by S. H. Jucha
* * * * *
The outpost’s leaders had been shocked to hear Luther’s call to evacuate the domes. They watched with rapt attention as SADEs raced up the travelers’ lines.
Luther and Minimalist kept the outpost updated through continuous reports and the views from their eyes.
Then the massive explosion at dome one dropped Luther off the conference, and the outpost waited for the outcome.
That the second dome hadn’t detonated was a relief, but the leaders waited anxiously for news of Luther’s traveler. The Trident captain reported an emergency beacon, which gave everyone hope.
Miriam had shared images from dome one. She’d maintained a recording of the dome’s vid equipment. One of the devices was pointed at the console, and it captured the final images of the primary panel.
Mickey asked on the leaders’ conference link. The discovery that Pia was unharmed was a great weight off his mind, and he was happy to concentrate on any other subject.
Miriam replied.
Lucia remarked privately to Jess. Immediately, she regretted her thought. Kasie’s status was still unknown. She laid a hand on Jess’s shoulder in apology, and he intertwined his fingers in hers.
Jess asked.
Minimalist sent, having kept a link with Miriam.
Pia and Jodlyne glanced at Minimalist, who gave them a grin, and the women returned it.
Lucia sent.
Mickey sent.
Jess sent.
Mickey finished.
The outpost’s focus switched to the Trident at dome one. Telemetry showed the warship coming alongside the traveler. The ship’s external view showed the traveler undamaged.
Collective breath was held and not released until the traveler’s power was restored and Luther reported all passengers were safe.
Immediately, Kasie connected to Jess, and she was added to the conference.
Before Jess could say anything, Kasie excitedly sent,
Jess replied.
Lucia tapped Jess’s shoulder and pointed at a monitor. Miriam was dispersing various SADEs’ viewpoints for the leaders. Luther was leading Edmas aside. The engineer was wearing a goofy smile.
Jess sent, and Kasie whirled, seeking Edmas.
Kasie sent to her companion and curtailed her power.
Jess replied.
Edmas sent. He stood in the corridor, putting a sufficient distance between Kasie and him to blunt her power.
The SADEs raced ahead, projecting where the humans were headed, but they kept their thoughts to themselves. This was an exercise in comparative analysis. Typically, in these circumstances, the two groups didn’t arrive at the same conclusion, but that was the point of the SADEs’ efforts. They were attempting to discover a means of programming human intuition.
Mickey sent.
Jodlyne opined.
Kasie sent.
Jess sent privately.
Mickey warned, which, for Kasie, underlined Jess’s admonishment.
Luther appreciated that Miriam, Minimalist, and he had gotten close to the concept that Mickey was espousing.
Mickey sent.
Miriam sent.
Lucia asked.
Jess said.
Kasie started to vehemently object before Jess cut her off.
Jess reiterated bluntly.
Luther volunteered.
Pia added. When some of the human audience didn’t immediately grasp her concept, she explained,
Jess replied.
Tacnock sent.
Luther proposed.
Tacnock added.
Mickey sent.
Miriam replied.
Their conversation was purely to inform the humans on the conference call of what was to be developed. Mickey knew that Miriam would have noted each suggestion. Then she’d have added the SADEs’ thoughts and forwarded the requests to the engineering teams.
The conference call dwindled, and Pia took the opportunity to examine Minimalist. Like one other SADE, he was carefully hiding the palms of his hands.
Pia sent to Minimalist, and she extended her hands. Jodlyne and she had stayed near Minimalist for that specific reason.
&nb
sp; Minimalist displayed his palms, and then he hid them quickly when human crew members passed nearby.
As Pia suspected, the synth skin of the SADE’s palms was shredded by the swift climb of the line with the additional weight of a human on his back.
Pia directed Minimalist and the other SADE, and the foursome went to the Trident’s compact medical service cabin.
Pia found what she was looking for in a cabinet. “Show me your hands, Minimalist,” she said. Carefully, she excised the torn synth skin until the remaining edges were clean.
