Méridien (The Silver Ships Book 3) (33 page)

“We can build the internal workings, Admiral, not the shell. But, yes, we should be able to make an exact replica.”

“Don’t worry about the shell right now, Mickey. Do I detect a catch?”

“Yes, Admiral, we have a ways to go before we understand the science behind the operation. However, the design is fairly simple. The Nua’ll make enormous use of crystals, both as energy collectors and in their circuitry. Just about everything is crystal in nature. So we can replicate a dark traveler and probably operate it with a controller, but we can’t vary the design until the SADEs work out the science behind the technology.”

“That’s still excellent news, Mickey,” exclaimed Alex, slapping Mickey on the shoulder.

Alain, who was standing directly behind the Chief, managed not to flinch at the resounding clap.

“We don’t see any impediment to building the fabrication locations or machines we’ll require, depending on the world you’ve selected, Admiral,” Mickey said, hinting at Alex to disclose their ultimate destination.

Mickey never received his answer, as implant scheduling apps warned their owners of the Admiral’s meeting and the group began following Mickey toward the bay’s exit. Each of the cavernous bays of the
Freedom
emptied into a central corridor, which acted like spokes on an old-fashioned wheel and intersected wide corridor rings as they advanced toward the ship’s center, passing banks of lifts at each major intersection.

On their way down the corridor, Alex received a quick warning of “Incoming” from Tatia, which was her term for attack fighters on approach. An instant later, Eloise slammed into Alex’s side with a quick greeting of, Alex had only a moment to look down and regard her smiling face, her slender arms attempting to encompass his chest before she sprinted away.

Alex sent to Renée, a smile on his face as he watched the young girl disappear around the corridor’s curve, a blur of gangly limbs.

The flotilla’s senior officers and Directors were assembled in the large conference room located behind the
Freedom
’s bridge. Alex’s request to assemble in person promised important announcements.

When everyone was seated, Alex began without fanfare, saying, “The flotilla will be breaking orbit in four days. Julien has been tracking the Confederation Council, and they have recently returned to Méridien. That will be our first stop, but our stay will be short. I have a few things to say to the Council.” When Alex noticed the consternation on the face of the Librans, he said, “People, speak up.”

“Admiral,” Tomas began, “the Council will not be amenable to a meeting with us in general and you in particular. It is my opinion that they will not grant you an audience. If they do, it may be eighty to ninety days out from your date of request. That would be their signal that they are holding your audience with displeasure.”

“And an important note, Admiral,” Eric added. “For an audience, you submit your petition to the Council Administrator. It’s reviewed by the Council. Once the audience is granted, you and you alone are ushered into the Council Chambers at the time of your appointment. The Council Leader announces their approval or disapproval of your petition. At no time do you speak.”

The Librans shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It occurred to them how different their lives had become in contrast to the Confederation’s archaic and stultifying rules. The New Terrans were also uncomfortable, but for a different reason. They were stunned that the Council had no concept of a fair hearing, offering no opportunity for a petitioner to have their say.

On the other hand, Alex was grinning, and Renée, who recognized the sign, began to laugh.

Tomas and Eric realized the absurdity of what they had said and joined Renée’s laughter. It dawned on the entire group that while the Confederation and New Terra had their ways, they no longer belonged to either society. Theirs was the first new human society in this corner of the galaxy in 700 hundred years. They would decide what was appropriate or not for their people.

When the laughter subsided, Alex said, “I’m sure we’ll be able to reason with the Council. As I said, I only intend to stop for a few days at most. After that, we head for home … the Hellébore system.”

Alex had expected some sort of overt reaction to his statement. Instead he received a room of thoughtful expressions. The destination might have been a surprise, but it appeared to be a pleasant one.

“Admiral, do we know the condition of Cetus?” Tomas asked. The Librans knew that the Confederation had lost contact with the Hellébore system six decades ago, after the Nua’ll had invaded.

Alex sent.

The conference room’s vid screens displayed the image of a planet from hundreds of thousands of kilometers away. The group sat entranced as the images changed every few moments to a closer view in a simple vid show. The planet was magnified several times with each image change.

“Cetus,” Renée whispered, recognizing the planet she had studied for years, thinking it would be where she would spend much of the remainder of her life after her marriage. “How?” she asked.

Eric volunteered the answer. “Before you left for Libre, the Admiral requested Julien design a small probe. Engineers fabricated Julien’s design, and Captain Asu Azasdau visited the Hellébore system, dropped the probe at the outer planet, and returned to New Terra. The probe is primitive, only capable of producing a single image once every two hours. We just started receiving images a few days ago, and Z has been compiling them.”

The group stared at Alex, dumbfounded. He shrugged his shoulders in response, offering his usual asymmetrical grin. “It seemed like a logical destination for us,” he said, “but I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. Cetus’s terraforming was barely a century old, and I needed to be sure the planet had remained viable.”

Attention returned to the vid. The images had continued to march closer, finally entering the atmosphere. The probe made two orbits, gliding just a hundred kilometers above a continental surface on the last pass before splashing into the ocean, but it had done its job. Cetus had continued to green. The dominant vegetation was grass. Trees appeared to be sparse or stunted. Herds of animals, some local and some transplanted, could be seen grazing over the plains.

“From the probe’s slim telemetry, we know that the atmospheric oxygen is a few percent above the colony’s last measured levels,” Alex said. “It would be difficult for New Terrans to be involved in strenuous activities outside of a habitat without assistance. Librans should be fine. But we can cure this quickly.”

“Wait … You have a means of accelerating terraforming, Admiral?” Tomas asked.

“It’s not been used before, but the SADEs and I have an idea we want to apply. We believe we can bring the oxygen levels up to acceptable levels even for New Terrans within a few years, but hold your questions on that subject for now. I wish us to focus on the Hellébore system as our future home.”

