Kuson’s response was almost immediate: Pilot Erid says we’re close to you and closing in – you will see us on your port side as soon as the atmosphere replaces that empty blackness. It’s a good thing your alternate crew weren’t ‘on’, Anietal would have wanted to lead the chase!
Oooh! Did you ‘send’ all of my thoughts?
Batamon hastily assured Esten that her more personal communications were not ‘audible’ to Kuson. I can filter pretty fast, my lovely!
Esten blushed intensely; her sudden colour was more than Batamon had ever seen on her, but of course it was one specific emotional response characteristic that she seemed to portray more often than most people. Fortunately, the others in the command crew were occupied and did not observe this. She tried to breathe slowly and deeply, wanting to report to her Captain, but not wanting him to turn and see her so red. I’d blush even more!
Batamon sent her an image of a big smile. This is one of those things about ‘connections’… I can filter for others, but with you, it comes out, even when I hadn’t planned it.
Oh… I’m glad, really! No one ever called me ‘my lovely’ before! She brought one hand up and touched the back of her own cheek, confirming that her colour had faded to normal again. “Captain, Drive control is becoming slightly erratic. No worries at this point, but I’d like to take the descent slower than standard, so we can have a smooth ride and an uneventful landing.”
Jenik checked her displays, looking for the problem. She was impressed in turn with the more experienced pilot. That variance is less than one in a million! And this creaky craft is nothing like the newer ones in use for the last while… she’s only had experience on Ship One during this trip – just a few hours!
“I can confirm that, Captain.” Jenik was pleased to be able to compliment her fellow command crew member, something she had not thought to do before. “Suggest we get a full systems review after we put down on Fepnine.” She smiled over at Esten and got a hasty acknowledgement before the curly headed pilot returned her focus to her visual displays. Jenik took advantage of the moment to observe the curious – to her – pairing of her recent instructor in Patrol Cruiser navigation and piloting, engineering and weapons technology and a host of other aspects, with the rather more sophisticated and experienced Batamon, someone she had never met before the expedition, someone who knew the Galaxy from a time before the Narlavs had destroyed Arshonna. He’s from another age! And even I can tell he likes her a whole lot! He’s intense! The idea of romance on her vessel seemed foreign to her; she found it easy to put aside such considerations when at work, having had many opportunities since she had happily graduated from child-like friendships to more adult interactions some seven (earth) years earlier. He’s not nearly exciting enough for me! And there’s that ‘mind thing’… I don’t like the idea of being that connected. I like keeping them guessing!
“Captain Rendan to Captain Toleny – can you match our descent? I want coverage until we actually are immersed in the atmosphere… must be the feeling I get from this ‘historic craft’ affecting me.” Or the information from that transmission…
“We are closing on your position already. All Pakak are now at maximum scanner range – effectively we are alone with our local support.” Toleny’s comment referred to the fact that the visuals these far-distant craft were currently receiving were of the neighbourhood of Frontier Post Nine from some hours before Ship One and PC Canvil had dimensioned in.
“I understand. But that Pakak didn’t fly in to the inner system conventionally; they may have a sequence for such local dimension-shift actions, perhaps randomised to create greater consternation in the defence force.” Captain Rendan looked at Batamon and got a nod of agreement at this speculation on Narlav tactics. He chose this moment to release to his command crew the virtual communications sachet he had received after dimensioning-in, with a brief forwarding comment that it was not urgent. We can discuss this when we are ‘down’.
Jenik returned her focus to her instruments, aware suddenly of the validity of this tactic, and found the Shell power had sunk a further couple of percentage points. Not much of a defensive system, even at best. I’ll be glad to get back to my posting on Patrol Cruiser Edvant. Now that is one heck of a ship! She ignored the forwarded message, deciding she would prefer to concentrate on her instruments for the brief time until landing.
