by K R Sanford
You can do more with a kind word and a gun than with just a kind word.
Al Capone, circa 1925
Captain Ryan Falcon Majors stood at the helm viewing the void between Temple Star Base and the Milky Way Galaxy. “So, what do you make of these Līömĕtö people?”
The other stirred at weapons control. His dark hair and cold eyes framed hard against his face. Captain Hector Blackstone reacted as if waking from a dream. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said giving the question a moment’s thought. His voice strained in admiration, “They’re quiet. They mind their own business. Don’t misunderstand me,” he continued. “They’re polite and professional, but they distribute their smiles, carefully.”
His bearing was peaceful, his mind energized by the force of Temple Star Base. He waxed to a faraway place. His gaze moved from the sixty foot viewer. Something detached inside him like the landing field outside the ship.
They sat alone in Starship Eagle, the last ship departing for Event Horizon. The last rendezvous before entering the Amedan Wormhole. Their course; locked in. Their mission; tether with the fleet. Then, set coordinates to the Middle Corridor of the Milky Way Galaxy.
“We know nothing,” said Ryan, “And if we don’t ask questions, we will speculate about these people ‘til dooms-day.”
“Yea, well, it is a passion in me,” said Hector stirring from his private thoughts. “I need to team with intelligent species, beings that are new, species I haven’t seen. I need to see their culture with my own eyes. I need to see their challenges, the way they act. I need to see the real deal.”
“Steady on Hector,” said Ryan. “Legion’s field is strong, especially on this starbase.”
“I like this power,” quipped Hector. “I like the intelligence in this field. It’s a holographic action, food for evolution, food for multicellular species.” His chin lifted in defiance of an unseen foe. “Ryan, if you would be so kind, ask Vito if he would see us at his earliest. That’s, if it wound be convenient.”
Ryan threw up his hands, “What does Vito got to say? He’s a politician and he will use us as a vehicle no matter what we decide.”
“I don’t know we’re deciding anything,” said Hector. “Legion is behind this business. But, it is my job to unite our allies. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Agree, as in the style of politics to lead the refugees who don’t engage in their future?”
“For now,” said Hector. “Give them a chance. They need some time. If they need a hand with the new territory, we can make that happen. Ask yourself if any mother would give birth alone like an animal or share the travail with a midwife?”
“I see your point,” said Ryan, his voice rising in in the theatrics of an over-actor. “I see your point, Brother Blackstone. Lead us to the promised land.”
“That’s right,” chimed Hector. “Feel the power and you will see. It’s not what you say. It’s how you say it.”
“Get out there and prosper or else; with a carrot in one hand and a big stick in the other.”
“Yeah, something like that; we don’t know. We have to ask them questions.”
“Then we are in agreement,” said Ryan.
“We are, at least for now.”
The magnavator hissed. The door slid open. Marco and Cybil stepped onto the Bridge with a look of exhaustion.
Hector sat back in his chair quiet. He admired the couple’s compliment to each other.
“What’s with you?” said Marco.
“Did you have a good breakfast?” replied Hector with a twinkle in his eye.
“Oh yea, I had the pancakes,” said Marco patting his stomach.
“I had the fish,” replied Cybil with a rise of her eyebrow. The pride of her neck stretched long and sleek.
Hector sniggered. “Legion didn’t give us much data on your people, Cybil. When you have a moment, will you help me with the summaries from the Royal Neptune?
“It would be my honor, Hector.”
He tapped a sensor, and the viewer opened a tabulated pie chart. “This is what we have on your people from the Neptune survey.”
Cybil raised an eyebrow and followed Hector.
“They have divided your people into four groups.” Hector’s voice dropped to a soothing, even romantic tone. "These sliver sections are hybrids, for species like you, Cybil."
Cybil made a quiet sound, like the combination of a chuff and a purr. Hector’s ears found pleasure in the sound, and alarm at the same time. He blinked.
“I get a sense that others of your species do not develop as you.”
“Yes, this is unfortunate and true,” she said.
“Our kind needs robust environments to thrive. When the collapse of our galaxy sped up, we lost our ability to reproduce. Our adolescents could not shapeshift into human form. There is a narrow window where we can evolve to maturity. Most in the sliver section on the graph are latent.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Hector. He calculated the delicate features on Cybil’s face and the graceful form of her powerful body. “Life can be peculiar,” he continued. “It can be tenacious and resilient, and at other times delicate and fleeting as a flower.”
Cybil smiled. She admired Hector’s ability to charm his surroundings with the simple things of life.
“As a flower?” she repeated. “Our line needs to cross with other species, so-to-speak. We have a competition within us for our parent civilization. It’s so our civilization can adapt to a new environment. In the process we insure the future of our kind. The process is a symbiosis. And, we are the symbiote for other species to evolve. In this way our partners can compete for a viable place in the universe. And we can enjoy the freedom to move about with the products of our success.”
Hector raised an eyebrow and nodded, “I saw the playback of your interaction with the Amedan, Asher. Your defenses are impressive.”
“The reflexes of cat are quicker than the Amedan,” said Cybil.
Hector gave Cybil a slight bow, “That’s all for now,” he replied. “May I call on you later? I will have more questions?”
