by S. H. Jucha
“Are you saying that this is more than a simple recovery of our people and a shuttle from a few backward natives?” Jodlyne asked, staring at Mickey. She watched the two senior men glance at each other.
“It might start that way, but there’s a good chance it won’t end that way,” Claude said.
“And you’re saying this simply because of the involvement of a single man, who’s no longer a leader of the planet or the military?” Jodlyne continued.
The men exchanged another glance, which began to irritate Jodlyne. “That’s ridiculous. The universe doesn’t order itself around the actions of one human. That’s … that’s mysticism.”
Mickey smiled warmly in the face of Jodlyne’s display and said, “There’s always proof to the contrary.” Claude and he returned to their work, leaving Edmas and Jodlyne to wonder what they had volunteered for, and, more important, who might be right.
“Oh, my, I’m so sorry, Trixie,” Jodlyne said, hurrying back to the SADE. She was momentarily confused because the ID of the SADE pinged back as Lenora. “Please set that crate down over in that far corner. We’ll stack these others on top of it.”
“No need to apologize, Ser. I found the exchange most instructional,” Trixie replied with an overly bright smile. Her pixie-like appearance was fostered by her unusual skin color and accented by pointed ears, and she was one of the SADEs who had yet to set foot on Haraken, having just arrived aboard the Allora.
“How so, Trixie?” Jodlyne asked.
“I served aboard a tiny station, orbiting a satellite-rich planet in the system of a far colony. Routine communications were the order of the day … day after day, year after year.”
“How old are you, if I might ask?”
“I’m young, as SADEs go. It’s been fifty-seven years since I was created.”
Jodlyne swallowed with difficulty. Trixie was the age of her mother, or, at least, she was the age of her mother if she had lived. Once sentenced to the corporate mines of Sol in the outer rim, life expectancy was measured in one to two years.
“You appear stricken, young Ser,” Trixie said with concern. “Have I said something wrong?”
The words of Julien and Cordelia came back to Jodlyne. The newly freed SADEs, who immigrated to Haraken, were fragile beings. Robust in structure and computational analysis they might be, but their developing personalities and interactions with non-Confederation humans needed careful coaching.
“No, Trixie, what you said reminded me of my mother, whom I lost at a young age.”
“I am sad for you, young Ser. I felt a similar loss a few years ago when the Confederation Council ruled against a newly created SADE —”
“By the name of Allora,” Jodlyne finished. “I thought what happened to her was tragic.”
“Then we are in agreement, young Ser. The universe is not an equitable place.”
“But if we help one another, it can be a better place,” Jodlyne said, reaching out to take Trixie’s brightly colored hand.
“Then we are in agreement again,” Trixie replied, adding her electric smile. “Let us return to work before the lash falls on us for our slothfulness.” When Jodlyne looked at her in confusion, Trixie added, “I’ve found the most wonderful collection of ancient vids and stories onboard this ship. Ser Racine and Julien have collected them.”
Jodlyne received a link to the library in her implant. “Come, young Ser, let us apply ourselves. Two most anxious humans wait on us to launch.”
* * *
Hours ago, Captain Reiko Shimada stood on the bridge of the sting ship, Tanaka, and observed the Rêveur break orbit. Earlier, Commander Franz Cohen reported to her that the travelers and pilots were aboard both ships. Despite his people and ship’s readiness, the Tanaka’s crew was still transporting equipment and sundry material via supply shuttles. Knowing this was a critical rescue mission, Reiko aimed to be ready for almost anything. She had been caught short once before and had vowed never to be found wanting again.
Now, Reiko, with Franz by her side, watched the Rêveur on the holo-vid, an ever-widening gap forming between the liner and the sting ship, which was still in orbit around Haraken. “Do you think I should comm Alex and ask him to wait?” Reiko asked Franz.
“If I might offer a piece of advice, my heart,” Franz replied. “Think of Alex as the president and then imagine how he would take that suggestion.”
“But he isn’t the president, anymore,” Reiko objected.
Franz’s face broke into a wry grin, and he shook his head in negation. “Imagining Alex with a title was for the benefit of your imagination … to help you picture him that way. In Alex’s mind, he never really was the admiral or the president. Those were titles that circumstances forced him to carry.”
“So whom do you believe him to be?”
“Alex was, and always will be, the uncomplicated, explorer-tug captain, who was required to play extraordinary roles. Thinking that he’s no longer president will only confuse matters for you. Instead, think of the man who discovered that the aliens destroying the Confederation were slaves to a higher power and who used economics to force your government to reconsider its policies. Our alien advisor is the same man who rescued the derelict, foreign starship that flew into New Terran space.”
Reiko glanced at Franz. His words hadn’t cleared the questions she had about the roles Alex, as advisor, and she, as mission commander, would share. I’m pleased one of us is happy, Reiko thought, watching her lover gaze into the holo-vid, the Rêveur stretching out its lead, and a smile on his face.
