Conclave (The Silver Ships Book 20)

by S. H. Jucha

Nikki sent, ending with a chuckle about her jab.

  Alex queried.

  Nikki sent.

  When Nikki trailed off, Alex felt that his suggestion might be accepted. he sent.

  Nikki shot back. Her thought carried annoyance and relief.

  Alex sent and closed the link.

  At nine hours, Nikki stepped in front of the presidential home to stand before a huge phalanx of reporters and floating vid cams. Her confidence was buoyed by Alex’s offer and his presentation at Monterey.

  Portia guided who would ask questions, and the reporters knew her to be unforgiving if they betrayed her trust.

  “President Fowler, have you seen the images from Monterey?” a reporter asked.

  Nikki laughed good-naturedly at the question. “What do you think I was doing in my robe in the early morning hours?” she asked. “I had a direct feed. Alex is extremely courteous about such things.”

  “Why not wait until tomorrow, when the conclave starts?” a woman asked.

  “I think the first question was meant for you,” Nikki replied. “Didn’t you watch the recording?”

  The reporters laughed at Nikki’s ability to turn awkward or absurd questions back on a reporter.

  Portia moved on to another individual, who was happy to be able to prove Nikki’s point. “Alex said that the Swei Swee had been aboard the ship too long. Were the Swei Swee ill?”

  “Not physically,” Nikki replied. “You have to know that the Swei Swee swim and hunt for their food every day, regardless of whether the seas are calm. Imagine that is your life’s routine, but you must cease it for months. It was a difficult transition from them to make.”

  “Still, one more day,” the woman, who hadn’t received an answer to her question, called out. She didn’t know it, but she’d just lost her privileges with Portia.

  “I thought the answer to that question was obvious,” Nikki replied, having none of the woman’s attitude. “How many of you would call the Swei Swee friends?” She scanned the reporters and waited for a response. “I thought so. Well, neither would I. How many of you would even care to learn to whistle, tweet, and warble in their language?”

  Nikki raised a dismissive hand. “Don’t bother thinking that through. None of us would. The bold truth is the Swei Swee, those gigantic, ocean-going, scary-looking sentients, are Alex’s friends. If your companions were ailing, how long would you wait to relieve their suffering?”

  After allowing the reporters a few moments to consider her words, she added, “We all need friends like Alex.”

  Portia triggered a holo-vid to Nikki’s left, and a view of Monterey Bay sprang to light.

  “I’ve a treat for you,” Nikki announced.

  Immediately, the vid drones swarmed to capture the holo-vid’s display. Their tiny controllers kept them from bumping into one another.

  “The young woman who captured the original recording departed the scene soon after the Swei Swee dove into the surf,” Nikki explained. “This incident happened a little later.”

  The audience watched the scene of the young surfer tumbling in a wave and failing to surface until he rose on the back of Wave Skimmer.

  “After this incident, the Swei Swee played with the surfers. Then they invented a competition, which they’ve been performing for a while,” Nikki continued. “Alex left instructions with the traveler pilots to monitor the Swei Swee. If Wave Skimmer, Swift Eyes, or Deep Diver sensed danger or dusk fell, they were to skim the wavetops and leap aboard the shuttles.”

  The audience watched a cargo model shuttle face its aft end toward a Swei Swee, who floated about fifty meters away. The ship hovered approximately three meters above the wavetops.

  “Watch this,” Nikki instructed. “Unless I miss my guess, that’s Deep Diver, who will make the attempt.”

  The view shifted. A pilot had a close view of Deep Diver. The Swei Swee’s four orbs were spread wide.

  “What’s Deep Diver doing, Madam President?” a well-known reporter asked respectfully.

  From the holo-vid base, the audience heard, “Deep Diver is watching the wave movements and calculating the timing of his run.”

  “That’s Hector, the SADE who captains one of the city-ships, the Our People,” Portia said.

  Suddenly, the four stalks focused forward, and the scene switched to that of another pilot.

