by Dale Musser
I sought out Captain Marranalis after the meeting was over. Marranalis was my most trusted aid and had worked with me since I first arrived in the Federation two decades earlier. Two decades! Well, twenty years from my perspective of time, but a lifetime in Earth years. It was hard to believe that I had been a citizen of the Federation that long. I was a young man then – fresh out of the U.S. Navy – when I stumbled across the TRYTITE, a small craft buried in the mud of the Louisiana swamp. Before I knew what was happening, I unintentionally launched it (and myself) into space. When I finally encountered Federation authorities, Marranalis was assigned to me as a bodyguard. He had been serving with me in one capacity or another from that time forward, except for the year when Kala and I were stranded on Desolation.
Marranalis was large in stature. Built like a Samoan athlete from Earth, his muscular, bulky frame and dark hair and features presented a formidable image to anyone who would become his opponent in combat. His dedication and loyalty were as colossal as his physical presence and, in spite of the atrocities of war that he had witnessed over the years, his warrior’s body held a kind and gentle soul. Unlike me, Marranalis hadn’t gotten gray over the decades. He still had the same jet black hair worn in the same style as when I first met him all those years ago. My own red hair was now showing more white than red and I seemed to be graying faster than what would be considered normal. By the time I reached 50 – if I lived that long, I often thought to myself – my hair would be totally white. I wondered how much of this was due to natural processes associated with stress and age and how much might be due to my body’s rejection of the synthetic nerves or the treatments I’d been receiving to counter the rejection.
Eight years earlier I discovered I was suffering from a debilitating condition that threatened my mental and physical stability. Due to a serious crash that I barely survived during a battle on the planet Goo’Waddle, it was necessary to replace a significant amount of nerve tissue in my body with synthetic nerve material. Much like organ rejection after a transplant, my body eventually saw the synthetic nerves as foreign bodies to attack, rather than tissues to assimilate. This reaction caused no direct damage to the synthetic nerves, as they were designed to resist biological assaults. However, it did pose problems for my central nervous system, as the antibodies and chemicals produced by my body to attack the synthetic material also impacted the synapses in my brain. Though there was no known cure for this problem, A’Lappe found a treatment that seemed to arrest the symptoms and allow me to function normally for several days. By days six and seven I generally started to have mental difficulties and my reflexes and coordination began to get sluggish. Thus far, I had managed to hide my condition from the crew, including Kala, with the help of Marranalis and A’Lappe. Once a week I would sequester myself in my study with Marranalis on the pretense of discussing military matters. Then, by accessing the maintenance tunnels that ran under the ship’s flooring, I would make my way to the auxiliary med unit in the aft end of the ship, where A’Lappe administered the I.V. treatment to restore my brain activity and permit me to function normally for another five to six days.
Actually, to say I would then function normally isn’t being quite honest, as the first two to three days after the treatment I was a bit keener than normal. Physically and mentally I was quicker, allowing me to perform much stronger in sparring matches and make clear decisions after lightning-fast deliberation. Beyond that, the treatment boosted my libido considerably – enough to put smiles on both Kala’s face and my own. I worried that she would notice the regular waxing and waning of my stamina and I hoped that the weekly meeting with Marranalis, which continued long into the night, didn’t draw her suspicion. If so, Kala never mentioned anything or appeared wary of this routine.
“Anything new to report, Captain?” I asked as I approached Marranalis?
“The Fourth Fleet is reporting a fifteen percent increase in Brotherhood activity in their sector over the last month. Admiral Windangar is requesting that additional Ruwallie Rasson respond with Nijang Fighters to assist in patrols and resistance in their area.”
“Have you forwarded the request to Captain Nybidong?”
“Not yet, sir. You know how touchy Nybidong is about dividing up his fighters. He likes to keep his forces together.”
“By the stars, how large of a single squadron of fighters does he want? We have over six thousand Nijang Fighters at the moment and he wants to keep them all together as a single fighting unit?! Very well. Issue orders to him from me, telling him to send three hundred additional Nijang Fighters to the Fourth Fleet to assist in operations there. If he makes any fuss about it, have him contact me.
“Is there anything else?”
“There’s a message for you from Captain Kerabac. He advises that the NEW ORLEANS has reached Earth, as you requested, and is currently in orbit.”
“Excellent. Cantolla needs to know the NEW ORLEANS is there. I’ll go see her as soon as I finish here.
“Does that cover everything?”
“Yes, sir,” Marranalis replied.
“In that case, I think I’ll head to the estate. I promised Lunnie that I would assist her with pilot lessons.”
“She still hasn’t mastered flying a personal transport?” Marranalis asked. “Reidecor picked it up right away, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but I think all his vid games and his tinkering around with mechanical stuff gave him an advantage over Lunnie.”
“Still, I would’ve thought she’d have picked it up quicker, since they’re twins and since Lunnie excels in all her other physical skills.”
