Méridien (The Silver Ships Book 3) (19 page)

Cordelia cleverly laid the three individuals into a threaded matrix, much like two strands of DNA would entwine, except this was for three strands. She laid them out in a time sequence allowing Alex and the SADEs to identify that when one particular individual spoke, all other individuals were quiet. Alex labeled that individual the group’s leader. The other individuals Cordelia had mapped had responded to the leader at different times.

Alex sent. Silence greeted Alex’s announcement. When the quiet extended a little too long, especially for SADEs, Alex said,

Julien responded.

Edouard, who had been on bridge duty for two and half hours, was startled by his Admiral bolting out of the command chair and racing off the bridge after having been sitting absolutely still the entire time.

Having seen this level of intensity before from his friend, Julien did two things. He intuited where Alex was headed and sent messages to individuals along the route to clear the way.
At least our people aren’t panicked anymore when they see their Admiral sprinting.
He sent a second message to Renée.

Renée replied.

Renée stepped into a ship suit and boots and left her cabin for the meal room, calculating the number of volunteers she would need to wake to feed a hungry group of New Terrans and Méridiens, not to mention Alex. She had once joked to Alex, seemingly a lifetime ago, that she would fabricate a special half-meter meal plate for him.
Perhaps I should have had a good ten or twenty of them fashioned
, she thought.

Alex found only two techs in the suite, asleep at their benches, and he paced back and forth, waiting for the return of his senior people. When they did arrive, Alex stared at their bleary eyes and hastily donned ship suits and realized his error. He raised his hands out in an apologetic gesture, but Mickey interrupted him.

“You needn’t bother, Admiral. We can sleep when we finish saving the universe, or at least this corner of it. What do you need from us?”

Alex looked at the people assembled before him, Mickey, his flight Chief, and the techs they had woken up, who wore expectant faces. He shrugged and accepted his guilt, tucking it aside. Alex sent Cordelia’s woven matrix to them, demonstrating the interplay of conversations. He explained the frequency scale with its notations for modulation of the notes that was the heart of the matrix. Alex could see by the silence that greeted the revelation that it was too much for them to absorb. No intuitive leaps were going to be forthcoming.

“People,” Alex explained, “we need to start a dialog … a dialog at the most fundamental level. First, we must get them to understand that we want to communicate and learn from them.” He looked at their faces, and it dawned on him that as a people, New Terran or Méridien, they were technicians not linguists. Worse, for each society, there had been only the one common base language.

Alex began to pace again, thinking fiercely. His people watched him pace the room and waited.

“Okay, we start with the universal language, mathematics. Mickey, I want to ping the hull with one ping, pause, two pings, pause, three pings,” Alex requested.

“Can do, Admiral,” Mickey replied, happy to have a definitive direction.

He and the techs spent a few moments setting up the process. Claude selected a clear, clean tone from Cordelia’s matrix and had Julien load it in the monitoring instrument. Meanwhile, Julien opened channels to Cordelia, Z, and Mutter to relay all future data from the silver ship. Then Claude programmed the sequence the Admiral had requested and sent it to the audio pickup on the silver ship’s hull. Moments later, the audio pickup relayed the sounds of tapping on the ship’s inner hull, repeating the sequence they had sent.

Mickey and Stan gave Alex huge grins, ecstatic with their success, but their smiles faded when they saw the frown on Alex’s face.

“Claude, send it again,” Alex ordered.

Again, they received the same tapping response. Alex waited until he thought he had made the point he wanted to make, then ordered Claude to repeat the signal. This time there was no immediate tapping. Alex held his breath, hoping he had gotten through to the aliens. Over the audio speakers, they heard three clear, different notes.

“Yes!” Alex said, punching the air. “Claude, send a set of three more pulses with four pings, pause, five pings, pause, six pings. Every time you get a successful response in audible tones, increment the pulses until you reach one hundred. Change nothing else.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Claude said, realizing what Alex had been trying to accomplish, a simple dialog.

Alex asked.

Julien replied first.

Cordelia interjected,

Mutter sent.

Alex replied.

Mutter took a brief tick to reorder her protocols that governed communication with the Admiral. Her comm protocols were now changing regularly after rarely changing in decades. She found the process invigorating, an uncommon sensation for her.

Mutter responded.

<“First,” Admiral,> Cordelia said excitedly.

Monitoring the Engineering Suite, Julien picked up a view of the Admiral and relayed it to his fellow SADEs. They saw him sit heavily in a chair, clap his hands together, and break into a huge smile. Then they watched his smile slowly fade to be replaced by a frown.

Alex sent to the SADEs.

Cordelia’s idea was borne of her art. she sent.

Julien added,

When Alex closed his comm to direct the building of a laser projector, Julien sent a quick message to Renée that the engineering staff was building again and Alex was free of comms.

Renee woke a few people to help her deliver food and drink to the engineering team. Her message raced through the crew, waking most from their sleep, and she was surprised by the number of volunteers. Everyone wanted to watch the historic event unfold in person—humans’ first communications with aliens.

In a rare adoption of their cousins’ trait, Pia broadcast to the entire crew, except those in engineering, sending, It was such a un-Méridien-like announcement that the crew acquiesced to her demand. Then Pia drafted the number of Méridiens she would need to assist Ser.

The SADEs kept their ships’ Directors, Captains, officers, crew, and passengers apprised of the engineering team’s progress. Tomas, Lina, and Captain Cordova were so entranced by the event that they listened on the
Freedom
’s bridge, as if being away from the immediate vicinity of Cordelia would lessen the event’s reality. There were two special guests on the
Freedom
’s bridge, as requested by Renée. Tomas had contacted the young Librans, relaying the directive,

Both had been overcome by the personage of a Co-Leader recognizing them, children of their people. Eloise had replied,

Tomas had replied, <“Please tell the little elders, the builders of consensus and the Admiral’s supporters, that I would see them witness this amazing event from the bridge.”>

Amelia and Eloise now sat in crew members’ chairs, marveling at the enormous bridge display, a sight neither had expected to see for many years, if ever. That Ser had requested their presence still baffled them, but the manner in which they were treated made them feel special.

Eloise recalled the final words of her great-grandmother, “Keep him close.” Fiona Haraken had always been a powerful presence among the Librans, and Eloise intended to honor her great-grandmother’s final request, which she found came easy to her. She was proud of her Admiral. He had liberated her people and he had kept them close, accepting them as his responsibility. Now, even though he was frightening many of the Librans by communicating with their great enemy, it was his supposition that was being proven correct—the inhabitants of the silver ships would speak with him.

Captain Lazlo Menlo, First Mate Ahmed Durak, and Commander Sheila Reynard hovered around the
Money Maker’s
bridge speakers, following Mutter’s every transmission. Captain Menlo felt very proud of the role his elderly SADE was playing. Her penchant for ancient symphonic music was reaping great rewards, and every time Mutter added progress to the investigation, Lazlo playfully punched the arm of his First Mate. When Mutter equated the number “one” to the title of the fighter’s leader, which Cordelia recognized as “First,” Lazlo swung his arm out only to find empty air. When he looked around, Ahmed was standing on the other side of him, smiling politely at him.