by Musser, Dale
The audience immediately hushed and stared in awe as he played a long and most moving piece that was classical in nature. He finished to loud applause and cheering and he turned his head with a smile and a nod to the audience. From every recess of the lounge people began calling out song titles and other music requests. He glanced at Kala and me with a slight smile as he began to play a prelude for a melody; and then, in a voice that sounded astoundingly like a famous performer of Earth named Nat King Cole, he began to sing.
For a moment I was struck still and became filled with melancholy. Nat King Cole had been one of my mother’s favorite singers. I was flooded with memories of learning my first dances with her to Nat’s songs. I noted that no one was dancing, but that didn’t matter to me. I took Kala by the hand and said, “Come on. I have some more dance steps to teach you.”
“But, Tibby,” Kala whispered, “no one dances to this type of music.”
“Humph… my ship, my rules. If we want to dance to it, we can dance to it.” Reluctantly, Kala got to her feet and followed me to the dance floor. I pulled her close to me and began to lead her through a few of the basic steps. In no time at all we were dancing gracefully about the dance floor as Kerabac sang one of the most beautiful ballads I had ever heard. Slowly, a few couples entered the dance floor to copy the steps by watching Kala and me. As we turned across the dance floor I looked toward the stage to see Kerabac gazing back at us with a broad smile of approval. I looked again at Kala, whose delight could barely be contained as she let the dance and the music fill her. For the first time since my grandparents died I felt like I was part of a family again.
When the song ended, applause and cheers once again filled the room. This time I think I was cheering and applauding the loudest of all. Kerabac beamed. Once again voices called out with requests and he picked another ballad. This time the floor was crowded, as everyone wanted to try out the new dance steps. I glanced around the room to see if I could recognize anyone. I saw Cantolla dancing with an attractive woman; and I was quite surprised to see Marranalis dancing with Major Sokaia. All of them seemed to be having a good time. I held Kala close and she laid her head on my shoulder, as we danced slowly past the front of the stage; and I felt like I did indeed own the universe.
The next morning a shuttle arrived from the surface of Nibaria. Senator Tonclin wasn’t aboard, but there were ten Nibarians with instructions to seek me out for training as FSO agents. Trooper guards accompanied the admiral and me to the solbidyum container where, once again, the admiral punched in the code that released a capsule containing a single grain of solbidyum. The capsule was placed in a small metal case and sealed by the admiral, after which several Federation trooper guards and an equal contingent of Nibarian guards boarded the shuttle and returned to the surface with the solbidyum and reactor. Once on the surface, the Federation troopers would return to the NEW ORLEANS in the shuttle and the Nibarians guards would be responsible for completing the delivery, as humans could not breathe the atmosphere without wearing cumbersome gear. The entire round trip would take a little over three hours, after which we would be on our way back to Megelleon to pick up the FSO trainees we had left on the surface.
In the meantime, I had the day to get the Nibarian FSO trainees indoctrinated and settled into quarters. I hoped that Piesew would have enough time during this brief visit to bring some organic foods aboard and store them in stasis lockers. Once everything was loaded and the additional recruits were aboard, we would begin our journey to the Aburn System to deliver their solbidyum and reactor and to meet up with the PURFIRE.
Indoctrination of the Nibarians didn’t go quite as easily as expected. I had difficulty explaining to them why spying on their friends, allies, and their own government is as much in everyone’s best interest as spying on their enemies. I think the greater part of what made it so difficult was that I personally don’t like it either; so trying to define the boundaries for others, as to how far one can and should go in their efforts to ascertain and intercept subversive elements in one’s own government, was especially challenging. In the end, they all agreed to go through the training, taking an oath to serve and protect the Federation in their special duties and to execute all spying activities to that end alone. Some of their training would be different from that of the human recruits; physical constraints unique to the Nibarians would preclude them from serving on some planets, just as humans could not serve effectively on Nibaria. Just as humans had no real understanding of the unique culture that defined the peoples of Nibaria, there would likewise be practices and traditions on some worlds that would be too far outside the abilities of Nibarians to manage as agents.
As the session with the Nibarians came to an end, I asked if there were any questions. One Nibarian named Wonnuk asked, “Vice Admiral Renwalt, is it possible to have the nitrogen level raised in our quarters? While we can breathe your atmosphere without difficulty, foods do not taste right nor do things smell right; and it can be most distracting. The modified levels need not include the nitrogen compounds fatal to humans, of course.”
“I think that can be arranged. However it may be valuable for you to breathe the atmosphere of humans for at least part of your training. Likewise, we may place the humans in a more nitrogen rich atmosphere for the same reason, minus the compounds fatal to them, of course. You must understand that we are establishing something new that has not been done before within the Federation, at least not in the remembered or recorded history of the Federation. There are no charts or lesson plans for us to follow; so we will be creating this program as we go along. For that reason, I encourage all of you to provide feedback so that we can continue to improve the parameters of your training and instruction.”
