by S. H. Jucha
The Crocians jumped up and bellowed. These greetings exhibited even more volume. Bortoth and Daktora had fought side by side with Jess and Lucia, during the early engagements with the Colony. Many times, they ended the fights mutually drenched in the blood of their enemies.
Jess crossed the room. With a fist, he heartily thumped each meaty Crocian shoulder.
Bortoth and Daktora rumbled deeply at a human’s attempt to make physical contact. It was a treasured part of their stories that they told other Crocians. Their chests would puff with pride, relating vicious Colony encounters and the regard with which Commander Cinders, the leader of the Resistance, held them.
“Sorry to be late,” Jess said, by way of apology, but he offered no reason.
Curious, Miriam checked his most recent contact, but it was marked private by the controller. This intrigued her, and she chose to mark it for later investigation.
“We’ve a delicate engineering challenge for you,” Mickey said, addressing the Crocians, after everyone was seated. “On the one hand, you’ll have the opportunity to learn the rudiments of a starship.”
The Crocians rumbled deeply, which the humans felt vibrate their chests.
“We’ve an intersystem freighter that must be rebuilt to enable it to move around alliance space,” Mickey continued. “It’ll require an entire engine module chop, extension of the freighter’s trusses, and the addition of the new carrier tri-engine configuration.”
“This must be done without the ship landing or being within habitable air space,” Miriam added.
“Miriam will lead the project, but she won’t be on-site,” Mickey said. “That will be your jobs. She’ll assign teams of engineers and techs.”
“You said this was a delicate project,” Bortoth reminded Mickey. “This sounds more like major reconstruction.”
“Except for the aspect of a dangerous alien fighter that resides on the freighter,” Lucia said. “Contact with the fighter results in annihilation of the offending item.”
“It’s active?” Daktora asked.
“Yes,” Mickey replied. “It’s a drone that floats above a platform that the aliens call a cradle. The consensus of the SADEs in Alex’s fleet is that an antimatter engine powers the fighter.”
“If the drone is disturbed, jostled,” Jess said, “more than likely it will turn the freighter, with everything in it, and anything nearby into space dust with a horrendous energy wave. I would ask you to be extremely careful.”
Jess was hoping to see expressions of concern from the Crocians.
Instead, the beady eyes of Bortoth and Daktora exhibited gleams. They were intrigued by the opportunity to learn about Omnian starships and alien fighters.
“When do we start?” asked Daktora, his enthusiasm evident.
“Now, if you wish,” Mickey replied. “The freighter is called the Transit Tripper. Captain Walton has made station, and she and her crew are transferring off the freighter.”
Miriam rose and swung an arm toward the room’s exit. With resignation, the Crocians eyed the seats they left.
Mickey laughed. “Those” he said, indicating the chairs, “will be moved to your new work locations,” which greatly cheered the Crocians.
After Miriam and the Crocians left, Mickey clapped and rubbed his hands together. “So, you wanted to talk, Commander,” he said.
“Actually, it’s Lucia who broached the subject,” Jess replied. “I’ll let her explain it.”
“Mickey, this question isn’t meant to demean any of your research on the domes and the gates, but Alex continually demonstrated his intention to consider the future when deciding present events,” Lucia began. “When you solve the mystery of how to create new gates, what then?”
“We can install them in whatever domes have space,” Mickey replied, spreading his hands in appeal, as if to say that the answer was logical.
Jess glanced guiltily at Lucia. He hadn’t thought any further than the investigations either.
“Who decides which domes are connected?” Lucia asked.
“This is alliance space,” Mickey replied. “I would think the —”
Mickey halted midsentence, the conundrum occurring to him. The discovery of how to add gates to the domes would belong to the Omnians and the Resistance outpost. Handing the tech to the Tsargit, which is what Mickey was about to say, would give that organization the power to decide who would receive the connections, and it would be an unfortunate abrogation of outpost influence.
“Let’s examine the complexity of the problem,” Jess encouraged. “The races journey to and from the Tsargit through the Hyronzy dome, which has only a single gate opening left.”
“And you’re saying that it would be a political problem as to who had say over that single gate,” Mickey surmised.
“It gets more complicated than that, Mickey,” Lucia said. “Suppose the Hyronzy were swayed by the Tsargit to let the representative body decide where the new gates would connect. Who do you think would pressure the council for that right?”
“When it comes to alliance politics, I’ve no idea how the Tsargit functions,” Mickey admitted.
“The eldest races would insist on that right,” Jess explained. “The Hyronzy is one of those races, but so are the Veklocks and the Usaanans.”
“Now, let’s make this dilemma even greater,” Lucia enthused, warming to the problem she foresaw. “The outpost is situated in Pyrean space, but that dome doesn’t belong to us.”
