Messinants

by S. H. Jucha

  “Understood, Captain,” Aurelia replied, and Jessie felt the pleasant sensation drop off. It was similar to a switch being thrown.

  Inside, Jessie received the crew’s polite acknowledgments. However, Belinda Kilmer, the second mate, who Aurelia saved from encroaching space dementia, hugged the girl warmly. Darrin “Nose” Fitzgibbon, the first mate, laid a friendly hand on Aurelia’s shoulder, as he greeted her. Tully, the survey engineer, and Hamoi, the tech, did the same.

  If not for the lessons of the older empaths aboard the Belle, Aurelia would have been unable to prevent her power from responding to the presence of the crew members who had adopted her.

  Jessie, Yohlin, and the crew crowded around the cabin’s table.

  Jessie was drawing breath to speak, when Darrin said, “I hope the aliens have a means of communicating with us, Captain. I don’t think Kasey’s sign language is going to cut it, this time.”

  Jessie looked around the table. The crew members regarded him with expectant faces, and Jessie glanced at Yohlin, who raised her hands in resignation. With the spacer rumor mill at work, the team had quickly assimilated the reason for the meeting. More than that, they’d already decided to go downside with him.

  “For the record, this is a volunteer mission,” Jessie said.

  “How much food and water do we take?” Belinda asked. “If I remember correctly, we ran a little short on the latter, last time.”

  Belinda’s face appeared innocent, but Jessie knew her comment was tongue-in-cheek and aimed at him. He’d been the one trying to reserve his suit water for the others, which had nearly cost him his life.

  “Three full days’ worth,” Jessie replied. “After that time, we should have established enough rapport with the aliens that returning to the shelter for more supplies won’t disturb them.”

  “Exactly how do we establish a rapport, Captain?” Tully asked.

  “Simple,” Jessie responded. “We stand there like the technologically inept species we are and let the more sophisticated sentients teach us.” Jessie grinned, as the crew nodded their heads in agreement with the plan.

  “Works for me,” Darrin commented. “What about air, Captain?”

  “We each take a single spare tank. I’m counting on the dome supplying decent air. However, to be sure, I want two atmosphere test devices with this team, at all times. If, for some reason, we find after we enter the tunnel that the air doesn’t agree with us, then we’re out of there.”

  “Speaking of the tunnel, Jessie,” Yohlin said, “I take it the shuttle’s dropping on the backside of the dome and the rover will approach the entrance across the plain.”

  “Exactly, Captain,” Jessie replied. “But I believe the plain is the front-side approach. Only backward aliens approach the dome through the rocky cut, thinking it’s the front door.”

  Jessie’s joke had Yohlin frowning and the crew laughing.

  “The Belle will be broadcasting the Triton recording tomorrow,” Jessie said. “You’ll definitely want to watch it, and your captain will record it so that you can view it several times, which I recommend. Look for answers to questions like: Who’s the leader? Who are the males, and who are the females? Who’s the console operator? Who’s closely allied with the leader? Do you see weapons?”

  When there were no questions, Jessie said, “Okay, everyone, back to your duties.”

  -17-

  Broadcast

  After spending the first night sleeping on the dome’s deck, the Jatouche were woken by noise created by Jaktook and Jittak, as the administrator and the military officer unpacked crates and assembled Jaktook’s scope.

  “We’ve demonstrated our presence,” Tacticnok announced. “Take our pallets below and set them up in a room apart from the meal room.”

  While the team hustled to complete their tasks, Tacticnok walked to the edge of the dome and examined the cut that led to the rear of the dome. Then she marched to the other side and swept her viewer across the plains, hoping for a sign of the aliens.

  “I’m tired of calling you, aliens,” Tacticnok muttered. “Come here and announce yourselves properly so that we might know you.” With a sigh, having seen nothing, she lowered the device and returned to where Jaktook was working.

  “I can be of help,” Tacticnok said to Jaktook.

  Jittak was stricken at the thought that a royal member might engage in manual labor, but Jaktook flashed his teeth and nodded toward two small crates a meter from his feet.

