by Robert Culp
The medic was right, Dr. Brabdo confirms that none of my ribs are broken but I will have a pretty impressive bruise. And be sore as “nine credits worth of hell” for quite a while. I don’t know exactly what that means, but it sounds bad. As the nurse finishes applying the support dressing I open a channel to Chief Jenkins. “What do you need from me to fit a shuttle and three more fighters with stealth packages?”
“Once I have the materials gathered, just time really. If I can dedicate a shop and four mechanics, I’ll need about a week per craft. Provided I don’t have an all hands incident, of course.”
“Of course, do you know what materials you don’t have aboard?”
“Actually, I think we have most of it, ma’am. I would like an hour to verify that. The database will tell right away, but I want someone to put eyes on the materiel.”
“Do so, please. I’ll have Commander Lawson identify some ships for you. Advise me when you get started and the status of the project is a daily briefing item for you.”
“Will do, ma’am.”
“MacTaggert out.” I close the channel as Dr. Brabdo stands in front of me, his hands on his hips. “What’s on your mind, Doc?”
“If I understand most regulations correctly, I’m the only person aboard who can confine you to your quarters and/or declare you unfit for duty all by myself with recourse to no one until we reach Atlas.”
“That may be, but circumstances won’t allow that. I have an appointment with Secretary Robar in,” I consult my perCom, Shit! “A handful of hours and I will make it. When I get back aboard, we’ll go into Transit and I promise I’ll take full advantage of your recommendation for down time then.”
“You need rest,” his gaze shifts to Rikk. “Chief Sarn’t, if you have any pull with her, she needs sleep.”
“And she’ll get it,” I say with an edge to my voice. I hate being discussed in the third person. “But for now, I have to oversee the destruction of two starships. So if you’re done, I’ll be going.”
“Imagine my surprise,” he rolls his eyes and hands me a tube. “Apply this ointment topically. It will help with the inflammation and discoloration. And these,” he hands a pill bottle to Rikk, “will help with the pain. Chief Sergeant Okkam, I am giving you a medical directive: Watch her swallow two of these when she gets to her quarters.” I don’t think so!
Okkam accompanies me to the Bridge, despite a lengthy argument. To his credit, he did intend to escort me to my quarters immediately, but I wasn’t having it.
“Clearly, Captain,” he says rather cavalierly, “You need a bodyguard.”
“In the presence of non-crewmembers that’s as may be. But walking to my own bridge? I disagree.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am. I’m happy to discuss the matter after you finish convalescing.”
“Captain’s on the bridge!”
“Status of the destruction mission?” I ask no one in particular.
“Proceeding per your instructions, ma’am,” Celeste answers. “The gunnery department and small craft are using the operation to practice joint attacks.”
“Makes sense, Commander Lawson’s idea?”
“Spooky’s actually,” Shawna says as she enters the bridge. “It gives the gunners practice in lifting and shifting fires, it gives the pilots practice in coordinating their flight paths.”
“Ideally,” I say. “I’d like nothing left larger than a cubic meter and of less than a hundred kilograms. Is that possible?”
“Possible? Yes, if you’ll give us the time and the keys to the ordnance locker.” Shawna says.
“But prohibitively expensive in terms of missiles and pilot hours. Destroying the hulks is easy, but breaking it all up into stuff that small makes it unattractive,” Celeste says. “Fiscally, that is.”
“And as much fun as it would be for the fighter pilots, they’ll be exhausted and not much use for a while. They’ll need time to reconstitute. I suspect you’re concerned about debris raining down on the planet,” Shawna says, I nod my head, she continues. “The smart kids down in the Physics lab tell us that if we can break it up into its major components, most of those will burn on reentry. So it’s a non-issue.”
“Which components would survive reentry?”
Athena answers, “Hard points and exterior hull components are the top candidates, the hard points as they are likely targets in a fire fight and the hull because even if the ship is not streamlined, it has been built to give the crew a chance at surviving a semi-controlled reentry.”
