Veklocks

by S. H. Jucha

  “Acceptable,” Patrus intoned. He waved an imperial hand at Aurelia to indicate that she should end the call, which she did.

  Devon recognized that Aurelia was perturbed by Patrus, and he suspected that she might be calling on her powers. He slipped his hand into hers and squeezed lightly and was happy to see her relax. He was rewarded with her smile.

  “Prepare our transport,” Patrus ordered. Addressing Jaktook, he added, “We’ll return to our home world and revisit Rissness within twenty-one cycles.”

  “As you wish, Patrus,” Jaktook replied. “I’ll inform Her Excellency of your decision.”

  “Next time, Advisor,” Patrus said, bending over to bring his beak close to Jaktook, “we expect more complete information.” He snapped his beak sharply.

  The triumvirate had barely gained the platform before Aurelia sent them on their way.

  Everyone, but Jaktook, was angry at Patrus’s treatment of the ruler’s advisor, but Jaktook was chittering and his bushy tail was swinging to and fro.

  When Jaktook saw his companions’ surprised faces, he said, “You can count on the arrogance of the alliance’s early founders.”

  “What don’t I understand?” Sasha asked, with a puzzled expression.

  “And I want to know why you didn’t tell the Veklocks about the need for vac suits,” Devon said.

  “Tacticnok,” Aurelia guessed, and Jaktook patted her hand.

  “Her Excellency wanted to be present for the negotiations, in case her advice might be needed,” Jaktook explained. “However, due to a stricture that citizenry has placed on our rulers, she can’t journey to a non-alliance dome. When I discovered Harbour wasn’t here or nearby, I realized the Veklocks wouldn’t want to wait. They believe their time is too valuable, and they’re spoiled by the alliance’s superior infrastructure.”

  “Now our people can meet with the Veklocks aboard Rissness Station with Tacticnok present,” Tracy concluded. “Clever,” she added, pulling gently on the tip of Jaktook’s tail, and he chittered his amusement.

  “Before we leave,” Jaktook said, eyeing Devon and Aurelia, “I’ve gifts for the two of you.” He turned to Kractik, who produced a small metal case and extracted a medallion.

  “If you would, Aurelia,” Jaktook said, gesturing for her to come close, and she chose to kneel before him. “Her Excellency Tacticnok pays homage to a courageous explorer with this medallion, which will announce your status to every alliance member.”

  Jaktook slipped the silver chain around Aurelia’s neck and linked the two ends. Immediately, the medallion broadcast its message.

  Aurelia hugged Jaktook and said, “Thank you.”

  “Your tribute belongs to Her Excellency, but I’m honored to accept it in her stead,” Jaktook replied.

  Kractik held a second case for Jaktook. He took it, opened it, and turned its opening toward Kractik, who flashed her teeth.

  “It’s your turn, Devon,” Kractik said, taking the medallion from the case.

  Devon knelt to facilitate Kractik fastening the chain around his neck. “Thank you,” he said, when Kractik had repeated the words that bestowed the gift and fastened the chain.

  When Devon tried to stand, a hand on his shoulder kept him in place. He eyed Aurelia, who had pinned him down. Her eyes swung toward Kractik, and Devon belatedly realized the Jatouche was holding her arms open. Admitting that he needed to reciprocate, he briefly hugged Kractik.

  Kractik chittered at Devon’s truncated embrace.

  Aurelia laughed and assured Kractik, saying, “We’ll work on him.”

  Jaktook handed the cases to Devon and Aurelia. Kractik and he said their goodbyes and ascended the platform. When Jaktook signaled he was ready, Devon activated a panel and the platform flashed.

  “Well,” Aurelia said to the others, “who’s hungry for some paste?”

  * * * *

  “Twenty more,” Harbour celebrated.

  Jessie glanced toward Maggie. Then he looked at Harbour, who nodded her approval.

  “Maggie,” Jessie called, and the Pit manager hurried to their table.

  “How would you like to have two good arms again?” Jessie asked, with a wide grin.

  “The Jatouche?” Maggie inquired, having seen the interplay on the monitor, and Jessie’s eyebrows tweaked upward. “How many can go?” she asked.

  “Twenty more,” Harbour replied.