“Well, she hasn’t and, while the learning headbands may have taught her the academic aspects of flying, she still isn’t “proficient,” shall we say, at the physical aspects of it. She damaged one personal transport already by trying to land too fast. Jenira refuses to fly with her and Kala’s given up entirely.”
“Wow, she must be really bad if Kala’s given up. I’ve never known Kala to give up on anything.”
“She does with Lunnie,” I replied. “I think Lunnie is too much like Kala’s sister and that fact somehow impacts Kala’s ability to deal with her on some levels.”
“I must admit, Lunnie does strongly resemble her aunt, and every day she looks and acts like her even more. The only physical difference I see between her and her aunt is that your daughter’s hair has that ever-so-subtle hint of red, where her aunt's hair was pure blond,” Marranalis said.
“Yeah, that scares me a little – Lunnie looking and acting so much like her aunt, that is. Kala’s sister was quite the flirt and tease and I’m not sure I want my daughter to follow in those footsteps.”
Marranalis chuckled. “I’m afraid it’s too late to worry about that. Your daughter catches the eye of every man in the crew when she’s around. The younger ones just gawk with their mouths open and we older guys try not to look. But I have to tell you, Tibby, your daughter is quite the looker and she knows how to walk when she wants to draw men’s attention.”
I let out a long sigh. “I know. I just hope the men fear me enough to stay away from her or, at least, to act like gentlemen around her.”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry on that account. Jenira puts the fear of death into any guy that gazes at Lunnie longer than five seconds.”
I chuckled. “Yes, I imagine she does, after all that she endured growing up. I hate to say this, but I’m glad Jenira is there to scare off the animals.”
“Well, don’t be too restrictive with her, Tibby. My parents were overly restrictive with my sister while we were growing up and she resented it. She was 18 before they allowed her to date any guys and then she got pregnant on her first date. Our parents were furious. My sister told them it was their fault, because she felt she needed to make up for lost time,” Marranalis laughed. “That didn’t go over too well with dad.”
“I never knew you had a sister,” I said. “You’ve never mentioned her before. In fact, you’ve never mentioned
your family before.”
Marranalis’s gaze fell to the floor and a deeply pained look came over his face. “She committed suicide two months later. Mom and dad split up shortly after that. My mother died about two years later from Distalarian Fever. Dad disappeared not long after that and no one that I know has heard from him since. The last word I heard concerning him was that he was headed out into the asteroid belts to look for rare minerals.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I never knew anything about your family. I don’t know why I never thought to ask before,” I said.
“It’s just as well. I don’t really like talking about it. To be honest, you, Kala and Kerabac are more like family to me than my natural family ever was.”
“That feeling is mutual,” I said. “I was 17 when my mother died and I went to live with my grandparents. I don’t remember anything about my dad…and I never had any siblings,” I sighed. “You’re the closest thing to a brother that I’ve ever known.
“You say your mother died of Distalarian Fever…? I thought that was curable.”
“It is, at least in most cases. Unfortunately, we lived on Barbalana. Our planet was newly admitted into the Federation and we didn’t yet have full access to Federation medical and health facilities. Mother’s diagnosis came in the advanced stages. By then it was too late to administer any useful treatment. At the time, I had just enrolled in the military. It was months before I found out she had taken ill and died.”
“So you never found out what ultimately happened to your dad?”
“No. I suspect he ran into pirates or claim jumpers somewhere and was killed. He was always going after some get-rich-quick scheme that involved a lot of risk and danger. Funny, I have more money now working for you than he ever earned in his entire life. If he and my mother were still alive, I could pay for them to both live in luxury. If he were somehow still alive, I’m certain that he would’ve tried to contact me, after the vid broadcasts showed you and me when we first delivered the solbidyum cargo to the Federation.”
“I think I’d better get to the estate before Lunnie decides to try piloting that transport by herself,” I said. “If I’m not back by this evening, send out a search crew and medics to look for our crash site.”
Marranalis chuckled. “I doubt Lunnie’s flying skills are that bad.”
“Obviously, you haven’t flown with her,” I answered as I headed out the door.
I still marveled every time I used the Cantolla Gates to travel from one location to another. It was like walking from one room to another inside a house, only one moment I was on a spaceship, thousands of light years away from any planet or craft, and the next moment I was stepping into some room on that planet or ship. The only changes I noted were associated with differences in gravity, air temperature and humidity. Because of the variances in atmospheric pressure and density, airlocks were generally required on at least one end of the two Cantolla Gates. The gates operated in pairs and one gate could take you to only one destination. As a result, a Cantolla Gate Space Station had been created to act as a huge, controlled terminal that housed millions of connecting hub gates leading to other worlds and locations. Every planet had at least one Cantolla Gate hub station that connected to this larger central Cantolla Gate Space Station, which was referred to more simply as the CGSS. Millions of people and even cargo passed through this central station daily.
