by S. H. Jucha
“If we used microwaves, we’d need a receiver on the YIPS,” Bryan noted.
“That can be assembled and coupled to your energy systems,” Drigtik supplied.
“What about the atmosphere, Drigtik?” Olivia asked. “Won’t it interfere with your transmission, spreading, and diffusing its energy?”
“Initially, much of the intravertor’s energy will be lost,” Drigtik acknowledged. “This will happen despite our tuning of the frequency and the beam’s focusing through the barrel. However, it should be enough to help drive line three.”
Olivia, Pete, and Bryan stared in surprise at one another.
“When other intravertors are planted near the first one, it’ll assist in opening a hole in the atmosphere and will greatly increase the energy focused on this station’s receiver,” Gatnack said. “At some point, multiple intravertors will deliver more energy than can be absorbed by the receiver. Then, future intravertors can be fitted with different output options, such as coherent light.”
“Gatnack, you speak as if your intravertor is guaranteed to work,” Pete said.
Olivia winced at Pete’s statement and was pleased to see by the furrows on Jatouche brows that his comment hadn’t translated.
“Gatnack,” Olivia quickly said, “Pete would like to understand your level of confidence in the intravertor functioning as designed.
Gatnack cocked his head in confusion, but Drigtik flashed his teeth and said, “Please understand, we aren’t experimenting with the intravertor. Several models were built on Na-Tikkook and rigorously tested. Scientists examined the data and chose the best design. Three more of these units were created and tested on the harsh conditions of an ice moon. If Pete’s word guaranteed is asking for our assurance that the intravertor will work as designed, then you have our guaranteed.”
The humans in the room laughed and smiled, and Jatouche teeth were bared in appreciation.
“It looks like we’re no longer playing with an experimental unit,” Olivia announced to her people. “The Pyrean Green account reached its goal. I say we get busy, build this intravertor, and start saving Pyre.”
A rousing cheer went up from the humans. The Jatouche were momentarily taken aback, but Drigtik yipped and his teammates joined in the noise.
The news of the intravertor’s thorough testing buoyed the Pyreans, and they bent to the first steps with a will, preparing line three.
Olivia left the meeting, while the engineers and techs dove into their work. She headed for Evan’s office. After first hearing of the need for the receiver, she’d considered calling the captains to request additional funds, but decided against it. Instead, she was going to imitate their style and be inventive.
In Evan’s office, Olivia laid out the concept in detail to Evan.
“Think of it, Evan,” Olivia said in summary, “microwave transmission from the planet’s heat represents a huge, long-term benefit for the YIPS. Eventually, there’ll be no need for gases to drive line three. As more intravertors are deployed, all the lines can reap the free energy, while the planet cools.”
“What about when the intravertors can no longer drive the lines?” Evan asked.
“You mean in twenty or fifty years, Evan?” Olivia retorted. “Or do you think the Jatouche can heal the planet overnight? And another thing, how much coin will you save not burning gas to drive the furnaces and power the lines? Maybe the coin savings will go toward constructing a new and better production station.”
What Olivia was proposing dawned on Evan, but his next question indicated he hadn’t understood where she was headed. “Do you know how much additional coin you’ll have to raise to build the receiver?” he asked.
This was the reaction Olivia thought she’d receive, when she was traversing the axis on the way to Evan’s office.
“It doesn’t matter what it costs, Evan, we’re not going to expend a single coin. You are,” Olivia said defiantly.
“You know that’s the commandant’s call,” Evan replied, voicing his usual objection.
“And here’s what you’re going to tell Emerson Strattleford,” Olivia said, leaning toward Evan, despite her urgent desire to turn her face aside. “You’re going to tell him that he’ll be a hero to Pyreans for making a bold choice to invest in Jatouche technology.”
“And if he doesn’t buy it?” Evan asked.
“Then I guess it’ll be time for the captains to make a broadcast about the tremendous opportunity the commandant was presented but let slip though his fingers,” Olivia replied, her face twisting in a grimace.
