by S. H. Jucha
As the group was seated, an attendant brought drinks and Alex requested a cup of aigre. The young woman hesitated and queried Terese, who wore the Medical Specialist symbol on her uniform. The attendant nodded her understanding of Terese’s instructions, then poured a small amount in a crystal cup and added a splash of water to it.
Alex took a sip of the drink while his audience looked on.
“Well, not all experiments are successful,” said Alex as he drained his water cup again. Terese reached for the pitcher and refilled his cup.
Attendants brought small plates of food that Alex had not seen before. Most were small items, easily consumed by hand, and the Méridiens were taking items from the serving dishes for their plates. When Alex glanced at Renée, she picked up his plate and served him.
“Admiral, we invited you to talk with us for a specific reason,” Tomas said. “Your invitation to accompany you to your home world is most appreciated. But we wonder if we are ill-prepared.”
“Leader Monti refers to our political positions, Admiral, not our state of technical disrepair,” Eric quickly added.
“Yes, Admiral, we lack cohesion,” Tomas continued. “Your government will be faced with you, your new House, Bergfalk personnel, and ships loaded with Independents, who must be explained. We will appear disjointed as … as …”
“Refugees,” Alex supplied, “those who are fleeing their home and seeking sanctuary.”
“Yes, as refugees,” Tomas said, adding the word to his vocabulary app.
“I take it we’re here,” Alex said, “because you have a suggestion.”
“Yes, Admiral, we believe it would be better to appear as one group, one organization, to your government,” Tomas explained.
“What group would that be, Tomas?” Renée asked, her concern growing.
“We wish to join your House, Ser,” Tomas announced.
“You wish to join our military?” Alex asked, stunned by the offer.
“Fortune forbid!” Eric exclaimed.
“No, no, Admiral,” Tomas said. “Let me explain. We have this incongruous mix of people that needs cohesion, a unified organization. We propose that organization be House Alexander, with its present Leaders,” he said, indicating Alex and Renée. “You have inherited a planet full of people, whether you wish it or not, Admiral. They won’t join your military as fighters, but will support you in every other way possible. We have learned from your officers that our people would be considered civilians, and you would require people to manage your civilians, Admiral. Eric and I would be your Directors, who would owe allegiance to you as our Leaders and would be responsible for managing the civilians.”
“And what of those who choose not to join House Alexander?” Alex asked.
“Admiral,” Terese explained, “the Leaders would not propose this unless they had spoken to the people and they had agreed.”
“All of them?” Alex asked.
Tomas, who had spent considerable time discussing the Admiral with Terese, had come to realize the effectiveness of the conversation he had arranged with the engineer in Libre’s terminal building. If it helped once, he thought, and signaled two of the staff.
“Admiral, may I introduce Maria, an Independent, and Hans, a member of House Bergfalk. Maria, the Admiral would like to understand your opinion on joining House Alexander.”
The middle-aged woman, who had been courteous and deferential at her introduction, visibly brightened at the opportunity to express her hope.
“Is this your opinion, Maria?” Alex inquired.
“My opinion, Admiral?” Maria questioned. “Yes, it was, but it was considered and accepted by all. It is our opinion. We are quite anxious to know if the Admiral will accept us as support staff for his House … as his civilians.”
It seemed to Alex that everyone had learned a few new words on the flight out of the Arno system. “Would not some of your people wish to leave at some time, Ser?” Alex asked.
Maria dipped her head in acknowledgment of the Admiral’s formal address. “Why would they wish that, Admiral? Despite what our Council has labeled us, we are, after all, Méridiens. We are a community; we need one another.”
The lifelong tie of implants, Alex thought. New Terrans had independence and singularity, isolation if you will, first and foremost. Their implants were tools for them. For the Méridiens, they were a way of life, communicating and living together in a manner most New Terrans wouldn’t understand.
“What about you, Hans? You have your House,” Alex asked.
“That is not so, Admiral. The moment we enabled the exodus of the Independents, we violated our Council’s directive. We became Independents that day.”
