Sades

by S. H. Jucha

  Alex smiled, tipped his head in understanding, and said, “Then it’ll be your turn, Lieutenant.”

  Aputi adopted a satisfied expression and leaned back in his seat.

  Alex regarded Patrice, who said, “I’ve a long report to make to our president, but I’ve a strong feeling that I’ll be returning to this area of space. If I’m stationed here, then I want the Earthers who accompany me to have implants.”

  “That’s going to be part of a more complex conversation,” Alex replied.

  “Complex how?” Patrice asked, her eyes narrowing at Alex.

  “Let’s just say that there are things I wish to discuss with your president and your representatives,” Alex replied. “By the way, you should know that Captain Tenard volunteered to protect Pimbor in our absence and until his ships are relieved.” Then he leaned back and closed his eyes for the remainder of the flight.

  Patrice and Ophelia shared a glance. Their thoughts were similar. Where Alex Racine focused his attention, worlds shifted.

  37: Call the Assembly

  The Hyronzy Station administrator, Fistonia, received the urgent message that the Omnian leader was inbound. It was the middle of the station’s sleep cycle, but arrivals from the dome continued around the chronometer, not that he had to greet every shuttle passenger.

  Fistonia dressed, debated whether to notify council staff, decided it could wait until they were awake, and hurried to greet the important visitor.

  The administrator made the terminal gate moments before the hatch opened and the passengers disembarked. He wondered if he’d recognize the leader from among those who accompanied him.

  The Sylian alliance representative and her staff passed Fistonia, and he tipped his head in greeting. Then an enormous female humanoid came down the gangway toward him. It seemed impossible that this would be the Omnian leader. The face was implacable, and the body language was reserved, even sparse. After clearing the gangway, the individual stepped aside, and Fistonia came face-to-face with a powerfully built human, who smiled at him and courteously extended a hand in greeting.

  Fistonia was relieved to accept the invitation. He said, “Welcome to Hyronzy Station, Leader Racine. I’m Fistonia, the station director. Whom do you seek? I’ll have them brought to your quarters, when the waking period of our cycle resumes.”

  “I wish to speak to the Tsargit council,” Alex replied.

  “I’m intimately aware of the council’s schedule for many cycles in advance, Leader Racine. I’m sorry to say that you’re not on it,” Fistonia replied, with consternation.

  “I understand that we haven’t received an invitation,” Alex said. “Nonetheless, I need their attention on an important matter. My announcement will be brief.”

  Fistonia was confused. What the Omnian leader was suggesting was highly irregular, although there’d been recent exceptions for members of his fleet. Presentations of information to the council were transmitted to their staff. Those individuals cleared any material they thought the council needed to see and determined who would receive an audience.

  “I’ll see you to your quarters, Leader Racine,” Fistonia said. “Then I’ll inform the council’s staff of your request.”

  “Is the council meeting tomorrow?” Alex inquired.

  “They’ve a session late in the working cycle,” Fistonia replied.

  “Thank you,” Alex replied good-naturedly. “If you’ll see us to our accommodations, we’ll let you return to your bed.”

  Fistonia left Alex and company in a guest suite with its common room and adjoining sleep quarters.

  Alex pulled out his ear wig and stared at it. It had beeped multiple times in his ear, as it accumulated the languages of the aliens he’d passed.

  Julien perceived Alex’s thought, and he said, “If we were to stay in this area of space, we could consider creating an app to do the same thing, but residing in your implant, the app won’t query the ear wigs you pass,” Julien remarked.

  “If we create a separate comm channel that’s always open or that reacts to visual recognition of an alien, it could be done,” Miranda replied, “but I’d be concerned for implant security.”

  “Fascinating devices,” Alex said, turning the ear wig over in his hand. “What race invented them?”

  “I don’t have that information,” Julien replied.

  “The Messinants,” Ophelia replied. “When the first races met, they learned to speak one another’s language through the use of a console app. The console supplied the initial ear wigs. Later, races found stores of them below deck.”