Under the synth skin, the metal articulation of the SADE’s hands was clearly exposed. This is what the SADEs chose to hide from most humans.
With a small brush, Pia spread liquid synth skin over the palm. This type of repair was meant for small scrapes and tears. More than once, some SADEs had needed entire new coverings, such as when they had stood guard on Celus-5, before it was renamed Omnia, and were exposed to harsh winds that swirled sands and scrub brush.
The nanites in the synth skin spread the liquid evenly across the palm and bonded with the old edges.
asked Pia, when Minimalist tested his hands’ flexibility.
When Minimalist nodded, Pia took care of the second SADE, who’d carried her out of the dome.
There was a quiet moment. The SADEs waited for the humans to either dismiss them or speak.
“We owe you,” Pia said.
“And we don’t know how to repay you,” Jodlyne added.
“I do,” Minimalist said. “Fewer questions would help.” His mouth quirked in a smile.
“Not going to happen,” Jodlyne replied, laughing. Then each woman hugged first one SADE and then the other.
After exiting medical and as the SADEs walked the corridor, Minimalist’s companion sent,
Minimalist replied.
the companion replied.
Minimalist replied.
the companion replied. He, like Minimalist, wore the slightest of smiles.
12: Shift the Strategy
Candace continued to visit Torque and chat with other clientele of the exclusive club. Per Sam’s directive, she didn’t search out Fystal, the transport company owner.
Occasionally, Fystal caught sight of Candace, and he managed to casually maneuver into her orbit and join the conversations.
“Are you still in search of partnerships that would enable your movement of goods?” Fystal recently asked.
“Yes,” Candace replied.
“But you aren’t making overtures to individuals. Otherwise, I would hear of this,” the Lemgart said.
“I’m doing research,” Candace replied.
“But you aren’t asking for quotes, or I would know this too,” Fystal replied.
“Who said that’s what I’m researching?” Candace asked.
Fystal eyed the human. Either he’d misread her, and she wasn’t a potential client, or she was extremely shrewd and would make a lucrative partner.
“How can I convince you of my company’s value?” Fystal inquired.
Sam sent. Unable to appear in public, without generating questions about Candace, he’d sat in a small transport across the vehicle path for the last five evenings. The small vehicles didn’t adequately accommodate his frame, but he was loath to take a larger one and draw attention. By remaining close to Candace, they could maintain a link.
“My investors require discretion,” Candace said, “and they seek assurances.”
“Then your investors require a company that can be discrete and deliver what is promised. My company would suit your needs,” Fystal said.
“Of course, that’s what I would expect you to say. That’s what every Lemgart has told me about their enterprise,” Candace replied. “Do Lemgarts think Pyreans are fools, or is it that the Lemgart males think this way about females?”
“They are foolish if they do,” Fystal replied. “I’ve the utmost respect for Pyreans.”
“And how many Pyreans do you know?” Candace asked, her eyes narrowing at Fystal.
When Fystal hesitated, Candace laughed loudly. “You don’t know any,” she jeered. “Typical Lemgart behavior to make a remark that has no substance behind it.”
Fystal bared his teeth at the insult. “I can prove that my company has value,” he declared angrily. “We provide services for a prominent race.”
“A prominent race?” Candace asked. “That’s the best you can do? You waste my time, Fystal jer Hathwa.” She spun in her newest creation, ensuring she didn’t trip over the fall of material on the side of a leg, dropped her empty drink glass on a passing tray, and exited the club. Behind her, she heard Fystal call out, but she kept going.
Outside Torque, Candace climbed the ramp of her waiting transport. The stylist and the dresser waited for Candace and enclosed her in the structure that allowed her to stand and rest comfortably.
“Myseth’s creations get more daring as the iterations progress,” Candace commented. On one side, her newest outfit draped material to her ankle. On the other side, the material wasn’t gathered until just below the breasts. For the last three outfits, Candace was directed to remove all underwear before being dressed.
