Of Bravery and Bluster

by Scott Kelemen

  Her palm cracked the ball and sent it floating over the net. Her deft touch and perfect spatial awareness sent the ball through the full-gravity zone at the center of the net, but its flight path changed as the ball banked into the lighter gravity at the court’s edge. Its path warped harshly sideways and struck right on the court’s side-line.

  Makaio hadn’t given up despite the tortuous flight. The great bull of a man was nearly horizontal having launched himself in a last-ditch effort to intercept it. He hit the ground in a billowing burst of sand, spraying his whole body with grit. He came up spitting, his mouth coated.

  Johanna held a hand up, indicating a point. “In.”

  Garam threw his hands in the air. “No way! The tape didn’t even twitch!”

  Johanna peered down at him calmly from the height of the judge’s chair.

  Garam gave up. When had he ever won an argument with her? “Should never let someone with eyes as sharp as yours judge games like this. Why are we letting her again?”

  Sam was at the side of the court, taking a long swig of beer. “Because we’re playing drunk grav-ball, and Johanna has cranberry juice in her glass.”

  Crossing her legs regally upon her seat, Johanna took a precise sip, clearly enjoying the red concoction she had ordered. “It is raspberry, cranberry, and grapefruit.”

  Makaio wiped his face, stumbling over to grab hold of the mojito perspiring on the table nearest him and took a long healthy drink. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just you be calling a fair game, hear me Miz-I-don’t-know-good-drinks?” He barked a laugh as if the lame retort had been the soul of wit. Setting his glass back down, he clapped his hands. “Do it again! Ain’t gonna get by me twice!”

  Dianne was holding a deep margarita glass encrusted with salt in one hand. She didn’t put it down, instead tossing the ball with the other hand and sent the sphere sailing over the net. She was already drinking again while it was in the air.

  Garam ran after it, but tripped halfway there. The ball landed well inside.

  Johanna raised her hand. “In.”

  Garam remained on the ground. “How is she doing that?”

  Dianne laughed wickedly from where she stood behind the serving line. “A lady never gives away her secrets. Had enough?”

  Makaio was bold, “Never!”

  Garam never got up. He raised a hand in petition. “I surrender for both of us.”

  Sam pushed the net awkwardly out of the way and wove an unsteady line to his friend’s side. He reached down to help Garam to his feet. Getting each other to their chairs by the sidelines became a joint effort.

  Johanna descended from the judge’s chair to join them at the edge of court, shutting down the gravity generators along the way. She perched herself neatly in one of the chairs as the rest spread out in more relaxed fashion.

  Dianne tisked at the three men lounging indolently in their chairs. “Ever heard of knowing your limits?”

  Garam appealed to Sam, “I know I saw her drink four of those things. Isn’t there alcohol in margaritas?”

  Sam grinned across at Dianne, “I’m sure there was. There isn’t anything virgin about Cadet Starling.”

  She arched an eyebrow back at him. “If that isn’t the most epic case of a star calling the sun hot!” She let out a groan of relief as she propped her shoes up on the table. “At least the wait is over! Thought the start of the Trip-E would never get here! Alright, out with it. Where did everyone end up? Didn’t see any of your names on my team roster, so I think I’m all by myself on some asteroid mine in the outer belt of the Z-39 system. Color me thrilled. At least four other teams are ending up on the same planetoid, so we’ll have a little company after hours. Don’t suppose any of you are with one of them?”

  Johanna gave her a puzzled look. “You are not far from me in the rankings. You must have been given the same choice I was. You had your pick of assignments, didn’t you? Why would you select one you are dissatisfied with?”

  Dianne pointed at her in mock threat, “Because I’m coming for you, Miz Summer. I’m going to be first in the rankings before we graduate, just watch and see.” The others chuckled as she stage-whispered to Johanna, “By the way, that whole choice was supposed to be a secret.”

  Johanna scrunched her eyebrows, thinking it strange they would keep such a thing from their friends.

  Dianne released a sigh. “Right. Should’ve expected that.”