  “Those two need unpacking. Be careful of the instruments, they’re delicate,” Jaktook said.

  Jittak’s expression turned to horror. A dome administrator was giving orders to Her Highness and telling her how to proceed. What made it worse for the officer was that Jaktook was ignoring him and his attempt to warn Jaktook of his breach of etiquette.

  “What do I do with it?” Tacticnok asked, holding up the piece of equipment.

  “It’s slid over the barrel’s front. You’ll see the groove on the inside of the sleeve. Align it with the fine ridge on the barrel and slide it until you hear a click,” Jaktook replied.

  Tacticnok peeked into the scope’s part that she held, located the groove, matched it to the instrument’s guide, and slid it carefully forward. Her tufted ears twitched forward, listening for the sound of it seating. When the device clicked in place, she smiled triumphantly at Jaktook.

  “Well done,” Jaktook said. “The next item is the power convertor. It will sit at the base of the scope. The short lead connects to the scope, and the long lead connects to the console.”

  Tacticnok nodded her understanding and dug out the transformer. She laid it at Jaktook’s feet, deliberately brushing a bare arm against his lower leg. Then she uncoiled the long lead until it reached the console’s base.

  “What next?” Tacticnok asked, delighted to be included in the work.

  “We need Kractik on the console,” Jaktook replied.

  “I’ll get her,” Tacticnok said. Setting aside royal decorum, she ran to the open wedge and down the ramp. The freedom she was enjoying was exhilarating.

  “You forget yourself, administrator,” Jittak said with heat, when Tacticnok was gone. “You can’t order a royal member around, as if she were your servant.”

  “And you forget your instructions, Jittak,” Jaktook replied calmly, as he continued to work. “You think yourself so in control of your thoughts and actions that when the aliens finally arrive, you’ll do nothing to give away Tacticnok’s esteemed position. One moment you’re treating her with deference and the next you’ll be required to behave as if she’s nothing more than a team leader. Are you that good?”

  Jittak glared at Jaktook. Unfortunately, he couldn’t argue with the administrator’s reasoning.

  “To make matters worse, you won’t be helping Her Highness either, Jittak,” Jaktook continued. “If you treat her as a royal daughter, she’ll act in that manner and give herself away. So, I ask you, which of us is doing her the disfavor?”

  Tacticnok bounded up the ramp, with Kractik behind her, which stifled Jittak’s reply. Kractik picked up the lead destined for the console and walked to the rear. Unlike Jittak, the console operator had fully adopted Tacticnok’s role as team leader. As Kractik stretched out coils and walked the lead to the console’s rear, she jabbered on about what she was doing, educating her new supervisor, as requested.

  “There are several choices available to us, Kractik,” Tacticnok said. She was on her knees beside the console operator and staring at multiple ports exiting the console’s rear.

  “According to the manuals, it doesn’t matter, Tacticnok. The Messinants have designed their equipment to test any device connected to it. The console will determine what our transformer needs and deliver the necessary power.”

  Tacticnok shook her head in amazement.

  “I completely understand your reaction,” Kractik sympathized. “When I studied the manuals, I was amazed by the incredible technology. After a while, it became over
whelming. You have to focus on what you need to do and save wondering about how the Messinants accomplished all this for later.”

  Kractik inserted the lead into an open port. Tacticnok flashed a grin, patted her on the shoulder, and left to join Jaktook. Father is not going to believe me, Kractik thought, replaying in her mind the touch she’d received from the royal daughter.

  Jaktook and Jittak completed the scope’s setup. It was powered, and Kractik busied herself over the console’s panels. The subtle hum of the transformer was overridden by the beep from the scope, indicating systems’ checks were complete. Jaktook hurriedly operated the tracking and focusing mechanisms. His sighting window on the distant Gasnar planet was closing and he wanted to record as much imagery as possible.

  Using the scope’s screen, Jaktook chose a viewing angle that encompassed the entire planet. Slowly increasing the magnification, he was able to spot the two enormous stations, a host of small ships, and one giant one.