Esten slowed their descent a fraction more as the planet filled the forward viewscreens, the glorious greenness of its solar-illuminated portion calming her mind. A message directing both vessels to land in the most public landing area, where she had last landed – if their semi-controlled crash could be termed a landing – with the now-destroyed Patrol Cruiser Sixteen, made her think of Bonchor. She glanced over at Jenik, unconsciously comparing these two command personnel, recalling from the training she had overseen with Rendan that Jenik’s piloting skills were just as good as her navigational ones. And Bonchor would have liked her, I think. She glanced left, confirming the close presence of PC Canvil, their protector, in the reassuring atmosphere of their lonely planet as they curved around into the darkness of the night hemisphere.
Batamon watched the view as Ship One sank the last few moments to a landing on the pristine field, navigation and ground personnel illuminations creating pools of green in the inky darkness. So much for the carefully maintained fuuth[7]! There’s no way to keep this behemoth floating just above the ground, like Erid is about to do with his far more sophisticated Cruiser. He thought of the significant depression that the great transport ship would make, and realised that this choice – made by someone in the Planetary Council – was an indication of how vital this mission had been seen to be, for the future of Fepnine. It would be much more practical to land in the hangar space, for this aesthetic reason and the more mundane practicalities of the logistics of unloading and distribution of the supplies to the Patrol Cruiser manufacturing areas. The patchy view outside was confirmation of the importance of their mission and the significance of their successful return, for, despite the fact that their arrival had happened to occur close to the middle of the night for this key location, the crowds were already gathering. I wonder if this will generate an equal interest to the arrival of Kirrina, Richard and Paranak?
Esten locked down the controls and sighed with relief at the thought that she had successfully piloted this venerable vessel through extreme danger and back. Looking behind her, she found Batamon’s eyes in their relaxed blue state, smiling at her. She sent a personal message, as his hand was still touching her neck: Success, ’cos I have you to help me…
Rendan congratulated his crew and nodded to Batamon to indicate his appreciation for the Scout’s contribution to their expedition. “Let’s get out there and give them a show!” It was clear that he, too, realised the reason for their presence on this historic field.
They trooped down the stairs from the Control Centre together, heading for the closest exit.
“You’re back!”
The first words that Batamon heard, after his official walk out[8] of the airlock door located near the front of Ship One onto the landing ground on Fepnine, were not just an exclamation of approval, but also, and more tellingly, a sign of supreme surprise. The words came from Katarac, a lesser official, just a minor representative of Larima, the Planetary Controller, but Batamon thought they were still revealing.
“Yes, our volunteers are all fine and we have brought back enough supplies to make another ten Patrol Cruisers, too!” The bold declaration felt good, but Batamon still felt sick inside; the dreams he had experienced during his brief and troubled Grey Space sleep were filled with lava and bottomless, cherry-coloured chasms. He looked around, noting that hundreds, possibly thousands of people had already gathered around Ship One and Patrol Cruiser Canvil, despite the necessarily belated announcement of their arrival and the lateness of the hour.
“On behalf of Larima and the Planetary Council, I am authorised to confirm the pride all Fepniners
are now feeling!” Deputy Sub-Administrator Katarac bowed formally, his brief loss of composure at the evidence before his eyes now pushed aside in favour of his hastily assigned duty. “She asks me to invite the principal survivors of this expedition to a meeting, tomorrow, ah, that is, in this coming afternoon, in the Council chambers.”
He’s not very slick – still used the word ‘survivor’ – I guess he didn’t have much confidence in our success. Batamon had already noted the three communications Basp[9] floating a few paces away, though their size would normally make them almost invisible, but in this case their locations, so close to the airlock door meant that the ship’s lighting, automatically activated by the deep, almost total evening darkness, reflected off their silvery surfaces enough to be seen in the otherwise almost star-less night.
“Make sure you tell the ‘PC’ how our Empowered Ones optimised coordination, so we could all escape from the massed enemy forces – there were twelve Pakak against us – nine of which were like our first Patrol Cruisers in strength!” Esten came up beside Batamon and put her free hand on his shoulder, making sure to let her forefinger and thumb touch his bare neck. I know it; they should too! She pulled him sideways against her and kissed him on the cheek.