“Yet, we want to have a hand in where the five new gates connect,” Mickey said, understanding the challenge.
“And where do you think President Lillian Finian will want them to connect?” Jess asked.
“Hard to say,” Mickey replied.
“Now —” Lucia began, but she was interrupted by Mickey’s deep groan.
“I knew there was a reason I stayed out of politics,” Mickey said.
Lucia gently patted Mickey’s hand. “Last one, I promise,” she said. “This outpost is the first of what is intended to be many. That’s Alex’s grand plan — each outpost a galactic peacekeeping force dedicated to the races who inhabit that space.”
“And Alex will want at least one Pyrean gate dedicated to the outpost,” Mickey guessed.
“Only one?” Jess queried.
“Why wouldn’t I want this outpost to have connections to Sol, Omnia, and Méridien?” Jess asked.
“You could always journey quickly through the domes —” Mickey halted again, shaking his head. “After we solve how to add gates, Alex will want us constructing new domes. Then everyone will want us to reengineer the Colony’s rings.”
Jess and Lucia nodded at Mickey’s comprehension of what lay in the future for the races and the expanding dome tech.
“Of course, why wouldn’t everyone want to move ships through the gates?” Mickey added, with a resigned shrug. “Only it won’t happen.”
Lucia quirked an eyebrow at Mickey. “Why not?” she asked.
“Don’t have enough time,” Mickey said laughing. “I need another lifetime.”
When the trio’s laughter died down, Mickey grew serious. He regarded Jess and Lucia. “So, where do we start?”
“We start here,” Jess said. “As the outpost commander, I must think of what Alex might want us to do with the five available gates at Triton.”
“Alex wouldn’t want you to usurp them,” Mickey pointed out.
“Wouldn’t think of it,” Jess replied quickly. “I have to learn what Lillian thinks and incorporate our needs into her desires. At least, that will tell us how many gates are available for the outpost for journeys beyond alliance space.”
* * * * *
Ophelia was frustrated by the exchange, and she was tempted to use her sleeve comm unit to contact the president. That was Lillian’s preferred form of communication. If the president could find a way to ignore using her implant she would, and Ophelia was determined to prevent that.
Ophelia foresaw a time in the near future when Lillian would be in the company of world leaders, most of whom would depend on their implants. The Pyrean president couldn’t afford to be at a disadvantage.
Another thought occurred to Ophelia, and she checked the status of the attack commanders. Aputi Tulafono, her ex-security officer, was still on assignment. Otherwise, she would have chatted with him to see if he would share some information about the impending meeting.
With nothing else to do, Ophelia returned to routine work, while she mused off and on about what would bring the commander and the admiral to the president’s office without announcing the subject.
In the morning, Ophelia chose to skip breakfast. She descended from her upper-floor accommodation to the ground floor and climbed into the waiting transport. Soon, her transport merged with the train of vehicles that were headed along the route Ophelia required. She took advantage of the transport’s services for a light meal.
Ophelia’s vehicle exited the train, took a ramp, and made for the government’s center. Within another quarter hour, she was walking down a corridor toward the president’s office.
Ophelia had two thoughts about that message, as she turned and headed for the conference room. The first was how easily the assistant had adopted her implant. Second, she wondered why this meeting was so important that the commander and the admiral had arrived early.
“Commander, Admiral,” Ophelia said, by way of greeting. She received a hug from Jess, and she shook hands with Lucia. “Mysterious meeting,” she commented, as she took a seat. Unfortunately, no one responded to her entreaty. Instead of a casual discussion about other subjects, they waited in silence for Lillian to arrive.
When the president finally walked into the room, she was several minutes late, which everyone took as a sign that she was disgruntled by the lack of information about the meeting.
“Let’s make this short. I’ve another meeting,” Lillian said abruptly, dropping into a chair.
Ophelia winced, and Jess’s eyes narrowed. He stood and said, “We’ll return, Madam President, when you have more time.”
“If you want a second meeting, I want to know what we’re meeting about in advance,” Lillian replied tartly.
Lucia refused to let the president dictate to them. Their association was supposed to be collaborative, but from the early days, Lillian seemed to have had issues with the outpost, Jess, the Omnians, or all three.
“When we return,” Lucia said, rising too, “you’ll have had time to think about where the five new Pyrean gates should connect. That is unless you don’t want a say in that sort of thing. In that case, we’d be happy to make those determinations for you.”
“You’ve managed to link new gates?” Lillian asked. She was stunned by the news.
Jess and Lucia didn’t need to coordinate their movements. They knew each other too well by now. They remained standing at the table.
“Sit. Sit,” Lillian said. “I don’t have another meeting. I just don’t like the secrecy.”
