“What the hell did I just do?”
“From what I heard, you took on one more impossible job. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Drexler said. He asked Boljak to take him back to his ship.
27
“The timing here is weirdly perfect,” Margaret said, leaning back against the padded bench in the common room that became one of her favorite places. She sipped a very sweet drink made from sugarvine that Dhohal devised just for consumption by humans. It turned out that Dhohal was a chef in his spare time.
“Yes,” the Forest Child Ambassador said, sitting down across from Margaret. He opted to consume sugarvine in the traditional way of his kind, by grinding it with his powerful jaw between his flat, wide molars. “The arrival of the BJP fleet and our reaching the Armada does seem ordained.”
“And also, this drink is incredible. It tastes a bit minty, with a hint of vanilla and cinnamon,” Margaret said. “And some other flavors that I just can’t place.”
“All the spices come from my homeworld. The sugarvine is the perfect food for my kind, but a bit too sweet for humans. Still, it has enzymes that your body can use.”
“Yes,” Margaret replied, “it is giving me a burst of energy, in addition to the sugar rush.”
“Sugar rush?” Dhohal asked.
“Yes. Sugar is a stimulant to humans.”
“I see,” Dhohal said between munches of his sugarvine.
“The Forest Children mostly eat sugar, which I always found strange.”
Dhohal laughed. “I often found the human taste for flesh strange, and also distressing. I suppose it has to do with the way our planets evolved. The jungles of my world produced plants high in protein. It may have been otherwise.”
“Mysteries of the universe, and all that,” Margaret said, sipping her sweet drink.
The five-day trip gave them all the opportunity to relax. Not everyone took that opportunity. Margaret only suspected the rush of work ahead, so she grabbed little bits of leisure when she could. Much of that involved spending time with Dhohal.
Abhay did not see the situation that way. He immersed himself in every aspect of data that he could, working from the time he woke to the time he slept to come up with a strategy. The taskforce was close to formulating a plan to propose to the Armada. So far, the communications coming back from the Resistance Fleet indicated a disturbing lack of a plan. Chief among those worries was the state of one hundred thirty two ships with ungoverned artificial intelligence. Finally, Abhay found the seed ship and a significant number of covert Trade Union fighters, but nobody had any idea what to do next.
So, when Abhay shuffled into the common room and asked Dhohal to prepare him a sugarvine drink a few minutes later, Margaret sat up with surprise. Abhay sat beside her with a weary grin.
“You figured something out, didn’t you?” Margaret asked.
Abhay smiled harder and reached for his drink. “Thank you, Dhohal,” Abhay said. His eyes lit up at the first sip. “Sweet! Very sweet!” he exclaimed, and took large pulls from a straw.
“Slow down, dear,” Margaret said. “You get heartburn when you drink sweet things too fast.”
“Right,” he said, pushing the drink away. “Delicious, Dhohal. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. But what have you come up with?”
“A way for the Armada to hit the Lizards hard. I studied this maneuver they did with the collective gravity bubble. By configuring a collective bubble a certain way, I believe we can get the armada to exit blinkpoint within the Jabril Solar system.”
Margaret shook her head with a mind that churned the possibilities. There was a reason ships left blinkpoint outside the influence of stars. They needed space largely free of subatomic particles to decelerate. Radiation shielding and protective fields were not robust enough to deflect matter at that speed. It was also much harder to plot a course through the ether into space occupied by conventional matter. Doing so increased the data points by orders of magnitude. The whole idea behind the trade lanes was based on travel through reliably predictable space at FTL and near light speeds.
“What makes you think you’ve solved a problem engineers have been working on for centuries?” Margaret asked.
“I didn’t solve the problem. They did. I only see the evidence,” Abhay replied.
“Present the evidence at the next meeting, and I will run it by our engineers and pilots,” Dhohal said.
“That’s all we can do,” Abhay replied. “What about the BJP fleet?”
“Margaret just broached that subject,” Dhohal said. “Before you sat.”
