by S. H. Jucha
There were cries of anguish as the survivors surveyed the room, taking stock of who was not there. One of Renée’s companions wailed. Her husband and young son weren’t among the survivors.
As the others comforted one another, Renée thought of elderly Captain Jacque de Guirnon, her grand-oncle, who had been so kind to her throughout her life. The realization that he was gone was a knife in her heart. She looked over at her people in the failed pods.
When the others heard her query, they all quieted to hear the answer. Family and friends still waited for them on their home world and colonies.
Julien’s pronouncement was an emotional blow. Stasis was an emergency option to be used for a year or two at most before rescue. The survivors’ implants communicated their extreme stress reactions. While he could conceivably live forever, a thought he tried not to dwell on, Julien knew they were immersed in thoughts of mortality—elder generations lost forever, families aged into the next generation, and lovers who would have moved on.
Étienne, one of Renée’s escorts, started to speak, but she raised a hand to stop him and overrode his comm.
Many mumbled thanks to good fortune. Rumors of other intelligent life forms had often circulated through the Confederation, but no other star-faring civilization had ever been discovered by the Méridiens…until their attack.
-5-
Driven by his burning curiosity, Alex had risked his life to discover the secrets of an alien ship. Now, four days later, he life was about to take a turn that he could never have imagined.
After the day’s work, he had stripped off his EVA suit on the bridge and now sat in one of the command chairs, sipping a hot vita-drink from a dispenser, the liquid’s electrolytes working to revive him. Even though he credited Julien with openly communicating about their technology, little to nothing had been said about his people, their world, or the damage done to the ship.
“Julien, did you know my government gave me strict instructions to remain in my ship? And they were more than upset when I provided you with power without their approval.”
“Those would have been wise precautions to take with a strange vessel,” Julien agreed. “But you helped us nonetheless. Why, Captain?”
“Good question.” Alex continued to sip on his drink, wondering if Minister Drake might have been right—this ship could represent danger. “Julien, do you have priorities, imperatives?”
“Yes, don’t you, Captain?”
“Yes, I suppose I do,” agreed Alex. “One of which is to help others in need.” They shared a quiet moment then he asked, “Can you lie to me?”
“I’m self-aware, Captain. And, it is my duty to protect my charges and my citizens at large.”
“So you could lie to me,” Alex pressed.
“Yes, Captain, I could.”
Both of them pondered the exchange. Alex wondered once again if he’d been foolish. He was aiding a battle-damaged ship from an advanced civilization he knew little about, without any knowledge about the conflict. For all he knew, the Méridiens might be the aggressors.
* * *
After so much time spent alone, Julien was enjoying his exchanges with Alex. The Captain reminded him of the ship’s First Mate, who had often engaged him in discussions of philosophy and societal trends. It felt wonderful to converse once again with an intelligent and good-natured human.
Still, it didn’t escape his attention that their rescuer wasn’t in a positive mood now. There was a frown on his face and his gaze was distant. He was lost in thought, perhaps dwelling on his efforts to restore their ship in contravention of his government’s directives.
Julien signaled Renée.
Renée and her two security escorts, Alain and Étienne de Long, exited the stasis suite, and were directed by Julien through the restored corridors. she requested.
Julien sent an image to her and her escorts. Captured from behind the command chair, it showed an immense pair of shoulders and the back of a head with short, dark brown hair.
As she navigated the corridors, she wondered why she hadn’t been able to monitor comms between Julien and the Captain. Fear gripped her. If Julien had been damaged by the ship’s sudden loss of power, they might never return home.
* * *
“Julien, I need answers to some questions,” Alex challenged. “I’ve decided I can’t continue to help you resurrect this ship to its full capabilities and potentially hazard my people. I hope you understand.”
“I do, Captain.”
“Good, good,” Alex murmured, wondering what to ask first.
“Perhaps, Captain, it would be best to introduce you to my people.” Julien offered.
“When they’re revived, I would be pleased to meet them,” he said, rising from the chair and pacing to ease his frustration. “But that’s my point, Julien. I’m helping you revive them without knowing if that’s good or bad for my people. It’s obvious you’ve been in a fight. But who were you fighting with—other humans? And you have this technologically advanced ship—superior to any of our craft—but I have no idea of your intentions toward my people.” He fell silent after his outburst.
