by S. H. Jucha
“Opinion polls show the Assembly and your administration are up 3.4 percent in the last ten days,” Orma said. “The messages directed to you are best summarized by Randolph Oppenhurst, an ex-TSF Captain, who said, and I quote, ‘Our future safety lies with the Librans. They can be powerful allies, especially with the Admiral as their leader,’ end quote.”
“Julien’s vids have had a dual effect, Orma,” Maria replied. “The population has witnessed two alien species. The Swei Swee, endearing with their entrancing music, have garnered the Admiral tremendous support, but the Nua’ll have scared everyone. And let’s remember, the credit for that giant sphere’s destruction goes to the Swei Swee and their beam weapons, which we don’t have … yet.”
At Maria’s “yet,” Orma swiveled her head around to regard her President. She gave Maria a conspiratorial grin. “The Admiral?” Orma asked hopefully.
“I believe so, Orma,” Maria replied with a confident smile as they strode the corridor. “If I know Alex, and I think I do, he will do everything possible, and maybe some of the impossible, to ensure he has them.”
* * *
The extensively decorated Cabinet Room in Government House appeared ornate, but it was highly functional. Beneath the heavily carved guriel wood, artfully hidden, laid the latest in comm tech and data access.
The Cabinet Ministers, led by Maria, were meeting with Alex, Renée, Tomas, Eric, and Mickey. The twins stood discreetly behind their charges. Not so discreetly, six flotilla crew members, armed with stun guns and plasma rifles, stood guard in the corridor. Government House’s Head of Security had objected vociferously, until Maria reminded him of the events surrounding the Admiral’s last visit home. “And,” she’d warned him, “we have yet to fully regain the Admiral’s trust.” It was just as well that Maria’s security head learned after the Cabinet meeting that six Daggers, led by Commander Reynard, interdicted the Government House no-fly zone as they patrolled space and skies for anyone foolish enough to try again for their Admiral.
Maria had wanted to tell Alex that he and his people were safe. Sixteen leading figures, including ex-President pro tem Downing and CEO Samuel Hunsader, had been indicted for conspiracy to commit murder. All had been arrested and charged. Investigations were still ongoing and a trail of credits had uncovered the mid-level players who had set up the theft of the Méridien database that resulted in the murder of the T-1 engineer. And just as importantly, all Strikers had been grounded. Maria knew this for sure because a vault at Government House held every single Striker controller ever installed or manufactured. But the one thing she wasn’t going to do was promise Alex he was safe only to have an incident make a liar out of her. Their resurrected, still-fragile relationship, couldn’t handle another infidelity … hers or others’.
Maria opened the meeting and the group reviewed Alex’s requests for flotilla supplies, which were approved and divided among the Ministers in relation to their responsibilities.
“There is an additional list for you to consider, Ser,” Alex said.
“Admiral, are these meant to be additional supplies?” asked Will Drake, the Minister of Space Exploration, as he studied the second list.
“No, Minister Drake, these are the items we wish to acquire via trade,” Alex replied.
“And what products do you have to trade, Admiral?” Minister Jaya asked.
“Actually, I have technology,” Alex responded.
Minister Jaya, responsible for New Terra’s technology development, shifted to the edge of his seat in anticipation.
“I have in one of the Freedom’s bays, two fully operational silver ships. We plan to reverse-engineer the technology and build grav-drive ships of all types. Eventually we hope to re-engineer the beam technology as well. At this time, we’re not prepared to form an agreement. These offerings will require pricing, and we’ve yet to form a government that would be responsible for signing the agreement. What I wish to know is whether you are interested in such an agreement.”
“What types of ships do you foresee in your early iterations?” Jaya asked.
“Our most critical need,” Mickey responded, “is for shuttle transport between our flotilla and the planet. We have a quarter-million people with personal supplies to move, and that’s just to start.”
“Consider, Sers,” Tomas added, “your shuttles could be environmentally neutral for each lift and landing. They would accelerate to a velocity of 0.91c and would be capable of delivering passengers between New Terra and Sharius, with only environmental services—no fuel consumed.”
