by S. H. Jucha
“But, you have a decision to make. Tomorrow morning, I’ll interview all of you. For those that were passengers, I need to know if you wish to remain a passenger or will train as crew. If you choose to become crew, what skills can you offer? To complete our crew, we’ll need New Terrans. Some of them may be in positions of command over you. For each of you who crew, I need to know that you can accept this.”
Alex sat back down, taking a sip of water. He recognized the unfocused looks around the tables as the people employed their implants.
Then Alain stood up. “Captain, would you accept our recommendations for New Terran crew?”
Alex’s heart sped up. He’d been dreading the possibility that no other New Terran would be willing to undertake the journey. “I’d be pleased to hear your recommendations. If the person is qualified for a position, he or she will be given first consideration.” Alain’s smile as he sat down was Alex’s answer. Major Tatia Tachenko was as good as on board. “If there are others who have recommendations, would you please raise your hand?” He was taken aback when every hand rose. It appeared there was more Méridien-New Terran interaction than he’d suspected. He turned to grin at Renée and saw her hand in the air as well.
Alex arranged the schedule and had Julien send it to everyone. His first interview was with Alain, but at 9 hours Julien announced Pia at his cabin door.
“Good morning, Captain,” Pia greeted him, “If you’ll permit, I’ll speak with you first and, perhaps, save you some time.”
He welcomed Pia into his sitting room, offered her a seat at the table, and took one across from her. She requested that he examine a document Julien had just sent to his reader and he opened the latest item in his download queue.
“The list you are viewing, Captain, shows our qualifications for crew positions. However, we will be honored to serve in whatever position you ask of us.”
Alex examined the list. “All the Méridiens volunteered for any crew position?” he asked, looking up to Pia.
“Our preferred crew position follows our name,” Pia pointed out. “But you should realize that it is just a matter of practice, Captain. Julien can guide us in fulfilling almost any new position.”
And if we lose Julien, we will be nothing more than a flying rock, Alex thought.
As she tapped his reader, scrolling down the document, she said, “Below the first list are our recommendations for New Terran crew, Captain.”
Alex thumbed down the pages. Each Méridien’s name was followed by at least four names, with a summary of their skills. Many of the New Terran names were familiar to him and were highly qualified. Under Pia’s name was Mickey Brandon, the senior engineer of the EVA hull repair team, who would also be the construction team leader on the Rêveur while they were in dock.
Pia was often seen talking to the engineer during breaks. Alex had wondered if Mickey was taking advantage of the younger woman. Now, in light of Renée’s revelation about their life-spans, he had to adjust his assumptions. Mickey was probably in his early forties. Pia was one of the older of the youthful appearing Méridiens. Using Renée’s age as a guide, he guessed her to be anywhere from forty-five to fifty-five. He considered the distinct possibility that this wouldn’t be the only misjudgment he would make about the Méridiens.
“Pia, I see you’re recommending Mickey, and I don’t want to question your judgment, but…”
“Captain,” Pia interrupted, “you asked for recommendations. None of your people would dishonor you by recommending unqualified personnel. These individuals are aware of the potential dangers of this trip, are willing to deal with them, and have requested a recommendation to you.”
Alex felt like a vid on a loop, “These are all volunteers? They asked to be recommended?”
Pia took pity on him, laying a hand over his. “Is it so difficult to accept, Captain, that there are others among your people who would follow your example? It’s a special person who can lead, but there will always be many who choose to follow a leader.”
Alex felt overwhelmed, but he saw a major hurdle fall down in front of him.
After Pia left, it took Alex a moment to mentally shift his priorities. Staffing the rest of the Rêveur’s crew appeared to be a matter of interviewing and hiring. Hiring? “Julien, how do we pay the crew?”
* * *
Alex required one more piece of information before he interviewed the New Terrans, and his answers were in Medical.
Terese welcomed him into her office with her usual enthusiastic smile. “Captain, how may I be of service?”
“Good morning, Terese. I need to ask you about medical nanites for the New Terran crew.”
“I presume you are referring to our cell-gen injections, not the limited life-span nanites that were distributed to your people.”
The reminder of the subterfuge grated on his nerves, but he packed away his irritation. “I understand that your cell-gen injections will be offered to anyone who wishes to crew with us.”
“With certainty, Captain, do you wish to receive them now?” she asked
“Tell me about them,” Alex requested.
“The nanites work at the cellular level, using the genetic code of an individual’s healthy cells as a template to identify and remove malformed and diseased cells. The effects are that a person appears more youthful and is much healthier than their years.”
“What would be the effects of cell-gen injections on a forty-two-year-old New Terran male?”
Terese was puzzled that the Captain didn’t appear to be asking about the injections for his own benefit. She made a mental note to discuss this with Renée. “The nanites don’t reverse the aging process. The male will be forty-two years old, but after thirty to forty days, he’ll appear to have the appearance and health of a male ten years younger.”
“Would he live to be as old as most of your people?”
