by S. H. Jucha
Alex sent.
Z, who could have wished for Julien’s support at this moment, replied,
Alex, who thought the safety routine a little overcautious since he only intended to enter the airlock, decided not to voice his opinion and waited patiently for the hatch to release once the bay was secured.
Z was reminded of the human expression “Fortune has smiled on you.” There were a good many new safety protocols in place—only, they applied exclusively to Haraken’s President.
Inside the bay, Alex waited for the crew to disembark from the shuttle.
Alex smiled to himself. Ben had been an abysmal adopter of his implant. Thankfully, Simone, a sublime example of Méridien gene crafting, had taken pity on him one day and helped him. Now Ben had located Alex in his vicinity while he was still inside the shuttle.
Alex almost asked if he could help, but like the new airlock protocol, he decided these things needed to be left in the hands of those who had jurisdiction. Ben was responsible for ore mining and ice water delivery to Haraken’s atmosphere, and Ben had delivered far above expectations on the latter task.
Initially Alex had expected Ben to employ the Librans’ ore transport craft to ferry ice water asteroids from the belt to Haraken. Instead Ben and Julien had communed over Alex’s g-sling program. The program had been transferred to Z, and he and Ben developed a system utilizing the Unsere Menschen as a delivery wheel. Mining transports moved small ice water asteroids from the belt to the nearby city-ship, which continually turned on a horizontal axis. The outer doors of six bays, whose locations were distributed equally around the giant city-ship’s mid-level, were always open. Beams inside each catch-lock tethered the ice asteroid of a mining shuttle, which had matched the rotation of the city-ship. Once the handoff was complete, Z would measure the mass, set up the trajectory profile in relation to Haraken’s position and rotation, and release the asteroid in the g-sling program’s cue. Where Alex had expected a delivery rate of ice water on the scale of one asteroid about every twelve to fifteen days, Ben was delivering an asteroid every one to two days.
Ben’s huge mass pounded down the shuttle’s gangway ramp at a run.
Ben had no sooner come up to Alex than the two of them received a priority message from Z.
Alex heard Ben reply,
Alex sent an image to Mickey and Étienne. “Rainmaker” was stenciled across the back of Ben’s environment suit as only the Méridiens could achieve. It was no mere alpha label. The letters glowed delicately in blues and whites with dark blues near the bottoms. A sweep of rain fell from the bottom of the lettering to fade into the black of his suit. It reminded Alex of a summer rain shower.
The New Terran Captain eyed his attractive ex-Libran copilot, Svetlana Valenko. She returned his stare with one of her own. She was perfectly willing to jump into the Captain’s chair, even eager to do so.
Ben dropped the shuttle pilots off the comm.
When Ben turned back to Alex and company, he found the three men staring at him as if he had grown a second head.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Rainmaker,” Alex said, “but weren’t you the reluctant individual who couldn’t manage an implant comm to save his life and who near fled at the prospect of ministerial responsibility some eighty days ago?”
“That would have been me, Mr. President,” Ben replied with a good-natured grin.
At that moment, implants chimed with notice of midday meal, and the three New Terrans only had thoughts for food. “Shall we join the crew for meal, Rainmaker?” Alex suggested.
“You read my mind, Mr. President,” Ben replied.
“Careful, Ben,” Mickey said jovially. “He can do just that.”
“I had heard that, Mickey. Is that true, Mr. President, what they say, that you can slip past our comm security protocols and read out thoughts?” Ben asked.
“I’m here to discuss reprioritization of your efforts, Minister Diaz,” Alex replied formally.
Ben took Alex’s answer for an affirmative and was reminded of the rumor—not New Terran, not Méridien, not Haraken.
“I’m at your service, Mr. President,” Ben replied carefully.
Conversation was subdued until they made the meal room chosen by Ben, who scanned the room briefly and then led the group toward a corner table near the food dispensers. Since Ben led and blocked the view of much of the room, Alex never saw Simone until a pair of small arms and legs attempted to wrap themselves around Ben’s neck and waist. Simone’s radiant smile dissolved into a neutral expression when she noticed Alex. As Ben set her down, she tucked herself inside his protective arm and said in quite passable Sol-NAC, “Greetings, Ser President.”