Evan was wondering where the retiring, withdrawn engineer he’d worked with for years had gone. It must be some effect of working with the aliens, he thought.
* * * *
Olivia caught the day’s last shuttle, ferrying the Jatouche from the YIPS to the Belle. She’d boarded in the company of Gatnack and Belinda but chose to sit by herself. She was enjoying a sense of accomplishment, a deep, rich feeling that overshadowed her ever-present fear of facing people.
As the hatch was sealed, Aurelia slid into the seat next to her. “I’m not here to chat or disturb you, Olivia,” Aurelia said. “I thought I’d get a little closer and enjoy the glow.”
Aurelia sat on Olivia’s left, with a full view of the crippled side of the engineer’s face. “Drink your fill, Aurelia,” Olivia said, leaning her head into the seat back, “there’s enough for two.”
Aboard the Belle, when Olivia passed through the bay’s airlock, she was met by Harbour and Jessie.
“We received a message from Commandant Strattleford about you,” Jessie said sternly.
“Oh,” Olivia replied in surprise, her earlier elation fading.
“Yes, the commandant said he doesn’t like being threatened by engineers, of all people,” Harbour said.
“That it?” Olivia asked, perplexed that the commandant hadn’t said anything more.
“One more thing,” Jessie supplied. “He said he would pay for the microwave receiver, providing we mentioned that in our next broadcast.”
When Olivia heaved a sigh of relief, Harbour extended a hand, “Well done, engineer.”
Olivia delivered her crooked grin, shaking Harbour and then Jessie’s hands, who said, “Welcome to the fight, Olivia.”
“I believe this calls for a drink,” Harbour suggested.
“The cantina,” Jessie chorused and extended his arms to both women.
When Olivia hesitated, never having stepped into the Belle’s popular spot, Harbour said, “It works like this, engineer,” and she hooked her arm into Jessie’s. “Among spacers, we call it latching on.”
With both captains staring expectantly at her, Olivia succumbed and added her arm.
“Off we go,” Jessie said gallantly.
Minutes later, the threesome walked through the hatch of the Belle’s cantina. It was crowded. What shocked Olivia was to see the Jatouche present. The cantina was fitted with stand-up tables to prevent the spacers and residents from spending too much time in the place. Scattered around the tables were half-meter high, short benches, which the Jatouche stood on to speak eye-to-eye with humans.
Harbour noticed the aghast expression on Olivia’s face and said, “The Jatouche found this place on their second night aboard the Belle. A bunch of them tried the alcoholic drinks and spat them out, but they love the fruit juices.”
Harbour raised an arm high in the air, and Dingles, who had seen her entry, bellowed for quiet. A bartender cut the music, and the cantina quieted.
“Thanks to the ingenuity of the Jatouche,” Harbour said, “the YIPS will receive energy from the intravertors, drastically cutting costs over time. Yes, this means that there will be a reduced demand for slush but not immediately. My announcement tonight is that the YIPS must have a microwave receiver to enjoy this abundant and free energy. I’m here to tell you the commandant has agreed to pay for its construction.”
There was a moment of silence, as Pyrean faces frowned suspiciously at the commandant’s l
argesse.
“Of course,” Harbour continued, “the commandant was nudged to make the right decision by the arm twisting of our own Olivia Harden.”
A cheer went up from the humans, and the Jatouche, recognizing a moment of celebration, joined in with howls and yips.
Jessie grasped Olivia’s hand and hauled it upward, and the cantina’s joyful noise got louder. As spacers, empaths, residents, and Jatouche surged forward to congratulate Olivia, patting her on the back and offering to buy her a drink, Harbour and Jessie stepped backward. Olivia was fully engulfed by well-wishers, when the captains slipped out the hatch.
“Would you like a private drink?” Harbour asked.
“I could use one,” Jessie replied.
Once in the captain’s quarters, Harbour and Jessie carried their brandies into the study. They sat side by side on the comfortable, padded couch, with their deck boots off and their feet up. The crystal cups were cradled and warmed in their hands, and their heads rested against the couch’s top curve.