  As Maggie considered the offer, a frown formed on her face. Then she said, “There are many more spacers in worse shape than me. If you want my advice, take anyone in medical who’s critical and any spacer missing two or more limbs. Don’t play favorites, Captain,” she admonished.

  Harbour sent her admiration toward Maggie, who smiled in appreciation of the sensation.

  Maggie returned to her work, wondering if she’d made a mistake. The answer to Jessie’s question was that she’d love to have two good arms. She couldn’t believe the appearance of the three engineers, who the Jatouche had first repaired. Thereafter, more spacers had returned, appearing not only whole but looking years younger. She wondered if this next twenty would be the final group to go. Then she smiled. Not if Harbour and Jessie have anything to say about it, she thought.

  Jessie took one look at Harbour’s face and laughed. “You want to reschedule our petition to the Review Board and go now,” he said.

  “You don’t?” Harbour challenged, knowing full well that Jessie wanted spacers repaired as much as she did.

  A wry grin twisted Jessie’s face. “It’s worth noting that spacers and stationers will never be able to compete with downsiders’ financial skills. Consider our present circumstances. We’re choosing to postpone an opportunity to earn a fortune in reimbursements to repair twenty spacers.”

  “And to meet with the Tsargit emissaries,” Harbour pointed out. “The Tsargit represents a far greater potential for Pyre than our reimbursements.”

  “There’s that,” Jessie allowed, “but one benefits us and the other benefits Pyre.”

  Harbour smiled at Jessie and picked up her comm unit. Jessie considered business ramifications first. That had been his role as a captain and, later, as a company owner, but she knew that in his heart, people were more important to him than any deal.

  “Director Formass, we’ve received another offer,” Harbour said.

  “My staff was entranced by the dome channel, and they called my attention to it,” Theo, the JOS medical director, answered. “I saw the new species.”

  “The Veklocks represent the Tsargit,” Harbour explained. “We’ll be journeying to Rissness Station to meet with them.”

  “I presume this call is about taking citizens with you for the Jatouche to repair,” Theo said.

  “Another twenty,” Harbour replied. “How many critical are there?”

  “Four, but I don’t think any of them can withstand the trip aboard a mining ship and its shuttle drop,” Theo replied.

  “How about aboard the Belle and a landing in our new shuttle?” Harbour proposed.

  “That would be a tremendous help,” Theo replied, “but I’m afraid they need the care of our medical center.”

  “Then transfer the medical equipment that they’ll need to the Belle’s medical suite,” Harbour said.

  Theo’s pause caused Jessie to interrupt. “What do you need, Theo?” Jessie asked.

  “Permission, for one thing,” Theo replied. “I can’t approve the transfer of so much equipment and supplies from medical.”

  “Wait one,” Harbour replied. She placed a call to Liam and added him to the conversation.

  “Liam, Theo needs permission to move equipment to the Belle’s medical suite,” Harbour said, without a greeting. “We can take twenty more to Rissness Station.”

  “Why are you moving equipment, Theo?” Liam asked.

  Jessie saw Harbour’s jaw tighten. She didn’t expect Liam to question her request, but Jessie thought Liam was only doing his job.

  “Harbour wants to take four critical
patients aboard the colony ship, Liam,” Theo replied. “They’ll need extensive support if they’re to survive the crossing.”

  “If it’s a matter of coin, we’ll fund it,” Jessie offered.

  “Can you spare the equipment, Theo?” Liam asked.

  “We can, if we eventually get the stuff back,” Theo replied.

  “Then transfer the injured and the equipment, Theo,” Liam said. “I’ll record my approval for your records. And, Jessie, thank you for the offer of coin, but it’s refused. I suggest you add an emergency medical flight to your Review Board petition. Do I take it the board meeting will be postponed?”

  “It will be,” Jessie replied.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but we do have one problem,” Theo said. “One of the critical is a downsider.”

  “Who?” Liam asked.

  “Idrian Tuttle’s son was badly injured in a foolish accident,” Theo replied.

  “That’s rare … a family member being foolish,” Jessie commented mockingly, and Harbour lightly swatted his hand.

