by S. H. Jucha
“Then you won’t change your mind?” the captain asked. He appeared resigned to a decision.
The envoy stared at the captain. “Order the captains to open their ports. This is your last chance,” he said, his voice trembling with rage.
“No,” the captain replied quietly.
The envoy spun around, spotted the first officer, and pointed at him. “You,” he said, “have the captain detained. He’s to be taken to his quarters. Station crew members outside. He’s not to leave his cabin.”
When the first officer made no move to leave his seat, the envoy became incensed. “You’re relieved of duty,” he screeched. Then he spotted another officer and repeated his order to include both officers be taken to their quarters.
The envoy would have singled out the officers one by one to gain the support he sought, but he was interrupted by three security officers stepping briskly onto the bridge.
“Take the envoy into custody,” the captain ordered.
Security hauled the envoy off the bridge. He didn’t go quietly, and the three Kirmlers had to pick him up off the deck.
<Étienne, Alain, abort, abort,> Ellie sent. She waited a moment. Then she asked,
The Kirmler captain directed his comms officer to connect to the other battleships in his wedge, requesting to speak to the captains.
Ellie leaned forward, listening intently for the translation.
The Kirmler captain was interrupted by his telemetry officer. “Captain, three Tridents swept past us. No weapons release detected.”
The captain visibly trembled before he straightened. When the comms officer cued him, he announced, “The Kirmler envoy has been detained. He ordered our ports opened to launch on the planet, and I refused the order.”
The answers from the captains varied. Three explained that their envoys were reluctant to follow through with the plan. Two said that their envoys had retired and left the decision in their hands. Those envoys had said that they’d back whatever the captains decided. The final three captains were forced to detain their envoys. The trepidation in their voices was evident in the translations.
The captains and most of the envoys saw Ellie’s image pop onto their screens.
“Are you ready to rejoin the ring?” Ellie asked. It was a simple question, but it required the assimilation of several assumptions, which delayed the responses. When they came, they were enthusiastic endorsements.
“Your restraint will be repaid with the sharing of Omnian tech,” Ellie announced. “Your leaders will have to be satisfied with that instead of revenge.”
37: Aftermath
The battleships in the defensive rings left their stations and returned to their previous positions around the planet. The Kirmler and the Boobaffle wedges did the same.
Travelers rejoined their ships. The Omnian Tridents formed up on the city-ship, and the Talusian Tridents returned to their duties.
Ellie and Hector dropped planetside to visit the tech discussions.
The negotiation teams never left the planet. Even while turmoil and potential destruction raged overhead, they’d continued to work out the details of the transfer.
When the envoys returned to the hall, Sargut and Quizra agreed to move the negotiation teams into their midst. It enabled the envoys to listen to the complex structure that would encompass the processes. The envoys and the captains submitted questions to the sisters, who roamed the hall. After a break, the teams would respond to the questions before they continued their discussions.
Hector and Ellie observed the process for a couple of hours.
Captains from the Kirmler cluster sat in place of the detained envoys. They listened intently to the discussions.
Eventually, Hector and Ellie slipped out of the hall. As arbitrators, there was nothing left for them to do.
Ellie experienced a lift in her heart. She’d seen too many die in an effort to free the federacy races and then preserve its peace. For the first time, she saw hope for this territory of space.
The Boobaffle envoy and the captain caught Hector and Ellie outside the hall.
“Leader Hector, Admiral,” the envoy greeted the pair.
“We’re grateful for your forbearance, Admiral,” the captain said.
“It was a near thing,” Ellie admitted.
“My hearts nearly stopped when your Tridents overflew our ships,” the envoy said, shuddering slightly at the memory. “It wasn’t until the telemetry officer told us that the Tridents hadn’t deployed weapons that I recovered.”
“We’re pleased to see you join the hall once again,” Hector said. “We hope your leaders will be encouraged by the opportunity that you bring them.”
“The Kirmler envoy led you far astray,” Ellie said to the envoy, who briefly ducked her head, “but you have a chance to redeem yourself.”
The envoy’s head perked up at the idea that the future held some promise.
“The concept of a council will receive both support and resistance from federacy races,” Ellie said. “I imagine that will happen in mixed amounts from within each race. The promise of tech transfer hinges on the establishment of the council, and it will need individuals to champion it. You could be one of those leaders.”
“I’m intrigued by the prospects, Admiral,” the envoy said. “Thank you for your words of encouragement.”
As Hector and Ellie passed from the hall into the morning’s starlight, Hector said, “When we sailed for Talus, I imagined deadly encounters for the fleet and had visions of returning to Omnia to face Alex with only the shreds of our forces remaining.”
“It’s a pleasant change,” Ellie remarked. “If only Commander Zoza had been more patient.”
“The unfolding of events take unforeseen directions,” Hector intoned. “If the commander hadn’t been hasty, we might never have had Commander Quizra to pull the envoys together. Without his leadership, the negotiations might never have progressed.”