“No, Captain. With regular treatments, he should live, barring an accident or death by alien—” she chuckled at her own joke “—to about one hundred forty years. Those years would be spent in very good health. We don’t suffer a gradual decline associated with aging—arthritic conditions, blood diseases, or hormonal imbalances—as do your people.”
“Are there any negative effects or warnings we should give the new crew should they receive the injections?”
“Oh yes, Captain! As their health is restored, vigor is also restored. It’s highly recommended that the newly restored find a healthy and vigorous partner.”
Alex could still hear her laughter as he left Medical.
* * *
The Méridiens’ list of recommended personnel nearly equaled Julien’s list of required crew. The similarity of the two lists was a glimpse into the power of the implants—a group of people sharing knowledge with amazing efficiency to achieve a common goal.
Alex had Julien send a comm to everyone on the list. The message was simple, “Passage to the stars awaits you. You are invited to interview for a seat.” Appended were the shuttle flights that would originate from four locations to facilitate transport to the Rêveur.
To a man and woman, the New Terrans showed up. The Méridiens, dressed in their new, dark blue crew uniforms, without rank or insignia, greeted them at the airlock, and guided them to the meal room. The New Terrans had all worked on Rêveur projects, so they carried their own ear comms, although, those who had worked only at the T-stations were seeing the Rêveur for the first time.
As their guests found seats, the Méridiens arranged themselves along the walls. Alex waited at the front of the room, sipping water and attempting to appear confident, even though he felt anything but. As he looked around the room, his eyes met Renée’s. Unexpectedly, she gave him slow wink, causing him to spill his water cup.
Renée had requested Julien to send her New Terran dramas portraying strong, young women. She found one actress who was particularly well-known and well-liked, and Renée had studied her behavior in depth. Considering Alex’s reaction to her wi
nk, she thought there was much to be said for emulating a well-respected role model.
Alex faced his peers and, in many cases, superiors in terms of experience. “Thank you all for coming. In less than forty days, our work will come to a close then we’ll be returning these good people to their homes.” He held up his arms to encompass the Méridiens, who turned to face Alex and rendered honor. It was a powerful statement as to where their allegiance lay.
“You know the story of the tragic attack on their ship nearly seventy-three New Terran years ago. What we don’t know is what we’ll find when we arrive at Méridien. I’ve tried to prepare for the worst. We’re adding a second landing bay to accommodate four new fighters, called Daggers, and we’re manufacturing missiles with several different payloads to arm these crafts.”
Alex was tempted to start pacing, but he held still trying to project the image of a competent Captain. “You’re here because a Méridien trusts you, believes in you, and knows you want to be part of this journey. We need crew. I hold the Captain’s position at the pleasure of Ser Renée de Guirnon, representative of House de Guirnon. Until she chooses to relieve me, my word is law on this ship as it would be for any Captain.”
“Before I interview each of you, Terese and Ser de Guirnon will address you. You will receive confidential information today, and I remind you that you’ve signed secrecy agreements. You will be held to those agreements.”
Terese walked to the front of the room and stood with Alex and Renée. “You’re aware of the medical nanites distributed by your government to hospitals. What I am about to discuss are not those, but what we call cell-gen injections. These injections are given regularly to Méridiens to maintain our good health. They also extend our longevity to an average of two hundred years.” She had to wait until the audience’s exclamations died down before continuing. “I am sixty-two of your New Terran years.” The power of the cell-gen injections was evident in Terese’s trim figure, poured into her snug uniform, and attractive, youthful-appearing face. In response to the whistles from the audience, she held her arms out at her sides and turned in a slow circle, a knowing grin on her face.
Renée spoke next. “One of the concessions your government has made in exchange for our technology is to support the cost of our crew. Salaries, requisite to your position on the ship, will be paid into an account of your choice. These salaries will be paid for up to two years or until such time as you leave your position. I can tell you that these annual salaries range from 58K to 95K of your creds and are unencumbered.”
There were murmurs of surprise from around the room as Renée sat down. The salaries were generous, particularly given the tax exemption and the zero cost-of-living aboard the Rêveur.
It was Alex’s turn again. “There is one more important item to announce before the interviews begin. You know that Méridiens communicate in a unique way via the implants in their heads. These implants are quite small, but they enable direct comms with other implants, even over the length of the Rêveur. Through FTL relays or a SADE, such as Julien, individuals may connect with one another anywhere within the Confederation.”
Alex waited while his audience absorbed the astounding concept of communicating their thoughts across the stars. There was no conversation. Instead, they were dumbfounded. Projecting his voice to gain their attention, he said, “You have an important choice to make. The implants and cell-gen injections won’t be an option but a requirement to join the crew.” He held up his hands to forestall their questions. “Once in Confederation space, we might be welcomed or we might be in for a fight. Either way, we need to have these tools. Failure to embrace them would be nothing less than short-sighted on our part, which is why I’ll be the first to receive both of these gifts when I leave this room.”