“Hector, anytime.” She smiled then stood. She walked to the observation window where she looked over the empty runway. The line of stars in the distance drew her gaze to where Event Horizon opened the Wormhole.
“What?” said Hector; “I know that look.”
Marco’s eyes were calculating. The folds in his forehead were clear. He strained to consider more than a simple idea.
“Let’s take a walk, Hector,” he said. “I want to see how our guests are settling in, okay? Call your friend from Environmental Services and have her join us.”
“Humph,” grunted Hector, “You’re not wasting any time getting into this thing.” His calloused fingers tapped out a coded message on his short list.
Marco continued, “Have her meet us in front of the casino in five.” He turned to Cybil gazing out to Event Horizon. “Do you want to come along, Cybil?”
“Yes.” She turned then headed straight for the magnavator. She stepped inside and was gone from the hiss of the door shutting tight.
Marco and Hector gave each other a blank stare. Without a word they scrambled to the magnavator in the adjacent bulkhead.
Marco touched a sensor and they descended.
“They are her people,” he said.
“Yes, I get that. Do you miss her already?” replied Hector in an air of jest.
“She’s my responsibility. We’re moving.”
“Well damn, so we are.” Hector pointed his thumb at the upper bulkhead. “He’s not wasting any time either.”
“No,” replied Marco, “He wants to get this ship underway. The Eagle is carrying more passengers now than she ever has in the history of her service.”
“At one time,” said Hector, twitching a facial muscle.
“Well, yeah. These are the most passengers we’ve ever carried at one time; is all I’m trying to say.”
“I know.”
“W
ell, okay. We’re here.”
The magnavator hissed and the two senior officers stepped into the foyer.
“Admiral,” called a husky man in a tuxedo. His jet black hair was styled in the fashion of businessman-Politian.
“Vito, you're the man I wanted to see.”
“It will be a busy day,” said Vito shaking hands. “What’s first?”
Marco, realizing he was shaking hands with the leader of the View. He smiled at the Vito’s savoir faire and magician like sleight-of-hand. "I’m expecting Chris Thacher.”
“She’s here.” Vito motioned with his hand as if he were making a bird appear out of thin air.
Chris stepped through the cafeteria doors with a taco in one hand and a frosty mug of ale in the other.
“Is that your breakfast?” ask Marco with a look of curiosity.
“Second breakfast,” she replied reaching her taco toward Marco’s face.
“No, no, you finish that,” he said holding up his hand. “We will see if the guests are wanting.”
“The refugees?” questioned Chris.
“They are refugees, but on this vessel they are guests.” Marco smiled with his success at expressing the simple play of words. “I need to find my cat. You haven’t seen a big cat prancing around here have you?”
“Thanks for the warning. I suspect, if I don’t eat this fish taco in a hurry she will smell it and finish it off in one bite.”
“She’s already eaten,” he said, “but I wouldn’t take any chances by waving that thing around.”
Chris took a full bite of the taco and chomped it down quick.
“Let’s get going. Like Vito said, it’s going to be a busy day.”
Vito nodded with a whimsical raise of his eyebrow. He whispered, "Very busy." He followed the Admiral and his executive.
“Have you been on the starboard tower, Veto?” asked Marco.
“No, I moved in the port side five years ago and haven’t changed a thing. To my understanding the Liometo people are all on the starboard tower,"
“As far as I know they are, except for Cybil. Chris, where do you have everybody housed?”
Chris produced a hand-pad. She touched an icon and reported. “Most of the Liometo I have on decks one through seven, starboard. Then, I have more on one and two of the port tower. I also set up a make-shift camp in the cargo bay.”
Marco’s head snapped up; his eyes fell soft. He wiped away a tear. “Fine job, Chris,” his voice braking, struggling to get the words out for emotion. “Damn fine job.” Marco’s smile was infectious.
The enormity of their mission was sinking in. Vito, seeing the magnavator door open clapped his hands. Then speaking in a sharp tone he replied, “Let’s go find your cat. What do you say, Admiral?”
Marco cocked his head to the side. He smiled at Vito’s relentless determination to be present. He stepped into the corridor and made his way along the spine of the ship; the halfway point of the ship’s main body. Then to the halfway point between fore and aft where the corridor opened to the domed atrium. They stopped.
The atrium was a garden paradise with a wide straight walkway between the two delta towers. Off the walkway were lush gardens of leafy tropical plants, fruit trees and palms. The sound of a waterfall spilled into a babbling brook. The brook meandered along its journey from one end of the atrium to the other.
“Keep your eyes peeled for a big black cat,” whispered Marco.
"Why would she be in here?” asked Hector.
“She might need to go, you know. I don’t know her species. Technically, we’ve just met.”
“She looks house broken,” said Hector. “But it brings up an interesting point. What else do we not know about our guest? Does she have a friend she sees now and then?”
“I don’t know and don’t know,” said Marco.
“Admiral to bridge: Ryan?"
“Go ahead,” said Ryan.
“What’s our status?”
“We are still at yellow alert,” said Ryan.
“Very well, stand by.”