“Looks like we’re going to do this,” Harbour said, feeling deeply satisfied by their success.
“Maybe,” Jessie said quietly.
“Why so pessimistic?” Harbour asked.
“You don’t think repairing the planet isn’t going to frighten the governor and the family heads?” Jessie posited.
“They have their domes,” Harbour replied, lifting her head to stare at Jessie. “Why should they object?”
“You say that because you aren’t a power-hungry individual desperate to hold on to your position,” Jessie replied. “What if the Belle residents wanted to hold a captaincy vote tomorrow?”
Harbour considered the question, and her eyebrow quirked up in acceptance, as she admitted, “I’d organize it.”
“And if you lost?” Jessie asked.
“I’d do what I could to support the new captain,” Harbour replied.
Jessie mumbled something, and Harbour said, “Sorry, didn’t hear what you said.”
“You’re rare,” Jessie repeated.
“You say it like I’m an oddity. I think I’ve had enough of being considered an outcast,” Harbour replied, tension creeping into her voice.
“My comment wasn’t meant in a negative fashion, Harbour.” Jessie replied quietly. He regretted that most things that came out of his mouth sounded the same, like orders to crew. Maybe I need to join Nate and get some training from Ituau, Jessie thought.
“What do you think the family heads or governor might try to do?” Harbour asked, redirecting the conversation.
“I don’t know. That’s what worries me. The governor has been entirely too quiet about this project,” Jessie replied.
“You were detained by security,” Harbour pointed out.
“True, but I wasn’t charged. That was Lise testing the commandant’s power, and it came up short,” Jessie replied, chuckling at the memory of Emerson finding him in various security offices, enjoying himself.
“Maybe she’s waiting until we request access through the domes?” Harbour proposed.
Jessie replied with “hmm,” tipped back his crystal glass, finished his drink, and sat up. “Time for me to go,” he added, slipping on his deck shoes.
Harbour set her drink on the arm of the couch and followed Jessie to the cabin’s door.
Jessie felt the brandy warming his senses, and Harbour’s face beckoned him.
“I was wondering if I might have another,” Jessie asked.
“Another what?” Harbour asked, her voice thick with emotion, as she leaned close to Jessie.
Rather than reply, Jessie leaned over and kissed Harbour. Unlike the many dispassionate kisses he’d shared with downtime women and coin-kitties over the years, this one had feeling, and he reveled in it.
When Jessie finally pulled away, Harbour smiled at him. She’d felt the genuine waves of pleasure rolling off him, while he kissed her. For Harbour, a powerful empath, it was a moment that had been a long time coming.
“Night,” Jessie said, smiling in return.
“Night,” Harbour whispered, and Jessie slipped out the door.
It wasn’t until Jessie was many meters down the corridor that he realized his elation, during the kiss, was his own. He’d received nothing from Harbour except the warmth and taste of her lips. For a moment, he was pleased about that. Then, in the next second, he wondered if that was fair, asking Harbour, an empath, to shut down her natural reactions because he was a normal. The conflicting thoughts evaporated much of his residual pleasure.
* * * *
The next morning two events took place.
The first was another broadcast by Harbour and Jessie. They communicated the news that the intravertor, as the Jatouche called their device, wasn’t as experimental as Pyreans had supposed. In addition, they happily stated that the intravertor would be able to supply some amount of energy to the YIPS via microwaves and stressed that it would take multiple devices to power the entire station.
“Credit should be given to Commandant Strattleford for volunteering JOS coin to fund the cost of the microwave receiver that will be built on the YIPS,” Harbour said.
“Although, it should be recognized that this was an elementary decision, one a child could make,” Jessie interjected. “For the investment capital of three-quarters of a million in coin, the YIPS will be able to eventually save a couple of million a year in slush purchase per manufacturing line. This will grow to well over ten million annually, when the entire station is powered by the planet’s output.”
Emerson, who had been listening to the broadcast, threw his half-finished meal plate in the direction of the kitchenette. Fuming, he picked up his comm unit, but he couldn’t think of anyone to call who could help him. Feeling completely impotent, he sat staring at his device, wondering why life was treating him so cruelly.