“You have hover-cars today,” Renée said, “which also consume fuel and are rather noisy. What would be the demand by the populace for grav-drive cars—absolutely silent, capable of flying anywhere within the breathable atmosphere?”
“Perhaps most importantly, you might wish a fleet of ships for defense, instead of your Strikers,” Eric said, driving the sales pitch home, “possessing the fastest sub-light drives known to three races, with beam weaponry and no fuel demand.”
Both Duggan and Gerald had carefully advised Alex that if he didn’t have the product, he should paint the dream. Alex’s people had practiced their pitches to excite the New Terrans about the potential for these new products, even though, at the moment, they were no more substantial than smoke. But one person was not so easily persuaded.
“I believe we would be very interested in these types of products,” Maria stated. “Where do you stand on the feasibility of duplication? Have you examined these silver ships?”
“Good questions, Madam President,” Alex said. “Mickey?”
“Madam President, I have been inside a dark traveler with a team of engineers and techs for fifteen days now,” Mickey responded. “We believe we can replicate the grav-drive technology in about a third of a year. After that, we can refine it into several formats. However, we are still working on the collector system and have no timeline for it.”
The enthusiasm in the room deflated. “You mean the shells, Chief Engineer. You can’t replicate them?” Jaya asked.
“Minister Jaya, the shells are organically produced,” Mickey responded.
“Organically?” Drake asked, voicing the confusion showing on every New Terran face.
“Essentially, Swei Swee saliva and minerals,” Alex explained. However, his explanation didn’t do much to alleviate the Cabinet’s confusion. “But I wouldn’t be concerned about this. I believe I have a cure for this problem that will allow us to complete the first grav-driven shuttle within a year.”
In the stunned silence, Renée manifested a huge grin, announcing, “Isn’t the Admiral’s enigmatic style endearing?” Her tease caused the entire room to erupt in laughter at Alex’s expense. Then she leaned over and planted a kiss on the side of Alex’s face, adding, “And the infuriating thing is … what he dreams up usually comes true and works in his people’s favor, so we forgive him.”
Her last comment changed the dynamics in the room. The laughter quickly died away as what Renée had said hit home. Human cultures owed their lives to Alex’s eccentric style, and now an entire race of aliens could whistle the same thing.
The meeting concluded with Maria’s tentative approval to sign an agreement for shuttles, providing her Ministers’ terms could be met and a proven concept delivered within one year.
Alex left the meeting smiling while his people nervously discussed how they would accomplish the impossible within one year.
* * *
Both the Rêveur and the Money Maker had acquired docking space at Joaquin Station, which included direct gangway access.
The crew members, including Andrea, who were leaving House Alexander’s service, met in the Rêveur’s meal room, all of them dressed in civilian clothing. They sat preternaturally still in their seats as both Alex and Renée addressed them. He announced the reinstatement of their accumulated pay, already transferred into their accounts. Earlier Terese had deactivated their cell-gen nanites and their implants, which left th
em feeling isolated, adding to their angst. Many felt they were deserting their crewmates and the people they had worked to save. But for all of them, the alien menace and the life and death struggles had proven too much for their psyches. The Swei Swee would have whistled “It was necessary to seek shelter.”
When the meeting concluded, Alex led them from the meal room to the ship’s terminal gangway. Attired in her new Senior Captain’s uniform, Tatia waited at the gangway. As the ex-crew members were bid farewell by Alex and Tatia, many ducked their heads, and their eyes met the senior officers’ gazes only briefly, despite the warm good-byes they were offered. Guilt rang deep in their cores.
The first crew members to exit the gangway into the terminal’s corridor stumbled to a halt, causing those behind to bump into them. Thousands of Librans lined the long corridor leading to the terminal’s main hub. Notably, Directors Tomas Monti and Eric Stroheim headed the two lines.
As the New Terrans walked past the Librans, well-wishers touched their shoulders and arms. Comments in Sol-NAC of “Thank you” and “Good fortune” accompanied the touches. The heartwarming farewell caused the departing crew members to raise their heads and straighten their hunched shoulders. Smiles slowly replaced their grim expressions.