“That’s how your purpose is indicated,” the stylist replied. “The transition indicates you’re a serious business female.”
Sam sent, without meaning to let the comment slip. His small vehicle followed the lieutenant’s transport.
“Elaborate,” Candace requested.
“Our mistress has indicated that you seek information, possibly for opportunities,” the stylist replied. “If you maintain a continued presence at Torque, the change in your display communicates your mood and satisfaction.”
Sam urgently wished to ask questions, but he let Candace lead.
“What is the progression of my outfits indicating?” Candace asked.
“An astute question,” the dresser replied. “This is an underpinning of Lemgart society for the rich and powerful. Your displays can do more to speak for you than your words.”
“In many cases, your words are unnecessary,” the stylist added. “They might even contradict how you’re dressed. But Lemgarts won’t pay as much attention to your words as they will to your appearance. They will take their cues from your displays.”
“Be specific,” Candace stated firmly. “What am I communicating?” She was worried that the wrong message might have been inadvertently broadcast, possibly ruining the investigation.
“Our mistress should be asked this question,” the dresser replied. “These are her creations, and she has an intention in mind, which is based on your initial meeting. Did you not request a specific outcome?”
Candace could hear Sam’s groan of frustration. she sent to him.
Sam sent quickly.
Candace eyed the dresser and the stylist, and said, “You mistake my questioning.”
The Lemgarts tipped their heads, letting the long fur along the sides of the heads cover both their eyes. The Pyreans had learned that this was a sign of abject apology.
“Please explain how we might be of service,” the dresser requested. “Pyreans’ ways are new to us.”
“I wish to know your opinions about these creations,” Candace said. “I seek to know if what we’ve requested of Myseth is being communicated to Lemgarts who are knowledgeable about these things.”
“A wise precaution,” the stylist said. “In my opinion, the progression indicates impatience at not achieving an intended result.”
“Yes,” the dresser added. “The Torque’s clientele would recognize that you’re a Pyrean of wealth and that you have a purpose for attending the club, but the individuals you meet are failing to satisfy your desires.”
; “That’s what I hoped to hear,” Candace said, tipping her head briefly toward the Lemgarts, who seemed relieved by the action.
In the suite, Candace was helped from her outfit, and then the Lemgarts swiftly exited. She used the facilities to relax and remove the decorative coatings that had been applied to her bare throat, shoulders, and one side of her body from chest to ankle.
“Food,” Candace said happily, when she stepped into the salon and smelled the trays Sam had ordered. “And, as usual, there’s a tray for me and three for you,” she quipped.
“You’re always welcome to sample,” Sam said genially.
“Last time I did that I ate too much,” Candace replied. “I must be content with the meager portions that normal humans require.”
Sam grinned at Candace. “I’ve a mind to make your next assignment on New Terra.”
“We don’t do any business with New Terrans,” Candace retorted. When she saw the major’s smile widen, she said, “That’s cruel.”
Sam’s response was to lift the covers from the dishes, inhale the aromas, and take a tray to the couch, where he could sit comfortably.
“Which one is mine?” Candace asked.
“Whichever one suits your fancy,” Sam replied, taking a large bite.
Quiet reigned, while they ate. Candace finished far in advance of Sam, and she relaxed while he worked through his trays.
When Sam was done, he signaled for service. The trays were removed, and Sam returned to his place on the couch. He nodded toward her to begin.
“It’s great to know that my outfits are sending the right message,” Candace said, “but I’m beginning to look like a fixture in the club without a purpose. Also, at the rate Myseth’s creations are progressing, one of these evenings she’ll have me walking into Torque wearing shoes, jewelry, appliqués, makeup, head adornments, and not much else.”
“I heard Fystal’s words,” Sam replied. “I think it’s time you request proposals from other individuals. There are three who I have in mind.”
“I know the three you mean,” Candace said. “We’re not including Fystal, are we?”
“No,” Sam acknowledged. “How do you think he’ll respond?”