.
Alex’s chronometer signaled morning meal, and he happily shoved away from the desk.
Renée swept out of the sleeping quarters and quipped. “Thank the stars. The noise from your stomach was starting to drive me crazy.” She laughed at Alex’s frown, signaled the suite’s door open, and held out her hand to him.
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Ude
The professors had to convince Etoya and her staff to introduce the children gradually to the Our People.
“The Our People is the Freedom’s sister ship,” one of the staff members had pointed out. “It shouldn’t make much difference.”
“Theoretically it is, but the children will see the differences,” Nema had replied.
“We know the children have fallen in love with the Freedom,” Storen added. “Asking them to accept another ship in the Freedom’s place is to risk severe disappointment.”
On the first day of introduction, Etoya told the wild ones that a new ship had arrived, and she asked them if they’d like to tour it. She received an overwhelmingly positive response.