by S. H. Jucha
Dorelyn wore a self-satisfied expression, and Lise Panoy thought, Bad move, fool.
“I’ve an idea for you, Dorelyn,” Harbour replied. “Why don’t you charter a mining ship, travel out to Triton, set the Messinants console for a journey to Rissness, and ask Her Highness if you can dictate to me the formation of the envoy party?”
The audience erupted in laughter, and anger burned in Dorelyn’s eyes, bright enough so that Harbour had no need to be present to sense the downsider’s wrath.
“In a roundabout way, Captain Harbour brings up an important point,” Jessie interjected. “Whoever goes must be vac suit qualified to reach the dome.”
“I’m sure accommodations can be made to circumvent the usual requirements,” Emerson said. He saw his sponsorship shifting from the governor to the council, and he was attempting to placate Dorelyn.
“I would like to know how you intend to accomplish that,” Captain Henry Stamerson asked. “Captain Cinders is quoting the Captain’s Articles. Every captain is a signatory of that agreement, and they jeopardize their right to sail a vessel if they violate any portion of the Articles.”
Emerson was stumped. He gazed across a row of captains, hoping for an alternative suggestion. Unfortunately, his glance met with hard-eyed stares that said there would be no breaking of the Articles.
“What this implies,” Harbour said, “is that anyone who is selected to go with me must be willing to undergo vac suit training and be rated by a ship’s officer. No exceptions.”
“That will include you, Captain Harbour,” Dorelyn stated evenly. She thought she’d discovered the point of leverage she needed.
“No, it won’t, Dorelyn,” Jessie replied. “Captain Harbour is already rated, as attested by First Mate Mitch Bassiter.”
Dorelyn didn’t recognize the name, but she wasn’t familiar with many more than a handful of captains’ names, much less ships’ officers. Out of the corner of her eyeline, she saw captains nodding their acceptance of the first mate’s name. Having misstepped twice, Dorelyn chose to remain silent.
Harbour used the opportunity presented by the sudden quiet. She said, “To reply to the commandant’s query and in light of the evident desire of the attendees to engage the Jatouche, I’m officially announcing that I will accept Her Highness’ proposal. I’ll become the Pyrean envoy to the Jatouche. That said, I’ll tell you the conditions under which I’ll accept participation in any negotiations with the Jatouche. I recognize the need to have a representative from every group who should have a role. Captain Cinders, who has graciously granted to support me, and I will represent the voices of the spacers and the empaths.”
When Jessie heard Harbour speak about him, he felt the kind of mental lift that Aurelia shared with him, when they explored Triton and the drudgery of the days in evac suits took their toll on him.
Mental lines blurred for Jessie. He’d considered Harbour and Aurelia as occupying two separate categories — two individuals, with nothing in common other than their unusual capabilities. He saw that as a mistake. First and foremost, the women were empaths. It was the fundamental nature of their personalities, and, through no fault of their own, they were forced to constantly guard their powers in the company of normals, individuals like him. He saw his irritation at Harbour’s occasional emanations, which might encompass him, as his weakness not theirs.
“Despite my status as a spacer and empath,” Harbour continued, “I can tell you that I’ll be more concerned with ensuring that all Pyreans benefit from our liaison with the Jatouche. As to other groups who wish to participate, downsiders, stationers, investors, and security, they may each choose one person to ensure their voices are heard.”
Harbour waited for the audience’s raucous reaction to die down. It took the female captain raising her air horn in warning to hush the crowd.
“You have two weeks to choose your representatives,” Harbour said. “By that time, Captain Cinder’s ships and the Belle will be docked at one or the other of the stations. Soon afterwards, we’ll be launching for Triton.
-9-
Rescue
The engineers at the Triton dome discussed Harbour’s notice of the Splendid Metals flight to Triton.
“When should we let the Jatouche know about the mining ship and the injured aboard?” Pete asked. He eyed the small stack of cubes that Drigtik had left with them. It irked him that their instructions weren’t written, but that was the problem with two species with no common alphabet. They were reduced to recording the steps as Kractik spoke and capturing images on their comm units.
