Valence (Confluence Book 4)

by Jennifer Foehner Wells

  She’d worked on the blueprints of sectilian ships for years. Walking through one that had come to physical fruition was more than a little strange. She couldn’t help but try to spot all the changes that had been made from the original design. The corridors were definitely narrower and not as tall. She wondered how many more decks they’d been able to squeeze in by doing that.

  The decor was Spartan. Like the Sectilius, they’d used a composite for most visible surfaces. She didn’t know what colors were used on a sectilian ship aside from the odd green color she’d seen in the background of Jane’s videos, but here it was matte white everywhere she looked. Even the lighting felt stark and industrial. Only the impatient hordes of new recruits provided contrast, with their pale gray uniforms, purple hair, and varied skin tones.

  This column of deck-to-deck transports ran through the entire ship. It could easily handle the comings and goings of personnel under normal workday circumstances, but this influx all at once had bottlenecked flow. The person next to her turned and was close enough that their backpack grazed Zara, shoving her sideways into someone else and nearly knocking her off her feet. She apologized to the person she’d nearly toppled into and looked up, expecting to get an apology from the person who’d pushed her, but they’d already disappeared into the crowd. She got into the transport, mindful of the space she and her pack were taking up, then sighed. Not everyone was as thoughtful as she was. And cultural norms would come into play in interactions all over the ship. That was surely going to lead to misunderstandings if people didn’t keep cool.

  Her quarters were as small as she’d expected. There was room for two twin beds and not much else. Every eight rooms opened into a central communal bathroom. The Aegis was immense, and every sectilian on a similar ship would have had small private quarters, but the humans had repurposed most of the crew decks as hangar bays to hold armored sectilian shuttles, redesigned to serve as fighters. She couldn’t complain. She was lucky enough to be an officer, though the lowest rank possible. She’d overheard someone say the enlisted had to share rooms with ten bunks and had no privacy at all.

  She slipped off the backpack and set it on one of the beds next to a stack of bedding and towels. She’d unpack later. She took only the blue slip with her and headed toward the nearest deck transport.

  When she got to deck six she noticed right away that she was the youngest, lowest-ranked person in sight. As she passed the door to the bridge she had a strong feeling that there’d been a mistake. She’d expected to be assigned to engineering, repairing and maintaining things. That was what she’d trained for.

  She stood outside conference room three for several minutes, rereading the blue slip and looking around to verify that she was in the right place. When it seemed to be indisputable, she tapped the symbol for open on the wall next to the door. The door slid up, revealing an austere room with one long table surrounded by eight chairs. Occupying one of the chairs was an older gray-haired man.

  She blinked.

  That was Thomas Compton. He was one of the Providence Six. He’d been the pilot on that mission. He knew Jane Holloway. Oh, goodness. This had to be the wrong room.

  She was appalled that she’d disturbed him.

  He looked up from a laptop, his lips immediately turning up in a warm, welcome smile.

  Zara opened her mouth and ducked her head. “I’m so sorry. I must have the wrong room, sir. Please excuse me.”

  “Dr. Zara Hampton?”

  She almost didn’t hear him in her haste to back out of the doorway, close the door again, and get away. But when what he’d said sank in, she looked up to be sure she’d heard correctly.

  He was nodding. “For the record, I don’t like how they’re handling assignments. If you’re Hampton, you’re in the right place. Come in.”

  She moved forward hesitantly, still not sure how to behave. That was Tom Compton in front of her. The Tom Compton.

  He stood and extended a hand. She took it, awestruck. He was seventy-nine years old and still didn’t look any older than he had when he’d left on the mission that discovered the Speroancora. He wore the bars of a colonel on his shoulder. “Tom Compton,” he said. “I’m the XO of the Aegis. To be fair, you almost ended up in engineering.”

  She barely remembered to grip his hand firmly like her dad had taught her. “I did?”

  “Have a seat. I’m not going to beat around the bush. You deserve to know where you stand. The powers that be are of two minds with regards to you. I think you know why. Domestically, there were many who advocated to keep you grounded. Internationally, you have many powerful friends, especially among your peers who have already moved up in rank. Your proponents prevailed, and so here you are. The compromise was to keep you on a ship with American leadership.”

  She swallowed hard and nearly choked. She’d been the subject of international debate? She sat down across from him, feeling very ill at ease. She was amped with nerves and the butterflies felt like they might erupt up and out of her at any moment. “What is my position, sir?”

  “You’re going to be busy. You’ll serve primarily as an interpreter for senior officers who aren’t fluent in Mensententia. In addition, you’ll consult on any matters that relate to the sectilian download. We may need information quickly. We want someone experienced with it. No one is more experienced than you are.”

  “But I am an engineer—”

  He held up a hand, a rueful expression on his face. “I’m aware. But you’re more valuable to the fleet in this capacity. The truth is, Zara, you don’t fit well into military structure. I’ve decided that means you should be perfect for command. Please don’t make a fool out of me.”

  She clamped her mouth shut. Arguing with one’s senior officer was not a good idea. That had been driven into her in the M version of basic training. Twice. Her role was already decided. She had no recourse. She’d accept it and do her best.

