by Ryk Brown
Kata sighed. “Oh well. At least we might get some sympathy out of the viewers.” She looked at Karahl. “Shall we?”
Kata Mun exited the office and walked across the lobby, flashing the smile that had landed her the job as anchor years ago. “Mister Aronsana?”
“Arons-Anah,” the man corrected her as he stood.
“Aronsanah?”
“No. Aron is first name. Sanah is family name.”
“Oh, of course. Mister Sanah. I’m Kata Mun. I’m here to interview you.”
Mister Sanah looked confused, and a little frightened. “Did I do something not correct?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I’m a reporter.”
Mister Sanah still looked perplexed.
“I report the news.” Kata pointed at the porta-cam Karahl was holding. “The news? I record what’s going on in the world, talk to people such as yourself. Find out what you think about things, then broadcast it to millions of people on many different worlds.”
“I am to be seen by people on other worlds?” he asked, his look of confusion momentarily turning into a smile.
“Yes, many worlds, and many people.”
His frown returned, this time more worried than confused. “But not the Jung, yes?”
“No, not the Jung. We don’t broadcast to the Jung.”
Mister Sanah smiled again, shrugging his shoulders. “If you like?”
“Yes, I like. Thank you. Please, if you’ll follow me into the next room where we won’t be bothered.”
Kata led Mister Sanah into a small conference room and pointed to a chair for him to sit in, then took a seat herself one chair over.
“Will my people see this as well?” Mister Sanah asked.
“I don’t know,” Kata replied. “Do your people have video broadcasts of news events, things happening that your people should know about?”
“Yes, of course. We call them Tela boro intersnee.”
“What does that mean in English?” Kata wondered.
“I think, ‘Today’s events of interest.’”
“That sounds about right.” She looked at her porta-cam operator as he finished setting up. “We ready?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Karahl answered. “Mister Sanah, if you could just turn a little more toward me, so we can see your face better?”
Mister Sanah turned a little, looking for confirmation from the porta-cam operator and smiling when he got it. He reached up and pushed his hair down in an attempt to look presentable, straightening his coveralls as well.
“We’re recording,” Karahl announced, the red light on the top of his porta-cam lighting up.
Kata paused a moment, getting herself ready and leaving a long pause to mark the interview starting point for later editing. She turned to the camera, her smile returning as she spoke. “I’m here at the gunship production facility on Tanna, in the 72 Herculis system approximately forty-seven light years from Earth, and just over fifty-five light years from Tau Ceti. The 72 Herculis system was one of the first systems to be liberated by Captain Scott and the Aurora more than ten months ago, long before the main forces of the Alliance arrived in the Sol sector. Since then, the Tannan people have welcomed nearly one million Terran refugees, and have provided abundant amounts of propellant to the Alliance. In exchange, the Alliance has provided the Tannans with the Takaran fabricator technology, which has greatly accelerated the Tannans recovery since the Jung were driven from their world.”
Kata turned to face Mister Sanah, as her porta-cam operator readjusted his focus and moved the camera slightly left to include the interviewee in the shot.
“With me today is Aron Sanah, an assembly technician here at the gunship production facility on Tanna. Mister Sanah, thank you for speaking with us today.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Mun,” Mister Sanah replied politely.
“May I call you Aron?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Aron, how has the Alliance treated the people of Tanna since they removed the Jung from your world?”
“Very well.”
“Have they done anything positive for your people? Have they made your world better? Worse?”
“Oh, much better. The fabricators are wonderful pieces of technology. They allow us to build complex systems in a fraction of the time and cost than before. And the Corinairan nanites have helped many of my people. I have a friend, he works the line with me here, his mother was dying of liver disease. Our doctors knew of no cure for her ailment. The nanites healed her in less than one month. Now she is healthy and happy, and playing with her grandchildren.”
“Do you feel the Alliance is treating the Tannan people as equal partners in their campaign against the Jung?”
“Our people go where they need us. Some of them fight and die alongside them. My cousin died serving on the Jar-Keurog. He died defending Earth against the Jung. They do not discuss their plans with us, no. But there is no need. We have no ships to give them. We have no military. But we soon will. What they did give us was our freedom. Everything else is merely extra. A bonus, as you say in English. Freedom was all we ever wanted and we are willing to fight and die to keep it.”
“The Alliance claims the Jung bombed their world as punishment for fighting back. Do you believe their claims?”
“Yes, of course. The Jung came here many decades ago. They did not ask if we welcomed them or not. They simply started bombing us from orbit. For days they bombed. They destroyed nearly everything. They were worse than the great plague. At least the plague left everything intact and only killed the people.”
“Why do you think the Jung bombed your world?”