After the night of dancing at the lounge I noted a distinct difference in the crew’s attitude and behavior toward me. They had always been polite and pleasant, but somewhat more reserved and formal than was comfortable for me. Now they were more open, greeting me with warm smiles when they saw me approach. A few would even stop me on occasion to ask for a comment or two on what they were doing right or wrong with their dance steps. I suppose that some people may not like that degree of familiarity with their employees; but it gave me a real feeling of kinship with them. They were no longer just a crew that reported to me as their boss; we were becoming a family and the ship was our home. It was a feeling I really liked.
Early the next morning, shortly before sunrise passed over the capital city, the NEW ORLEANS took up an orbit above my estate on Megelleon. I rode down in one of four patrol ships that we were going to use to pick up the FSO trainees from their wilderness survival exercise. By the time I arrived, the last of them had made it into the resort. Some had fared relatively well and appeared no worse for the experience; but several were heavily compromised as a result of near starvation, exposure, or illness from drinking tainted water. These individuals were loaded onto a patrol ship equipped as a medical evacuation unit and treated en route to the NEW ORLEANS. Most suffered primarily from severe dehydration. One sustained a broken arm from a fall that occurred while trying to scale a rock face; and one had a rather bad infection that was contracted when he scratched his leg on the spine of a barb-a-sar, a plant that secretes a toxic sap known to break down the immune factors in humans and some animals. Fortunately, this very serious condition could be fixed with transfusions and a program that involved ultraviolet light exposure and treatment of the original wound with a salve that the Federation used to accelerate healing. It was strange to see the reactions of the recruits, which were easily differentiated into three distinct groups. The first and, by far, the happiest group was made up of those who had practically thrived in the wilderness. Finding shelter and food as they navigated to the pick-up point had been almost a delight for them. The second group consisted of those who had not fared as well, but were able to figure out how to stay alive. Some of these individuals managed to find a few food sources mostly by trial and error. The last group, of course,
encompassed those who had not fared well at all. They huddled together in relative silence, looking dejected and ready to quit after their harrowing experience. If they performed well during the remainder of the program, these were the individuals who would most likely become office staff and technicians, processing the data that the other two groups brought in from the field and providing the much needed support behind the scenes that would sustain and integrate all of the FSO operations. Every one of them was needed. However, I ultimately understood that not all would offer the same strengths or fill the same types of positions. I soon realized that I was going to have to find someone in the admiral’s staff to take charge of the FSO, as I had no intention of spending my life running this operation and the admiral had thus far not communicated a plan to appoint someone for the task. I had the perfect candidate in mind for the job.
When we got back to the ship I gave the recruits the three days off from physical training, but I reminded them they were still required to duplicate Geston’s feat with his spy device. Then I went to see Admiral Regeny.
Though I hadn’t made an appointment, I was immediately ushered into the admiral’s office.
“Tibby, to what do I owe this visit? How did the exercise with the FSO recruits go? We didn’t lose any, I hope.”
“No, Admiral, they’re all still with us. Some are a bit worse for wear, but everyone will recover. I think this exercise has shown us who will serve most effectively as field operatives and who will show greater strengths as support technicians and office staff. Some of them are simply not cut out for field work.”
“Good thinking. Defining each recruit’s strengths early will allow us to focus training on their individual disciplines.”
“Yes… and that brings me to the reason for my visit. I agreed to train them, but I didn’t agree to run the FSO. You need one of your people to do that. Have you given it any thought?”
“Uh, err… to be honest, I was hoping you would sort of volunteer to head them up.”
“No such luck, Admiral. Besides the fact that I don’t want the job, you and I both know that the Senate and the Federation Legal Review Board would have both our asses if I headed the group. I do, however, have someone in mind.”
“Good,” chuckled the admiral. “For a minute I was afraid you were going to leave me hanging with that one to figure out for myself. Who do you recommend?”
“Lieutenant Commander Wabussie.”
“Wabussie? Why, he’s my right hand man. I can’t – well, damn. You’re right, of course. He’s the best choice. I know that I need a position like that to be filled by one of my own people, someone whose leadership I trust and who will report all reconnaissance activity and information fully and regularly. Wabussie is the perfect candidate. I’ll have to promote him to a full commander, though. But it’s time for that anyway, I suppose. I’m going to hate losing him as my personal assistant. How soon do you need him?”
“The sooner the better. The quicker he’s in the loop, the better he’ll be able to run the agency.”
“Okay, okay, let me call him in here and do this before I change my mind,” Regeny said as he activated the communicator on his wrist. “Wabussie get in here!” he said into his communicator. He was barely done speaking when the door to his office opened and Lieutenant Commander Wabussie walked in.
“Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander, you are hereby advanced to the rank of commander. Oh, and your new assignment is to head up the FSO. Report to Vice Admiral Tibby tomorrow morning so he can bring you up to speed on training activities. I expect you to learn as much about the operation as possible and as quickly as possible so he can turn over the program to you.”
Wabussie looked back and forth between the admiral and me as though he were expecting one or both of us to start laughing and tell him it was a joke; but when neither of us cracked a smile, he saluted both of us and said, “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best, sir.”