  Garam asked, “How many got to choose?”

  Without a modicum of embarrassment at revealing the whole thing, Johanna replied, “The top three.”

  Garam glanced at Sam, “The last one being Tanner, per this morning’s ranking board.”

  Rolling his eyes, clearly dismissing that the rank could have anything to do with Tanner’s actual skill, Sam focused on Dianne. It was his turn to be confused. “If you had your choice, why get exiled to the back-end of nowhere?”

  Dianne held up her palms in confession. “Like I said, I intend to be first. Only two of the locations had multiple teams assigned to them. Asteroid mining is better than studying microbiology and cellular growth on Beacon. With five teams nearby, that means I won’t be a stranger to nearly a quarter of the class, all of us sharing the burden of a crap assignment.”

  Makaio raised his glass to her, “I’ll happily leave the politics to you.”

  Dianne stuck her tongue out at him, “You’re just looking for excuses to explain why I’m going to school you in the graduation rankings without having to admit that I can still school you by flying circles around you.”

  Garam lips twisted with evil humor. “Not to mention how you shot him first during that tactical exercise in first year.”

  Makaio flushed with anger, “I shot her first, remem-”

  Sam cut him off, pointing over the table at Garam. “You have a low sense of humor sometimes.”

  Garam returned a modest shrug. “I know.”

  Dianne huffed at their antics. “You still haven’t coughed up where you’re all going. Johanna, help me out here. Where’d you choose to go?”

  “Taurus,” Johanna replied quietly, almost reverently.

  Garam searched his memory. “That’s the dual-star home of the Taurons, right?”

  Johanna corrected him without any bite, “The Adonlaeydians, yes. We named their stars Taurus through an astronomical mistake when humanity first arrived in this region of space, believing it connected to the old constellation of the same name viewed from old Earth’s skies. The mistake was eventually revealed, but the original name stuck. The Adonlaeydians consider it a mortal insult.”

  Sam whistled, adding sarcastically, “Bet that doesn’t have anything to do with how we’ve kept them contained. The blockade over their two planets has been unbroken for centuries.” Whatever the morality behind it all, he sounded impressed by the military precision if nothing else.

  Makaio snorted. “Better them than us. Who’s to say they aren’t another version of the Miraki in the making?”

  Johanna rarely showed anything like irritation, but her eyebrow quirked upward in an expression that came remarkably close. “They are completely dissimilar.”

  Garam couldn’t help mentioning, “I’ve read enough to know they breathe the same sort of air as us, more or less.”

  Makaio tapped the table to drill in his own point. “Anyone who wants the same planets as we do is bound to be a threat.”

  Seeing the debate heating up in the wrong direction, Dianne cut in, “Alright alright alright. Enough. We had enough arguments about xenophobia in our history classes. Let’s not re-live it all on our last night on planet. Leave it to you to pick the most disturbing choice out there, Johanna.” Dianne pointed her chin at Makaio. “How about you, fire starter? Where’d you end up?”

  Makaio snorted again, not quite able to believe the two with their own choice hadn’t snatched up the most interesting one of the lot. “How could neither of you pick the trip to the terra-forming project? I mean, Terraforming Horizons Initiative
isn’t playing around. Rumor is that THI has a test planet in the Z-20 system, and we’re going to watch them cook samples in their lab for transplant. Real samples of life being ported into a fresh, new ecosystem. The first new planet turned from a chemical cesspool into breathable real-estate totally by us! That’s going to be magic!”

  The others didn’t seem inclined to object. It was hard to deny the allure of watching the problem of population density requirements practically solved forever.

  Always up to the challenge of mockery, Garam found one, even if it sounded lame. “You have to go all the way to Helix. That means you barely have a few weeks on the ground before turning around for home. Spending more time in hyperspace than working on your project isn’t going to be fun.”

  Makaio gestured at him, “So, how about you then?”

  Garam shook his head, “Oh, I won’t be claiming any trophies. They’re sailing us to Southwind to be part of some leadership conference for senior diplomatic leaders in the region.” He tried to make it sound as bad as a toothache.