“To make our world easier to control. There were too many of us, and they were but a few ships, and they were on their way out of the system. They wanted to create a resupply station for ships that would follow. They spared only what they needed. Less than a million people, some factories to make things their ships needed, and farmland to feed not only their crews, but also their new subjects. That very day, my people became slaves to the Jung. Nothing more.”
“Has the Alliance shared their jump drive technology with your people as well?”
“Yes, but only on a few cargo ships, ones in which they installed the technology. But that is only because they are afraid. If such technology fell into the hands of the Jung, it would be catastrophic for us all.”
“Does it concern you that Alliance ships are rarely present in your system? Are you worried that the Jung will return, and there will be no one here to protect you?”
“The Alliance has only two ships and one was very badly damaged in battle. They cannot be every place at once. That is why we are building these gunships.”
“But the gunships are small compared to the Jung ships, are they not?”
“Perhaps, but they are very fast and they have very powerful weapons. More important, they have jump drives. And we can build many of them. Hundreds, perhaps. With these ships, we can patrol far out into space. We will know when the Jung are coming, long before they are to arrive. We will have time to send word to the Alliance, so that they can send ships to defend us.”
“But what if they don’t get here in time?”
“Then we will die, but we will die fighting as free people.”
“Aron, other worlds that the Alliance has liberated have complained that many of their people died during the liberation, and that steps should have been taken to prevent such collateral damage. When Captain Scott and the Aurora liberated Tanna from Jung rule, how many of your people died that day?”
“Oh, very few. Less than one hundred, I think. They were very precise, very careful, and very swift in their attack. Captain Scott is a very good man. Very good indeed. It was very gratifying to see them defeat the Jung so easil
y. It inspired my people. It gave us hope. This is something that no one can live happily without. It is the fire that drives us. It is what makes us rise and face each day.” Aron hung his head down in sadness. “It was something that we were without for many, many years. Now, thanks to the Alliance, we have hope again.”
“Thank you, Mister Sanah, for speaking with us today.”
“You are most welcome.”
Kata paused, saying nothing further until the red light on Karahl’s porta-cam turned off.
“We’re out,” Karahl announced.
“Well, you can’t get an ending any better than that,” Kata said as she let out a sigh of relief.
“Not very long, though,” her porta-cam operator commented.
“We’re going to have a ton of these interviews,” she replied, “and we’ll be lucky to get a full hour special back on Kohara. I’m pretty sure we’ll have enough.”
“Everything was good?” Aron asked.
“Yes, Aron, you did great,” Kata assured him. “Thank you.”
“Very well,” Aron said as he stood to depart. “It was a pleasure to meet you both.”
“You too, Aron, and thanks again,” Kata replied as he left the room.
“You really think all the Tannans love the Alliance as much as that guy?”
“I don’t know,” Kata replied. “The people from Weldon sure didn’t, and some of the people on Capora thought the Alliance had overstepped their bounds as well.”
“The Kalitans sure didn’t mind,” Karahl said as he packed up his porta-cam and got ready to move.
“The Kalitans were being worked into extinction,” Kata countered. “They really were slaves.”
“Still, other than the Tannans and the Kalitans, everyone else seems to be mixed. Some like them and some don’t.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to think this isn’t going to be as easy a sell to our people back home as I thought it would be,” Kata said. “Let’s go get some shots of the production line, shall we?”
* * *
“I didn’t think I’d be this nervous,” Deliza confided in the admiral as they walked down the corridors of the Karuzara asteroid base.
“There’s no reason to be nervous, Deliza,” Admiral Dumar assured her. “Your ideas are well thought out, your designs are solid, and you know more about the aerodynamics and performance parameters than either your father or I ever did. You will do fine.”
“What if they don’t like me?”
“You don’t need them to like you. You just need them to do what you tell them.”
“What if they think I’m a spoiled little princess or something?”
“You were a princess for only a year, Deliza. For seventeen years, you lived on Haven. If anything, they’ll think you’re a dirty, uneducated molo farmer.”
“I was not,” Deliza objected. “Okay, I was a molo farmer…and I guess I was dirty a lot of the time, but I am most assuredly not uneducated.”
“You’re smarter than most of them will ever be.”
“You think so?”
Admiral Dumar looked at her. “What happened? A couple days ago you were beaming with confidence as you walked down that boarding ramp.”
“I had been pretending to be a princess for a year, remember? I had a lot of practice. I’ve never done this before.”
“I still say you’ll do fine.”
“I just hope they don’t take pity on me,” she said, looking down at the floor as they walked. “That’s the last thing I need.” She looked up again, an idea suddenly popping into her head. “I could use my old last name. I could be Deliza Tugwell… Or maybe Liza Tugwell?”
The admiral looked at her crossly.
“Deli Redmond?”
“You landed in what is probably the most luxurious ship this sector has ever seen. Everyone knows who you are, Deliza.”
