by S. H. Jucha
“Commander, a word of advice,” Z added. “You’ve an enticing secret here. It’s one that’ll attract the attention of engineers and SADEs. Support their efforts, and you’ll be rewarded with their services.”
“The domes,” Jess surmised.
“Precisely,” Z replied.
Jess left the SADEs, paused in the corridor, and accessed the information online. He located the datapoints he needed, studied them, and grinned. He had the necessary information to make his first offers.
Renée laughed and closed the links before a protracted image war could start.
Tacnock was the first individual on Jess’s list, and he requested his friend meet him in the grand park, where they sat on a bench. Jess took a breath before he started his pitch, and Tacnock chittered.
“What?” Jess asked.
“Thank you. I’m proud to accept the appointment. How much is the stipend?” Tacnock replied.
“How did you find out?” Jess sputtered. He couldn’t believe the SADEs had shared his conversation with them.
Tacnock chittered until he hiccupped “Jess, we know you and your priorities. The first thing you’d do is recruit the attack leaders.”
“I wish someone would explain my priorities to me,” Jess groaned. “So, should I ask you who will accept and who’ll refuse my offer?”
“Well, we haven’t chosen our assault sub-commanders. That would be a little premature. We have been choosing the first planets each of us would like to rescue,” Tacnock replied, and Jess raised an eyebrow.
“Can I ask who you’re referring to when you say we and us?” Jess requested, feeling he was far behind in the selection process.
Tacnock gazed at his friend, and his expression turned serious. “Jess, experienced veterans have worked closely with you in life-and-death situations. We know there are only four carriers, which means only four posts are available for now. Homsaff told us she claimed one. That left Aputi, Sam, Menous, the four Sylian commanders, and me. Sam remains focused on Pimbor security, and Menous excused himself from consideration.”
“No implant for Menous,” Jess said in commiseration.
“Correct,” Tacnock replied. “He’s chosen to wait until his government approves its citizens’ adoption.”
“Three slots and six qualified individuals,” Jess mused. “I’m curious as to how you solved this puzzle for me.”
Tacnock briefly ducked his head rather than flash his teeth.
“Aputi is interested but conflicted. He loves the idea that the outpost is in Pyrean space,” Tacnock replied. “As for me, I would receive credits for what I’ve been doing and an unending supply of fruit juices. What’s not to enjoy?”
Jess caught Tacnock’s conspiratorial rise of bushy eyebrows, and he twigged to the hint. “Yes, the Jatouche medical station,” he replied.
“Precisely, as the SADEs would say,” Tacnock remarked. “A returning hero, an important role in the resistance ... I’ll be a desirable mate to the many Jatouche females serving aboard the center.”
“And here I thought you wanted to be near me,” Jess said, feigning to be hurt.
“You have your female,” Tacnock retorted. “It’s time I had the favors of one.”
“That’s Homsaff and you aboard. Aputi, as you say, is interested,” Jess recounted. “I’m missing an assault leader.”
“The Sylian commanders met and selected one of their own. They’re offering their choice to you,” Tacnock said. “It’s Commander Sastisona.”
“I’m sorry to lose Menous, but I like Sastisona. She’s competent, smart, steady,” Jess said.
“Menous does have requests,” Tacnock said. “He wishes his brassards to remain together, and his preference is to have his command assigned to Homsaff’s carrier.”
“How does Homsaff feel about that?”
“The goddess has deigned to accept responsibility for the Norsitchians,” Tacnock replied, chittering at his tease of the queen.
“Then you need only one thing from me ... your stipend,” Jess said, and he sent the figure.
“This is per quarter annual?” Tacnock asked, incredulous at the sum in his implant.
Jess checked the log of what he’d sent. “That’s the label,” he acknowledged. “The SADEs equated the assault leader’s position to that of an Omnian fleet commodore.”
“Maybe the medical center females don’t deserve me,” Tacnock muttered, in awe of his newfound income.
“On to the next individual on my list,” Jess said, chuckling and rising.
Tacnock reached a small hand to touch Jess’s forearm to delay his departure “If you wish, you can wait here,” he said. “Who would you like to see first? They’re waiting by a stream.”
“Is Menous there?” Jess asked.
“He is,” Tacnock replied soberly.
“Send him to me,” Jess requested.
Jess spoke to Menous for a few minutes. It was long enough to understand that Menous was committed to waiting for the Norsitchian governing collective to make a decision.