  He shuffled some papers around. “I’ve read your file carefully. You’ve been practicing your leadership skills at NASA since you were thirteen years old. It’s time you were rewarded for it. I’m officially promoting you to first lieutenant. You’ll lead a team of twelve other interpreters, scheduling shifts, handling conflicts and disciplinary actions. You’ll report directly to me daily for briefings. In time, you may be given more responsibility, but that’s a good place to start. My secretary will get you settled. Then we’ll need you to get to work translating some speeches.”

  She nodded. It didn’t sound all that different from what she was used to doing at NASA.

  He gave her a very direct look. “These speeches are for your eyes only.”

  She cringed internally and hoped it didn’t show outwardly. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “And Hampton? It’s time to get rid of the purple hair. You’re an officer now. You have to look like one.”

  Her fingers started to lift to touch her head. She made a fist and slammed them back to her side. She’d worn the MSTEM purple for years, even after being told the secret code for turning it off. Most MSTEMs had done the same. Her father had been right. It was a symbol of unity that instantly made a peer visible no matter where they were in the world. That had come in handy more than once. She was reluctant to turn off the nanites, but she’d do what she was told.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dismissed.”

  45

  July 29, 2020

  One month from the end of the quarantine period

  CELUI TURNED IN HIS SEAT, his dark gray, glabrous features drawn into a frown. “Qua’dux, I’ve just received a message from the miremon delegate of the Teracian Decatribunal requesting that you pick up a specific call.”

  Jane, who had been answering messages and taking call requests all day, mirrored his look. They’d fallen into a working routine in the early months that had long since become habit, and it was near the end of her shift. She’d just been about to get up and attend to some of her other duties.

  Jane worked
with the pelimarians every day, managing communication with the greater galaxy. They helped her understand societal norms and expectations as she navigated an ever-growing network of people who were interested in learning more about Earth and how it might fit into intergalactic commerce and defense. Jane had to dance delicately around a lot of subjects to indicate interest without committing to anything. She was most definitely not an official emissary, but these talks would pave the way for the future.

  The days were long and filled with work, which had kept her distracted. The time since Alan had left had flown by in some ways and crawled by in others, but thankfully their time in quarantine was coming to a close and Oblignatus was due back soon.

  The miremon had made an unusual demand. She looked down at the screen in front of her. There were dozens of call requests listed. She could never answer them all. “Which one?”

  He leaned over her and scanned the list, then pointed. “Uobuc of Miremon. They ask that you have patience with her and just answer her questions.”

  Jane raised her eyebrows. “What’s this about?”

  Celui had already gone back to scanning through correspondence. “It doesn’t say.”

  Jane scowled and stabbed the name Uobuc on her screen. The screen went dark, with patches of gray going in and out of focus. She waited. People often wandered away from their call requests, especially if they left them up for a long time. She knew that on the other side there was some kind of alert going off. It was a very frustrating system.

  A light came on and a miremon slid into view, fumbling around for a few moments. Miremon were covered in tiny projections that moved. Not tentacles, exactly. They were like stubby, rounded hairs about the size of a human finger. They might qualify as cilia or something. Jane wasn’t sure. Uobuc was a soft, peachy pink color. “Yes? Is this Jane Holloway of Terra?”

  Before Jane could answer, Uobuc squinted into her monitor. “Yes, of course you are.”

  Jane couldn’t see much of the room Uobuc occupied. Heavy mists floated in and out of view.

  “I was asked to take this call by a member of the Teracian Decatribunal,” Jane said. “How can—”

  “And about time. I’ve been issuing call requests for ages,” Uobuc muttered.

  Jane blinked. “How can I help you?”

  “This is an official query into the nature of terran society.”

  Jane glanced sideways at Celui. “I’ve been producing programming to illustrate that for nearly two standard years. Perhaps I can direct you—”

  “Seen it. We need more information.”

  Jane strove hard to keep her voice neutral. “If I may ask, who has requested this information?”

  “The Solar Confederacy of Miremon has requested it. It won’t take long. It’s a standardized scientific assessment. I’ll be recording your answers and will score the questionnaire subsequent to this call. You may receive a copy if you put in a request. I’d prefer to simply begin, rather than chat, if you don’t mind.”

  “Perhaps it would be easier if you sent the questionnaire in a message?”

  “That would not be easier.”

  Jane looked up. Feig, Ouvaq, Ajaya, and Celui all were watching curiously.

  Uobuc raised an ultrathin tablet, scrolling and tapping. “I’ll issue the same assessment to the rest of your terran crew when we’ve finished.”

  Jane inhaled slowly, exhaled just as slowly. “I’ve only one other human crew member aboard at the moment.”

  “Ajaya Varma. Yes. I see that here. And there are two more on a mission. I’ll have to speak to them when they return. Question one: Have you ever committed murder?”

  “No!” Jane replied sharply, aghast that this was the line of questioning.

  “You’ve never killed anything, ever?”

  She nearly choked on her surprise. She didn’t know how to reply to this and felt the urge to just hang up. “I would define murder as killing a sentient person in a premeditated fashion.”