For protection purposes the CGSS remained heavily guarded and cloaked at all times and its precise location in space was a highly classified secret. Only a dozen or so key individuals knew its exact location at any given time. Fortunately for me, I didn’t need to pass through the CGSS to go to my estate. The MAXETTE was equipped with a private gate leading directly to my personal space yacht, the NEW ORLEANS, where there was a gate hub that included another private gate to my estate on Megelleon.
I had barely stepped through the gate at the estate, when a smiling Lunnie ran to me and gave me a big hug. “Dad, you’re late. I was afraid you weren’t going to make it.”
“I’m sorry, Lunnie. I had a meeting with Admiral Slater this morning. Admirals Regeny and Wabussie dropped in, so the meeting went longer than planned.”
“That’s alright, daddy, I know you’re busy,” she said.
I noticed she was making a concerted effort to be more understanding and polite than usual. I was sure this meant she was looking for some favor… or perhaps she was just happy I was helping her with her pilot lessons and wanted to be especially careful not to alienate me, since everyone else had given up trying to teach her.
I had a difficult time acknowledging that my Lunnie was already a young adult. It seemed like only a few months had passed since she and Reide were toddlers on Desolation. Now, here she was – a beautiful 16-year-old girl. Girl is hardly the right word, as she was more of a woman than a girl. She stood as tall as Kala and the similarities between her and her Aunt Lunnie’s looks were uncanny. Other than for hair color, Lunnie and her namesake truly were identical. Every time I looked at my daughter, my mind would race back to the last words her Aunt Lunnie had left Kala in a private vid message. “If you and Tib have a baby girl – and I know you will – name her after me.” I often wondered if Lunnie was reincarnated in my daughter. I was personally skeptical about the concept of reincarnation. But I have to admit, my Lunnie gave me plenty of reasons to reconsider the possibility.
The transport we used for Lunnie’s lessons was a small two-seater about the size of a vehicle commonly called a sport utility vehicle, or SUV, back on Earth. Nearly all ships in the Federation were fitted with the same essential flight controls, so knowing how to fly a transport meant having the basic skills to fly any other craft, up to and including a starship. Of course, a craft as large as a starship required a lot more than just basic piloting skills, in terms of maneuvering and attention to other systems.
“Dad, I don’t see why I need to learn how to fly,” Lunnie exclaimed as we entered the transport. “We have pilots to fly us when needed. Besides, most of the time I just use Cantolla Gates to go where I need to go.”
“You never know when you might have to pilot a craft, Lunnie. You need to learn this like everyone else,” I replied.
“But dad, all the ships have automated pilots. All I need to know is how to tell the auto-pilot where to go and the system does the rest. And the automated pilot lands better and safer than I ever could.”
“What happens if the auto-pilot is disabled or damaged?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, like that’s likely to happen,” Lunnie said as she rolled her eyes.
“It happened to your mother and me. That’s how we ended up on Desolation where you and your brother were born,” I replied. I could see Lunnie trying to figure out a comeback to my response, but she was stymied, finally relenting the argument and reluctantly plopping herself into the pilot’s seat.
It became readily apparent after take-off that Lunnie’s barriers to executing even the most fundamental of piloting skills were self-imposed. It wasn’t that she lacked the aptitude or even the skill; she simply saw no reason to learn how to fly and, therefore, she put no effort into it.
After struggling for nearly an hour and enduring several bone-jarring landings that left me to question the structural integrity of the transport, I was about ready to call it quits.
“Daddy,” Lunnie began in a syrupy sweet tone that I recognized as the usual precursor to a request that I probably wouldn’t like. “Can I go into the city day after tomorrow with a group of friends to attend a Rojavi concert?”
I thought for a moment. “Not unless you learn to fly… and then you have to pilot a transport and all your friends to the event yourself,” I said, hoping this would give her some incentive to try harder.
“You want ME to fly them from the estate to the concert site in the city? Why can’t we have a pilot from the estate fly us? You’ll want me to have bodyguards anyway, and probably fighter escorts, too,” she said.
“You can pilot. The
fighters can escort you regardless and the bodyguards can join you as passengers on the transport,” I answered.
“But dad, that makes no sense. Why can’t someone else pilot the transport?”
“Because someone else already knows how to fly and you don’t. You need to learn, so you either learn now and pilot the transport to the concert or you don’t go.”
She pondered the ultimatum silently. “But if I learn, you’ll let me go?”
“Yes. If you can pilot this thing properly and execute several landings without bringing us to the brink of death, I’ll let you go.”
Lunnie got a determined look on her face and began her lessons again, this time making a much more serious effort. Her next attempt at landing was a bit rough, but I’d experienced worse with some new pilots. Her second try went smoother and, after only one more hour, she was docking so smoothly that I couldn’t feel the ship jar even the slightest bit when it touched down. Her manually controlled flights also improved significantly. When we docked for the last time that day, I said, “Lunnie, I’m impressed. You did very well, once you put your mind to it.”
“You’re still going to let me go to the Rojavi concert…?”
“Yes. If you do this well again tomorrow using a patrol ship, I’ll let you go.”