“The timing,” Margaret said. “Is perfect. Ironically so. The fleet shows up from blinkpoint hours before we reach the Armada.”
“Yes, the universe does have a sense of humor,” Abhay said. “Are you sure this drink does not have intoxicants in it?”
“I was very careful with the chemical compounds,” Dhohal replied. “I checked the database more than once to make sure the ingredients are not harmful to humans.”
“Give him some credit, honey,” Margaret said. “I think you’re just feeling good now that you took a break after five straight days of work. And also, sugar.”
Abhay sat back on the bench and sipped his drink with a childlike grin that Margaret missed deeply over the past few months. She resolved to enjoy spare minutes she might carve out of time, not knowing what the next few days might bring.
***
Drexler stood on the bridge again. The space began to feel like his quarters. He was averaging three hours of sleep per cycle and ended up taking most of his meals while working. But the bridge was where the action was, and things were heating up in advance of the next phase of his plan.
The arrival of the BJP fleet caused a big stir in the Armada. Just when Drexler felt he was tamping down some of the division from his power move with the firing of the Simian first officer from the Jubilee, the arrival of Admiral Luthra split them open again.
“Where are they,” Drexler asked, sidling up to Darl. “They just left termination shock. They’ll be in weapons range in three or four hours.”
“Weapons range?” Drexler asked. “Why are you saying that.”
“It’s just a convenient metric, Captain,” Darl replied.
“I appreciate that, Darl. Why don’t we just stick to kilometers for the time being? It’s nice to know where you stand on the subject, though,” Drexler replied, and clapped his officer on the shoulder.
The divisions on how to proceed began to divide opinions on his own ship. Some of the crew was grateful to have official trade union presence. Others were wary. Drexler was certain that allowing the BJP Admiral to get the upper hand would doom his plans. He knew a power play when he saw one. This Admiral Luthra was making a move for his own advantage, and not to further the Resistance.
Drexler knew the only difference between himself and Luthra was that Drexler kept his own goals in line with defeating the Lizards. He knew the only sure path to continued success was winning fights. He just had to win enough to make his unassailable. That kind of reputation had limitless value. He could hardly imagine the credits to be made as the man who won back the trade lanes. Not only could he retire, but he could sit back and let Fleetfoot Interstellar run by itself, making him credits for doing nothing but traveling through space for fun.
“Captain?” Darl asked.
Drexler realized he was drifting off. He lost track of time. “Right,” the Captain said. “Let’s wait to see what they do when they get here. Comm, let me know as soon as the BJP fleet makes contact.”
“The Forest Child transport is here right now,” Darl replied.
Drexler hurried from the bridge and headed for the shuttle bay, where the transport aimed to dock. The ship was almost too large to fit in the bay itself. If they wanted to accommodate it, shuttles would have to go in other cargo bays. Mumlo followed close behind. Soon the two stood on the shuttle bay deck with nervous expectation.
�
�I haven't seen my sister in seven years,” Drexler said.
“Seven standard years and five months,” Mumlo replied.
“But who’s counting?” Drexler quipped.
Mumlo laughed and placed a huge hand on Drexler’s back. His palm completely covered the Captain’s shoulder blades. Drexler remembered being a child of seven sitting in that palm as Mumlo carried him through the corridors playing spaceship. He glanced over and noticed Mumlo’s breathing rate increased with anticipation.
When the airlock finally irised open with a hiss, Mumlo couldn’t contain himself. He bounded forward on all-fours as Margaret stepped through the airlock. Margaret jumped two feet off the ground into Mumlo’s waiting arms. He swirled her around and hooted like a bass horn as Margaret clung to him.
Drexler trotted over, said, “OK, where’s mine?”
Hugging his sister for the first time in more than seven years counted for a lot. He didn’t realize how different the ship felt without her. They held each other at arm’s length and traded appraisals.
“You look worn out,” Margaret said. “Older, more serious.”