“Much like Gallagher did in a place very far away. Very well,” I say rising from my chair. “This is what I want to happen. Continue the destruction mission. Let the fighters and gunners use them for practice. If you observe anything with a better than fifty percent chance of surviving reentry detail a shuttle to nudge it into a vector sending it either to deep space or into the neighboring sun. Are there any questions?” There aren’t. “As I have an appointment on Trelnar very soon. I leave the ship in your capable hands, Commander Mac Fadden.”
“Captain’s off the bridge.”
Okkam is right on my heels as the door closes. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” I ask him already knowing the answer.
“Negative, ma’am. You won’t let me assign you a bodyguard so I am forced to fulfill that mission myself. May I ask where we’re going?”
He means well, but he’s beginning to get on my nerves. “I am going to the dining area, I’m hungry. Then I’m going to my cabin to take a shower and change clothes. If time allows, I don’t think it will, I may take a nap. If you’re going to keep shadowing me, I suppose you’re going there too.”
“Roger that,” he’s silent for about two hundred steps. “If I were to make a side trip to answer a call of nature…”
“You’d probably have to expend minimal effort to catch up to me,” I fix my gaze on him. I try to look intimidating, but we both know right now he could outrun me with both ankles tied together. But I’m not giving him the satisfaction of knowing such. “Presuming I don’t change my mind about where I’m going.”
“Roger that, ma’am,” he doesn’t leave my side until I get to my cabin. My belly’s full and I want to get a nap before the trip to Trelnar. The blonde haired giant even makes me take two of the pills Doc Brabdo gave him for me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I did yield to having a moderately different bodyguard element for the visit to Darius’s office. Part of it was decorum. Rikk Okkam is probably a great soldier, but he’s not practical for a diplomatic setting. The guard with me, Corporal Desiree Cooper, fits that role better. Additionally, she’s much easier on the eyes and smells better.
The same receptionist greets us in Darius’s outer office. We have enough time to fill disposable cups with complimentary coffee from a single pitcher but there are no snacks this time. Within moments she ushers us inside. Cooper accompanies me, the other three stay in the outer office. Clearly, pleasantries are only getting a polite nod this time.
A woman who wasn’t here the first time is with the Minister. She and Darius are in a sitting area to one side of the large office. Both of them rise as we are shown into the office. Astrella introduces everyone. I’m impressed, she isn’t reading any notes. She even introduces Cooper, who gives a shallow curtsy. The new woman is Lady Lucilia, the Administrator of Public Education. She’s a little shorter than I and, given the meticulous attention that went into her wardrobe selection, a person of importance.
“Lady Lucilia, it is a pleasure to meet you,” I say. She nods to me. “Minister Robar it is good to see you again.” Darius also nods. Neither of them offer to shake hands, so I keep mine by my side.
“Likewise Captain,” Darius gestures at a third chair with his hand. “If you’d care to have a seat there, I’ll have one brought in for your associate.”
“That won’t be necessary, sir,” Cooper stands behind and to the left of the chair I’m going to occupy, “but I do appreciate the offer.” Her me
ssage is clear: She’s not a part of the conversation.
Lady Lucilia opens the dialogue, “So, Captain MacTaggert, I have heard what you told Minister Robar. I understand that you wish to take some of our children with you when you leave this system; is that essentially correct?”
“Not exactly, ma’am. My Lady. Excuse me, how should I address you? I’m unaccustomed to such titles.”
“She should be addressed as, ‘My Lady,’” Darius says.
Lucilia waves a calm down hand to Darius. “I wouldn’t expect you to be familiar concerning conversations with nobility, Captain.” Was that an insult? “While the Minister is correct, I will accept whatever you believe is respectful.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I mean, ‘My Lady,’ as I was saying that’s not entirely accurate. My proposition is not for children but for young adults. People who are willing and able to care for themselves, intelligent enough to be taught what they need to know, willing to immerse themselves in a culture other than what they are accustomed to all while prepared to teach us about their own. Wise enough to do what they’re told when given life-saving instructions.”