  Deep Diver’s multiple legs drove him forward. He hit a trough, stroked up the next wave, and launched off its crest. Continually building momentum, Deep Diver hit the last crest and leapt the intervening distance to the traveler’s ramp. As his weight struck the ramp, the ship momentarily rocked.

  The display shifted again, and the reporters saw a throng of people applaud the performance.

  “Madam President, isn’t Alex afraid the Swei Swee might be hurt?” a reporter asked, without being recognized, and he earned a scowl from Portia.

  “I had many of the thoughts that you’re expressing,” Nikki said. “Then it occurred to me that Alex wouldn’t let them play a dangerous game. More than likely, the Swei Swee could leap higher, but the pilots probably won’t ascend any farther.”

  A young woman, who stood at the back of the group, raised her hand. She was a new recruit of her media outlet, but Portia liked her.

  When Portia signaled the young woman, she said, “Madam President, pardon the complex question. I would think the Swei Swee might be the most fearsome-appearing aliens to attend the conclave. Isn’t it to your advantage to have this preview of the attendees so well accepted by our people?”

  Nikki sent privately to Portia.

  “Do I think that Alex staged this performance for the benefit of the conclave, which is his idea?” Nikki asked rhetorically. “Absolutely not. Does the manner in which it unfolded benefit the conclave and help to relieve our citizens’ fears? Yes, absolutely.”

  Nikki held up both hands to end the questions, thanked the reporters, and returned to the presidential quarters.

  Portia told the reporters that the holo-vid would continue to run for another quarter hour for their benefit. Then she followed Nikki.

  * * * * *

  Suntred and Miriamette’s traveler landed aboard the Freedom.

  When the bay was readied, Ellie passed through the airlock and strode across the deck.

  The traveler was a shuttle model, which enabled Suntred some dignity when she boarded or exited an Omnian shuttle. Toralian long toes, by which the race hung to rest or sleep, were curled and ensconced in soft boots, which couldn’t easily navigate the hatch steps of the standard traveler model.

  Suntred greeted Ellie enthusiastically, with a delicate handshake. “Delightful to see you, Admiral,” she said.

  “And you, Vice President Suntred,” Ellie returned, which had Suntred flashing her pointed teeth and fluttering her wings.

  Turning to Miriamette, Ellie opened her arms, and the SADE gratefully stepped into the embrace.

  “Someday, Toralians must find a way to enjoy those,” Suntred lamented. She imagined a strong grasp around her delicate chest bones and fragile wings, and she shuddered. “Then again, maybe not,” she added.

  Ellie and Miriamette laughed good-naturedly at Suntred.

  “There are many other things to appreciate about relationships,” Miriamette consoled.

  “True,” Suntred replied, brightening. “Such as partnerships. Wouldn’t you agree, Admiral?”

  When Ellie nodded thoughtfully, Suntred signaled the traveler’s other occupant, and Étienne
descended. Simultaneously, he unblocked his bio ID and stepped into Ellie’s view.

  Tears glistened in Ellie’s eyes, and the pair ran to enfold each other.

  When Ellie and Étienne released, they rejoined Suntred and Miriamette.

  “Nice surprise, Madam Delegate,” Ellie said. “You’ve become proficient with your implant.”

  “It was our pleasure, Admiral,” Suntred replied. “You and your kind have done much for Talus. A little gift seems like such a paltry reward. Although ...” pausing, she got a gleam in her eye and added, “it was fun.”

  When the laughter died, Suntred said, “Well, to business. Who do we meet before the event begins?”

  In the foursome’s implants and comm, they heard,

  Then Franz Cohen strode into the bay.

  Suntred glanced at Miriamette, who wore one of the widest smiles she’d ever seen on the SADE.

  Franz greeted Étienne with a hug. Then he turned to Suntred, opened his arms wide, adopted a broad grin, and waggled his eyebrows.