“Greetings, Ser Turin,” Alex replied. “How fares the Rainmaker’s partner?”
The use of Ben’s pseudonym brightened Simone’s face as she hugged his waist. “He’s doing a wonderful job for our planet, is he not, Mr. President?”
“Simone …” Ben interrupted but stopped when Alex held up his hand.
“He is exceeding my wildest expectations, Ser Turin,” Alex said, shifting his gaze from Simone to Ben. “The SADEs project rain will soon be falling over 38 percent of the land, enough to support forest growth before our second year. By then, I will need to appoint a Minister of the Interior who will have the responsibility for water resource management and tree planting in the mountain valleys.”
Ben ducked his head, embarrassed by the compliment. Simone hugged him tighter, staring up into her Little Ben’s face in adoration.
“Well, shall we eat, Sers?” Alex offered.
“Please sit, Sers,” Simone replied, directing the group to a table that was set up primarily for New Terrans. The seats easily accommodated their bulk and were placed farther apart to allow more room at the table for them and their meal. Several attendants hurried to help Simone with trays and drink. When the food was placed before Alex’s party, Simone hesitated.
Simone acknowledged Alex’s courtesy with a nod of her head before she sat in one of the New Terran-formed chairs, almost disappearing beneath the table. She giggled self-consciously before her seat began to elevate and its sides folded inward to meet her slender hips.
“That’s new,” Mickey said.
“One out of every three meal rooms has been upd
ated with these adaptations to accommodate mixed parties. People love it, but we can’t accommodate all the rooms yet—too much drain on our resources,” Ben said around the mouthfuls of food he was shoveling. Simone acted as a conveyor belt, swapping out empty serving dishes for fresh ones, supplying more bread, and refilling Ben’s cup. No one had ever had the time to create a separate food service system for the New Terrans. They were still eating and drinking out of the frugal, Méridien-designed dishes and cups.
“You just hit on the subject of today’s discussion, Minister Diaz,” Alex said.
The use of his title caused Ben to pause and set down his utensil. Simone’s subtle moue telegraphed her annoyance at anyone interrupting Ben’s eating time.
“Are we talking shifting priorities or curtailing processes in favor of others, Mr. President?” Ben asked.
“Shifting priorities,” Alex said. “Mickey has met with the other Ministers and Admiral Tachenko on their needs for the next year. With the success of our traveler tests, we need to accelerate ore production.”
“To what extent are we curtailing ice asteroid delivery, Mr. President?”
“That’s up to you Minister Diaz,” Alex replied. “Ore production is the priority. Meet those goals and whatever resources you have remaining you may apply to ice asteroid delivery. Whatever you do, don’t start throwing rock asteroids at Haraken.”
Simone stared at Alex for the briefest of moments—horrified. When Ben burst out laughing and said, “I’ll be careful not to mix them up, Mr. President,” she was mollified, saving the exchange later for Ben’s interpretation.
“Mickey, you’re up,” Alex said, and Mickey began walking Ben through the information that he had transferred to Z—ore production totals, refined metals in kilotons, and a delivery timeline, including the final destinations and intended usage details.
While Mickey and Ben talked, Alex connected with Z.
Z halted hundreds of secondary applications. Z held his virtual breath. His speech analysis programs reviewed Alex’s statement twenty-one times while he waited the ticks until Alex answered.
Z ventured.
Alex was silent, but the comm stayed open.
Z desperately wished to begin running analysis programs on his research to define the proposal, but the lessons of Cordelia and Julien had risen higher and higher in his program hierarchy. He was reminded of the broader circumstances of Alex’s request.
Alex closed the comm, satisfied with the conversation. Harakens are going to have to be a very flexible people, Alex thought. Having accepted the Swei Swee, he hoped the Harakens would accept the SADEs walking amongst them.
-41-
Alex assembled an odd assortment of people in a small conference room aboard the Freedom. Sitting at the table were Mickey, Lazlo, Alex’s father, Duggan, and two other pioneers.