“To what end?” Darius asks.
“Hopefully to begin establishing diplomatic and economic relations between our societies. For example, Lady Lucilia, you are very gracious in my inexperience with your customs. Such gaffes will hopefully be avoided in the future if we are given the opportunity to learn about your culture from the user’s level, if you’ll allow the term. And, there are also many schools which will become available to these young ambassadors should they desire further education. We will share our scientific discoveries, our histories, and up to a point our technologies.”
“‘Up to a point?’” Darius asks as he sets his coffee cup on the table around which we sit. “Why the qualification?”
“First, Minister please understand that I am speaking a little out of my comfort zone, by training I am an engineer, not a diplomat. But I can imagine no situation in which all technology, particularly weapons, will be shared until an alliance is formed and ratified by both societies. But again, that’s not my realm.”
“And when will our children—excuse me—our ‘Ambassadors’ be returned?”
“Again, my Lady, that’s not up to me. As a general rule, travel between worlds is subject only to availability of transport. Your citizens, if I understand the program correctly, will be given a diplomatic status and when they want to come home, they need only say so and arrangements will be made to get them here. The only fly in the ointment would be a military force, Malorians for example, here to resist or prevent our ships from entering Trelnaran space.”
“Do you have children, Captain?” Lady Lucilia refills my coffee cup from a pitcher on the low table. Cooper waves her off, politely.
“I do not, my Lady. I had a step-daughter once, but that is a very long story.”
“Indeed, and I sense there is still pain beneath the scars. Such wounds do not heal quickly.” She sits back and is silent for a count of ten. “I ask because some of the citizens in the age group and the qualifications for which you are asking, have living parents. Asking a person to leave home potentially forever is a difficult undertaking, regardless of age. Asking a parent to send their child away not knowing if they will ever see them again is much harder.” She falls into another period of silence. “Captain, if you will excuse us, I wish to discuss your offer with the Minister. I’m sure we have a fair share of deliberating to do. Will you be patient enough to grant me a day to decide? If you return at this time tomorrow, I shall have an answer for you.”
“That is quite reasonable, my Lady,” I stand and put my almost full coffee cup on the table. I know when I’ve been dismissed. “Thank you for your hospitality, until tomorrow then.” We make the rest of our goodbyes and return to Prophecy.
As we prepare to berth, I hear a whisper.
“Who said that?” I ask my bodyguards.
“Beg pardon, ma’am?” Spooky asks over her shoulder as she prepares the ship for flight.
“Someone whispered something, who was it?”
“I didn’t hear anything, ma’am.”
I’m sure someone whispered, “Leave the device here. At the spaceport.” But no one owns up to having said it. “Spooky, is there any chance the in-flight recorders are running?”
“The data recorders are, ma’am. They grab whatever is transmitted over my headset,” she says. “But the cabin itself is never recorded. Typically, if something happens that folks need to research, it has nothing to do with what’s said back in the passenger cabin.” Figures.
The following day we repeat—more or less—the same ritual with the same people but this time there is a marked difference when we are shown into the inner office. There are three young people in the office today: A man who appears to be in his twenties, a woman a bit younger than he, and a much younger girl.
“Captain Sonia MacTaggert,” says Minister Robar. “We have identified these people to join you.” The three are standing more or less on line. Darius walks behind them. “May I present,” he says stopping behind the man and putting a hand on his shoulder, “Killian Radd,” I nod to him, he bows in return. Darius moves to the older of the two females, “Melke Rikor,” I nod to her, she barely acknowledges my presence. The minister stands behind the youngest and has a hand on each of her shoulders. “And this is Stela Radd.” I nod to Stela. She nods back with a very big smile which I can’t help returning. “These we feel are our best representatives to send with you.”
“I see,” I say to the minister. “I’m sure you won’t object to me asking a few questions.” Before he can object, I kneel in front of Stela, she reminds me so much of Gwen, “So tell me, Miss Stela, how old are you?”