“Good,” said the admiral. “I expect nothing less. Oh, and Commander, I expect you to keep me fully informed as to training status and activities within the FSO at all times. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“One more thing, see to getting someone to replace you out there on the desk. I still need an assistant.”
Shortly after lunch I met with Marranalis. “What do you have to report on our stowaway?” I asked.
“I wish I had something to tell you,” replied Marranalis with disappointment. “We’ve placed the Nibarian FSO contingency in the aft quarters, in the hopes that the modified atmosphere will either smoke out the stowaway or that the recruits will see and capture him. So far there has been no sign of him. He’s most certainly still onboard and using the cleaning machine. And according to the main computer, his food dispenser is working once again, though we still can’t locate it physically. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Okay, Marranalis. Keep me informed as to even the most minor changes. I’m headed to my office if you need me.”
I truly loved my office, though I was able to spend very little time there. As I sat gazing into the huge aquarium behind my desk, I suddenly got the strangest feeling that I wasn’t alone. I slowly turned my chair around to find myself staring at our little stowaway, who was seated in one of the wing-backed chairs in front of my desk. There was no doubt that it was the same figure I had observed in the vid screen with Captain Stonbersa. No one else on the ship even remotely resembled this short, hunchbacked figure, whose pointy chin and nose and tinted yellow skin seem exaggerated by the coal-black hair that was tied into a high ponytail. I gazed in silence at my visitor’s remarkable yellow irises, waiting for him to introduce himself.
“Greetings, First Citizen Tibby,” he said in a rich and mellow voice that reminded me of the typical radio and television announcers on Earth. “I felt it was time we met in person, before you have me captured and tossed off the ship.”
Under normal circumstances I would have reacted with more surprise and anxiety over someone appearing mysteriously as he had; but there was something so casual and reassuring in his voice and manner that it was impossible for me to feel threatened in any way.
“My name is A'Lappe. I am sure you’re wondering what I’m doing on your ship. First, let me assure you I wish no harm to you, your ship or the Federation. I am not a member of the Brotherhood, nor am I a criminal; though there are individuals who wish to find and kill me for reasons I will not discuss. This is part of the reason I have secreted myself within your ship. How I came to be here is a long tale; so I will give you the short of it. Galetils was a good friend of mine. I served him as an advisor in many areas as he built this yacht you now call the NEW ORLEANS. I should clarify; I was not on his payroll, as I do not need money. I worked for him in exchange for protection and secrecy and I am here to make the same offer to you. This entire ship was designed by me to Galetils’ specifications with certain additions and modification that I suggested and he accepted, including your RMFF system. I know every millimeter of this ship intimately; though, as part of the deal I had with Galetils, none of the laborers who built the ship were ever made aware that I was living onboard in a hidden suite specifically designed for my needs. I also served as his chief architect and engineer for development of the 10X fusion reactor.
“Then, shortly after life on Astamagota was destroyed in the solar flare and Galetils’ empire crumbled, I found myself without a patron and protector,” he said with a tone of sadness in his voice. “I remained hidden here while I deliberated what to do next. Then you came along, bringing with you the TRITYTE and the solbidyum. Your presence introduced an entirely new set of variables and possibilities where my future was concerned. I was able to monitor newscasts of your accomplishments and deeds; and when you bought the ship from the Nibarians, I knew that I must figure out a way to introduce myself to you in such a way that you would want me to stay onboard to provide service to you in the same manner that I had for Galetils.
“I can help you – you and the Federation. I know that you and the Federation seek to have RMFF capabilities on all the Federation ships; and for that you need the 10X fusion reactors. I know that Cantolla is working on that project, but she and her team are a long way off from finding the solution and it could take them years to do so without my input. I can provide you with the plans for a reactor that will work – the original design, in fact, which I designed and Galetils was having built. However, in its current design, I fear it is only suitable for use on the larger Federation ships, such as the star ships and frigates. The size of the reactor is much too large to fit into anything smaller than that. Still, that would be a huge boon to the Federation.
“In addition, I can help you in your struggles with the Brotherhood. They are an enemy of mine, as well; and for far longer than the Federation has been aware of them. I know a great number of details about their operations, such as areas where they are strongly concentrated and even the names of some of the organization’s highest ranking leadership. All I seek in return is to be allowed to continue my sanctuary on this ship. I have my own accommodations and the synthesizers provide the food and materials that I need.”
He paused and waited patiently for my reply.
“Well A'Lappe, it’s nice to finally meet the elusive individual that has had my ship in turmoil for the past few days. Your offer is intriguing; but how do I know I can trust you? How can I be certain that all you have told me is the truth?” I asked frankly.
A'Lappe shrugged his shoulders and threw up his small hands in a comical gesture. “You can always have me tested with one of your headbands”, he said. “I will not object. But I must warn you, I will not provide you with any information as to my origins or my past history prior to working with Galetils. This stipulation is crucial; my life depends on it.”