  Harbour sighed at the prospect of having another hurdle to surmount. Her first thought was that it would be easier to take the three critical and allow an extra spacer the opportunity to be repaired, but her conscience wouldn’t allow it. She placed another call and received Idrian’s house.

  “This is Envoy Harbour. I need to speak to Idrian immediately.”

  “He’s indisposed,” the security chief replied.

  “This is Commandant Finian, and the envoy’s call concerns his son. Get him.”

  There was a brief delay before Idrian was on the conference call.

  “Idrian, this is Harbour. Jessie, Liam, and Theo are on too. We’re taking twenty more to Rissness Station for repair. Your son is eligible, but we need your permission.”

  “Theo, what’s Imian’s condition?” Idrian asked.

  “Slow deterioration, Idrian,” Theo replied. “We’re fighting infection from the burns, and he’s weakening.”

  Idrian was torn. He loved his son, but sending him to Rissness Station was a repudiation of the council’s position against Harbour and the aliens. There was every possibility that Dorelyn Gaylan, the council leader, would see that his family was financially ruined.

  A vision of the future occurred to Idrian. He saw the waning of the families’ powers. It might not happen for generations, but he was certain that it would come about.

  “Take Imian, Harbour, and thank you for adding him to the twenty. I don’t deserve your generosity, but Imian deserves your mercy,” Idrian said, and ended his side of the conference.

  “Get them moving, Theo,” Harbour urged. She thanked Liam, ended the conference call, and contacted Dingles.

  “Captain Bassiter, contact Theo Formass and facilitate his transfer of four seriously injured and the accompanying equipment to the Belle,” Harbour ordered. “Prepare to sail for Triton soonest. I’m gathering sixteen spacers for repair.”

  “Aye, aye, Envoy,” Dingles replied sharply.

  -6-

  The Offer

  The emergency medical routines were similar to that of the first twenty to be transported to Rissness. Birdie signaled the dome for Harbour. Devon caught the call, and Harbour warned him of the need for Jatouche medical services for four critically injured.

  Devon and Aurelia prepared a comm cube, recorded a message about the number injured, and approximated the arrival cycle of the Belle at Triton. Then they sent the cube on its way.

  Theo transferred his critical patients and the equipment to the Belle.

  Dingles ordered the recall of crew and residents to the colony ship, and Jessie gathered sixteen spacers. He followed Maggie’s suggestion and took the worst cases.

  From Harbour’s initial conference call to the Belle’s launch, less than half a day had elapsed.

  En route to Triton, Jessie and Harbour took the opportunity to tour the intravertor bays with Drigtik, the Jatouche chief engineer. Bryan Forshaw, Pete Jennings, and Olivia Harden elected to stay on the JOS and supervise the assembly of the remaining four intravertors from the first shipment.

  “We might finish most of the new intravertors before Bryan, Pete, and Olivia manufacture and assemble their four,” Drigtik chittered.

  “What’s funny?” Jessie asked.

  “I’ve learned a Pyrean game called betting,” Drigtik replied. “If we assemble our intravertors first, then I’m awarded free fruit juice.”

  “And if you lose?” Harbour inquired.

  Drigtik chittered again. “From Captain Bassiter, I’ve learned a preferred manner of designing the bet. It’s called the sure thing.”

  “Sure things aren’t fair,” Harbour replied, shocked at the bad habits the Jatouche were developing.

  “Sure they are,” Jessie objected. “Nobody should bet if they can’t calculate the odds!”

  Drigtik pointed a finger at Jessie in sympathy with his opinion. He said, “I’ve observed a great many subtle differences in Pyreans, and I’m most intrigued by the habits of spacers.”

  Jessie chuckled, Drigtik chittered, and Harbour eyed them both, which curtailed their humor.

  “We saw the Veklocks arrive,” Drigtik said, choosing to change the subject. He made a mental note that certain spacer habits, although fascinating, must be prudently discussed in Harbour’s company.

  “They say they’re emissaries from the Tsargit,” Jessie said. He was interested in changing the subject too, and he wanted to hear Drigtik’s opinion of the triumvirate.

  “I’ve not known the Tsargit to use any other race but the Veklocks,” Drigtik said. “The triumvirates are accomplished at securing favorable trades for the Tsargit.”