“I’m in favor of sooner rather than later,” Bryan replied. “We’re unqualified to do much more than direct shuttles onto the plains and the crew to the dome.”
“I agree,” Olivia said. “The Jatouche are the medical experts, and we don’t know how long it will take them to mobilize their services.”
“They could choose to wait until our injured appeared on their platform,” Pete mused. When he received annoyed looks from his companions, he added, “But probably not.”
“No time like the present,” Bryan announced, deciding for the group.
Paste and water were consumed, containers and cups were recycled, and a cube snatched, and then the engineers headed up two levels to the dome’s deck.
Bryan paused in front of the console, opened his comm unit, and rolled through the recording. Pete was about to volunteer what he viewed on his device, but Olivia laid a hand on his forearm to stop him.
“Okay, we need the comm submenu, again,” Bryan mumbled out loud, tapping the panel, and selecting the correct items. “Then we need the cube comm subsection, which is the seventh item, and then we install the cube on the adjacent panel.”
Olivia dutifully placed the cube where Bryan pointed. Immediately, the panel lit, and the cube glowed.
“Contact,” Pete rejoiced. He tapped Bryan’s shoulder, saying, “Step aside.” Then he gestured to Olivia to face the console’s center. “You’re better at this communication thing than either of us,” he said.
“Okay, give me a second,” Olivia replied. She closed her eyes and organized her thoughts. When she was ready, she nodded to Bryan and cleared her throat.
Bryan tapped the panel’s icon, and Olivia said, “This message is for Her Highness Tacticnok, Jaktook, or Kractik. Captain Harbour has accepted Her Highness’ offer of twenty Pyreans for rehabilitation at Rissness Station. A mining ship is inbound for Triton carrying eighteen medically critical humans. Two others are in need of repair but aren’t critical. You are aware of the length of our cycles, and we estimate time of arrival in twelve to fourteen days. Please advise us how best to accommodate the transfer of the injured to Rissness.”
Bryan touched the glowing icon on his panel, and the cube went dark.
“Ready?” Pete asked. When Bryan nodded, he snatched it off the console, hurried over to the platform, and placed it in the center.
Bryan took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.
Olivia laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing great, Bryan,” she said.
Bryan glanced briefly at Olivia, who resisted the habit to turn her face away. He whispered, “I’ve got this stupid feeling that because I’ve got new limbs that I should be smarter, more capable somehow.”
Olivia smiled sadly and replied, “I catch myself looking at my new face in the reflective metal of the facilities door, and I think, for a moment, that my future will be entirely different, new and exciting. Then I realize that inside … it’s the same old me.”
Bryan and Olivia heard Pete clear his throat. For the first time since they had come out of the tanks at Rissness Station, Pete wasn’t displaying his upbeat, handsome Pete smile.
“Sorry to eavesdrop,” Pete said. “You two aren’t the only ones feeling unsure about yourselves. I hated my scars for years, but over time I realized that my relationships with people had become more real. Now, I don’t want to go back to being the man I was.”
“Then
stop parading around our dorm room in the nude,” Bryan objected, laughing, and the other two joined in.
“Okay, let’s see if I can send this little thing,” Bryan said, turning back to the console. He accessed a different panel, located the item he needed, and selected it. The attached icon glowed, indicating the platform at the other end of the gate was clear, and Bryan touched it. The platform’s blue light merged with the dome, and the cube disappeared.
“Oh, for the love of Pyre,” Bryan said, exhaling in a rush. “I just sent a cube across the galaxy.”
“Probably the first human to ever do that,” Pete added, grinning.
“Come here, you two,” Olivia said, holding out her arms. She folded the men into a warm embrace. When she let go, she had tears in her eyes. “We have to recognize that the Jatouche only repaired our bodies. Yes, that’s been a shock to each of us. Now, we have to ask ourselves: What are we going to do with these gifts?”
