by S. H. Jucha
“Any assignments you receive from me do not supersede your present reporting hierarchy. Captain Bonnard, you’re in charge of the overall long-term operation once the key players are organized. Commander Tachenko, you’ll set up and manage the training base. Mickey, as Senior Engineer, you’ll manage the manufacturing process and the retrofit of the Geld Hersteller, with Julien’s cooperation.”
“Renée,” Alex continued, “you’re in charge of supplies—everything we’ll need that does not fall under the specific auspices of their assignments,” and he waved a hand at those seated around the table. “Captain Manet, you’re our on-planet liaison with the Librans, and I’m putting you in charge of shuttle transport.”
“Our shuttles, Admiral?” Edouard asked.
“Negative, Captain, all shuttle transport. The SADEs have identified some weaknesses in the Librans’ transport processes. You’ll implement the SADEs’ corrections.”
Lastly, Alex focused on Sheila. “Squadron Leader, pilot training falls to you. Work with your XO to replicate Barren Island. Use the GEN controllers for vid training and replicating the freighter flight bays for the crew. We have five Dagger pilots to help train the new pilots. You’ll have our last two Daggers full-time but not for long.”
“Not for long, Admiral?” Sheila asked.
“That brings me to my short-term plan, people,” Alex said. “Once the long-term plan is up and running, I will manage the short-term plan.”
“Which is what, Admiral?” Renée said. No one mistook her tone, and all sat quietly waiting for Alex’s response.
“We have all the pieces to execute our plan to take the fight to that mother ship and her swarm, but our strategy isn’t taking into account what we learned from our first fight. The telemetry from the fighters and buoys showed that the silver ship ignored subsequent nanites-1 missiles after the first ones struck its hull.”
“That’s right. Remember, Captain?” Sheila jumped in. “Admiral, are you thinking we don’t need the nanites-1 missiles?”
“What I want to know is whether we need any of the nanites missiles,” Alex said. “Once the initial missile strikes didn’t damage its hull, the fighter ignored all other missiles until the very end when I think it detected a danger from the nanites working on its hull. But the key points that we should take away from that first encounter are that the silver ship didn’t offer any defensive display other than its incredible maneuverability, and it employed only one offensive weapon—its beam weapon.”
“If the silver ships only have a beam weapon, then we can test the warhead directly,” Andrea said, anticipating Alex’s next words.
A thought suddenly occurred to Alex and he held up a finger to signal his intent.
Cordelia found herself pleased by the Admiral’s consideration, while Z felt confused.
Those in the room with Alex contained their reactions. None wanted to embarrass Z. Cordelia intervened.
As Alex closed their comm link, Sheila whispered, “Black space, that didn’t even occur to me.”
“It obviously didn’t occur to any of us,” Tatia said, then laughed, “or one of us might have become the Admiral.” The entire room broke into laughter. Whether at the thought of being Admiral or in relief that they weren’t, it was hard to tell.
“In the meantime,” said Alex, picking up where he had left off, “Captain Bonnard, please coordinate with Julien and prepare a warhead missile test on our silver ship. With fortune, we may achieve an answer to at least one question.”
“And once you have your answer, Admiral, what will you do next?” Renée asked.
“Our long-term plan will develop over an extensive window of time. If our test is successful tomorrow, then we need to see what other information about the silver ships we can gather that might change our long-term strategy.”
“And how will you go about gathering this information, Admiral?” Renée asked, leaning forward on the table, her eyes challenging Alex.
“I haven’t worked out the details yet, Ser, but it will involve going back to Bellamonde and testing our missiles against another silver ship. We can’t trust the design of our entire strategy to information gathered from a single encounter.”
“Admiral, we have only two Daggers left. Should we be risking them?” Andrea asked.
“I believe we must, Captain,” Alex replied. “Right now, everyone at this table should concentrate on their part in our long-term goal. The SADEs are providing the freighter’s retrofit design and manufacturing processes. Their freighter design will determine our Dagger count, which in turn will give us missile loads, pilots, flight crew, material, and supplies. In addition, we’ll need another Dagger for the Rêveur.”
Renée and Edouard were speechless.
Alex could imagine what this revelation meant to his Méridiens, who prided themselves on their open and transparent society. The alien enemy was destroying much more than colonies. The panicked exodus was revealing the ugly side of their society, a side Méridiens thought they never had.
Dead silence followed Z’s somber statements until Alex asked:
Z explained.
Renée and Edouard felt unsettled. The thought of a rogue SADE killing Méridiens was too bizarre a concept for them to absorb.