Hector was the first to enter the delta portal of the starboard tower. Chris followed close behind then Vito then Marco. After taking ten paces they stopped. They immediately drew their attention to the ceiling. It appeared as no ceiling at all but the inside decks stacked on top of each other to form the delta-shaped tower.
The view was of a hollowed out triangle draped with living plants from the balconies of each deck. It gave the feeling of a garden paradise. It was as if the architecture projected an infinite garden in a continuum of spacetime.
“I’m getting dizzy,” said Hector.
Vito laughed.
Marco frowned, “Where’s my fucking cat?”
Vito burst into a fit of laughter.
“Every time I look at this structure,” said Chris. I'm reminded of changing states of matter or a corridor of interdimensional spacetime.”
Hector shook his head. "I keep wondering if there is some connection why the age old name ‘room’ is still called ‘state-room’."
Chris retorted. “What’s the connection? If you asked me they’re in a different language. I'd have to say: What difference does it make?”
Hector threw up his hands. “It’s a sea fairing term, that’s what language," retorted Hector. “It’s the king’s old English.”
“Let’s not fight in front of the — Marco looked to Vito.
“Liometo people, Admiral,” Vito replied. “And, it appears we have gained their audience.”
Marco straightened. "Who’s this?"
Vito calculated, “This is a man who wants to make a point.”
The man was tall but not as tall as Hector. His hair was blonde and gray and trimmed irregular off his shoulders. His gait was steady but his legs wobbled. He wore a dark gray jumpsuit and a poker face. Others trailed in behind from a distance.
Vito stepped forward, “Can I help you?”
"I’m Kavin, representing the good people of Limit One. We are the oldest party for traditional rights of all upstanding Liometo citizens. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"
Vito clasped his hands in front of his chest and gave a slight bow. He was about to speak, “I am Vito
“Yes, and by the fine clothes you wear, I can see you are a man of power and influence. We are a great people and I vow to see the conditions for alliance submitted to your Emperor. Our claims go back generations and it is time our rights get honored before any deals complete. I didn’t get your name, Sir.”
Vito smiled then turned his hand toward Marco. “Kavin, allow me to present, Admiral Marco Miller, representing Emperor Legion. Admiral, this is representative Kavin form Limit One.”
“Our claims are legitimate and binding in perpetuity, Admiral. What are your politics in civil rights matters?”
Marco, expecting a long drawn-out discourse returned round eyes and opened mouth.
“Yes, Admiral,” continued Kavin in a condescending demeanor. “I respect everyone’s opinion and their right to speak on the claims of their fine people.”
“About that,” replied Marco placing his hands together, taking Vito’s lead. “You haven’t seen a big black cat named, Cybil by chance, have you?”
Kavin sniggered with rolling eyes. “I am sure, Admiral. When it comes time for something you need, you will want to rest assured. You will have the representative you can count on to go before our Liometo citizenry. And, have your requests understood with every interest you want in mind. Am I wrong, Admiral?”
Vito stepped up to Kavin and stuck a close-quarters spall pistol in his face. Then, in a deep graveled voice that Marco hadn't heard before said, “You’re wrong, Kavin. The Admiral asked you a question,”
Kavin froze.
“How about you answer the Admiral’s question right now or I will blow a hole through your mouth the size of my foot.”
Kavin tried to look down at the size of Vito’s foot but his eyes froze on the gun pointing an inch from hi
s mouth. “She’s on the third deck with Thule discussing the migration order when we reach the Emperor’s home planet.”
Vito slipped his weapon inside his coat and spoke in the same tone. “Take us to the stateroom where they are holding the meeting,” turning to Hector with a quick wink.
Hector turned up the corner of his lip with a quick wink of his own.
“Let’s go,” was all Vito had to say before Kavin stepped across the shiny black deck of the starboard tower.
“It’s so peaceful here,” she whispered.
Hector leaned in, touching Chris’s shoulder. “It feels like a cave with the plants dangling and all.”
“A lot more than on our side,” said Chris turning toward the windows to the midship atrium. “This is the recreation area for the refugees, I mean, guests. I will not hang around here without an invitation.”
“You work here,” said Hector. “I’ll assign a security detail to escort you when you are on this side.”
“I don’t know if that is necessary.”
Hector looked over, “Its protocol for high-traffic areas,” he replied. “Two guards will get posted outside the atrium doors until we reach Ameda. When you are in the tower, one will go with you. That way you can complete your job without getting molested by guests such as, Kavin.”
Chris didn’t give Hector’s plan a second thought. She nodded then turned to admire the plants dangling over the balconies. She marveled at the transparent triangle cap up at the penthouse.
“Who lives up there?” she asked in an air of fascination.
“I thought you knew?”
Chris turned up an empty palm. “I'm Environmental Services but I make it my policy to stay out of people’s business. I don’t ask about their lives because then I make it okay to contaminate the social landscape.”
Hector nodded with a firm bite of his lip. “Yeah, that’s right, for some groups. Our people attend refreshers on over using their imagination.”
“Yes, as it should be. But some have a different agenda. Some are sick or want to create an advantage for themselves. And, some are pathological and want to undermine those around them.”
“Users,” whispered Hector.