“Thank you, Maria and Hans. You’ve been very instructive,” Alex said, and the pair dipped their heads and retired.
Tomas and Eric eyed him expectantly.
Alex was grateful he had no food or drink in his mouth. Fortune knows where it would have ended up. He had a vision of spraying food into Eric’s face, who sat across from him. Alex glanced at Renée, but she was wearing a neutral expression as she regarded the two Leaders across the table.
While Alex had been in discussion with Julien, the others had been happily discussing the tremendous improvements made aboard the Freedom. But Eric had not participated. His ship was in urgent need of its final construction phases. To accomplish that, Eric needed to reach New Terra soon, where the Unser Menschen’s main engines could be shut down and the work on his ship completed.
Alex refocused on the table and stood up. The others rose with him. “Welcome to House Alexander, Director Monti and Director Stroheim,” he said as he extended his hand. For the first time that Alex could recall, his hand was shaken by both men with more strength and vigor than he might have extended to a fellow New Terran, although each man used both hands.
Renée extended her traditional greetings to both of the new Directors. Terese waited until Ser was done before she
threw her arms round Tomas’s neck, planting a kiss on his cheek.
Alex teased Terese privately.
Terese replied, throwing Alex a wry grin.
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Tomas invited the group to tour the ship with him and see their improvements, and was surprised when Terese begged off, citing a previous engagement. Tomas had offered Terese the opportunity to stay with him aboard the Freedom as his partner, now that they had successfully escaped Arno. Her response had been unexpected then as well.
“Much depends on our Admiral,” Terese had replied, “and his health and well-being are my personal responsibility.”
Tomas had respected Terese’s dedication to the Admiral and told her so. It earned him a long, passionate kiss. Terese had created her own function, one independent of a traditional House duty. It was a function she believed to be critical to her people’s future, and she was going to perform it to the best of her abilities.
* * *
Terese abstained from Tomas’s tour for an important reason. She had scheduled a consultation with an implant engineer, Fabrice, who had been sent to Libre fifty-eight years ago. The engineer was evacuated from the planet with her husband and two children. Terese sat with the woman on one of the park benches, watching fish circle in a pool.
“I’m grateful for your time, Fabrice. I seek your advice concerning implants,” Terese said.
“I am at your service, Ser,” Fabrice replied.
“Have you experience with those who have multiple implants?” Terese asked.
“Yes, with certainty, Ser. Of whom are we speaking so that I might relate my information to their needs.”
“This concerns the Admiral.”
“Ser, I understand the Admiral has had his implant less than a year. Why does he seek an additional implant so soon?” Fabrice said.
“The Admiral already has a second implant and is seeking a third, Fabrice. I will conference Julien. He can provide you with more details.”
Terese briefly considered Fabrice’s appeal to her Méridien ancestors for protection, and the concept left a sour taste in her mouth. Our ancestors appear to have done little to protect our people, Terese thought. As our cousins say, “I will bet on the Admiral.”
Fabrice reviewed the list and their capabilities.
Fabrice leaned against the back support of the bench as if she had been struck and the wind knocked out of her.
Terese had been shocked herself when she discovered the extent of the Admiral’s data storage on Julien and the number of applications he had created and coordinated daily with Julien. Her thought was that Alex and Julien were more intertwined than anyone realized. It was a thought she carefully kept to herself.
When Fabrice recovered, she said,
Terese laughed outright and slapped her thigh. Terese replied.
Julien replied.
Fabrice queried Cordelia for her private library, which had been uploaded once the SADE had been installed aboard the Freedom.
“Thank you, Ser,” Terese said to Fabrice and left to find Tomas.
* * *
The flotilla completed its back circle. The SADEs had judiciously monitored their telemetry and pronounced their trail clear of silver ships.
“Julien, communicate to all ship the coordinates for Oistos. Have the flotilla keep pace with the freighters. When ready, synchronize an FTL exit,” Alex ordered.
“Proceeding, Admiral. Time to exit will be 6.2 hrs. Time in FTL will be 9.47 days.”
“Captain, you have the bridge,” Alex said.