The second event marked the arrival of the Pearl and the Spryte at the YIPS from Emperion. The Pearl docked, and crew began unloading the tanks of slush. The Spryte also docked, requiring Jessie to add the docking fees for that ship to those of the Annie.
Captain Hastings and Ituau caught an Annie shuttle from the YIPS with Captain Erring to meet with Harbour and Jessie.
When the group was settled around the table, Harbour opened the discussion by saying, “We have two assignments for the new crews. Line three is undergoing a heavy overhaul to make the Jatouche metal and fabricate the parts for the intravertors. With your people, we have the numbers to run this part of the project around the clock. You know your people and can choose the engineers and the techs who will best serve these functions. You’ll work with Olivia Harden, the YIPS engineer in charge of the Jatouche, to coordinate assignments.”
Leonard and Ituau cast quick glances toward Jessie, who seemed content to let Harbour lead the conversation.
“The second task is just as important as the first,” Harbour continued. “We need minders for the Jatouche. The rule is that a single Jatouche will always be in the company of two humans. This isn’t a suggestion; it’s an order.”
Yohlin had experienced this subtle shift between Harbour and Jessie, but Leonard and Ituau hadn’t. When the pair glanced at Jessie again, he said. “Let me be clear. The Jatouche efforts eclipse most organizational structures we’re comfortable with, our ships, my company, the stations, even the domes … everything. As far as this entire alien thing is concerned, Harbour is our leader. So, listen up, and follow orders.”
Jessie received crisp nods from Leonard and Ituau, who turned attentive faces toward Harbour.
“Dingles coordinates the exits from the Belle for every Jatouche,” Harbour said. “Danny handles all shuttle receptions at the YIPS. No Jatouche exits a shuttle to step foot on the station without his or her two minders, and the Jatouche return at the end of a work day the same way.”
“What if the Jatouche have a meeting or something that keeps them late?” Leonard asked.
“The minders must coordinate with Danny for any extens
ion past first shift’s hours, but these will be limited in length to two hours. No exceptions,” Harbour replied evenly and held Leonard’s gaze.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Leonard replied. “Permission through Danny, max two hours for the Jatouche, and no exceptions after that.”
“There might be a small problem with assignments,” Ituau said. “The Belle and the Annie’s crews have had an opportunity to become accustomed to the Jatouche. From reports I’ve received, some spacers aren’t relishing rubbing shoulders with them.”
Harbour eyed Leonard, who said, “Have to agree with that, unfortunately. I know they’re a little odd looking, but they’re here to save our planet. To me, that should go a long way toward tolerating anything about them.”
Yohlin started laughing. When she had everyone’s attention, she looked at Leonard and Ituau and said, “You two should warn your crews that if they have any issues with the Jatouche, they’ll have to forgo the Belle’s cantina. Our alien friends love the place, the fruit juice drinks and the camaraderie.”
Leonard and Ituau gazed around the table only to see faces smiling and heads nodding.
“What a difference a couple of months can make,” Ituau commented softly.
Harbour picked up her comm unit. Her request was brief. “Dingles, a senior empath, who’s still aboard, to the captain’s quarters.”
A few minutes later, Yasmin came through the door. She had an acerbic quip readied for Harbour, but it died in her throat when she saw who was gathered at the table. “Captain,” was all she said.
“Yasmin, you’re now in charge of sorting out the crews of the Pearl and the Spryte into those who are comfortable with the Jatouche and those who aren’t,” Harbour ordered.
“I’d have to assign an empath to accompany every Jatouche,” Yasmin replied. “Should they be one of the two minders or a third?”
“Make them a third,” Harbour replied.
“And what happens when an empath discovers someone is displaying negative feelings toward a Jatouche?” Yasmin asked.
“They’re to report that to you, and you’ll communicate it to the appropriate captain. We’ll take the necessary actions,” Harbour replied. “I need this in place immediately. Thank you, Yasmin.”