by S. H. Jucha
Julien replied.
Mickey burst into laughter. And Mickey started laughing again.
As angry as Andrea was about Mickey’s interpretation of the events, she found herself laughing along with the rest of the table.
Andrea said,
said Julien.
In their implants, the Rêveur officers heard an ethereal blend of two female voices. None could understand their words, but their delightful sound held them in rapt attention. When the music ended, the audience breathed a collective sigh, everyone sending Julien a compliment.
The span of times was a constant surprise to the New Terrans, who were still getting used to the Méridiens’ 200-year life spans. Now, with their cell-gen injections, they would see many more years than their previously expected 100-year life span and healthy years at that.
Tatia said.
Then Andrea proceeded to run down the checklist for each team member. They were in session for two more hours while they organized their to-do lists, setting communications and reporting procedures. After they broke up, Andrea’s team opened comm requests through Julien to the Librans on their lists. The volunteers, those who had interviewed, were overjoyed to hear of their selection. Independents had already proven once that they preferred an active role in shaping their future in direct contravention of their society’s teachings, and the voluntee
rs were the most rambunctious of the Méridien malcontents.
The selected candidates were told that meetings would be scheduled once the training and manufacturing sites had been finalized. Once most of them completed their support services, they would resume their status as city-ship evacuees. The flight crews, pilots, and freighter crew volunteers would be joining the fight. This last group was such an enthusiastic bunch that many of the Rêveur’s officers could only shake their heads over the exuberance they would have to manage.
That evening, festivities were held in homes throughout Gratuito. At the center of each gathering were the volunteers, whom the Independents sought to honor.
-9-
During evening meal, Alex sent a private message to Renée as they finished their food.
After Andrea’s strategic planning session had ended, Julien had relayed to her the Admiral’s intention to visit the Freedom and his shuttle request. Andrea had assigned Tatia responsibility for security. Per Andrea’s new comm protocols, Julien had notified Andrea and Tatia of the shuttle’s approach and landing. The communications made Andrea feel much more in control than she had this morning. Responsibility had been passed to her and now communication lines were being firmly established.
Alex entered the starboard bay with Renée, pleased to see Tatia and the twins waiting. He hadn’t requested security, but he had expected them. It was habit he was trying to adopt—promote the right people, then delegate responsibilities.
The shuttle landed inside the Freedom’s cavernous bay within a half-hour. Several other shuttles and ore haulers were parked inside. Crew were unloading them and readying them for their next flight. There were two huge transport shuttles, no more than flying skeletons, meant to grapple and move assembled equipment or enormous carriage crates.
Tomas and Eric, standing beside Captain José Cordova, were there to greet Alex and his group as they disembarked. Tomas welcomed them to the Freedom. “Admiral,” Tomas said, “I would be happy to take charge and tour you, but I understand this evening’s event is your making.”
“My apologies, Tomas, for usurping our first visit aboard your ship, but I believe I will be excused after this evening’s entertainment. Captain Cordova, are we ready?” Alex asked.
“Yes, Admiral, your technicians have finished, and our SADE has verified the installation,” the elderly, white-haired Captain replied.
“Then, Captain, if you will lead on?” Alex requested.
The Captain led the entourage through a series of grav-lifts and people transports to the bridge. The trip took nearly a quarter-hour. Such was the immensity of the city-ship.
As the group traveled, Alex discussed his concept. “I was curious, since you are a city-ship, Sers, to what extent you had created entertainment centers for your people, and I learned that you have gardens for meditation, pools for swimming, and a few other small venues. It occurred to me that I might provide you a unique entertainment experience for your people.”
“We are under difficult construction constraints,” Eric objected. “Planning a new entertainment venue, building out the space, and designing the programs would interfere with our schedules.”
“Yes, I would agree with you, Leader Stroheim, on all those points,” Alex replied nonchalantly.
“However, what if you already had the entertainment program, Leader Stroheim?” Alex rejoined. “What if you only had to provide the space? And what if my people provided whatever build-out was required?”
“I would withhold judgment until I saw exactly what this entails, Admiral,” Eric replied.
“Well, if anyone would like my opinion,” Tomas said jovially, “I think the Freedom can use all the entertainment venues that we can produce … without interfering with our production schedule, of course,” he added.
The group arrived at an expansive, wrap-around bridge. An elderly woman stood near the bridge’s central control panel, waiting to receive them, her hands clasped together before her. Her silver-and-white hair was gathered at the nape of her neck and hung far down her back, and she wore a simple neck-to-ankle, soft, white cloth sheath.