If I said you don’t know how much that means to me, you’d know it was a lie! Batamon responded with a smile, before continuing with his intended response to Katarac’s invitation.
“I’ll be happy to do so, as will many others…”
Captain Rendan stepped up beside Batamon, catching the tail end of the unpreparedness evidenced by the clearly flustered Katarac. Another reason why our decision to ‘drop into’ the Fepnine system barely thirty planetary diameters from home was a good one! He recalled the scene as the scanty star-scape slipped back into view after they dimensioned into reality – one of the gloriously living green of Fepnine, the presence of several low-orbiting Patrol Cruisers, another three at extreme visual range, and the more worrying energy signatures of a disturbing flock of Pakak, keeping barely out of range of the patrols. Not to mention the one that really got our attention! He thought again of the Pakak which had been startlingly and audaciously present between them and their destination.
“Well, Katarac!” Navigator Jenik rushed out of the huge vessel and stopped herself just before… clearly she had been about to plant a big kiss on the cheek – or the lips – of this now-thoroughly flustered bureaucrat. It seems she had suddenly appreciated that he was there in an official capacity, not as a personal friend.
“Ouah, Jenik!” Katarac’s arms reached out, ready to embrace her, and then his face flushed as he realised she had restrained herself. “You didn’t get hurt?”
Batamon turned, detecting Maral behind him, and hastily announced the arrival of this key player in their mission, confident that the Basp would choose to focus on this aspect of the arrival event and serendipitously provide the soap opera that was threatening to break out between Jenik and Katarac with the privacy it deserved. “And here is Maral, coordinator of engineering, Shell expert, task optimisation visualizer, come on everyone! Let’s hear it for his team-leadership and drive!”
Shouts from the continually increasing crowd, rapidly growing despite the lateness of the hour, confirmed that the tall, black-haired and very vigorous man really did capture attention easily.
Maral broke into a rare smile as he stopped next to Esten. Clearly he had not expected this kind of approval, and his ‘hidden’ – or more accurately, self-denied – talent subconsciously confirmed to him that Batamon was being sincere, so the doubts that others might have felt about this compliment did not plague him. “Really, the team is what makes these tasks work so well! I had some of the very best, and they excelled every day, every hour!” He looked over his shoulder at the other engineers and crew hanging back, gesturing them to join him. “Look, here’s Ondoril!”
The tall, impressively built but rather reclusive engineer stepped forward, his very striking physical presence, topped by short blond hair that fairly glowed, back-lit by the ship’s lights, was enough to seal the deal as far as the automated news-reporting ‘motes’ were concerned, changing the focus away from the initial one. Meanwhile, Batamon – no longer that focal point – had managed to slide to the edge of the rapidly growing conglomeration of ship’s personnel and technical wizards, and he and Esten had kept close together during this surreptitious move. A quick glance confirmed that Jenik and Katarac had backed into Ship One to continue their reunion in privacy. So much for the organised response and official welcome! Batamon shared a grin with Esten as she picked up on his thought. Good thing the Basp will provide some meaningful coverage, as long as Maral and Rendan – and Ondoril – are there to speak for us all.
And it looks like Jenik may have reversed her earlier decision and decided this is an opportune time to re-connect with her old boyfriend… Esten had no need to gesture as she could tell her own boyfriend had picked up on this amusing development. Let’s find a place for a meal, far from this circus!
Delightful idea! Batamon caught this wish with unrestrained enthusiasm and laid his arm over her shoulder as they walked away, waving with his other hand to the few members of the crowd who recognised them as part of the mission crew, whilst the remainder impatiently craned their necks to see the central gaggle along Ship One’s lengthy side. A full minute was required to negotiate their way through the cheerful celebrators, then they headed for a transport access passage in the faint light percolating across the otherwise dark and empty landing ground. It’s nice to be home, isn’t it?