  Sam laughed, “Nice try at sounding pathetic. You can’t fool us. You’re going to drink champagne on a resort planet.”

  Garam pleaded with him to understand, “But I have to talk to people. Boring people. Why couldn’t I land a nice tech-based assignment like you?”

  Sam corrected, “Bio-tech. Remember my score in biology? I’ve been contemplating shooting myself in the foot and getting left behind. Problem is they’d probably fail me for missing the Trip-E entirely, wound or not.”

  Makaio looked disgusted on his behalf, “Ugly. Where are they sending you for that?”

  Sam groaned. “That’s the worst part. Beacon. You know, the other one Dianne mentioned? Yup, that will be me and 24 of my favorite other cadets being sent to the least exciting planet in the whole Alliance. The hot-bed of genetic research in the galaxy.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

  Garam asked, “Why not Helix? That’s where the real work is being done.”

  Sam gestured right back at him. “You hit the mark already. Time. The material we must cover demands actual lab work. Makaio’s team is doing mostly computer simulations because the terraforming tech is so new. They can do it on the way.” He grilled his big friend a little more. “Although, that also means they won’t let any green pseudo-scientists like you touch anything really significant.”

  Makaio huffed, “Better to catch a glimpse of excitement rather than waste your time on Beacon doing hands-on research to make bacteria live .00000002 seconds longer.”

  Johanna melted the rising banter back to a more soothing level. “The staff undoubtedly tried to equalize the educational opportunities on all of the missions.”

  Dianne favored her with a fond smile. “You can balance on anything, can’t you?” She held up her half-drained glass. “Well, there’s no way they’re going to fund any FTL comm links for us, and I am not rich enough to waste marks sending letters to you guys when I’ll be seeing you in a couple months anyway. So, take it easy out there. I’m not going to be around, so make sure you don’t get dead.”

  Garam raised his glass up to clink off hers, “We’re going to have staff babysitters the whole way, following a pre-arranged program of scientific and diplomatic studies. Worst danger is going to be a hangover. I think I can handle that.”

  Makaio glanced at Johanna. “What day is it again on Dacosi Prime?” Tradition was to always toast the day on the home world.

  Johanna let out a soft sigh. She had shown him the conversion tables a few dozen times already. “Second Day.”

  “No no! Old calendar.”

  “Tiw’s Day, in honor of an ancient god of war and law.”

  Makaio grinned. “Nice! Alright, so the toast is to ‘Our Spacers’, which since we aren’t officers yet includes us. At least until we make it through the Trip-E, and then graduation.”

  Sam smiled, “Except for the Final Test of course.”

  The others all laughed, none of them eager to talk seriously about Navy legends right about then. They raised their glasses. Sam picked a few poetic words, “To our Spacers. Keep us safe today, we’ll join you in the stars tomorrow.”

  The others echoed, “To our Spacers!”

  They drank and talked into the night. If hangovers were the danger, they were willing to face them head-on.

  Chapter 9

  Cadet Ferris Fulum had never been accused of being the sharpest of his class. His current, confused expression didn’t do him any favors. “So, they don’t look like bulls?”

  Tricia Gavalt was the unfortunate scientist assigned to supervise the half-dozen Navy cadets who had arrived for their brief exposure to xenology. Her quizzical, half-stunned expression tried to cover over her realization that there was, indeed, such a thing as a stupid question. Tricia cleared her throat, and managed to ask, “Excuse me?”

  Most cadets would realize they were on less than solid ground. Ferris appeared immune to common sense at that moment, a state that surprised none of his peers. “The star system is called Taurus, isn’t it? Wasn’t it named after the inhabitants? Thought that would mean they looked like bulls or cattle or something. You know, after the constellation?”