“I’ll keep the brassards together,” Jess told Menous, “and you can serve under Homsaff’s command.”
“We appreciate the opportunity you offer, Commander,” Menous replied. He saluted Jess and left to deliver the good news to his troops.
Jess thought the conversation with Homsaff would be short. He shared the stipend amount, which didn’t faze the queen, and he asked why.
“On Omnia, the Dischnya run farms and collaborate to sell their products under a central market,” Homsaff explained. “That allows the soma to share the proceeds. My race has chosen to abandon the warrior way and become entrepreneurial.”
“So, you receive credits from the sale of crops to Omnians,” Jess surmised.
“The Dischnya sell to most human colonies. Our harvests are in great demand,” Homsaff replied.
“Do you not want the stipend?” Jess asked in confusion.
“I accept it as recognition of my service, Commander,” Homsaff replied. “I’ll share with you the fact that my income from Omnia is several times greater than the stipend you offer. That’s why I didn’t appear excited when you sent me the amount. My apologies if I appeared ungrateful.”
“Do the warriors receive income from Omnia?” Jess asked.
“Yes, but they’ll appreciate the payments for their services,” Homsaff replied. Then, in afterthought, she added, “Almost as much as they appreciate the opportunity to hunt the insectoids.”
When it was Aputi’s turn, Jess found him to be nervous.
“What is it, Major?” Jess inquired.
“In the meeting the veterans held, they assumed I would stand for an assault leader’s position,” Aputi replied, “but I don’t think I’m qualified to be responsible for two hundred troopers.”
“Okay,” Jess said easily. “Please suggest your replacement.”
Aputi frowned and said, “There are the other Sylian commanders. Each of them has led that many troops.”
“Let’s check your opinion,” Jess offered. He linked to Aputi and then requested Julien link them to every Sylian, except for the four senior commanders.
Aputi was aghast that Jess was testing his reputation in this way. At the same time, he was curious as to the response.
Julien received the Sylians’ answers and closed the links.
Julien replied and closed the link.
“There you have it, Aputi,” Jess said. “I want you as an assault leader. The Sylians believe you deserve to be one. Do you have any other objections or concerns?”
“I accept, as long as you agree to dismiss me the moment you think I’m not doing an adequate job,” Aputi said determinedly. “No excuses accepted, and no second chances given.”
“Done,” Jess said, rising with Aputi and clasping the Pyrean’s forearms.
The final interview was with Sastisona, the Sylian commander.
Jess had assumed the Sylian females’ blinding white coats would be detriments in hunting the insectoids. However, their lightning-quick reflexes frequently saved them.
“Your consideration of my nomination by the other commanders is appreciated,” Sastisona said formally. She stood at attention and waited to be addressed.
“Take a seat, Commander,” Jess offered, and Sastisona sat stiffly beside him.
“You’ve been the senior commander of a quarter of the Sylian troops,” Jess said. “In itself, that’s a strong recommendation. More important, according to the SADEs, your troops have suffered the least accidents and fatalities.”
“We were fortunate,” Sastisona offered.
“Well, if we’re to succeed, we’ll need that kind of fortune. Welcome aboard,” Jess said.
“I’m pleased to be accepted,” Sastisona replied, flashing her canines.
Jess saw the Sylian finally relax her posture.
32: Outpost One
“How’s Jess doing?” Renée asked, as she served Alex and Tatia thé.
“Exceedingly well,” Tatia replied. “He has his four assault leaders.”
“Including Menous?” Alex asked, with concern.
“The Norsitchian excused himself,” Julien replied. “The others are who you would expect, plus a Sylian commander, Sastisona.”
“I think the commander, the fleet admiral, and the assault leaders need a unifying element,” Renée said. Then she sent a private request to Miranda.
During the conversation, the group felt the exit from the fleet’s initial transit to the Pyrean system, and they left the suite for the city-ship’s bridge. Jess and Lucia were already there.
While the conversation ensued, Julien activated the holo-vid. He located an Omnian freighter, whose sensors had a stunning view of the partially constructed outpost station, and he relayed the images to the holo-vid.
When Jess saw that the station wasn’t rotating, his first thought was that zero gravity made it easier for crews to move and place the heavier materials — beams and plating. Then he realized that the outpost was an Omnian design. Rotation wouldn’t be necessary. The entire station would be constructed with grav plating.
