by Dale Musser
“Tib, I don’t doubt you. I’m just pointing out what will most likely happen to you, if you do this. You can’t help anyone or anything if you’re incarcerated.”
“I know,” I said. “I just wish there were some way to get the Senate to grasp the seriousness of this matter before it’s too late.”
“Hey, dad. Have you talked to A’Lappe today?” Reide said as he entered the room. Like his twin sister, Lunnie, Reide had grown into an impressive young adult. He was already nearly as tall as me and was still growing. I attributed his athletic frame and handsome features more to his mother than myself. He undoubtedly had his mother’s darker complexion and dark hair – unlike Lunnie, whose light complexion and strawberry blond hair was more of a mix of my genetics and the fairer side of her mom’s family. However, even with this difference, there was a strong resemblance in their faces that left no question they were closely related. Reide’s voice had changed some years earlier, so he now spoke with a surprisingly rich baritone voice, unlike the tenor quality in my own voice. He was a good singer, too, and had recently joined A’Lappe and Kerabac in some of their club performances.
“No, I haven’t heard from A’Lappe in a while. Why do you ask?”
“He’s come up with a new weapon design, dad, and when you see it, your mind will go nebula!” Reide exclaimed with dramatic teenaged gestures.
I was amused by his expression to go nebula, as it reminded me of my days on earth when people would say something was going to blow your mind.
“So what is it?” I asked.
“I’d better let him tell you. A’Lappe takes great pleasure in telling people about his inventions before anyone else does,” Reide said as he strode toward the door.
“Where are you going now?” I asked.
“To work out with Padaran in the gym,” he said. “Padaran wants to teach me some new martial arts techniques. Hey, did I tell you that last week I actually managed to score a takedown with Padaran? Pretty good, huh?”
“Are you sure he didn’t just trip?” Kala said teasingly.
“No, mom, he was very surprised. He said I’m really improving and that if I keep advancing as quickly as I am, I’ll soon be able to beat him all the time.”
“Keep practicing,” I said. “Do your best. How are you doing in your catas training with Jenira?”
“I’m doing alright, I think,” he answered in a less enthusiastic tone. “But I never know with Jenira, because she only tells me how poorly I’m doing on a particular exercise. She never praises anyone. It’s impossible to beat Jenira. I don’t see how anyone could ever be better than she is.”
“Jenira isn’t perfect, son. Remember, she lost her eyesight in her fight with Sisopan and she remained blind until new eyes could be cloned.”
“Yes, but even when she was blind, she fought using her catas and killed Sisopan. No one else could have done that.”
“You’re probably right,” I answered. “Jenira is one of a kind.”
“I hate to interrupt your conversation,” Kala interjected, “but we're going to be late for dinner with Chanina and Tonclin if we don’t get going.”
“Right,” I answered, and then said to Reide as he left, “Have a good workout, son.”
Although Chanina had been serving on the NEW ORLEANS for more than sixteen years, this was the first time I had been to her suite. Though the yacht belonged to me, there were only a few of the crew accommodations I had ever visited. All the members of my crew had their own separate residential suites, as the yacht was enormous – large enough to house the crews and staff individually and have numerous luxury suites to spare for visitors.
Each crew member was allowed to design the interior of their accommodations to suit their personal taste. The décor in Chanina’s suite surprised me. I’m not sure what sort of designs I expected; however, a natural wood-textured wall with red trim wasn’t one of them. The dark walls were accented by lighter wood floors and collections of modern furniture, also in lighter natural colors, that were positioned casually around the large living room. An occasional small gnarled tree, much like the bonsai trees of earth, was displayed on a table or pedestal and accented by decorative overhead lighting. The suite had a strange, sweet, yet slightly acid scent to it that I recognized as the gaseous nitrogen compound typically added to the environment of some areas on the ship to more closely simulate the Nibarian atmosphere, without the elements found on Nibaria that were toxic to humans.
Tonclin greeted us at the door.