Alex’s evening meal chime sounded in his implant, and he looked to his people. “When you receive your requirement lists from Julien, review it for a go or no go decision as to whether you believe you will be able to deliver. If your opinion is a no go, I want to understand your impediments and what you think needs to be done to resolve them. Once we come to operational consensus, you will manage your communications and progress reports through Captain Bonnard. Am I clear?” He received a chorus of agreements. “Good. Now I have a dinner date.” He stood up and offered Renée his arm. “Ser,” he said formally.
Renée swept to her feet, slid her hand into the crook of his arm. “Why thank you, Admiral,” she said sweetly, as if it was a first date.
Alex and Renée heard chuckles and soft laughter behind them as they left the suite, the others rising to join them for evening meal in Méridien fashion. Over time, the New Terrans had puzzled out the reason Méridiens preferred to dine together. Implants had the potential to isolate an individual. Everything a Méridien intellectually needed could simply be requested and received via their implants, including personal communication. Mealtime brought them face-to-face and reminded them of the real world of people and their importance to one other.
* * *
After evening meal, Renée retired to their cabin while Alex left for the bridge. On his way, Alex tapped into Julien’s referee applications and observed several of the implant games underway. Unfortunately Alex never participated. His implant prowess would have automatically decided the winning team. However, he would have liked to have been invited.
The games had advanced to such a competitive level that they required Julien to handicap the teams. After selecting the sides, he would award a time advantage to the weaker team based on their combined implant adoption total, making the games fairer.
“Good evening, Lieutenant Tanaka,” Alex greeted the watch officer. The Lieutenant saluted and queried if the Admiral would prefer isolation, to which Alex replied it wasn’t necessary. He had so thoroughly adopted his implants that he could disappear into their power, isolating himself even in the midst of his people.
Alex replied.
It was several moments before Cordelia replied, a lifetime for a SADE. she replied guardedly.
Cordelia hesitated. Decades ago, when she had ardently pursued her passion, her branding by the Captain as an Independent had crushed her spirit, and her time on Libre had been a form of torture, the full expression of her art never realized again.
With the announcements of the first alien attack on Cetus and the aliens’ subsequent lift from the planet eight years later, Cordelia’s analytical routines predicted a 17 percent probability of her demise within fifty to seventy years. Over the years, she had wondered what she would feel when the aliens finally arrived at Libre—sad at the ending of her life, or grateful for the end of her imprisonment.
Years ago, Leader Stroheim and Ser Monti had approached her with the offer to serve as a colony ship’s SADE, and Cordelia discovered that she did want to live. The thought to live and be fully utilized again had filled her with a joy that she had thought lost. She had negotiated with the Leaders as carefully as she could. The Leaders had offered escape from Libre but for a lifetime of servitude, governing the Freedom. In reply, she had bargained for only the time it took to reach their new home plus two years. They had settled on ten years.
Throughout the negotiations, Cordelia and Z had shared information, which the Leaders knew she would. So in the end, Cordelia negotiated for both of them. Z admitted he would have agreed to the Leader’s first offer. He had been on Libre nearly twice as long as Cordelia and had fought to maintain his sanity every day.
Cordelia sought to embrace her new position as the Freedom’s SADE, but as the days wore on, the ship’s operational tasks didn’t fulfill her as she had hoped. Day by day, her frustration grew, but she held on to the thought that her contract was for a mere ten years, a blink of the eye in the life of a SADE. Then the New Terrans arrived, and she heard the Admiral describe a world full of independent beings. To her, it sounded like a fantasy.
Julien recognized Cordelia’s hesitation. The Admiral had asked to see her art, which was her passion and the cause of her punishment. You’re wondering which one it will be this time, Julien thought.
Cordelia finally replied.
Cordelia said, unsure of where this was leading.
Cordelia analyzed the Admiral’s repetition. Her language routines indicated a failure on her part to answer the question properly. The Adm
iral’s preeminent status indicated there would be near zero error in the formation of his question. Her conclusion was she had failed to respond to his subtext. In this situation, her guide was Julien. She had liked him from the moment of first contact, and Julien had said he and the Admiral were intimate friends. It was an unusual turn of phrase for a SADE.
Alex smiled to himself. Unbeknownst to him, so did Julien.
Cordelia, who had set routines to analyze the Admiral’s story and his approach to her, found she was focused on his story’s imagery. The works of Earth’s old masters on display, she thought. What I wouldn’t give to possess that wonderful library.
Alex continued.
For a brief moment, Cordelia envied Julien until she recalled where the Rêveur had gone and would go again.