Chapter Three
Size is not everything: tiny antonikan seem as important as the huge yoban – Ekdrim
“I’ve kept you waiting, I know, but you’ll have figured out why, I’m sure.” Larima nodded to Batamon, seated on one of the comfortable couch-like furnishings in the Planetary Council reception area as she opened her office door and stepped out.
“It is my pleasure to serve.” He stood up. He could see the smile in her eyes, though it did not show in the lines around her mouth.
“And mine to have been enlightened during this expedition!” Esten spoke loudly, as she had chosen to seat herself around the corner of the ‘L’ shaped room and she was now walking into view, nervous about her first meeting with the Planetary Controller.
“Ah! Esten, the famous pilot! A key ingredient in our recent success, I feel sure.” Now Larima smiled freely. “I had thought perhaps that you might not attend, but this is better, indeed!” She hugged the younger woman, checking out her large and lovely brown eyes, her face-softening curly brown hair and her characteristic awkwardness in new situations. She pulled back, still holding onto the pilot’s shoulder, nodded to Batamon without making physical contact with him at all and brought them both into her office. The door closed silently behind Batamon, dividing the quiet openness of the waiting area from the discreet peace of the study-like room.
“I couldn’t let Bata go alone, not after…” Esten blushed, her forced boldness finally being sabotaged by her own natural nervousness and inadvertently causing her to reveal her personalised contraction of his name.
Larima, still standing, made sure the two sat together and watched as they held hands, aware – at least in principle, or in theory – of the connection that this physical contact must enable. “Before we talk about the future, I must ask you – either of you, I suppose – what brought an old Arshonnan and a young Fepniner together?”
Esten and Batamon looked back at her, both smiling, and replied in unison: “It was you!”
“Ha!” Larima’s smile was the biggest Batamon had ever observed on her. “I deserved that!”
“Now, I must review with you our current situation, as Frontier Post Nine’s future is still hanging in the balance.” Larima, having previously interviewed Captains Rendan, Michet, Forris and Toleny as well as – most recently – the chief engineer, Maral, sat down on a small table close in front of the two, determined to make the most of the c
hance she now had to learn what she could of the close interaction between one key example of an Empowered One and an ‘ordinary’ citizen, grateful that Esten was the second part. I’m anticipating she’ll be someone much easier to ‘read’. She’s one whose true colours seem to show at all times; especially the inopportune ones! “Each of our perspectives will of course be slightly different; Batamon remembers life on Arshonna, as do I. You, dear Esten, have only known this world.”
“U-until I visited Outpost Eleven, that is!” The hasty correction was exactly the kind of honesty that the Planetary Controller found so refreshing; rarely did anyone express themselves so frankly – or so revealingly – in her presence.
“That’s true.” Larima found herself grinning, and thought to herself that her face muscles might ache by the time the interview was finished. I mustn’t allow myself to get used to this! If I do, the next Planetary Council meeting will be unbearable! “But let’s not talk about the Outpost, let’s talk about Fepnine. So many cool[10] ago, before The War, this then recently discovered planet had a staff of four hundred and seven, as I recall. After the last of the Arshonnan refugees arrived, there were still not much more than fifty thousand survivors here. Fifty thousand… from all of Arshonna, and all of the colonies, too.” She paused, the effect of her own words briefly derailing her train of thought. “But we must not linger there. The post staff naturally continued to run the planetary affairs, with some bolstering of the original personnel by skilled and willing Arshonnans. I became a Deputy to the Planetary Controller some fifty years later, when the workload got increasingly intimidating for the original post leadership due to the rapidly rising numbers of young Fepniners. I’ve been PC since about a hundred years after The War.” She sighed. “It wasn’t that many cool after the final refugees arrived – but long before I became PC, I hasten to add – that the ‘Vershonnan’ figured out the location of Fepnine, somehow, and a few ships appeared in the system.”
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