  Suntred’s hissing intake of breath indicated her laughter at the absurdity of the offer. “Get those monstrous arms away from me, Omnian,” she said, waving at him to back up.

  Franz chuckled. Then he regarded Miriamette, who he’d actually come to greet. “How about you?” he asked casually.

  Suddenly, Franz exhaled heavily when Miriamette impacted him.

  Miriamette sent privately. Her emotional algorithms had indicated desires to be with humans again, but she’d not realized how much she’d suppressed those codes in her hierarchy.

  When Miriamette’s decorum returned, she stepped to Suntred’s side.

  “Any more?” Suntred inquired, gazing at Ellie.

  “Not until tomorrow,” Ellie warned.

  “I intend to pretend the other delegates are invaders of Talusian space and treat them as such,” Suntred riposted. When Ellie frowned, she touched the admiral’s forearm. “That was human humor. I’ve been practicing.”

  “And I thought the surprises were over,” Ellie remarked, shaking her head.

  “Not yet,” Renée announced, stepping into the bay. “Ellie, Étienne, you’re relieved of escort duty of our Talusian delegate,” she announced. “Enjoy some time in the park or wherever and then make for the presidential home. Alex has secured Nikki’s approval. Apparently, she’s extremely grateful.”

  “Good news,” Ellie replied. She glanced with concern at Suntred.

  “Go,” Suntred urged, indicating Étienne with a tip of her head.

  Ellie smiled gratefully at Suntred and Miriamette. Then Étienne and she swiftly exited the bay.

  “Admiral Thompson supports the Sol president?” Suntred inquired.

  “Yes,” Renée replied. “Ellie, Étienne, and Hector will be present to continually advise the president on the issues that emerge. Renée touched her temple to indicate the contact method.

  “Excellent choices,” Suntred said, nodding her approval. “Admiral Thompson’s efforts at Talus produced superb results for Talusians.”

  Ellie considered the limited time available to Étienne and her. She knew what she wanted, but she also knew what her partner needed. Rather than heading for her suite, Ellie selected the central deck, and their lift opened to the city-ship’s grand park.

  Étienne surveyed the expanse of green. Streams murmured, and small birds chirped and sang.

  Ellie heard Étienne’s deep exhale. The park gave him an opportunity to decompress after such an extended time aboard a Trident.

  “Come,” Ellie said, drawing Étienne forward by the hand. She led him to a stream, where they removed their ship boots to enjoy the feel of grass.

  The pair sat by a stream and watched the fish swim until Ellie’s implant chronometer signaled that it was time.

  When Ellie stirred, Étienne queried, “You’re headed planetside?”

  Ellie laughed quietly. “Forgot to tell you, love. We’re headed planetside. You’re joining Hector and me in advising the president. I hope you don’t mind being drafted.”

  Étienne leaned over and kissed Ellie’s cheek. “Wherever you go, my love,” he said simply. Then he rose and offered Ellie his hand. When he gripped her hand and pulled her upright, he detected her elevated awareness.

  “What?” Étienne asked.

  “What we have to do for Nikki makes me nervous,” Ellie replied.

  “Why?” Étienne asked.

  “Alex is counting on the conclave leading to some form of galactic community,” Ellie replied. “I don’t want to let him down. He’s done so much for many of us, especially those of us who were trapped on Libre and not likely to have launched the city-ships in time.”

  “Ellie, you were extremely effective at Talus. Don’t change a thing about how you would advise Nikki,” Étienne counseled. “She might be the Sol Enclave president, but she’s in need of our guidance.”

  After a moment to think, Étienne added, “Remember, we’ve got two massive fleets to back up our instructions to her.”

  The pair laughed, but Ellie didn’t sound as confident as Étienne.

  33: Little Time

  Hector’s traveler launched from the Our People and rendezvoused with the Freedom. Ellie and Étienne were waiting for him, and they quickly boarded. Then the pilot exited the bay and dropped planetside.