  “You speak of the Tsargit as if they’re independent of the alliance,” Harbour said, sensing irritation from Drigtik.

  “The alliance is an ancient formation,” Drigtik explained. “As its numbers grew, the Tsargit was established, and its earliest members were primarily the oldest races. The Tsargit’s emissaries have a habit of ensuring the Tsargit, and therefore the oldest races, benefit the most from the trades.”

  “Wait, Drigtik,” Jessie said, stepping in front of the Jatouche engineer. “Are you saying that not every alliance race is a member of the Tsargit?”

  “Representation on the Tsargit isn’t a right of membership, Jessie, it’s a privilege,” Drigtik replied.

  “Where do the Jatouche rank within the alliance members?” Harbour asked.

  “We’re not the youngest of races,” Drigtik explained. “But it wasn’t until we developed our medical services that we no longer existed on the alliance’s political fringe.” Then he chittered happily. “Now we’ve been invited to the Tsargit, thanks to the efforts of Tacticnok and you. You should be aware that typically the Tsargit summons a lesser race to them, and as a rule, they don’t communicate with non-alliance members. But for you, they sent emissaries.”

  “The triumvirate seemed entirely unprepared for our circumstances,” Harbour said. “They didn’t bring vac suits.”

  Drigtik chittered until he hiccupped. Then he relayed what he’d heard from Harbour to the Jatouche engineers and techs in the bay. Their voices echoed Drigtik’s delight.

  “You use the term hubris. We’ve a similar word,” Drigtik said, after he regained his breath. “They apply equally to the Tsargit and the races that hold sway over its machinations.”

  Jessie glanced at Harbour. He wondered what she sensed regarding Drigtik’s emotions. He found the discussion about the Tsargit disconcerting. Unexpectedly, in his opinion, Harbour changed the subject.

  “The other intravertor sections are at the Triton dome,” Harbour said.

  “So Aurelia has conveyed,” Drigtik replied. “We’re scheduled to complete assembly of the present load of units within forty cycles. The Belle’s flight to Triton is most opportune timing.”

  “How about the launch platform?” Jessie asked.

  “This type of structure is new to us,” Drigtik replied, sc
ratching a furry cheek. “It will take time for us to design, build a scale model, and test it at Rissness.”

  “How long do you think it will take?” Jessie pursued.

  “Not more than half an annual,” Drigtik replied.

  “To build the launch platform?” Harbour asked in surprise.

  Drigtik’s jaw dropped. He tapped his ear wig. “Poor translation,” he said. “Apologies, Harbour. It will take that amount of time to perfect the design. We’ll require a further two to three annuals to build the platform above Pyre. It’s difficult to predict.”

  Jessie quietly regarded the engineer, who waited patiently for the next question. “I presume the Tsargit has members who are exceptionally experienced in something akin to a launch platform,” he mused.

  Drigtik’s tail rose high, and the hair on it bushed out. He flashed his teeth, tapped Jessie’s arm, and winked in a conspiratorial manner.

  Jessie’s eyebrows lifted in recognition of the signal. They’d identified the Tsargit as the better target for the Pyreans.

  At the journey’s end, Dingles ordered Danny Thompson, the Belle’s pilot, to place the colony ship in orbit around Triton.

  Danny and Claudia Manning, the pilot and copilot of the Belle’s new shuttle, had crew prepare the ship by removing a large section of aft seating to allow the chambers that would be required to transfer the injured across vacuum. They’d land the ship, and spacers from a second shuttle would attach a portable airlock to the hatch to facilitate the transfer of the capsules from the shuttle to a rover.

  Jameson, the med tech who managed the last repaired group, supervised the transfer of the critical patients.

  Harbour detected deep worry from Jameson. “How are they?” she asked.

  “Three are holding steady for now,” Jameson replied. “Using the Belle’s medical suite and our equipment kept them stable, but Imian is failing. It’s been a losing battle.”

  “Can he survive the flight?” Harbour asked.

  “Honestly, Harbour, I don’t know,” Jameson replied.

  Harbour sensed the extreme pressure that Jameson had been under and the toll it had taken on his confidence. She opened her gates and flooded him with feelings of hope and confidence.