When the last exiting crew member passed the end of the lines, Tomas linked with Eric and messaged Alex.
Alex chuckled at the number, gratified to be the leader of a group of humans who cared so much for one another. If only it will last, he thought.
* * *
Alex, Tatia, Tomas, and Eric were joined by Renée in the Co-Leaders’ cabin.
Eric Stroheim opened the conversation, saying, “Admiral, neither Z nor I have directions from you regarding the protocols we should apply for new requests, which we’ve received in your absence.”
“I thought all of the Unsere Menschen’s ship functions were filled.”
“Oh, yes, they are, Admiral,” Eric replied quickly. “These are requests from New Terrans to offer new services to our people.”
“And these New Terrans are offering to join your ship as crew with these new services?”
“In a manner, Admiral,” Eric replied. “It was summed up very well by one individual who called himself a ‘pioneer.’ He has offered his services to our city-ship, free of charge, for the voyage’s duration, providing we offer space to store his shop’s wares.”
“Did you make it clear to these people that we have no destination as yet?” Alex asked.
“Truly, Admiral—and several times to each individual or family,” Eric said. “I believe that it is at the heart of the matter of being a pioneer … venturing into the unknown. A common concern was whether we will be able to manage the transfer of New Terran credits, to which I had no answer, much less understanding.”
“And how many offers have you had from these pioneers?” Renée asked.
Eric requested a link with the cabin’s occupants. When his invite was accepted by all, he linked with Z.
Alex sat contemplating the irony of the fact that while fifty-four crew members had left, a loss he was still dealing with, thousands of New Terrans wanted to join his flotilla and risk the journey to a new world. Pioneers ... they reminded him that their world’s new leaders would define a society that was neither Méridien nor New Terran, but a hybrid.
Alex thought of what these pioneers would mean to the flotilla, and it cemented in his mind something he had thought to do for the future of his people.
-28-
Julien’s pause was equivalent to a human heart attack.
Julien let loose a mental sigh. Z was still Z in many respects.
* * *
More than anything, Christie was determined to have a career in media broadcasting. Her fame as the Admiral’s brother would help her, but it would still be years before she could qualify for a position on a New Terran media station. But a brand-new world with no competition … It was the perfect opportunity.
And if the truth was squeezed out of her, Christie didn’t want to lose her big brother. Yes, she often fought with him, but that was just a façade. Just as importantly, where Alex was found, news exploded. What better way to start a media station than reporting to the populace of their new wor
ld and many others.
It was Duggan and Katie Racine who supported Christie’s application. Once Christie had conceived her idea, she’d sat down with her parents and explained what she wanted to do. It was probably the most mature decision Christie had ever made. Duggan and Katie were so surprised by Christie’s direct approach, a contradiction to her usually sneaky manner of operation, that they had taken her request seriously. A tipping point for Duggan and Katie were the conversations they’d had with Alex since his return from Libre. They knew their son might be leaving for years, not returning until he could be sure that those who depended on him would be safe.
“Mom, Dad, what makes you think Alex will ever return—permanently, I mean?” Christie had asked her parents.
Katie had drawn breath to object to the ridiculousness of the question, but stopped when Duggan had placed a hand on her knee.
“You’ve seen Alex with Renée just as I have,” Christie had said, hammering home her point. “Do you think he would ever be separated from her? So would Alex and Renée want to return to New Terra where they can only employ their implants with each other?” Christie had waited for a moment before she fired her next shot. “From what I hear, my big brother is employing two implants as if he was a super-computer with a touch of weaponry.”
“Weaponry … how?” Duggan had exclaimed.
“I was chatting with Director Stroheim and asking about the pioneer applications. He recounted his initial meetings with Alex,” Christie had explained. “Apparently when Director Stroheim first met Alex, he insulted him. Alex retaliated by stripping the security protocols from his implant and bombarding him with multiple sources of vids and data, supposedly to update him on the Rêveur’s history. From what I understand, Méridiens are incapable of such actions. Only SADEs have that capability but don’t employ it.”