“My pardon, Captain, I was proposing that you meet my people now.”
At that, Alex heard the whisper of the bridge access doors opening. He turned to regard the three people who walked through it. Later, he would realize that his first thought should have been devoted to his pistol, locked aboard the Outward Bound, especially since the two males flanking the woman had their side arms. Instead, he was transfixed by the young woman, who stood staring at him.
As Julien observed the two of them, mesmerized by the sight of each other, he was reminded of Renée’s fascination with their founding colonists. The Méridiens’ colony ship had been launched nearly a millennium ago by Earth’s European-Indian Enclave, an amalgam of the old European Union, India, Singapore, and Thailand. The contributions of each country—in terms of funds, technology, and services—guaranteed that country a proportional number of seats for its people aboard the ship.
Their ship was one of five launched from Earth. Three great space-capable mult
inationals had planned to launch a total of forty-two massive colony ships. The North American Confederation, with Israel and Japan, ultimately launched two ships, while three were launched by the European-Indian Enclave. The Russian-Chinese Concord, which had set the most ambitious goal of all, never launched a single ship. Too many squabbles due to the ills of a dying Earth— resource wars, sea coast flooding, and violent weather conditions from rising greenhouse gases—had broken down the international cooperation needed to build and launch the ships.
The colony ships targeted goldilocks planets, which had been identified by probes some two centuries earlier. By design, the colossal ships achieved their final velocity over the course of several years. Once launched, there were insufficient resources to reroute them. Thus whatever qualities the colonists discovered on their new planets, good or bad, they would have to make do.
Renée’s ancestors were on Earth’s last colony. It targeted the G-type, white star, called Mane and safely achieved orbit around the planet previously designated GL-137. The colonists had renamed their new home Méridien.
Stories of the founding colonists, especially those portraying their struggles to overcome their planet’s challenges, had occupied hundreds of her reading hours. In front of her House stood a larger-than-life-sized statue of the Captain of their colony ship. Alex could have posed for that heroic sculpture. Although, his world’s greater gravity had driven his people to develop even heavier statures than those of either of their colonists. In contrast, Méridien’s lighter gravity was emphasized in its peoples’ slender builds.
In preparation for their introductions, Julien had engaged his translation program to manage instant voice and implant communication between his people and the Captain.
“Uh, Julien,” Alex stammered, receiving the translation. “Did she just call me old?”
“No, Captain. Ancients were the original Terran colonists, who founded our home world of Méridien. It’s a term of honor.”
Alex traded stares with the woman. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties. Her slender figure was wrapped in a short garment of swirling and shimmering colors. Her eyes glowed softly with colors as well, a light palette of blues and grays. Shoulder-length, wavy black hair framed her ethereal face.
“Captain, I’d like you to meet your host, Ser Renée de Guirnon, of House de Guirnon.”
Alex hoped he didn’t appear as dumbfounded as he felt as the young woman crossed the bridge to him. Her eyes looked him up and down and then settled on his face.
“Julien, sorry, what is she asking to do?”
“She wishes to extend her formal House greeting to you. She is grateful for what you have done. It won’t hurt,” he added, a trace of humor in his voice.
“Then, yes.”
When Renée received Alex’s affirmation, she said a silent thank you to her House’s ancestors, who had preserved so much of their colonists’ culture, including their intimate form of greeting. She tried to observe the solemnity of the occasion, but his clean-cut features and muscular frame called to her. Gripping his upper arms, she sent,
As Renée stepped back, Alex responded with, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ser de Gurr-non.”
“Captain, that’s de Guirnon,” said Julien, pronouncing the first syllable as gear.
Alex observed the woman smile softly at the same time. “Julien, will my conversations with the Méridiens always be through you?” he asked, embarrassed by the lack of privacy.
“Yes, Captain, for now. Once I’ve provided the Rêveur’s survivors with a translation program you’ll be able to communicate with them directly.”
The Rêveur…it was the first time Alex had heard Julien say the ship’s name. He also noted Julien’s choice of words—he’d said survivors. It meant there might be more than just these three.