Crimsa’s light illuminated half the station, giving it the appearance of a child’s top lit from the side. Except this top had wings at multiple levels.
Alex smiled, as Jess and Lucia continued to question Cordelia, and the SADE, in her usual calm, patient manner, answered each one.
Alex, Renée, and Tatia left Jess and Lucia to their discussion with the SADEs. The pair of humans were absent from the next meal, and Renée sent trays to the bridge.
The next morning, the inbound fleet completed its short transit near Pyre and closed on the outpost.
Mickey took a traveler and was present for morning meal, as was Cordelia, which made Pia and Julien happy.
When Jess woke, he found the bed empty. He reached out to Lucia, and she sent to him that she’d meet him in the dining room.
Per Renée’s instructions, the head table of the dining room, where the leaders ate, was enlarged by the servers. It was set up to accommodate the usual individuals plus the new arrivals and four assault leaders.
Orders for meals had just been placed by the table’s occupants, when Renée cheerfully said, “Here’s our new fleet admiral,” and the table turned to follow her outstretched arm.
Lucia stood smiling in a new uniform.
The morning’s diners called out and stomped their feet, and Lucia held out her arms and turned in a circle, soaking in the admiration.
“I took the liberty of having Miranda create this for you, Commander,” Renée said. “Do you approve?”
Jess stopped grinning long enough to remark, “I’ve always approved of this woman.”
“I was referring to the uniform, Commander,” Renée replied. “But, perhaps, your reply is the better one.”
Lucia was beaming.
Renée had never seen Lucia display such unabashed happiness, and she wished the couple long life.
Lucia stepped close to Jess so he could see the details.
The uniform was patterned on Omnia Ships’ simple military style. However, where the Omnia uniform was a dark blue, this one was black. A short standup collar carried the gold insignias of rank and department. Shoulder badges held a portion of the alliance star field, as background, and were emblazoned with a gold number one.
Jess glanced toward Miranda, who stood behind Alex, and the SADE replied, “Fittings for you and the assault leaders will follow the meal, Commander, unless you request changes. We recommend you outsource the fabrication of outpost uniforms to Pyre.”
The Omnians observed the grinning faces of the outpost leaders, and they smiled.
Renée reached a hand under the table and squeezed Alex’s.
“Does anyone want a tour?” Mickey asked the table
. “It’ll have to be in environment suits.” He had plenty of takers.
After the uniform fittings were completed, with no changes from Jess, individuals donned environment suits for the trip to the outpost.
Seated across from Mickey aboard the traveler, Jess asked, “What’s the outpost’s designation?”
Mickey glanced toward Alex, who nodded. Then the engineer said, “It doesn’t have a name yet. We thought that right belonged to someone else.”
Then it was Jess’s turn to regard Alex, who said, “Mickey means you, Commander.”
“I appreciate the honor,” Jess said. “I’ll have to give it some thought.”
“Be forewarned, Commander,” Mickey said. “The Pyreans hope you’ll designate the station as Outpost One: Harbour.”
“It’s a good name,” Jess replied, but he didn’t say anymore.
When the traveler landed in one of the outpost’s bays capable of pressurization, the group exited the ship and toured the completed levels. The interiors were unfinished and unpressurized, and endless runs of cabling and venting were visible.
Mickey fielded questions from the outpost’s six new appointees until the suits’ air tanks ran low. Then he returned the group to the bay.
With faceplates up, Jess asked, “Mickey, what’s the status of the carriers?”
“They’re hauling goods from alliance worlds,” Mickey replied. “We started storing the deliveries on Triton, but we ran out of room. After that, we’ve been offloading the carriers to Pyre.”
“Can the carriers be freed from freight duty?” Lucia asked.
Mickey glanced toward Alex, who said, “The carriers belong to the resistance, Mickey. They’re Omnia Ships’ contributions to the fight. You’re speaking to the resistance’s leader and fleet admiral.”
Jess was reminded of Z’s advice, and he interrupted Mickey’s response with an upraised hand. “Let me rephrase what we’re asking,” he said. “When would it be advantageous to the outpost’s construction schedule to release the carriers from freight duty?”
Mickey smiled, and he replied, “Miriam and Luther can provide the calculation for us based on what the alliance races are providing. I appreciate the cooperation, Commander.”