  “I wonder how many races had to meet before that technique was discovered,” Patrice said.

  “I wonder how many of them met peacefully,” Aputi mused.

  “Let’s talk about the council,” Alex said. He focused his attention on Ophelia.

  “I believe we’ve an advantage with the council, although I warn you not to count on it,” Ophelia said. “The lead councilor is a Norsitchian, Jarmonin. He organized the brassards under Commander Menous for Jess. The second dome and planet that were recaptured were Norsitchian.”

  In hindsight, Ophelia realized her statements were unnecessary. Between the SADEs and Alex’s implant, he had access to all the historical data that the Omnians had collected.

  Then the pieces of what Alex had said to her and the others since the journey through the domes clicked into place for Ophelia. “You’re not here to explain things to the council, are you?” she asked.

  “No,” Alex said quietly.

  “Then why are we here?” Patrice asked, glancing between Alex and Ophelia.

  “Alex has chosen to be polite and tell the council what he intends to do,” Ophelia replied. Having gleaned a smattering of Alex’s thought, she held him in her stare.

  “It’s only considerate to warn the council that I intend to address the alliance assembly,” Alex replied.

  “The alliance membership is here, but I know from our representative that they aren’t scheduled to meet for many more cycles. After an assembly, which lasts several cycles, they adjourn to work in committees and plan proposals with other races,” Ophelia objected.

  Patrice leaned back in her chair, folded her arms, and adopted a smile. “I remember when the Harakens came to Sol,” she said. “There was so much of what they intended to do that I thought was impossible. After all this time, I’m still hurrying to catch up, but the effort is so much more enjoyable now.” She grinned broadly at the Omnians, and they smiled in return. Olawale laid a companionable hand on her arm.

  Ophelia frowned at Patrice. She’d caught the gist of what her friend had said, but not how the comment applied to their present situation.

  Alex regarded Julien and Miranda, “Do you have what we need?” he asked.

  “We do,” Julien replied for Miranda and him.

  “Good,” Alex replied. Then he stood, clapped his hands together, and rubbed them vigorously. “Let those who need sleep retire,” he said, yawning. “In a couple of days, we’ll be journeying through the domes to wherever these two direct us.” He indicated Julien and Miranda with a twitch of a finger.

  In the morning, Alex waited for word of the council’s invitation. Midday meal came and went without word.

  In late afternoon, Julien nodded to Alex.

  “Time for a visit,” Alex said. He might have been the one to lead the group out of their quarters, but it was Julien who guided them through the station’s labyrinth of corridors and lifts.

  “Alex, tell me we’re not visiting the council uninvited,” Ophelia cautioned.

  “Okay,” Alex replied, with a grin.

  “Okay, we’re not doing that, or okay, you’re not going to affirm that,” Ophelia demanded.

  “I’ll be brief,” Alex promised.

  Ophelia glanced at Patrice for support, but her friend smiled and gently shook her head. Ophelia was further irritated by Aputi, who had averted his face to hide his grin.

  The group exited a twenty-cap
acity lift that moved swiftly on compressed gas through the central core of the station. They exited into a corridor that connected to others and eventually led to the council chamber’s ornate doors. The initial way was lined with grips for hands and ped cloth for boots.

  Alex glanced at Julien as they floated along, moving outward from the station’s center, until the rotational spin imparted some gravity.

  Julien sent.

  Outside the chambers, council petitioners rested in assorted seating arrangements, which staff had provided based on the scheduled visits. When Alex’s group reached this corridor, the petitioners glanced around in confusion. There wasn’t a spare seat to be had, much less enough to accommodate the seven who walked past them and paused outside the chamber doors.

  Miranda focused on the security override panel. Julien and she had accessed the station’s comm and control systems soon after they arrived. Within moments, Miranda activated the panel, and the tall doors swung open.

  When Lead Councilor Jarmonin saw the seven individuals enter, he didn’t need to examine the session’s list of petitioners.