Renée’s comm flooded with queries. Julien’s priority query overrode them all.
“The procedures, so I’m told, will take less than a quarter hour and are completely painless. But, most importantly, we will have to return to school. Méridien children have years to adopt their implants. You will have about forty days. If you have any difficulty, the implants can be removed and the cell-gen nanites deactivated. In a quarter hour, I’ll be in my office. Anyone who wishes to join the crew, please give your name to Julien. He will arrange the interviews. Once accepted, you’ll be escorted to Medical for your implant and first cell-gen injection. Your implants will remain off until you’ve received your basic training. Those choosing to leave, please enjoy our hospitality. A shuttle will depart as it is filled. I, for one, won’t judge you as to your decision. It’s a tough one to make. Good fortune.”
Everyone seated jumped up and braced to attention as he left. It was an eerie sensation for a young man who had spent much of his working life with just three family members and a computer named Tara.
Terese glanced at Renée then hurried after the Captain. She caught up with him as he entered Medical.
“Do I need to remove my jacket, Terese?”
“While it would please me, Captain, it’s not necessary.” To her surprise, he laughed and removed his uniform jacket.
“I wouldn’t want your first New Terran to be an unpleasant experience.”
Then it was her turn to laugh. It was a pleasant balm on the pain she had kept at bay since awakening.
* * *
Alex was waiting in his cabin. The after effects of the operation and injection were negligible. Terese reminded him that he would require the use of his ear comm until he received the implant’s preliminary training.
“Captain, the first interviewee is ready,” Julien relayed.
“Give me the bad news. How many did we lose?”
“None, Captain. All have requested interviews.”
While wrapping his mind around that stunning fact, Alex signaled the door and in walked Major Tachenko. He’d noticed her in the front row while he was addressing the New Terrans. She stopped at his desk; her eyes were focused on the far bulkhead. Her cap was held under her arm as she rendered a perfect TSF salute. Alex returned the salute and offered her a seat. She sat impassively, waiting on him.
Alex had queried records of Earth’s various military and merchant navy organizations, but none of them fit their present circumstances. In the end, he realized it was up to him to create their organization from the bottom up. He was reminded of what his mother had said to him after a particularly difficult day of taunting at primary school: “Alex you can’t be what others want you to be; you can only be who you are.” It had taken him years to puzzle out what she meant.
He smiled broadly at Major Tachenko. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Major.” The tension visibly eased from her shoulders as she returned his smile.
“It’s a pleasure to be here, Captain.”
“I haven’t figured out an organizational structure yet, Major. So I don’t know whether we will be military or civilian, but I’m looking for a First Mate or an XO, as the Terrans called them. Would you like the job?”
“That’s the interview?” Tatia asked, shocked by Alex’s abrupt offer. “Sorry, Captain, excuse me. Yes, Sir, I want the job.”
He stood up. “Congratulations,” he said and extended his hand to her. “You’re hired.”
She pumped his hand enthusiastically, barely catching his next words as he indicated a chair over at the table.
“For now, we have readers for lists and note taking. In the near future, it appears we will be retaining information internally,” he said, tapping his temple.
She paused for a moment before taking her seat and said, “I suppose we will, Captain.” A phrase from an ancient Earth story came to mind. A brave new world seemed most apropos.
“We don’t need to define their positions today.” Alex continued. “My intention is to accept them, choose their departments, and send them to Medical. Later, we wil
l choose department heads, and they can form their own departments and assign pay grades. Everyone leaves the ship today to organize their affairs. When the department heads return, they will call their crew aboard as they need them. As announced, all implants will remain off and turned on in stages as Medical approves each individual. According to Terese, beginners may suffer ill effects if they are progressed too rapidly.”
“So we’re not interviewing anyone,” Tatia confirmed. “The Méridiens have vetted us and you’ve accepted their recommendations.” She made it a statement and he nodded his agreement.
“Julien, please send in the next volunteer,” Alex requested.
Word spread among the New Terrans that all were being accepted and many came through the Captain’s door smiling. The crew roster ended eight short of Julien’s list, not counting the Dagger pilots and flight service crews, positions reserved for the New Terrans. He wouldn’t ask any of the innately peaceful Méridiens to service the offensive weapon systems. It would probably happen one day, but not today. Not just yet.
-28-
The last shuttle of New Terrans departed at 20.65 hours. After the evening meal, Alex asked Renée to accompany him to the bridge. “I need to learn to use my implant,” he told her.
“Captain, Terese is more qualified to guide you through the initial steps,” she objected.
“But you can do it too, right?”
“I can, Captain.”
“Good, let’s go.”
On the way to the bridge, she relayed Alex’s request to Julien and Terese. She expected Terese to object on medical grounds, but she said,
Julien and Terese decided that they’d hover in Renée’s background, offering advice while monitoring the exchange.
Renée stretched the command chairs into lounge positions. She and Alex sat on the sides in order to face each other.