  Lieutenant Commander Morra Sheffeld stepped into view, intercepting the question and saving Tricia the need to chastise him. “Mister Fulum, you are in dangerous territory. Your pre-reading package would have made most of these facts abundantly clear. You are beginning to make me suspect you haven’t perused them well.” Her tone added ‘if at all’. She turned to the others in the group, selected Paula Ophere mostly because her strawberry-blonde hair happened to catch her attention first amongst the crowd, and asked, “Care to fill him in on what he missed, Miz Ophere?”

  Never one to enjoy being put on the spot, Paula fidgeted nervously but didn’t miss the mark. “The two-star system was named Taurus A and B due to an astrogational mistake early in humanity’s arrival in this region. The local intelligent species are the Adonlaeydians. At least, that is the closest approximation of the sound they make when they get angry at us for calling them Taurons. We still don’t know if the name is accurate, since effective complex communication has never really been established.”

  Pleased that at least one of the cadets had done their homework, Tricia looked less like this next few weeks were going to be a complete waste of her time. The group had paused just outside the central laboratories of Nearwatch 1, a station planted on the moon circling the Adonlaeydian birth world. Before taking them into the central room, Tricia added, “This will be one of the areas of study during your stay. The Adonlaeydians vocalize with intricate sound structures, with a physical shift in their coloring to accent what they are trying to say. Yet, even our best algorithms produce only simplistic translations. Anger. Pleasure. Fear. Sadness. Simple identifiers, so that we know they are self-aware, yet no context behind any of it. It is like talking to children, even though we know they are capable of advanced mathematics and skill sets. There are many facets of this species you might choose to focus on. Maybe you can join the frustrating quest to develop a real way to understand them.”

  Johanna raised her hand, “I intended to make that my specific area of study, Ma’am. Are we permitted to access the full array of material? None of it is classified?”

  Tricia smiled indulgently, “There are some proprietary works under development that are kept confidential as the scientists involved may publish, but the basic research and current understanding is open for public consumption.” She held up a hand to stay any further questions. “Let’s go in and get you accustomed to the environment. Fair warning, the first time in the central lab is often disorienting. Just stand still and absorb what you see. Your stomachs will settle.”

  Nadia Saltwind let out a nervous laugh, “Couldn’t be any worse than hyperspace on a long jump, can it?” As part of their training, the military transport that had brought them into the system had pushed the envelope of how long their jumps through faster-than-light spac
e lasted. The nausea caused by hyper-jumps grew progressively worse as organic systems like human bodies were disrupted in that violent space. The last few days of their two jumps had not been pleasant.

  Tricia’s smile wasn’t comforting. “We’ll see. Shall we?”

  She turned and led the group through the airlock and into the observation lab. She stood to the side and let the cadets fan out into the room, watching as they spun in slow circles and absorbed the interior which threatened to overwhelm them with sensory overload. She spoke conversationally, deliberately casual, “The actual enclosure is to the left.”

  There would have been no way to tell. Every wall of the laboratory was a full-length, full-width, super-high definition screen looking in on the enclosure. The one on the left was as direct as a window, but the one on the right was re-directed to the opposite side, the floor looking downward through the enclosure’s ceiling, while looking up at the ceiling was to peer into the enclosure from the its floor.

  To make it worse, the center of the room contained four large observation spheres. Each had a mirror of itself inside the enclosure, which projected back into the observation room. The stations could move, offering endless vantage points.

  Marrah Onera, the last of the group of five, covered her mouth with her hand, struggling to fight off a wave of vertigo from the overload of perspective. She closed her eyes quickly.

  Tricia saw the reaction, and said, “Don’t keep your eyes shut too long. The only way to get used to it is to experience it.”

  Johanna continued to walk deeper into the room, her pace steady and unhurried. The augmented perspectives of the room were hitting her senses perhaps even more violently than the others, but she had what they didn’t. Training. All her life, her tutors had tried to gift her with the ability to hear what one should only see, see what one should only touch, touch what one should only smell, and scent what one should only hear. They had never explained what about her genetics or background caused her mind to work differently. At times, she wasn’t sure even her tutors knew the full extent of her capability. But they had trained her as best they could, and the struggle to live with a continual torrent of sensory information armed her to take this new experience in stride.