  “So you’ve never murdered a sentient being, but you have killed?”

  Jane blanched. “I… yes. In self-defense when being attacked.”

  Uobuc continued dryly, as though counting cans on a shelf. “How many?”

  Jane made eye contact with Ajaya. Ajaya had a look of utter distress on her face. The pelimarians seemed equally dismayed, though Jane couldn’t be sure if it was from the questions or her answers.

  She shook her head. “Is this really necessary?”

  Uobuc leaned back, looking bored. “Was it one? Five? Ten? Multiples of ten? Hundreds? Thousands?”

  Jane gritted out, “Multiples of ten. These were dire situations.”

  “Would you kill again?”

  “Only if absolutely necessary.”

  “Did you enjoy any aspect of it?”

  “I did not.”

  Uobuc tapped her tablet. “All right. Did you suffer any remorse about these deaths?”

  Jane’s mouth had gone dry. “Yes, of course.”

  “In your own words, what is the primary reason for this remorse?”

  “Well, I… I wish that circumstances had been different so that it hadn’t been necessary to do those things in order to survive and to protect other people. I wish that I could have found another way. I wish I’d had more information, better tools, or other options. It’s an act of desperation. Of last resort.”

  More tapping on the tablet. “What do you consider your primary emotion?”

  Jane didn’t reply for a moment.

  Uobuc was unfazed. “Would you say you are angry, depressed, apathetic, confused, afraid, helpless, sad…?” She sounded like a telephone pollster.

  Jane waited for more suggestions, but they weren’t forthcoming. “Those are all negative emotions.”

  Uobuc looked over the top of the tablet at the camera. “You believe your primary emotion is positive?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a pause as Uobuc seemed to be scrolling. “Would you say you are peaceful, relaxed, interested, happy, loving, strong, positive…?”

  “I am peaceful.”

  Uobuc shifted in her seat and continued blandly. “Is it acceptable to strike a romantic partner?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “How about subordinates in your work? Is it acceptable to strike them?”

  “No.”

  “If someone strikes you, is that justification to strike them back?”

  Jane frowned. “No.”

  “What is your typical response when someone strikes you?”

  “People don’t—”

  Celui interrupted. “Qua’dux, I’m very sorry, but you have an urgent message you will want to see immediately.”

  Jane could have kissed him.

  “I’m sorry, Uobuc, but I’ll need to continue this another time. My apologies.”

  Uobuc put down her tablet and stared dully into the camera. “Just put me on hold. I’ll be here when you’re finished.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Jane replied, and punched the key to put the call on hold so that the camera and sound were off. She shook her head and turned to Celui. “Goodness. Thank you.”

  Celui gestured at his screen and a message popped up on Jane’s console.

  “Oh, I really do have a message?”

  He looked confused. “Yes.”

  Jane chuckled. “I thought you were rescuing me.”

  He still looked bemused. Jane ignored that and glanced at the screen. Then she sat up straight. “It’s from Ron.”

  Ajaya perked up. “May I?”

  “Of course.”

  Ajaya crossed the bridge to come read over her shoulder.

  Jane scanned the message. “It’s brief. This is dated two days ago. They’re on their way back. It took so long for this message to get here… I think they could be back any moment now.”

  Ajaya squeezed her shoulder.

  Jane widened her connection with Brai. “Please do some long-range scans and let us know when they
jump into the system.”

  “Already begun, Jane,” Brai replied.

  “Urgent incoming call request from Yliriu of Sebapen,” Celui said.

  “What?” Jane said. “Surely this isn’t about the miremon questionnaire?”

  His head dropped to one side. “Perhaps? It seems unlikely. But maybe.”

  Jane let out a sigh and tapped the screen. “Greetings, Delegate. If this is about the miremon questionnaire, I assure you I was just about to return to the call with Uobuc and finish it.”

  Yliriu’s bushy brow furrowed. “What miremon questionnaire?”

  Jane faltered. “That’s not why you’re calling, is it?”

  “No.”

  There was a sinking feeling in her stomach. “It wasn’t officially sanctioned by the Decatribunal, then?”

  “Definitely not.”

  Jane’s jaw locked down hard. She’d been duped into answering the questions because of the miremon delegate to the Decatribunal’s message. It was an entirely miremon inquisition and had nothing whatsoever to do with the Decatribunal. She had to put that aside, for now, and discuss that with Feig and the others when she had time. “My apologies for the confusion. What can I do for you, Yliriu?”

  Yliriu looked uneasy. “As you are aware, there has been a lot of discussion on the floors of the Greater Assembly regarding the process of choosing a delegation to begin talks with Earth.”

  Jane nodded. “Of course.”

  “You may not be aware of a subassembly that was formed to expand our communication-relay network into that sector in advance of a party being sent to Earth. It’s a remote region. There weren’t any relays there. This was a routine procedure.”

  Jane nodded again.

  “Because of the evidence you presented regarding the kuboderan called Kai’Memna, a standard set of Swarm pod detection equipment was deployed in the vicinity of each relay station. Again, all very routine.”