“Well,” Drexler replied. “You’re looking kind of tired yourself, but you’re a sight for sore eyes, and I mean that literally. I’m just glad you’re here.”
Abhay appeared behind Margaret and proceded slowly. He carried his large frame with shoulders rounded. Drexler was not expecting to see such a timid expression on his face. He wrung a skull cap in his hands and tested a tentative grin on Drexler.
“He wants you to like him,” Margaret whispered as Drexler stuck out his hand.
“Abhay, Welcome aboard,” Drexler said.
Drexler was disarmed by the genuine pleasure Abhay displayed at the greeting. “Thank you, Drexler. May I call you by your first name?” Abhay said, correcting himself.
“Of course,” Drexler said. “Let’s just forget our last conversation and start fresh, OK?”
“I’d like that,” Abhay said. They stood shaking hands for a few seconds.
The call came in, and Drexler held a finger up to his ear. Abhay paused, understanding the gesture. “Captain, comm station here. I have Admiral Luthra on encrypted tangler channel.”
“Well,” Drexler said aloud. “That was quick. I have your Admiral Luthra hailing me.”
“May I suggest we take the call on the transport?” Abhay asked.
Drexler considered this for a moment. “Safety in numbers,” he said.
They hurried to the conference room past several other passengers who were just making their way into the airlock. Drexler was surprised to see so many people.
“This is the rest of the taskforce,” Margaret said, reading Drexler’s expression.
“Oh, Hello then,” Drexler said, rushing past. The group stood looking confused at the commotion.
“Admiral Luthra,” Margaret called over her shoulder. “Taking the call in the conference room.”
The group exchanged various looks of surprise, then filed in behind. Hurried introductions bounced around the conference room. Drexler decided to stand to take the call. He smoothed his flight suit and straightened his Merchant Captain’s insignia. Margaret was obviously bemused at the sight, and Drexler purposefully ignored her expression.
“Comm,” Drexler said, clearing his throat. “Please transfer the call to the transport docked at the shuttle bay.”
Nothing happened. Drexler waited patiently. The crowded conference room filled with curious glances.
“Comm?” Drexler asked aloud, “Everything OK?”
The room exploded with confused voices. A Forest Child announced something over open comm in the conference room in her native language.
“Talk to me, comm station,” Drexler subvocalized.
“Sorry, Captain,” came the reply over ear implants. “I’m getting a flood of calls from Medina 3 Orbital, the Armada, the BJP fleet and the refugee cloud.”
“Yes!” Drexler shouted aloud. “New Detroit is here!” Then, to his comm station, Drexler asked, “Where are they?”
“They are ten AUs away, relative to the far side of Medina’s sun.”
“They’re coming in from the far side,” Drexler reasoned aloud, “to make certain the Lizards aren’t around.”
“That is a reasonable assessment,” replied the Forest Child General Kuwan, casting Drexler an appraising look.
“The timing here is impeccable,” Drexler said. He decided to sit after all.
“That look on your face,” Margaret said in Ancient English. “That’s the catbird look.”
“You know it,” Drexler replied in the old tongue. “We are looking at my support base, right there.”
Abhay looked on with a cocked head.
“Does he speak Ancient?” Drexler asked.
“No. He has modern Hindi and Tradespeak,” Margaret replied.
“Good to know,” Drexler said.
“Drexler…” Margaret began with a warning tone to her voice.
“It looks like our meeting got a lot more complicated,” Drexler said to the room using Tradespeak.
“Captain,” the comm station reported. “Ops estimates New Detroit and the refugee cloud is about a week out. They are safe but in rough shape. They put out a desperate call for supplies.”
“We can help them there,” Drexler said. “Put me through to Schaal right away. Tell Mumlo to start activating contracts. Let’s get those supplies moving right now.”
“OK,” Comm replied. “It might take a while. There are about six thousand hails in the queue.”
“I guess you have your work cut out for you then,” Drexler replied. “Put a team on it. Give me a report when you come up for air.”
“Acknowledged, Captain,” Comm cut off the channel.