  “The aliens haven’t abandoned the planet,” Jaktook said. “They’re still there, and if these constructs are any indication, I believe they’ve been here for a while.”

  Jittak crowded close to Jaktook’s left for a better view. Tacticnok did the same on the right, grasping the administrator’s elbow to steady herself, while she leaned in to view the small screen.

  “Where is the great ship going?” Tacticnok asked.

  “Kractik,” Jaktook called out. “Console’s calculation on possible trajectory and destination of the great ship.”

  Kractik tapped several panels, before she replied, “We need a little more viewing time, Jaktook. Keep the scope steady and the ship within the viewing frame.”

  While they waited, Jaktook studied the image. A small dot caught his eye and he shouted. “Kractik, in the lower left of the screen, there’s a small speck. It seems to be moving our way. Track that one too.”

  “Acknowledged,” Kractik yelled back. She’d set the small object for the console’s calculations, when a panel glowed. It contained the information Jaktook sought for his initial request.

  “Administrator, the console indicates that there are three satellites orbiting Gasnar,” Kractik announced. “We’re on the largest of the three and the farthest from the planet. The great ship appears to be headed toward the second satellite in the company of two smaller ships.”

  “What about acceleration and present velocity?” Jaktook asked.

  Kractik stared at the panel and scrolled down the information. “Regretfully, Jaktook, both are abysmal. It will take the great ship nearly a tikar to reach its destination, allowing for deceleration if it’s to take up a stationary position.”

  “A tikar to reach the second closest satellite,” Jittak said in disgust. “The aliens would do better to get out and push.”

  “That speck is identified, administrator,” Kractik said, interrupting the conversation. “It’s a ship, and your thought is correct. It’s headed this way.”

  Jaktook operated the scope’s control and placed the small dot in the center of his screen before he magnified the image to the extent the ship filled the screen. Jittak pushed close to examine the image in minute detail.

  “I don’t see any evidence of weapon tubes or ports,” Jittak said, with relief.

  “I would classify it as some sort of freighter,” Jaktook added.

  “Then they’re explorers, adventurers,” Tacticnok announced happily. “When will they arrive, Kractik?”

  “According to the console, this ship is accelerating much faster than the great ship,” Kractik replied. “Even though it has a much farther distance to travel, it will be here in less than a tikar.”

  “Should we leave and return later before they arrive?” Jittak asked. He envisioned waiting comfortably at Na-Tikkook until the aliens got close. Instead of a simple response, Tacticnok stared coldly at him. Gone was the young female, who, moments ago, was happily learning to assemble a scope. The royal daughter, who eyed him now, was telling him that he’d overstepped his mark.

  “Recall, Jittak,” Jaktook said amiably, attempting to defuse the moment. “The aliens have an observation device trained on this dome. They’re coming in response to Tacticnok’s invitation. If they were to see us leave, it’s possible they would simply turn around and head back to their planet.”

  “Apologies, Your … Tacticnok,” Jittak replied. “My judgment was in error.” That he had to correct his address and halt his bow told Jittak how right the administrator was regarding his treatment of Tacticnok. Use the tikar to practice, you fool, before you endanger a royal member, Jittak thought.

  “Jaktook, I wish to see evidence of their civilization, their structures, their enclaves,” Tacticnok said, grasping Jaktook’s arm again in appreciation of his intervention. “View the planet in closeup,” she requested.

  Jaktook manipulated the controls and the magnification, zooming in on the planet and playing the view slowly across the face of Gasnar.

  “What have we done?” Tacticnok asked in horror, when she’d seen much of what Jaktook displayed.

  “Our weapon appears to have disturbed Gasnar’s surface to a much greater degree than our scientists calculated,” Jaktook said with sadness. “Eruptions should have subsided more than a century of annuals ago. By now, the air should be clear and vegetation regenerating across the entire planet.”

  “Look at them,” Tacticnok said, her voice rising in anger. “They’re living in domes and using that archaic device to travel from below and get free of the planet’s gravity.”

  Jittak wanted to remind Tacticnok that it was a war started by the Gasnarians that the Jatouche were forced to fight to eliminate their enemy. But his recent misstep caused him to keep his opinion to himself.