“There is no secret, Madam President,” Jess replied, refusing to move. “The subject is too complex to have via implants, especially with an individual struggling to adopt one.”
Ophelia kept from sighing. As a powerful empath, she could sense the strong emotions pouring off the trio. Everyone was angry and frustrated.
“Perhaps we should start again,” Ophelia said, pretending to be cheerful. “Good morning, Madam President.”
Lillian glared at Ophelia and, contrary to their long-standing agreement, Ophelia sent calming waves. Rather than focus on the president, she let them wash through the minds of all at the table. There was no attempt on her part to blanket the minds of these strong-willed people. Ophelia’s aim was to reduce the tension enough to get to the subject of the meeting.
Finally, Lillian relented. “My apologies, Commander, Admiral. Please be seated.”
Accepting the apology, Jess and Lucia returned to their seats.
“We haven’t achieved the technique of connecting gates,” Jess said, by way of introduction. “However, we’ve uncovered two support levels under the console. The Messinant power supply is on the lowest level. A supply room has alien tools, which we’re testing.”
Lillian’s mouth briefly hung open, and Ophelia schooled her expression, but she was shocked by the news too.
“Then you’re close to creating new gates,” Ophelia suggested.
“We’ve discovered how to install a new platform,” Jess replied. “When we attempted to link the new platforms between two systems, we had a mishap.”
“Allow me to translate,” Lucia interjected. “By mishap, the commander means we destroyed a moon, a dome, and its single gate. Fortunately, no one was hurt. For some reason, Messinants offered a countdown to limit the time during which glyphs must be entered. That has never been done. The SADEs detected danger, and everyone evacuated.”
“Then this meeting is premature,” Lillian pronounced.
“Each race will enter intense negotiations with every other race,” Ophelia supplied.
“And those races who have domes with more openings will have the advantage,” Jess concluded.
“That could be good for Pyre,” Lillian offered.
“How many gates does the outpost want, Commander?” Ophelia asked, in an attempt to shake Lillian out of her narrow view.
Jess grinned at Ophelia. He’d always liked the commandant and her ability to cut to the heart of the matter.
Lillian’s head had jerked to regard her system’s head of security. Now, she turned to stare at Jess.
“That was supposed to be part of this meeting,” Jess replied. “We came here to discuss this critical issue before the news created a political storm across alliance space.”
“So, how many gates does the outpost want?” Lillian demanded. Her attitude was accusatory.
Jess shook his head. The meeting had started off on the wrong foot, and it wasn’t getting any better. “Thank you for your time, Madam President,” he said, rising.
This time, Jess coordinated his motions with Lucia. She stood in tandem with him. Together, they exited the conference room.
Ophelia stared aghast at Lillian.
“What?” the president demanded sharply.
“What are you doing, Lillian?” Ophelia demanded, dropping the courtesy.
“Watch your tone,” Lillian shot back.
“Relieve me of my position, if you don’t want to hear what I have to say,” Ophelia retorted. “You’re supposed to be our president, but you’re acting like a child spatting with her friends.”
Lillian fumed, fighting to control her temper. She wanted to lash out at Ophelia, and she was tempted to dismiss her outright. Her head hurt worse than it had when she woke this morning.
Ophelia watched Lillian dig into a sleeve pouch, pull a small case, and pop two pills.
“What are those?” Ophelia urgently inquired.
“Nothing. I’ve a headache,” Lillian said, waving away Ophelia’s concern.
“How long have you had it?” Ophelia asked.
Lillian sighed. She was tired of the pain, and some part of her sought to seek relief despite the desire to ignore the headaches. “On and off for a while,” she replied.
The security staff arrived first, rushing into the conference room. They stuttered to a halt, when they saw the president and the commandant chatting.
“Stand by,” Ophelia ordered, as Lillian looked with alarm at her commandant.
Before Lillian could question Ophelia, the medical personnel hastened into the room, and the two medical techs were as confused as the security.
“As the commandant responsible for system security,” Ophelia said, rising, “I’m declaring an emergency for the president. I require her to be taken to medical for a brain scan. She’s been experiencing severe headaches, which might be affecting her judgment.”
Lillian abruptly stood. She glared at Ophelia and spat out, “I countermand your order. Furthermore, you —”
That’s as far as Lillian got. She sat heavily in her chair and gripped the sides of her head.
The president’s actions galvanized security and medical personnel.
While the techs prepped the gurney, the security members eased the president’s chair back, bodily lifted her from her seat, and laid her on the gurney. Then the president was rushed four levels down to the medical suite.
While Jess spoke with Ophelia, Lucia ordered the traveler pilot to reverse course. They’d yet to clear Pyre airspace, and they could be the quickest transport to the Jatouche medical station, if that was required.