Renée introduced her companions.
Alex looked from one to the other. Dressed in identical dark blue ship suits, he couldn’t tell them apart. They were male counterparts to Renée, with sculpted, symmetrical faces, aquiline noses, and dark eyes—handsome in appearance and far lithe than New Terrans.
Belatedly, Renée realized that without an implant, the Captain wouldn’t receive simple IDs. She indicated the twin on her right and said, <Étienne.>
“A pleasure to meet you, Étienne,” Alex said, extending his hand.
Étienne looked at the outstretched hand in confusion.
Alex watched the hesitation in the young man’s stance. He kept his hand up to prevent the armed stranger from taking offense or offering him the same greeting delivered by the young woman.
Étienne stepped forward and initiated the Captain’s greeting. His hand was promptly closed on and shook along with most of his upper body.
Renée hid a brief smile behind her hand. The Captain, wearing an earnest grin, was shaking her escort as one would air out a bed covering. In the middle of his greeting, he suddenly stopped. His expression became apologetic, and, in concession, he gently clasped Étienne’s hand with both of his.
“And it’s nice to meet you too, Alain,” said Alex, releasing Étienne’s hand and extending his hand to the other male.
Alain, who had witnessed the unfamiliar ceremony, joined hands with some abandon. But he needn’t have been concerned. While he could detect the young Captain’s tremendous strength, his hand was shook with the most considerate of motions.
As Renée watched the Captain greet the twins, she recalled the bulk and hardness of his arms. Her fingers still tingled.
As Alex hesitantly followed Renée into the ship’s interior, he whispered, “Julien, any conversations between you and I will still be private, yes?”
“Yes, Captain. However, if I believe the information has a bearing on the well-being of my principal, then I will share it.”
“I can understand that. And your principal would be Renée, correct?”
“That’s correct, Captain.”
“And, Julien, you also said there was a degree of difference in our stature.” Alex challenged, as he eyed Renée’s slender figure from behind.
“Did I err in translation, Captain?”
“Julien, I think there is much more to you than meets the ear,” Alex murmured.
Renée approached the double doors of a large room of tables and chairs that he had restored just a day ago. He stopped her with a soft touch on her shoulder, causing her escorts to stiffen in response. “Excuse me, Renée. I’ve been working all day and I’m not really fit company.”
With that, the doors slid open and Alex followed her into the room, coming to a halt in front of a small assembly of people. Like Renée and the twins, they were slender, graceful people with pale, attractive faces. They were all dressed in a similar fashion, in clothes whose colors shimmered, glowed, and danced subtly around their bodies. Little was hidden by the delicate fabrics.
The Méridiens had witnessed, via their implants, Renée’s view of the meeting on the bridge. Each man, determined to
honor the Captain by imitating his tradition, stepped forward and shook his hand. The women copied Renée. Each introduced himself or herself by name.
For Alex, whose usual human interactions were limited to Sharius TSF personnel or vid messages, the focused attention of so many exquisite people was more than a little overwhelming, not to mention the intimate greetings from the exotically dressed young women. He wondered at the group’s youthfulness, as the oldest appeared to be no more than in their late thirties. Then again, it made sense that during the emergency only the young and fit might have reached the stasis suite in time.
After greetings were exchanged, a woman with fiery red hair and bright green eyes stepped up to Alex.
“What does she need to do?” asked Alex, concern evident in his voice.
Renée laid a calming hand on his other arm and said,
Terese placed a small device on his inner wrist, and the object immediately molded to his skin. He twitched at the intimate connection. She examined her handheld reader, which beeped softly, then nodded to Renée and carefully detached the small device from his wrist.
She led him to a rectangular table with two chairs. The stem of the table and chairs blended seamlessly into the deck, as did all the ship’s furniture he’d seen. He suspected that it involved the same principle he had used in his repairs—position the furniture, warm the central stem, and instant connection.
The others chose to sit at tables close to him and Renée, preserving the intimacy of the gathering. Observing the small group of Méridiens occupying so few tables in a room capable of seating three hundred, it struck Alex how many lives had been lost in the fight.