“Yet, look at the lives that were lost to make that happen,” Ellie lamented.
“There might come a time when every dispute will be settled without armament,” Hector offered.
“I hope that day comes, but will I live to see it?” Ellie challenged.
* * * * *
During the course of the negotiations, Sargut and Quizra had developed a bond.
Quizra had been impressed with the steadfast determination of Sargut’s team to remain on the planet, while the envoys within the hall had launched for the armored safety of their battleships. The Talusians’ action had provided the commander’s impetus for asking his team members to choose whether they wished to stay and continue the negotiations. He was surprised and pleased that his team members opted to remain and continue their work.
During one of the president’s and the commander’s final one-on-one meetings, Sargut said, “Commander Zoza and you will face great difficulties on your home worlds for your failure to advance your leaders’ wishes.”
“I fear that this will be the final time that I carry the title of commander,” Quizra admitted, bending his long, slender neck to gaze downward.
“Perhaps, that’s not a bad thing,” Sargut commented.
When Quizra lifted his head, he saw Sargut’s pointed teeth and heard the humorous whistle.
“You could always aspire to a loftier title,” Sargut quickly added.
“In the Podarla world, there is no loftier military title than commander,” Quizra explained. “Each commander reports directly to a civilian in our government. Those civilians make up a board that dictates the actions of our fleets.”
“I was thinking that you might create your own title,” Sargut said. “The admiral has made it a point to speak with many of the envoys and the captains who supported our efforts. She recruits individuals to push their governments to take part in the formation of the council, and she’s been highly successful.”
“Strange that she hasn’t visited me,” Quizra remarked.
“That’s because she and I discussed your particular situation,” Sargut replied.
“I’m not an envoy,” Quizra supplied.
“No, you’re not,” Sargut agreed. “However, we recognized that the presence of your wedge, like that of the Syslerians, indicated your government had given you specific orders, and you felt that you couldn’t deviate from them.”
“Until we witnessed a single weapon turn a battleship into a useless pile of metal,” Quizra replied. “It’s my hope that the Syslerians don’t come here asking for reparations.”
“Which, in addition to your predicament, was one of the items the admiral and I discussed,” Sargut replied. “How would you like to be accompanied home by a group of sisters?”
“I would not like to be responsible for their return, Sargut,” Quizra replied, gently shaking his head. “If I lose my commander’s position, which is more than likely, I might not command a ship that could return them to Talus.”
“You wouldn’t have to worry about that,” Sargut said. “Did I not mention that Commodore Jacinda’s squadron would carry them?”
“Why would armed squadrons accompany my ship?” Quizra asked, with a deep frown.
“The commodore would be escorting the Talusian envoy to the Podarla home world,” Sargut replied. “You’ve met my advisor, Suntred. She, other Toralians, and sisters will extol your many virtues to your government. They’ll demonstrate the wonders of Omnian technology, and they’ll insist that you be chosen to represent the Podarlas in the upcoming federacy conference to consider a council.”
Quizra’s mouth briefly hung open. Then it shut with an audible click. He was about to object that he hadn’t any political skills, but his efforts on the part of the envoys had proven otherwise.
“Do you think this will help you with your government?” Sargut asked innocently.
* * * * *
On a cloudy early morning, Sargut stood in front of the assembled militarists, more than two hundred of them. He was flanked by Suntred and Sunnamis.
As an advisor to Sargut, Miriamette expressed her thought to him that she should be present.
Sargut had replied, “I’ll not request nor allow a nonmilitarist sister to be present for this send off. The militarists have indicated their dislike for any association with biologicals. Therefore, it’s appropriate that Toralians, biologicals, see them on their way.”
A soft rain blanketed the Toralians and the militarists, but no one moved or spoke. In the subdued light, the hundreds of pairs of sisters’ eyes glowed eerily.
Four travelers landed behind the sisters. The Toralian pilots exited their ships into the rain and ran for a four-seat grav car that had been arranged for them. They briefly shook their wings before piling into the vehicle.
“Above you wait four Tridents,” Sargut finally said. His voice wasn’t robust, but Miriamal conveyed his words to the others. “They’re the gifts of Talusians, who include Toralians, the species you detest. The four travelers behind you are also yours to keep.”
“A Trident comes with four travelers. We should receive twelve more,” Miriamal argued.
“If you don’t want them, we’ll keep them,” Sargut said. “It’s not like we owe them to you.”
Miriamal was inundated with messages to remain silent. In a swift action by the majority, she was removed as the militarists’ representative. Strangely, no other sister was selected to replace her. Under the pressure of their present circumstances, the faction was dividing.
The Toralians were surprised by Miriamal’s sudden silence. Then, unexpectedly, she took two steps backward that allowed her to close with the front ranks.
Suntred managed to send to Sargut and Sunnamis.