  “With regrets,” Jarmonin announced to the intruders, “you’re not on our schedule.” He’d been advised of the Omnian leader’s arrival. However, with the rescue of his home world, he considered it time to restore the council’s protocols — petitions to staff are required for an audience, the requests are reviewed, and the approved individuals scheduled.

  “Oh, we’re not staying, Councilor Jarmonin,” Alex replied politely, “and we’re not here for a discussion. This is a courtesy call. We’re inviting you to the assembly meeting tomorrow. We hope to see you there.”

  “The next assembly isn’t scheduled for another sixteen cycles,” a councilor objected. He’d had to raise his voice. Alex and company were already walking out.

  “What is it you think you’re going to accomplish?” Ophelia said hotly to Alex, as Julien led them back to their quarters via another route, which didn’t involve zero gravity.

  Alex stopped and stared at Ophelia. Aputi’s protectionist instincts were triggered, but Olawale placed a hand on his chest. He knew Alex might appear intimidating, but he believed Alex was one of gentlest individuals he’d ever met.

  “How do you intend to defeat the Colony, Ophelia?” Alex demanded.

  “What?” Ophelia asked in confusion. “Like ... like we’re doing,” she stammered.

  “We?” Alex queried. “I don’t see you with a Loopah weapon in your hands, Commandant. Furthermore, how do you intend to defeat the next federacy fleet that sails into alliance space and by misfortune arrives in the Pyrean system?”

  “Why would —?” Ophelia started to ask before she clamped her mouth shut.

  “That’s right, Commandant,” Alex said pointedly. “There are multiple menaces in this galaxy. In nearly every case, the fights are for territory. There are only so many habitable worlds. If sentients are going to peacefully coexist, it’s going to take all of us cooperating. Councilors relying on their traditions aren’t going to get it done.”

  Alex turned, walked away, and the Omnians followed.

  Patrice eyed Ophelia sympathetically. “I know Alex can be disconcerting, but that’s because you and I focus on tomorrow or the near future. He’s envisaging a time for our worlds when he’ll be long gone. It’s best to be patient and assist wherever you can.”

  When Patrice hurried to catch the Omnians, Aputi said, “I like him, Commandant. He gets things done. I don’t mind fighting the insectoids with hand weapons. I do it to protect the other veterans, but I know we’d rather have a better way to defeat the Colony. With the Omnians’ help, we just might find that way.”

  Ophelia patted Aputi’s broad shoulder in understanding and said, “Better we catch the group before we get lost.”

  Having returned to the group’s quarters, Alex originated a message for Julien and Miranda.

  The SADEs connected to the station’s comm system and sent the message to every representative, committee member, councilor, and their cumulative staff.

  On receiving a copy of the announcement, Lead Councilor Jarmonin issued one of his own. He crawled into his bed for the night, believing he’d canceled the Omnian leader’s usurpation of the assembly’s schedule. He was unaware that Miranda had intercepted his cancellation notice.

  The following morning, Jarmonin was informed by a staff member that the assembly would be ready for his attendance within the hour.

  “What?” Jarmonin cried. He checked with fellow councilors. Many were on their way to the assembly rotunda, and they reported having received his message.

  Jarmonin had yet to realize the subterfuge that had been perpetrated by the Omnians, but he was intent on halting the charade. He quickly changed into his formal robes and hurried to the rotunda.

  By the time Jarmonin accessed the stage, most of the representatives, committee members, and staff were seated in anticipation of the emergency notice.

  The rotunda’s rows rose in circles around the central stage and climbed high to accommodate the nearly two thousand attendees, who sat behind modesty panels in comfortable chairs. The committee members and their staff sat closest to the stage.

  The councilors had accessed the stage from a lift in its center. Then they occupied seats behind a broad circular bench that faced outward toward the audience.

  “Where is Racine?” hissed Jarmonin to several councilors, when he gained the stage.

  The councilors stared at Jarmonin in perplexity. “I didn’t send the first message,” he explained to clear the confusion.