One of the pioneers was Leonard Breslen, a shuttle manufacturer who had uprooted his family from New Terra. He was a close friend of Duggan, whose story of Alex’s acquisition of the grav-driven travelers and his intentions to duplicate them gave the struggling company owner the idea to gamble his family’s future by immigrating to Haraken. Leo had closely monitored the traveler fabrication processes and the test flights. Then he had approached Duggan, Mickey, and Lazlo to interest them in forming a shuttle manufacturing company.
The third pioneer was the son of a comms manufacturer. The father had built many of New Terra’s satellites, but the introduction of the FTL networks was bankrupting the company, and the son decided to venture into unexplored territory as a pioneer.
There was one key individual missing from the meeting … Julien. Several times a day for the first few days after Julien had left, Alex had to halt the start of a comm request to Julien. He badly missed his friend’s advice.
Alex’s long workdays were stringing together, and it showed in his growing impatience. He sat down heavily in a conference room chair. “Sers, the report from our Ambassadors is that President Gonzalez has accepted our invitation,” Alex began. “The Rêveur is on its way to Méridien, and we hope to generate some interest there. But I have questions that must be answered before this conference of leaders takes place. What’s the price for a traveler … with or without beam weaponry? Do we even allow beam weaponry and to whom? What’s the price for a gravity drive? Do we only sell ships or should we also license the technology? Is the price the same for both societies or are they related to an exchange rate of credits? Should we only accept credits or should we barter as well … trading for things we need? And what do we need?” Alex droned on for several more minutes before he realized he had overwhelmed his audience. “Sorry,” he said. He sent them a file with his list of questions and concerns.
“Mr. President,” Duggan said gently, recognizing the extent of Alex’s exhaustion. “Would you like to hear our suggestions now or should we take some time to organize our responses?”
Looking around the table, Alex realized how quickly he had destroyed the meeting’s effectiveness. “Ser Breslen, as the most experienced individual in the shuttle construction business, I would be grateful if you would lead this group. Please manage the responses and contact whomever you need to help you.”
Leo Breslen hadn’t finished his statement of appreciation before Alex perfunctorily rose up from the table, said “Good night” to everyone, and left the conference room, Étienne right behind him. Alex was intending to return to his quarters planetside to be with Renée, but she met him in the corridor outside the conference room. She linked arms with him, and Etienne melted away for a late-night rendezvous with Ellie Thompson.
Renée led Alex to a vacant cabin two decks up. Once inside, she helped him strip out of his clothes and put him to bed. In moments, Alex was fast asleep. Without Julien, Renée left to appeal to Cordelia. But unlike the previous occasion when Cordelia had refused to violate her protocols to intervene on Alex’s behalf, Renée found a willing partner.
Renée replied
.
That Cordelia was referring to a decision she had made only a half-year ago made Renée smile. So many changes so fast, Renée thought, recognizing she had echoed Eric Stroheim’s often-made lament.
* * *
Cordelia considered whether to divulge Alex’s location since coincidentally Mickey was a mere fifty meters away from the cabin, probably focused on Étienne’s implant. The escort had taken up the position in the corridor outside the President’s door just a half-hour earlier when Cordelia had informed him the President was stirring. Julien had been her teacher as well as Z’s on the intricacy of human interactions. Borrowing from Julien’s lessons, she transferred Mickey’s comm to Étienne.
<Étienne, I need the President now if he’s available,> Mickey said.
Étienne deadpanned.
“Very funny, Étienne,” Mickey replied as he rounded the corner a few meters away.
When Alex and Renée emerged from the cabin later, they found Étienne on duty and Mickey sitting on the deck, leaning back against the bulkhead and sound asleep.
“Chief Brandon was very anxious to speak to you earlier, Ser President,” Étienne said. “I believe he might still wish a conversation with you.”
When Alex shook Mickey’s shoulder, the engineer awoke with a start, recognized Alex, and jumped up, grabbing his forearms. “Alex—I mean, Mr. President, I have a great idea. We need to talk now!”