“In actual fact,” Sargut continued, “the Tridents’ bays are nearly full of equipment and material. There’s room for only a single traveler to land in each ship’s starboard bay. Every warship has been prepared so as to be capable of establishing its own base of operations. I must admit that the other sisters and the Omnians have been more generous with you than I would have been.”
“You know the agreement,” Sunnamis announced, when Sargut paused. “You must leave federacy space. The Omnians believe that your first transit will take more than a year.”
“We’re aware,” the militarists replied, as a single body.
The collective and coordinated response sent shivers up the Toralians’ spines. No other group of SADEs would have spoken to biologicals like this. While the effect might not have been intended, it indicated an indifference that underlined for the Toralians that sending the militarists away needed to be done.
“Questions?” Suntred asked. She’d hoped that some of the militarists might abandon their faction and choose to remain on Toral. However, her request was greeted with silence.
“Please, board the travelers, and may the stars protect you,” Sargut said, repeating the Omnian words for a safe journey.
The Toralians witnessed a strange movement among the militarists. At first, they faced inward, as if there was something of interest in their center. Then slowly, they began mixing. Finally, four groups emerged. They were nearly equal in size, but not exactly.
Then each group turned toward one of the travelers. When the militarists cleared the field to board, they’d left one of theirs behind.
The Toralians pinged the sister for her comm ID. She was Miriamal.
As Miriamal stared at the Toralians, the light behind her eyes dimmed, and she turned and headed for a traveler.
“I think Miriamal fell completely out of favor with her faction,” Sunnamis said.
“I wonder if the other militarists would have preferred to leave her behind, except they didn’t have a choice,” Suntred added.
“What do you think we watched?” Sunnamis asked, wondering about the strange dance that ended with four groups.
Sargut had been thinking about that too, and a thought occurred to him. “To borrow a phrase often used by the Omnians, I’ll lay you good odds that these four Tridents aren’t headed in the same direction.”
Rather than respond to his advisors’ astonished glances, Sargut shook the accumulated rain off his wings and headed gratefully toward a grav car.
* * * * *
Hermione transferred to a human-like avatar. She hadn’t possessed one and requested the use of one from another sister. She’d been the architect of Ude’s avatar and had been diligent in its upkeep, which required meticulous maintenance. In essence, the avatar was a mobile medical suite for Ude.
There was the opportunity for Hermione to transfer the required maintenance information to any SADE aboard the Our People. However, Ude’s final destination wasn’t Omnia. He still needed to reach alliance space, and there was no scheduled transport to there. In the meantime, Ude’s avatar would need constant care.
To Hermione, there was no other alternative. She believed she must accompany Ude and care for him until he was repaired, as the admiral believed was possible at the hands of a race called the Jatouche.
For the SADE, it would be a momentary divergence from the long path she perceived for herself, but it was an important one. She was developing a strong affinity for the mercurial natures of biologicals and supporting Ude represented an opportunity to explore more races.
When Ude learned that Hermione had chosen to accompany him, he’d laughed at her motherly attitude. Secretly, though, he was relieved.
As a clone, Ude had never had parents. He’d fought the attentions of those who had rescued him and tried to help him. Bent on revenge against the entity that had cause
d his kind so much misery, Ude had never really considered anyone else’s feelings, and that included the other clones. That was true until his accident.
In the bowels of the New Terra, Ude had struggled to survive. His days and those of the other clones were consumed with finding food. After his rescue, he’d taken the opportunity to flee the city-ship to the planet so that he could hunt and destroy Artifice.
After his landing on Toral, it hadn’t taken Ude much time to realize that the sisters continually monitored his location. There were too many coincidences about food, clothing, and shelter not to realize it. When he’d lain on the cold ground, unable to move his body, he’d laughed, believing this was how he’d die. Then he’d cried. His life seemed a waste to him.
In a moment of clarity, Ude realized that he’d never lived, not as other humans had. Tears ran from his eyes, and mucus dripped from his nose. He hadn’t the ability to wipe them away, but he didn’t care. He swam in his misery and hoped to die.
“You’re a waste of a human copy,” Ude had murmured. “No, you’re not,” he’d heard. A rock blocked his head, preventing him from seeing the speaker.
“Perhaps, a little misguided,” the speaker had said. “Then again, every biological and SADE has the ability to change. Why shouldn’t you take advantage of that?”
Ude watched as a six-legged avatar, adorned with construction tools, moved into view.
The avatar’s sensors roamed over Ude’s body, and he waited for help to stand.
“I’m Hermione,” the sister said. The voice had issued from a sensor on a tiny head.
“Can you help me up?” Ude requested.
“No, Ude,” Hermione had replied. “I’ll make you comfortable, while a rescue team arrives to transport you.”
“I can’t move my body,” Ude complained, “but that can be fixed, right?”
Unfortunately for Ude, the damage to his spinal cord couldn’t be repaired. It was an injury that was beyond the capabilities of medical nanites.