“Admiral Luthra is standing by,” a Forest Child voice announced in the conference room.
“Shall we open the dialogue?” Drexler asked.
Dhohal activated the channel, and Admiral Malik Luthra appeared on the display wall facing the end of the conference table.
Drexler was surprised to see a large, muscular man with a classic sultan-style soup-strainer mustache clad in an elaborately embroidered military uniform.
“Wow,” Margaret exclaimed, unable to restrain herself. “You look like a damn peacock, Malik!”
Abhay speared Margaret with a severe look, but Margaret did not care. The rest of the room shifted in various reactions ranging from embarrassment to anger at the unrestrained remark. Drexler impressed himself by managing to keep a straight face. His big sister reminded him of one more thing he loved about her.
“Keep it together, big sister,” Drexler subvocalized over a private link.
“Sorry,” Margaret subvocalized in return.
“I’ll take care of this asshole for you,” Drexler said. “And for my brother-in-law.”
To his credit, Malik registered a quick look of annoyance and ignored the comment.
“We have much to discuss,” Admiral Luthra began. “But first I would like to thank the Resistance Armada for the brave work that it has done in repelling the Reptilian attack. I also extend my gratitude to the Taskforce for its invaluable work. I speak for the Trade Union when I say that your efforts are held in the highest regard. Every citizen of the Trade Union owes you a debt of gratitude.”
Drexler studied the Admiral as he spoke, assessing the situation. To say the man was overconfident would be a fatal understatement. To underestimate the foundation of that confidence would be equally dangerous. Drexler decided his best move would be to use that confidence against the Admiral. The seed of his plan already in place would do the trick nicely.
Drexler let Dhohal take the lead. “Thank you for your kind words,” the Ambassador began, “The Forest Children believe gratitude is an excellent foundation for any endeavor.”
“I echo this sentiment,” Drexler said. “Captain Drexler Fleetfoot, second in command of the Resistance Armada. I certainly appreciate your gratitude, and I’m certa
in it will sustain many within the fleet.”
“Second in command?” Luthra responded. “As I understand it from our intelligence reports, you are the first among your group.”
Drexler took note of the subtle demotion from ‘Armada’ to ‘group.’ The mind games began early.
“Our command structure is loose,” Drexler replied. “The Captains and crews serve on a volunteer basis, as I’m sure you are aware. The Armada sees fit to give me the privilege to command daily operations. General Fourseven leads us in combat. And as we are heading into combat, I am currently second in command.”
“I see,” Luthra said. Drexler had no doubt that he did see. The man looked as if he knew the game very well. “I look forward to the same privilege when the Armada comes under my command.”
“I’m sure you do look forward to that,” Drexler replied. “We will be happy to discuss that after we deal with the most pressing issues facing us.”
“Nice move,” Margaret subvocalized, casting side-eyes his way.
“I see no more pressing issues than the transfer of command,” Luthra replied.
“I believe that was true before the arrival of New Detroit and eight-thousand refugee ships that will need protection, not to mention guidance and trade,” Drexler replied. “Fifty-million Trade Union Citizens suffer in that cloud, and they need our help.”
Luthra paused before answering. Drexler could not tell whether he was off balance, or genuinely interested. “I see your point,” Luthra replied. “What do you propose?”
“I propose a careful, even pace. As we speak, the Armada is activating forward contracts to resupply the refugee cloud.” Drexler said. “Now that you are here, we can all breathe easier. Why don’t we wait for your arrival at the fleet, then we can set up a series of meetings that will satisfy all of your concerns. You will, of course, need to meet with the other Captains, and as you said, the valuable work of the Taskforce should also be considered. We just have a lot to discuss.”
“Captain Fleetfoot,” Luthra replied. “I look forward to meeting with you, the Taskforce and the Armada Captains. Thank you all for this very productive initial contact. I look forward to further cooperation.”
Rogue Messiah: Fleetfoot Interstellar Series, Book 2 Page 29