  “We only received one message from you,” a councilor objected.

  “No, I sent the second message,” Jarmonin retorted, which only bewildered the councilors more.

  “Welcome, representatives, committee and council members. I’m Alex Racine of the Omnians,” Alex’s voice boomed, reaching high into the rotunda’s rows.

  Alex’s thoughts were sent in advance to Julien, who relayed them to Miranda. In turn, she transmitted them through the rotunda’s presentation system. Moments later, Alex spoke to the audience, and the SADEs effortlessly synced the two sources. Only someone as accomplished as Alex with implants could manage the subtlety of composing his thoughts, sending them, and speaking them with a short delay.

  As Alex spoke, he rose on the stage’s lift, exited the councilor’s ring, and walked onto the stage.

  “Members of the alliance, you have your challenge with the Colony, who’s been invading your territory, and you’ve been steadily losing,” Alex said. “A few brave individuals, with our help, took back the first dome. Other alliance citizens joined, and a second dome and planet were recovered. The third dome has been rescued and its planet nearly so.”

  Alex’s increasing tally of successes produced murmuring throughout the rotunda. He let the news settle, while he prowled the stage, with his hands behind his back. He used the time to compose his next thoughts.

  “Far from here are many worlds inhabited by humans and their allies,” Alex continued, when he was ready. “Farther away is an area of space much like yours in that many of the habitable worlds are occupied by sentient races. But unlike your worlds, these races have existed for millennia in a hostile environment, ruled by an entity who we’ve recently defeated. Under onerous conditions, those races built powerful fleets of battleships, which they’re not afraid to use against other races. One such fleet from the federacy, as this area of space is known, has ventured into alliance space. You know this.”

  Jarmonin was trying to think of some way to interfere with the leader’s presentation, but he’d noticed that every councilor’s comms panel was inactive. He knew he couldn’t command the rotunda’s vast dimensions, without voice augmentation.

  “So, what are we to do ... the alliance, humans and their allies, and the federacy?” Alex asked the assembly. “Without concerted and cooperative effor
ts, our mutual problems will only grow worse. Omnians and Earthers have taken one step, which has been to help alliance races recover lost domes and planets. In that regard, there’s more that we can do. Unfortunately, for one world, we were too late. The Qualls are gone from their system. The Colony has seen to that.”

  The assembly erupted in an uproar. Voices barked, squawked, hissed, squeaked, and squealed, but their outrage wasn’t aimed at Alex. The representatives were angry at the council for its lack of action. The councilors were charged with the alliance’s well-being, and they’d failed in their duty to the Qualls.

  Alex held up his hands, and the audience quieted. “You’ve lost a world to the Colony, who eliminated a peaceful race, and you’ve a federacy fleet that hasn’t enough supplies for much more than forty cycles.”

  “Let them starve,” a voice roared from high in the rotunda’s rows.

  Julien, who had access to the station’s translation software, communicated the remark to Alex.

  Alex had to pull his ear wig before he began his presentation. Otherwise, it would have been continually beeping at him as it added new languages from among the many races near the stage.

  “There speaks a short-sighted individual,” Alex retorted, sweeping an arm at the upper rows. “That battleship fleet carries enough armament to destroy many planets and its inhabitants, and this individual would choose to have them become desperate and angry from hunger and thirst. It’s more than likely that the invaders would seek revenge on your worlds in their final cycles.”

  “Do you have a better solution, Alex?” the Pyrean representative called out.

  “I do, and I’ve already initiated it,” Alex replied. “In exchange for their battleships, shuttles, and heavy armament, three thousand Packeoes will receive Quall.”

  It was time for the assembly’s second outburst. This one focused on Alex, and he waited the representatives out.

  Raising his voice, Alex called out, “If you don’t like my solution, I can always sail my fleet home. Then you can deal with battleships that launch missiles called planet killers, and you can take up arms to recover a planet crawling with tens of thousands of adult and juvenile insectoids. Now, who of you has a better idea?”