Mentally glancing at the latest reports in her implant from the ship’s crew chiefs, Reiko calculated she could launch the Tanaka in five more hours. The sting ship, with its grav drive, could accelerate much faster than the liner, and she had the controller run computations. The answer pleased her. The Tanaka could catch the Rêveur before it reached the outermost planet’s orbit. That the two ships would make the jump to Celus-5 together gave Reiko an opportunity to enjoy her own smile.
* * *
Alex slowly paced the width of the Rêveur’s bridge.
With the help of the SADEs, Captain Lumley had seen the ship squared away in record time. Francis assumed they would wait to hear from Captain Shimada, who would send a signal when they were to break orbit, but one look at Alex’s face had told Lumley that launching at the earliest possible opportunity would be the wiser decision.
On another loop of the bridge, Alex glanced up, noticing that Winston, Esther, Hector, and Didier were standing at the four corners of the bridge, with locked avatars.
Alex eyed Julien, his stare demandin
g more details. Julien was tempted to wait for Alex to ask the next question, knowing precisely how long he could draw out the suspense before Alex lost his patience. But this wasn’t the right time for their games.
Alex barked a laugh at his friend and returned to his thoughts, while he continued to circle the bridge.
Julien replied.
“We can always try talking to the alien leader,” Alex said, offhand, as if he was speaking to himself.
“In whose language?” Julien asked, recognizing Alex’s frustration was getting the better of him.
“That’s what Cordelia and you are for,” Alex replied.
“And how long do you think these aliens will stand still while we learn their speech and mannerisms, Alex?” Cordelia asked.
“So we wave a white flag,” Alex replied, his temper growing.
“What if the aliens’ symbol for attack is a white banner?” Julien asked.
“Okay, Julien, you suggest an idea,” Alex said heatedly, throwing up his hands.
“Apologies, Alex, but I haven’t a viable plan and neither do the other 180 SADEs aboard this ship, who’ve been following this conversation.”
“Where’s our devious one when we need her?” Alex asked, returning to pacing.
“Admiral Tachenko is protecting Haraken, which is her rightful duty,” Renée said. She was just as unhappy about Tatia’s absence as Alex, but Renée didn’t want the admiral thought ill of because she wasn’t present.
“With so little information, Alex, I’m sorry to say, we must wait until we arrive on-site and see how events unfold before we can make intelligent plans. To paraphrase you, this game must be played one hand at a time,” Julien said.
Unfortunately, Alex wasn’t satisfied with that answer, and he continued to pace. He worked at clearing his mind, putting all thoughts of Teague aside, and considering the problem from a detached perspective. In his implant, he deconstructed the emergency message, which contained detailed information about the events that had unfolded planetside, and constructed a matrix of action-reaction responses of both entities — humans and aliens. Questions as to why a side made a particular choice was pinned to many of the matrix’s points. One question caused Alex to stop pacing and focus on Julien. “Why holes?” he asked.
Alex resumed pacing, but stopped after a few steps.
Z theorized.
Alex allowed.
* * *
“Sir, you have a ship to ship comm,” Captain Lumley announced. Despite his recent years on Haraken, Lumley’s deeply ingrained habits, such as referring to superiors as sir, originated from decades of service aboard Sol’s United Earth ships. “It’s Captain Shimada and originates from the Tanaka’s bridge. The sting ship broke orbit, and the captain is accelerating the warship at maximum.”
“On bridge speakers, Captain,” Alex replied.
“Hello, Alex,” Reiko said, when her view screen displayed the personnel arrayed on the Rêveur’s bridge.
“Greetings, Captain Shimada and Commander Cohen,” Alex replied formally.
“I’m assuming that you launched much earlier than us, Alex, knowing that with our grav drive we could catch you before you jumped,” Reiko said.
“Actually, the thought never occurred to me, Captain.”
Reiko took a breath and exhaled slowly and quietly. Another recent Sol immigrant and an ex-commodore of the United Earth forces, there was much about Harakens and Alex Racine, in particular, that she was still trying to understand.
For Alex, these would
be the occasions when Renée would urge him to be patient or cautious, depending on the situation. Instead, she stood beside him, her hand in his, wearing the same determined expression he wore.
“Alex, I’ve been ordered by President Monti to assert my authority as mission commander, and I’m reminding you of that because the responsibility for any mission failures will ultimately fall on my shoulders.”
“And Tomas expressed the same request of me, Captain,” Alex replied.
“In contrast to the president’s orders, Alex, my admiral said that she expected me to get the job done no matter what I had to do,” Reiko said.
“So what are your intentions, Captain?” Alex asked.
“I was in this situation more than once when I commanded a United Earth destroyer, and every time I tried to follow orders, my ass ended up in a bind. So, I’m going to follow my intuition, and it tells me to depend on an alien expert when dealing with aliens. So, I’ll follow your lead, Sir, until such time as I feel it compromises mission integrity. Fair enough?”
“That’s something I can live with, Captain. Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do for the man who saved my solar system and brought me my partner, but please don’t make me regret this decision, Sir.”
“Can’t promise that, Captain,” Alex said, smiling for the first time in the conversation, “But I’ll try.”
-10-
Incarceration
The captive Harakens were sharing their usual gruel of stewed tubers. It was hard to tell who was more disgusted by the concoction, the jailers or the prisoners.