“Tibby, Kalana, I am so glad you could make it,” Tonclin said in his high-pitched voice as he ushered us inside. “Chanina will join us presently. She is trying to regulate the nitrogen mixture in the suite to make it more comfortable for you during your visit. I fear we forgot about it until just a few moments ago, but it should be adjusted shortly.”
“Tonc, it’s good to see you. How are you enjoying your retirement, now that you’ve finished out your term as Leader?”
“To be honest, Tibby, I don’t know what to do with myself. When I was in office, I had no time for anything but work; and now that I am out of office, I find I can’t think of enough things to fill my day. I commissioned the reconstruction of my estate after the Brotherhood attack eight years ago, but I find it’s just not the same there without Chanina and her late mother. So, in spite of my efforts to adapt, I simply don’t enjoy my time there anymore. I find myself coming here with growing frequency to visit Chanina. I believe I spend more time here than I do anyplace else.”
“Maybe you should consider moving here aboard the yacht as your permanent residence,” I said. “We have more than enough room. There are vacant suites to choose from nearby or in any of the ship’s residential sectors.”
“That’s a generous offer, Tibby, but I wouldn’t feel right living here on the ship if I weren’t contributing something. I’m afraid I am not properly trained to be a crew member.”
“Oh I beg to differ, Tonc. I could most certainly use your expertise. In fact, I could use some right now.”
“Hello, Tibby. Hello, Kalana. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you arrived,” Chanina’s voice interrupted us as she entered the room. “I’d forgotten to adjust the air mixture for the room before you arrived and I fear the mixture we Nibarians prefer may have been uncomfortable for you.”
“That is most kind of you Chanina,” Kala responded. “I’m sure Tib and I would have been just fine without the adjustment, but we do appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
In the back of my mind I was thinking that Kala had probably never tried dining while in the typical Nibarian atmosphere. Nothing tasted right in the altered conditions. Everything took on a flavor equal to that obtained by sucking on a piece of copper.
“Chanina, your suite is lovely,” Kala continued. “I’ve never seen such décor before. I love the wood textures and the striking accents.”
“Thank you. It’s a common style and theme seen on Nibaria,” said Chanina. “It’s a bit of home away from home.”
“Your father and were just talking about home,” I said. “He mentioned that he was spending more time visiting you here than he was spending on Nibaria. I suggested he might want to consider taking up residence here on the ship. He could have one designed to suit to his tastes in whatever style he wishes.”
“Oh my, that would be great,” Chanina exclaimed, as she turned toward her father. “I could help you decorate!”
“I haven’t said yes to the offer, Chanina. My finances would not allow me to pay for such fine accommodations and I am certainly not qualified for employment on Tibby’s crew.”
“Well then come and live with me,” Chanina said. “As a crew member, I am entitled to have family live with me.”
“I don’t know, Chanina,” Tonc said. “You’re a young woman and you need to be entertaining and associating with friends and prospective mates. My presence here would impede that.”
“Oh father, don’t be silly. I seldom ever enter
tain here. Besides, if I were to become interested in someone, I would be more likely go to his quarters than bring him to mine.”
“Hold on, you two,” I said with a laugh. “I may have a solution that will suit you both. Tonc, as I began to say earlier, I have a very real need for your expertise. I’ve already been thinking about asking you to serve as an advisor to me personally – well, mostly personally. I need the perspective of someone who understands the complex politics and workings of the Federation’s government and legal systems – someone I can trust unconditionally – and I can think of no person better suited than you. I would want to have you here on the NEW ORLEANS or someplace where we’d be able to meet confidentially and on short notice. In return I would not only be willing to provide you a suite on the ship, but I would insist on paying you as an employee and consultant.”
“What kind of matters are we talking about, Tibby?” Tonc asked with a mixed tone of concern and curiosity.
“Why don’t we go into the dining room, where we’ll be more comfortable. The two of you can discuss this over dinner,” suggested Chanina.
“Good idea,” Kala replied. “If you don’t stop these two now, they’ll stand here talking all evening.”