  The trio took some time to enjoy the beauty of the planet that opened below them.

  “Earthers have made such wonderful progress restoring their planet,” Ellie commented.

  “The movement of heavy industries to Mars did much for their environment,” Étienne supplied.

  “I believe a significant advantage was delivered with the use of shell ships,” Hector added. “Eliminating shuttle launches served the Earth well.”

  There was a pause, and then Hector said, “Admiral, I noted rises in your bio data. Is there cause for concern?”

  “Never any privacy around a partner or a SADE,” Ellie grumped. She leaned across and affectionately patted Hector’s knee. “Both of you have a habit of making me confront my fears.”

  “And what do you fear, Admiral?” Hector inquired. When the SADE didn’t receive an answer, he selected the best option his programming offered. “You don’t wish to disappoint Alex either.”

  Ellie laughed nervously. “Good to know that I’m not alone.”

  The pair regarded Étienne, who calmly returned their gaze.

  “Why aren’t you unsettled by the responsibility, Captain?” Hector asked.

  “We can only try our best,” Étienne replied. “That’s all Alex has ever asked of us. The success of the conclave doesn’t rest on us. There are too many moving parts to control.”

  “What will be your approach, Captain?” Hector queried.

  “Don’t focus on the broader image. That’s our leaders’ jobs,” Étienne offered. “Instead, pay attention to the president and what will come her way. Our advice must assist her with backgrounds to understand the nature of the question or concern that is posed, and it must help her with crafting responses.”

  While Ellie and Hector considered Étienne’s thoughts, he added, “Never forget that from the outset the conclave will have its supporters and detractors. Our job is to help the president turn the latter into the former.”

  The pilot halted the traveler’s descent a mere half meter above the circle that framed the front of the presidential home. He dropped the hatch, and the trio exited the ship. Then the traveler rose silently into the air and was soon gone from sight.

  Nikki stood on the wide stone steps that commanded the front of the house. “I never get tired of watching that,” she said, pointing at the disappearing ship. “And to think that Swei Swee spit started that.”

  Ellie and Étienne laughed at the memories of the discovery, and Mickey Brandon’s coining of the phrase.

  “Welcome, you three,” Nikki said, waving them inside.

  Portia
served thé to Ellie and Étienne, and caf to Nikki and her.

  “So, what am I facing?” Nikki asked, without preamble. She glanced from one to another and waited for a response.

  “Might I suggest an experiment first, Madam President?” Hector inquired.

  Nikki frowned at the considerate approach. She held up a hand and said, “I’ve known about all of you when you were Harakens and then Omnians. Sol owes you. Now we face a different threat, a potentially messy political snarl. Let’s drop the politeness and the titles and make this work. Shall we?”

  “Couldn’t have said it better,” Ellie replied.

  Instantly, Nikki’s implant was linked in a five-way conference.

  On Hector’s cue, four of them sent their thoughts to Nikki at the same time.

  “Stop,” Nikki called out. She shook her head, as if that would clear her implant. “That was unsettling.”

  “Communication overload,” Hector said quietly. “If your implant remains open, then you’ll be inundated by sendings.”

  “By whom?” Portia asked, in a concerned voice.

  “The Confederation Leaders are adept at implant communications,” Ellie replied. “Most of them are generous individuals, but some aren’t. Everyone will want to be heard, one way or another.”

  “There are a few alliance delegates, who have implants, but these individuals serve Resistance leaders,” Hector added. “They aren’t a significant concern.”

  “How do we protect the president?” Portia inquired.

  Hector held up a finger to delay his response. Then he initiated the conference link again and instructed everyone to speak.

  What Nikki heard were Hector’s thoughts, informing her as to the individuals vying for her attention via implant. She saw a text list and a short phrase about their contacts.

  Nikki smiled. “I’ll have my very own filter,” she remarked, pointing at Hector.

  “Recognize, Madam President, sometimes I’ll be on the list, as I might wish to contribute advice,” Hector advised.