When Alex nodded to her, the woman cleared her throat, nervous on this important occasion. “Leaders, Captain, Sers, my name is Helena Bartlett. Through the Admiral’s efforts, we have arranged some entertainment for you. You will receive no introduction, just as the venue would deliver none to its patrons, if we are allowed to produce these works. Instead I invite you to open your comms to the event, and share your thoughts as you wish, as the event is interactive.”
The lights on the bridge dimmed. The crew manning the bridge monitoring stations turned in their chairs to observe. Music filled the room. It was a beautiful style that Alex was unfamiliar with but knew Julien and Mütter had a hand in providing it. As the music swelled, the entire bridge became a pastoral scene.
Following Alex’s request, Julien and Cordelia had guided Rêveur’s engineering crew as they had installed a bank of tiny holo-projectors around the Freedom’s bridge, connecting them to Cordelia. The combined effect of the interlinked holo-vids was that the audience found themselves in a lush field, festooned with flowers. Trees loomed in the distance. A breeze ruffled the leaves and grasses. Small colorful winged insects floated on the wind.
Alex was anxious to join in the event, but he held back. He watched Renée from the corner of his eye. She was fascinated by the display but stood still, despite her twitching hands.
Renée smiled at Alex and stepped into the scene. She wanted to feel the sun on her face and touch the brilliant multi-hued tiny creatures that floated on the wind—and it all came true. The sun warmed her, and she tilted her face up to the light, reveling in the heat of the strong rays. When Renée heard the soft flutter of wings, she opened her eyes to see the creature hovering in front of her. She lifted a finger toward it, and it landed. Tiny feet gripped her skin, and she giggled at the beauty of the moment.
Tomas was galvanized to join in the event by Renée’s participation. He had spotted a small herbivore lying in the grasses, its long slender legs tucked under it. Large, dark voluminous eyes stared at him. Tomas’s feet carried him to the young animal, as if in a dream. The youngling lifted its head to him as Tomas knelt in the tall grass, which pressed against his legs. He could smell the vegetation’s sweetness, warmed by the sunshine. A nose nuzzled his outstretched hand, and warm breath from wet nostrils grazed his palm.
Alex waited for Leader Stroheim to join in, but the man appeared content to wear a permanent scowl and held his hands behind his back. Alex glanced over to Captain Cordova, whose eyes were closed, seemingly lost in the strains of the music. Alex sent an image of a small bird landing on the Captain’s shoulder and heard Cordelia’s laughter.
Captain Cordova had heard music of this sort, more than a century ago, with his then young wife. A small group of musicians played strange instruments that had stirred the soul. José thought of his wife, whom he had loved for eighty-two years, until an accident took her from him. The music brought her back to him. At the sound of a soft flutter near his ear, José opened his eyes. A small, brightly colored bird landed on his shoulder and walked to his neck to peck gently on his hair and ear. He could feel the touch of the beak, hear its chirps in his ear, and couldn’t resist reaching up to stroke its feathered head, mesmerized that he could feel the soft down of its crown.
Alex watched a sad smile form on the Captain’s face as he enjoyed the tiny bird, and wondered what tragedy the old man had su
ffered. What if we can live too long? Alex thought.
Slowly the sunshine and music faded, as did the pastoral scene. Cordelia brought up the bridge lights, and Helena stepped forward. “Over the years, Cordelia and I have worked to create these interactive reality-vids, as we call them. She has an entire portfolio of them and has the capability to create new ones every day, without sacrificing her duties. Now, through Julien’s efforts, Mütter’s entire musical library has been transferred to her data banks. The display on the bridge this evening was accomplished with the Captain’s permission and the efforts of technicians and equipment from the Rêveur.” She folded her hands in front of her and waited.
“This was absolutely wonderful, Ser Bartlett and Cordelia,” Tomas gushed. “What you’ve created is magical. I’ve seen creative vids before, watched them transform, and always felt a little unsatisfied when they finished. They felt cold, impersonal, despite their brilliant and colorful images. But this … this was personal, intimate, exquisite.”
Renée had come back to Alex’s side, entwining her hand in his, the pleasure of the event still infusing her.
“I believe all that is left to do,” Captain Cordova announced, “is to find you a place for your venue, Cordelia and Ser Bartlett. If that is appropriate, I will expect your requirements by morning?”
“That is most appropriate, Captain,” said Cordelia.
“Admiral, can we count on your people’s technical expertise to assist in the design and installation once the venue space has been selected?” the Captain inquired.
“Yes, Captain,” Alex replied, “it would be my honor to support such a unique pair of artists as I have ever had the pleasure to witness.”