They turned the corner and headed down the final stretch to what was commonly referred to as ‘the black lab.’ It was a place no one talked about, yet everyone knew about it. It’s where the guys in lab coats got together with the guys in overalls and created new things. Unfortunately, not much had come out of the black lab since it had been started, just after the Karuzara arrived in the Sol system. Only one project had gone all the way to prototype and that was the Jump KKV, which they would be testing soon. Everything else had failed to match expectations. Admiral Dumar hoped Deliza’s project would change that.
They came to a stop outside the door. Admiral Dumar turned to Deliza. “The men you are about to meet will not want to listen to you. Some of them are Takaran and were raised in that patriarchal mindset. The Corinairans will be a bit better, as their women are generally the better educated of the sexes. However, they won’t want you to get in and tinker with anything, as they’ll consider that their job.”
“What about the Terrans?”
“They’ll be a lot easier. Their society is pretty well integrated, so most of them don’t really have any preconceived notions of male and female roles.”
“Great.”
“Unfortunately, you won’t have any Terrans working for you. The only Terran in there is Lieutenant Tillardi and he’s running a different project.”
“Poo.”
“Try not to say poo,” the admiral told her.
“What’s wrong with poo?”
“It’s too weak. They’ll just laugh at you. Try to really swear once in a while.”
“I don’t think I know any swear words,” Deliza admitted.
“All that time you spent with Lieutenant Commander Kamenetskiy and you didn’t learn a single bad word?”
“He always swore in Russian.”
“All I know is ‘damn’,” the admiral admitted, “and I suspect that’s not much stronger than ‘poo’. I’ll ask Lieutenant Commander Nash next time I see her. Or maybe Ensign Hayes.”
“Josh is an Ensign now?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t expect that,” Deliza commented.
“No one did.” Admiral Dumar took a deep breath and exhaled. “Are you ready?”
Deliza nodded.
Admiral Dumar looked at the guard at the door. “Sergeant.” The sergeant placed his hand on the palm reader then pushed a few buttons. The door slid open just enough to allow them to slip inside.
Deliza followed the admiral in and looked around as he signed in with the guard on the other side.
“Admiral on deck!” the guard barked.
Everyone in the cavernous hangar snapped to attention as the admiral and Deliza walked across the floor. Deliza studied the layout of the room as they walked. The hangar, like all the others, had been carved out by mining and boring machines, and was basically a massive cave. The walls were fused and ground smooth, same as the floor, but the ceiling was still rocky and uneven, with beams overhead and an array of lighting panels providing even lighting throughout the hangar.
As they walked toward the men, she noticed the hangar had been divided into three sections by sliding walls. Her team was in the middle section. The section to their right appeared empty, as the walls were slid back halfway and the lighting in that section was off. The section to the left, however, was completely closed off, with its own guard at the entrance.
They came to a stop a few meters away from the line of technicians and engineers. She knew every one of their faces from their personnel records. She knew each of their strengths and weaknesses, along with their backgrounds, education, and experience.
The problem was that they did not know her. All they saw was a pretty young woman who thought she had all the answers. A princess whose father and sister had recently been murdered, and her palace had been taken away. Even worse, they would see her as a favorite of the admiral.
This was going to be a tough sell.
“Gentlemen,” Admiral Dumar began. “Welcome to project ‘Super Falcon’.”
The men looked skeptical, more than one of them raising a single eyebrow.
“You’re going to take a poorly designed spacecraft that has been inefficiently utilized, due in large part to my own short-sightedness, and turn it into a versatile space-borne weapons and utility platform that every mechanic will want to maintain and every pilot will want to fly.”
“Sir, we’ve only got four Falcons still flying, and two of them are down for repairs,” one of the technicians pointed out.
“But we’ve got at least four, maybe six, good airframes to work with as well,” the admiral replied.
“The engines are shot on all of them,” another technician said.
“Then we’ll just have to fabricate new parts and fix those engines, won’t we?” Dumar countered.
“Admiral, there’s just not that much room left in those birds. Plus, if you add more weight to them, they won’t be able to lift themselves off the surface,” the first technician argued.
“That’s why we’re pulling the atmospheric drives and lift systems out of her,” Deliza chimed in, using her overly confident ‘princess voice’, as Yanni often called her authoritative tone.
“What? You can’t pull the lift fans out,” the first technician objected, “she won’t be able to fly.”
“She’ll be able to fly just fine in space,” Deliza replied, defending her position.
“Sure, but she won’t be able to take off and land on the surface.”
“We don’t plan on using them in the atmosphere any longer,” Deliza explained. “And if, for some reason, they do need to land on the surface, they can do so conventionally.”
The technician laughed. “402s fall out of the sky at slow speeds.”
“Then they’ll just have to land at higher speeds,” Deliza responded in a condescending tone.
“Admiral,” the technician complained, shaking his head. “Who’s our team leader going to be on this anyway?”