“I think Captain Harbour is ahead of us,” Bryan replied. “Think about these twenty who are coming. Do they know what’s about to happen to them? And what about the critical ones? I mean, are they conscious? What happens when they wake up on Rissness Station, and they’re surrounded by alien faces?”
“Yeah, some really odd faces,” Pete added.
“It looks like we’re going to be their guides during the treatments,” Olivia said, “which reminds me. We need to instruct the twenty to hand over their comm units.”
“What are you thinking?” Pete asked.
“Zystal and the other medical directors might need images of the patients if they have facial damage,” Olivia replied.
The engineers continued their discussion for a while longer, leaning against the console. They talked about how to help the new patients, what they might need, and what fears they might face.
Bryan noticed a transfer panel light up. “Uh-oh,” he said, and the others followed his gaze, which was directed toward the platform. It lit, and two figures resolved, as the light faded.
“Kractik,” Olivia declared, clapping her hands in delight.
“I’m pleased to see you, again, Olivia, and you, Bryan,” the small alien replied, as she hopped down from the platform.
“How about me?” Pete asked plaintively.
“And, of course, you, handsome Pete,” Kractik replied, chittering.
“Okay, who told her?” Pete challenged, eyeing his companions.
Kractik interrupted the engineers’ exchange. “This is Ristick, the dome’s emergency medical director. He wishes to communicate with individuals who are knowledgeable about the injuries of the prospective clients.”
After introductions were complete, Olivia said, “The Splendid Metal is on approach, Kractik, we can contact them and translate between Ristick and the medical teams.”
Immediately, Kractik stepped to the console and her small digits flew over the panels.
“She makes it look easy,” Bryan commented.
In moments, they heard over the console, “This is the Splendid Metal, Captain Flannigan speaking. Identify yourself.”
“This is the Triton dome, Olivia Harden, Captain.”
“Good to hear from you, Olivia. We’re still a long way out from Triton,” Tanner replied.
“Understood, Captain. We have a Jatouche medical director here who wants to ask questions about the status of the injured. We can provide the translations,” Olivia said.
“Wait one,” Tanner replied.
After a few minutes, the Triton group heard, “This is Med Tech Jameson.”
Once Olivia explained the circumstances, Ristick held up his tablet, tapped a few times on it, and asked his first questions. She was relieved that his initial queries were general in nature. Ristick requested a name, the nature of the injuries, and the medical status of the first patient.
However, Ristick soon transitioned to more technical questions. Olivia had to ask for clarification of the medical terminology, and she ended up going back and forth between the two males just to establish an understanding of the question.
Aboard the Splendid Metal, Tracy made her way around the ship’s gravity wheel. She’d been in the ship’s meal room, when she heard from a crew member that the captain was talking to the dome. Tracy tapped politely at the hatch to the bridge, and the captain stepped away from the conversation.
“Yes, what is it?” Tanner inquired brusquely.
“This might help,” Tracy said, holding out a tiny ear wig.
“What is it?” Tanner asked.
“It’s a translation device. Maggie May gave it to me. She said she received it from Major Finian,” Tracy explained.
Tanner took the ear wig and examined it. “It’s a Jatouche device?” he asked.
“I don’t know anything about it, Captain,” Tracy replied. “When Maggie gave it to me, she said, ‘Use this when you want to understand the Jatouche.’”
“Thank you,” Tanner said, smiling. He interrupted the bridge conversation and handed the ear wig to Jameson, who was eager to test the device.
On the other end, Ristick repeated his last question. The bridge crew heard the same chittering nature of the Jatouche language, but this time, Jameson broke out in a smile and quickly answered.
Unfortunately, not all proceeded smoothly. It became evident that Ristick wanted medical information that Jameson couldn’t provide. It was simply a matter of the different levels of technology that the two species possessed. The medical director and the tech plowed on, sharing as much information about the injured Pyreans as they could, until they exhausted the subject.