  Jaktook pulled on the tuft of his chin. It was a sign Tacticnok recognized as the bloom of an idea in the administrator’s mind.

  “Talk to me,” Tacticnok requested.

  “There might be a means of helping the aliens, if first contact and subsequent negotiations go well,” Jaktook said thoughtfully, and he received a generous, toothy smile from Tacticnok.

  * * * *

  “Ready, Birdie?” Harbour asked.

  “Ready, Captain,” Birdie replied.

  Harbour had announced her upcoming vid broadcast a half hour before. Based on the types of broadcasts she’d made from the Belle, she was fairly confident that if individuals could get to a monitor, they’d be glued to it.

  “Send it, Birdie,” Harbour ordered.

  Birdie tapped her comm panel and said, “We’re broadcasting, Captain.” She gestured toward a monitor that displayed the Belle’s output via its strongest directional antenna. The imagery started with the dome in its quiet state a few minutes before the bright shot of light from the platform merged with the shell. The presentation concept was Dingles’ suggestion.

  “I think it will be a bit more dramatic, Captain,” Dingles had said.

  “I think you’re becoming a bit more dramatic,” Harbour had rejoined.

  “A little spice in life goes a long way,” Dingles replied, grinning, and Harbour had laughed at his reference to his relationship with Nadine.

  “Notify me, Birdie, when we get to our stop point,” Harbour said and left the bridge. She saw no point hanging around the bridge for the next two hours, while the aliens set up their camp.

  When the stop point was three minutes out, Birdie placed a call to Harbour. “Do you wish to make your announcement via the bridge or over your comm unit, Captain?”

  Enjoying a green with other empaths, Harbour chose to use her device. She hadn’t been able to accomplish any significant work. The entire contingent of the Belle had their faces plastered to their monitors, watching the replay of the aliens.

  “You’re on, Captain,” Birdie said, when she stopped the vid.

  “This is Captain Harbour. While the Belle, Spryte, and Pearl are sailing to Emperion for another load of slush, Captain Cinders has taken the Annie to Triton. It’s o
bvious to anyone watching the dome vid, that the aliens are inviting us to meet. Captain Cinders has every intention of accepting that invitation. I’ll update this broadcast when something definitive is known and when our intrepid captain makes contact. Captain Harbour out.”

  Harbour spared a glance for Yasmin, as she cut her connection with the bridge. Yasmin was smiling, but her eyes held a touch of fear, and Harbour sent reassurance.

  * * * *

  “Do something, Emerson,” Lise ground out. She was livid, after watching the Belle’s broadcast. “Request an injunction against Captain Cinders.”

  “On what charges?” Emerson asked.

  Harbour’s final address had hardly ended, when Emerson’s comm unit signaled that Lise was calling. He had half a mind not to answer. But lately, Lise had abandoned any attempt at charm. Something had happened in their relationship, which he was unaware of, and it was better to keep her close until he could discover what irked her. With the streak distributors arrested and convicted, he’d put the death of Lily behind him, although he continued to wonder who had tried to kill him. At the moment, his overarching aim was not to jeopardize his monthly stipend.

  “I don’t know, Emerson. Think of something. That’s why I’m paying you,” Lise retorted.

  “What, Lise, like charge him with alien contamination? We tried that, and it hasn’t worked so far.”

  “Emerson, Captain Cinders is out there representing Pyre. He’s acting as if the people elected him as their representative.”

  “Lise, it’s not as if I can stop him. I don’t have access to a ship that can make Triton, and I’ve no jurisdiction to commandeer a ship in order to chase after him. That action’s forbidden by the Captain’s Articles.”

  “Forget you and your foolish articles, Emerson,” Lise railed. “I don’t think you comprehend the magnitude of the situation. This action by Cinders in combination with Harbour’s files are enough to get people thinking that a change is needed. And, I can tell you one thing, the new political organization they envision won’t include you or me. So, you find some way to press charges against Captain Cinders with the Review Board. Arrest the man and lock him away when he returns. And, you make sure to smear him publicly.”