Once we were seated and Chanina had served the first course, the ladies began a detailed discussion about Nibarian interior designs and styles at the far end of the table, leaving Tonclin and me to quietly discuss the immediate issues requiring Tonc’s expertise.
“So what matters currently require my counsel, Tibby?” asked Tonclin quietly.
“I will be summoned in the next few days to testify before the Senate as to where I have been acquiring the Nijang Fighters that I have been turning over to our military.”
“I see. And just who and where, exactly, is your source?”
“The androids… mostly,” I replied.
I heard Tonc abruptly choke on a mouthful of food. It took him a moment to regain his composure. He glanced toward the ladies before continuing. “By the stars, Tibby, that’s a treason offense. How long have you been getting ships from them?”
“For the past eight years,” I replied.
“Eight years! Let me guess. You gave them the plans and probably the machinery to build the ships as well?”
“That would be a good assumption,” I replied. I had Tonc’s full attention now and he stopped eating. “The raw materials, too.”
Before he could object further, I continued, “Tonc, the androids are no threat to the Federation. They have not attacked the Federation in hundreds of years, though they certainly could have. They have assisted us repeatedly, albeit in the background, when they could just as easily have helped our enemies instead.”
“That is of no consequence in a legal inquiry, Tibby,” Tonc replied firmly. “You violated Federation law, not only by ignoring the trade embargo, but by providing them with classified military information in the form of fabrication plans for the Nijang Fighters.”
“Well, not really. The plans for the Nijang Fighters were not classified when I gave them to the androids. The Federation hadn’t seen them yet,” I replied.
“That argument will not hold up before the Senate,” said Tonc. “Tibby, you are in the deepest type of trouble with this infraction. If the Senate finds you guilty of treason, you will likely spend the rest of your life in a Federation prison.”
“So I’m told. But it would be a short sentence,” I replied, “because it wouldn’t be long before the Brotherhood would take over after that.
“Look, Tonc, we needed those ships and we couldn’t afford to wait for the Senate to get around to authorizing and funding the staffing and construction of more shipyards and ships. The androids were available and I trusted them – and I still trust them. I made a decision that allowed us to secure the ships we needed. And those ships, in the hands of the Ruwallie Rasson – who were once also Federation enemies, I might add – are the primary force that has been hindering the Brotherhood’s efforts to take over the Federation. Without them I doubt we’d even be here today.”
“That may be true, Tibby, but the Senate is not going to see it that way. Who’s spearheading this campaign against you?”
“I don’t know, sir. Admiral Regeny alerted me this morning that the hearing is imminent, but he doesn’t know who authored the action.”
“Let me dig into this, Tibby. It might help to know who is behind the inquiry. When is the hearing to take place?”
“That I don’t know either. Thus far, I haven’t received any kind of official word from the Senate, only a warning from Regeny, and I don’t know how or where he found out about it.”
“Let’s hope they are in the early phases of planning their agenda of questions, so I can find out some details before you’re officially summoned.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Does this mean you’ve accepted my offer of employment and you agree to take up residence here on the NEW ORLEANS?”
“I will do what I can for you regarding this issue, Tibby, but beyond that, we’ll see,” replied Tonc. “It depends on whether you survive this ordeal as a free man, not to mention whether you still own this ship after the Senate is done with you. In the meantime, let me look into this matter quietly.” Tonclin and I finished our clandestine discussion on that note and joined the ladies in their dinner conversation.
The following morning Admiral Slater came to see me in my office on the MAXETTE.
“Admiral,” Slater began, “Admiral Wabussie tells me that his FSO agents on Alamar-4 have found a suitable location on a cliff face where they can install a large Cantolla Gate like you suggested yesterday. The cliff face is at the shoreline, not far from the first gate they installed. The area is sufficient to accommodate a gate large enough to allow passage for fighters, patrol ships and transports. It should be possible to mobilize enough ships to strategic locations early enough in the assault to allow for rapid setup of ground gates before widespread fighting ensues. We could flood the planet with troops and equipment within hours. We’re currently identifying the most strategic locations using topo maps and surface images.”