* * *
The people of the flotilla had another nine and a half days to decompress. No timetables, no aliens, no life-and-death struggles. It was pure bliss for most but certainly for the Rêveur’s crew. The New Terrans talked of home and the tales they would tell, most importantly of the warnings they would bring. After the discovery of the invaders in Confederation space and the ensuing battles, some crew members had developed serious doubts about their decisions to sign up. Others, mourning the loss of the Libran elders, many of whom they had personally known, were without doubt. It was as Tatia had said to the Méridiens the evening after they lost Jase, “Your fight is now my fight.”
But thoughts aboard the Rêveur weren’t all dark. The games resumed, which delighted Julien. And they resumed with a vengeance. The New Terrans had continued to develop their skills, and all teams added new twists using the subjects of Arno, Libre, Independents, silver ships, and mother ship.
Tomas had Cordelia copy some games and the referee’s requirements from Julien, and asked her to be the Freedom’s referee, which she was delighted to do. However, his success in starting the games aboard the city-ship was abysmal. While Tomas was an enthusiast, anxious to play at the level he enjoyed in Terese’s sharing, few of his people showed an interest. Tomas could only guess at the differences that existed between his people and the Méridiens of the Rêveur.
Tatia kept the freighter crew busy. Ever since her first conversation with Alex on the Rêveur’s bridge discussing weapons strategy, Tatia had begun to recognize an important limitation in her leader’s mental arsenal. While Alex could strategize with the best of them, he was not the most proficient in devising the tools of offense and defense. So despite the absence of an official position, Tatia had come to consider herself the House’s de facto armorer. That decision had driven her to produce Cordelia’s minelettes without authorization. Approval might have been forthcoming, but she felt the value of the minelettes was too important to risk official refusal. She did regret tricking Julien into keeping her secret, but she had a feeling that he secretly approved her gambit.
Continuing in her unofficial role as armorer, Tatia had pushed Sheila, Mickey, and the freighter crew to build more fighters while en route to Arno’s FTL exit, and those ships had been instrumental in overwhelming the last enemy fighter. And now, despite the flotilla having escaped to safety, Tatia continued to drive the crew to build every fighter they could.
While the flotilla backtracked light-years from Arno, Mickey had taken the opportunity to offload their empty plasti-cra
tes to the Freedom and liberate some much-needed raw materials from the city-ship. Removal of the crates regained operating space in the bays, allowing Mickey to set up some GEN machines and begin manufacturing critical parts for the Daggers. After a long day of assembly, a very tired Mickey sat across the meal table from Tatia.
“Commander, you’re pushing the crew to build Daggers like you expect a fight when we arrive at New Terra,” Mickey said, broaching the subject that had concerned him and many crew members.
“New Terra?” Tatia responded. “No, Mickey, not New Terra. How long do you think it will be before we go back to Libre?” When Tatia saw the frown form on Mickey’s forehead, she realized the engineer had not thought through the next phase of the war. “Mickey, we’re returning to New Terra to arm ourselves and organize our resources to go back and take the Arno system,” Tatia explained. “We know the mother ship and her drones will stay on Libre for years. Now is the time to take the fight to them. Enough of this playing defense. So I’m getting the Admiral’s war tools ready for him. And exactly how many fighters do you think he’s going to need?”
“Probably every single one we can build, Commander,” Mickey had replied, nodding his head in understanding.
When Mickey shared Tatia’s comments with the crew, they turned their hand to the business of building fighters without a word of complaint. The crew, Libran and New Terran, had been focused on their destination either as first-time visitors or those wishing to see their home world. Tatia’s scenario of a return to Libre was an entirely different future to contemplate.
* * *
The flotilla exited FTL at Oistos, a half-day from Seda’s orbit at their freighters’ velocity. Alex was being cautious. This homecoming is going to be a tricky affair as it is, he thought. Alex was trying to anticipate his government’s reaction to his having left with a single ship, an attached shuttle, and four fighters, and returning with an entire planet of people, two monster ships, two freighters with one full of Daggers, and three additional liners. Yes, Mr. President, they just followed me home.