Hours later, when the conversation ended, Kractik set the console and told the engineers that they would return before the Splendid Metal arrived. Ristick and she hopped up on the platform and left in the usual flash of light.
Aboard the mining ship, Jameson removed the ear wig and stared at it. “That’s ingenious,” he remarked breathlessly. “Ristick sounded like a human in this thing.”
Jameson attempted to hand the ear wig to the captain, but Tanner pointed at Tracy, who lounged at the hatch. “It’s hers,” he said.
“Not right now,” Tracy replied. “I’ll take it back before I go through the gate.”
* * * *
Daily, the engineers watched the progress of the Splendid Metal through the awe-inspiring capabilities of the Messinants console. Bryan would access a panel, run down submenus, and project the nearby system’s bodies and the ships. By trial and error, he learned how to touch two items at once — the mining ship and Triton. In response, the panel projected a series of glyphs.
“I wish we could read those,” Pete griped once again.
Olivia and Bryan had heard the complaint so many times, they’d tuned it out. Bryan decided to occupy his companions’ attention by forcing them to run many of the subroutines he’d memorized. One of the more enjoyable exercises was to call the Belle and chat with the bridge crew.
One day, Harbour, walking past the bridge hatch, discovered a large group crowded onto the bridge. Crew, residents, and empaths filled every meter of the deck, and a few children were hoisted on adult shoulders. The engineers could be seen on the monitor, and they were regaling their audience with tales about their initial medical examinations. She heard Bryan exclaim, “That’s when Zystal asked if I wanted symmetry.”
Harbour heard Bryan’s audience roar with laughter. As she walked on, she heard Bryan say, “I had to give that one some thought.” Another round of laughter faded, as she turned a corner. Harbour smiled. In the engineers’ inimitable way, they were teaching her people that there was no need to be frightened of the aliens.
One morning, it was Olivia’s turn to run through the basic subroutines. She wasn’t as quick as Kractik, but she was becoming quite skilled.
“The Splendid Metal has to be close,” Pete said, examining the distance between the ship’s icon and that of Triton.
“Time to call the ship,” Bryan said, looking at Pete.
Oli
via stepped aside, and Pete sucked on a lower lip before he reset the panel to the primary menu and dove down the submenus to the comm section. When the ships were displayed, he touched the ship’s icon, which was next to their moon.
“Captain, it’s that same odd ID,” the second mate of the mining ship said, when he saw his comm panel light.
“Put it on speakers, and call Jameson, in case we need that ear wig,” Tanner replied. When the second mate cued him, Tanner said, “Captain Flannigan here.”
“This is the Triton dome, Captain. Pete Jennings here. We’re checking in with you. The console’s display shows you’re close, but we can’t read the glyphs that it displays.”
“We’ll begin deceleration in fourteen hours,” Tanner replied. “We expect rendezvous over the Triton dome in less than two days.”
“How are the patients doing?” Olivia asked.
“They’re stable. Thank you for asking,” Tanner replied. “The med techs had to jumpstart three of them, one twice. They say the deceleration and the transfer are going to put them in jeopardy.”
“Do they know where they’re going?” Bryan asked.
“Most do. It doesn’t seem to matter. They know there isn’t much choice,” Tanner said. “One thing has helped. We played the Belle’s broadcast of your arrival. Many of them remembered Pete and Bryan. The new images have given them strength to hold on.”
“How’s your first mate, Barber?” Bryan asked.
“He’s the individual the med techs had to start twice. He’s the most seriously injured,” Tanner replied. His voice dropped in strength, when he spoke. There was a pause in the conversation until Tanner resumed. “Are the Jatouche standing by?”
“Negative, Captain,” Olivia replied. “They haven’t returned yet.”
“Wait one,” Tanner ordered. Turning to his second mate, he ordered some select individuals to the bridge. When they were assembled, Tanner resumed the call. “I have the key people with me who will be responsible for the landing and the transfer. Talk us through what to expect.”
The engineers discussed the landing point on the plains, the type of ground rubble that would be encountered, and the dome’s entrance tunnel.