“Good! I’m hoping that we can overwhelm the Brotherhood and just convince them to surrender.”
“That’s not likely,” Slater said. “Our past experiences have shown that the Brotherhood troopers are conditioned not to surrender. They’ve been brainwashed and, as you know, many of them are coerced into fighting by way of the slave collars they’re forced wear or by way of induced drug addiction. Besides, what would we do with the prisoners anyway? I imagine the Lunar Prison is running out of space.”
“There is plenty of space,” I answered. “The excavations completed by the inmates will be fully fitted soon. Aside from that, the prison population has diminished significantly, since we began clearing and processing the hundreds of inmates who were forced to fight and who have clearly demonstrated that they have no allegiance to the Brotherhood. Most have already been released and returned to their home worlds. The Federation Office of Investigation monitors them, but so far there have not been any incidents or even remote indications that any of them are a threat to the Federation.”
“The FOI? I’m surprised you trust them after the way the Brotherhood infiltrated the agency and used it against the Federation.”
“That was years ago, Admiral Slater. Once the Brotherhood sympathizers and undercover agents were rooted out of the agency, the organization was able to begin functioning in its intended capacity again. Besides, now that Halfredies is head of the FOI, I have complete confidence in the reliability of the organization.”
“Why do you have so much confidence in Halfredies?”
“Halfredies is the brother of Galetils, the industrialist who developed the 10X reactor and who commissioned the construction of the NEW ORLEANS as his personal yacht. The Brotherhood organization killed Galetils when he refused to give them the secrets of the 10X reactor. Halfredies hates them and wants to see them destroyed. He’s also gone undercover se
veral times for the FSO and is a double agent in both the FOI and the FSO.”
“How come I’ve never heard any of this before?”
“It would hardly be a secret if we told everyone,” I said with a grin. “The information is on a need‑to‑know basis only. There are probably less than a dozen people in the Federation that know of Halfredies role with the FSO, so you’ve still never heard any of this, am I clear?”
“Understood, sir.”
“Now, back to the matter of the attack on Alamar-4, how soon can you have your units mobilized?”
“We need more intelligence and some time to manually install the gate on the cliff face, but I estimate we’ll be ready in a week.”
“That’s about how long it will take to organize the fleet for the attack from space and position several large stellar gates near enough to Alamar-4 to allow for an effective ambush but far enough away to prevent detection from the planet. I want to be absolutely certain that our ships and ground troops are able to coordinate a seamless, synchronized assault from all directions.”
I had just finished the meeting with Slater when a call came in from Admiral Wabussie.
“What can I do for you, Admiral?” I asked as I answered the call on the vid screen.
“It’s not what you can do for me this time. Hopefully, it’s what I can do for you,” Wabussie replied.
“Okay then, what can you do for me?” I asked.
“I hear you’re about to be served with a summons to appear before the Senate to answer some rather difficult questions. I thought perhaps some information I’ve collected might be useful to you.”
“You’ve got my attention,” I answered.
“The individual spearheading the charges against you is Senator Wingutt from Lissalon Prime, one of the outer planets in Sector 5. Up until approximately six years ago, no one seems to have heard of Wingutt. He supposedly comes from a remote village on the planet, but the community was completely destroyed nearly ten years ago by a volcano that also killed most of the inhabitants. Wingutt is supposedly one of only a handful who survived. According to him, he was away from the village on business when the eruption took place. However, no one is able to verify that claim. Planetary records do indicate a Wingutt lived in the village at one time, but references to his age and credentials are vague. School records were also destroyed in the cataclysm, so no paper trail can found of his life before his recent appearance on the political scene. The few remaining citizens who survived the event don’t remember him. Of course, that’s not proof that he’s an imposter, as the village was quite heavily populated. None of the survivors we contacted recognized each other, so we can’t expect that they would remember Wingutt either.