“I’m eleven, Mrs. Captain MacTaggert.” I can hear Cooper trying to stifle a laugh behind me. I have to choke back a chuckle myself, but I do return her smile.
“I’m not married, Stela,” peripherally I see Darius’ eyebrows go up. Dream on buddy! “So it would be ‘miss,’ but you may call me ‘Captain’ or ‘ma’am.’”
“Yes ma’am, it is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And which skills make you a candidate for this trip, Stela?”
Now she looks uncomfortable, “I can dance,” she says towards the floor.
“I’m sure you can, sweetie. Do your parents understand that you may not be back here for a very long time?”
Her eyes well up and she looks around the line to the man. “That’s not a concern, Captain,” I hear him say. I turn to look at him. “She's my daughter. Her mother left this dimension when Stela was four. She may be proudest of her dancing skills, but she also has an exceptional educational record. She is a very quick study and is actually quite garrulous once she gets to know you.”
I turn back to look at Stela, “I see, I’m sorry you’ve experienced that, little one.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Capt…Thank you, ma’am.” I stand and turn back to Lady Lucilia; “I must admit I have serious misgivings about uprooting a child of this age from her home.”
“Understandable, Captain,” Lady Lucilia says, “but I believe you will find her to be a fine candidate. And she won’t lack support with her father aboard.”
I step to the older female, “Hello, Melke was it?”
“Uh huh,” I wait but apparently there’s nothing more coming.
“And how old are you, Melke?”
“Twenty-four.” I count to ten and she says nothing.
“Tell me about yourself.”
“I like to draw. I like to read. I’m a decent painter.”
“I’m sure.” I remember being that age, vaguely. I don’t need angst aboard Prophecy bad enough to import it. “Thank you.” I step down to the man.
“Good afternoon, Captain,” he stands a little straighter, almost at attention. “I am Killian Radd. I will be thirty years of age in two months’ time. I graduated from the Radvikkian Institute of Sciences specializing in geology. What
Melke didn't tell you is she is my fiancée. We will, with your permission of course, be wed between the stars on your vessel. Our friends will miss us, but they are accustomed to such. For them a friend departing forever is an almost daily occurrence. Melke and I each lost our parents many years ago.” All the Trelnarans nod in agreement. “So you see, Captain, none of us will be missed in the typical sense of the word.”
“I see.” I step back to Cooper and Lady Lucilia and address the latter. “You were right, my Lady, Stela is a prime candidate, as is Killian. Melke, I’m not so sure. It seems to me she doesn’t want to leave this world.”
“I don’t want to go,” Melke volunteers as she looks at her feet. We all wait; certain there is more coming. She turns to Killian, tears streaming from her eyes and says, “I’m sorry, Killian. I just can’t do it. I know you find this exciting, and I confess: When you mentioned it I did too. And I do love you. I do want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I want to do it here. I also want to spend it with what family I have left, my friends. I didn't want to believe you when you said it last night, but you’re right: I don’t want to leave Trelnar. It may be a shit pile, but it’s my shit pile.”
The two of them are facing each other now, clasping each other’s hands. “Melke,” he says, his breath catching in his throat. “When will we ever have an opportunity like this again? To visit other worlds, to see other suns…given the tracks our lives here those are things we will never see happen. But this way they can, I want to share those experiences with you.”
“I know you do, Killian and I love you for it. But these people will tell you. The space between stars is very dangerous. They trust their lives to a machine. You know as well as I that all machines eventually fail. They break. If their ship just stops flying—not explodes, just stops flying—between stars, they will all die.”
The reality of what she says strikes all of us. Killian pulls back from her slightly and turns to me, “Captain?”
“I can’t deny anything she said,” I tell him evenly. “Ours is a dangerous profession. Melke has painted a bleak picture—a worst case scenario—but an accurate one. It doesn’t happen often but it does happen. I understand your desires; do you need some time to think about this? To reconsider your decision?”