“Admiral,” Renée said, “the Council will consider Hellébore as belonging to the Confederation.”

“I’m sure they will,” Alex replied, “but I believe they lost it to the Nua’ll, whom we defeated. In any case, that’s one of the reasons we’re going to Méridien. House Alexander needs to submit its bill for saving the Confederation.”

The SADEs circulated the images of Cetus along with Alex’s announcement that the flotilla was stopping briefly at Méridien before continuing on to Hellébore.

In the days before departure, the Librans could not reach consensus about accepting Cetus as their new home. Some had lost family on the colony, some doubted the Council would acquiesce to the Admiral’s request, some wondered if they wouldn’t be better off leaving the Confederation behind, and some wondered if they shouldn’t stay far away from that point in space where the Nua’ll had first appeared.

Senior Captain Tatia Tachenko stepped on to the
Rêveur
’s bridge. It was 3.94 hours. Miko, who had bridge duty, was surprised to see her senior officer. The flotilla was due to depart in little more than six hours. With Tatia’s permission, Miko took the opportunity to take a break.

After Tatia had been promoted to Senior Captain, several questions had occurred to her—questions she believed Andrea had never asked. One such question was why the officers had bridge duty assignments thirty hours a day, every day, even while docked. Tatia had posed the question to Renée, stating her opinion that Julien was much more efficient than human minders.

“I had thought it an oddity myself, Captain,” Renée had responded. “Until I realized that bridge duty had nothing to do with the ship’s operations.”

Tatia had waited for Renée to continue her explanation, but her Co-Leader had stopped, challenging her to reach her own conclusion. Tatia had mentally reviewed her shifts on the bridge. She had done little for hours upon hours except implant comms with crew and discussions with—her thoughts had abruptly halted. Tatia had regarded Renée, nodding her understanding.

“So every officer, alone on the bridge, gets bored, and every one of them sooner or later starts talking to Julien. We’re keeping him company.”

Renée had nodded in affirmation. “Yes, Captain, never underestimate the bond that exists between those two. I could not conceive of passing even a few days locked in a darkened room … no sound, no vision, no company. Julien was isolated for seventy years, waiting for our rescue.” Renée paused, her thoughts wandering for a moment on what Julien had endured. Then she had regarded Tatia. “It’s quite important to Alex that Julien never be left alone again.”

Now Tatia found it was time to talk to Julien again. She hadn’t been able to sleep. In six hours, she would Captain the
Rêveur
, and the responsibility both frightened and excited her. “Hello, Julien,” Tatia said.

“Welcome, Senior Captain Tachenko. Today is an exciting day, is it not?”

“Yes, it is. I know that you and the Admiral are very close. And both of you are quite the inventive pair when it comes to saving our behinds. But, Julien, I’m not the Admiral. I will need all of your help to ensure I don’t screw up.”

“I will endeavor to do my best, Captain, to prevent you from screwing up, especially since one is along for the ride,” Julien stated drily.

Tatia chuckled, despite her nerves. “Yes,” she said, “I see your point.” She climbed into a command chair, imagining her future with Alain, with the Librans, with the Admiral.

Julien, observing Tatia, had expected her to leave the bridge when she had completed her request, as she was often perfunctory in her communication. Now he wondered if Tatia harbored unexpressed concerns. “Was there something else, Captain?” Julien ventured.

Tatia smiled to herself. She recognized she was behaving abnormally, and Julien’s prodigious analytical capabilities had probably already identified that. “No, Julien, nothing else. I thank you for our conversation and your future support. Right now, I’m just practicing something I learned.”

Julien watched the
Rêveur
’s new Senior Captain settle comfortably into the command chair and stare out into space, her thoughts far away. It was a view he knew consisted of a brightly lit arm of the Joaquin Station and a field of stars beyond.

Later, Miko returned to the bridge, and soon after, Captain Tachenko left. Julien thought of Alex as Tatia left. Directly or indirectly, Tatia had learned the real reason for Alex’s standing order to maintain bridge duties around the chronometer. At first, Julien had been mildly insulted when Alex, then the newly announced Captain of the
Rêveur
, had issued the standing order despite the fact that the
Rêveur
was a derelict with no power. Over time, as each officer engaged him throughout the quiet hours, Julien began to welcome the company, recognizing what his new friend had done. During a long discussion with Edouard one night while the
Rêveur
was still under repair, Julien took a moment to be thankful once again for the day that Alex leapt across an expanse of cold vacuum to investigate a derelict.

Maria had asked Alex to attend a farewell ceremony planetside, but he had politely refused. Then she had offered a launch ceremony on the Joaquin, and again Alex had refused, replying with the time-honored phrase of a guest at an evening’s end, saying, “It’s getting late, Madam President. We have to get home.”

Maria acquiesced. She wasn’t sure whether Alex wanted to leave while his people were still safe or he was just anxious to get going. Whatever his reason, she wished him a safe voyage.

“We’ll see you within the year, Maria,” Alex said.

“I’m counting on it, Alex,” Maria said, ending their comm.

The flotilla had secured the contracts of over 4,000 pioneers. The New Terrans, their equipment, and their supplies were spread between the two city-ships. Alex’s family was aboard the
Freedom
, and he had learned that not only were Eloise and Amelia now Christie’s Libran cosigners, they were also her new friends.

“Should I be worried?” Alex had asked Renée.

“You ask me that? Your sister is partnering with the great-granddaughter of Fiona Haraken and the child that created the
Freedom
’s runners.” Renée had responded. “When those three reach maturity, our world will either be safe for generations or doomed.”

Alex had heard Renée’s laughter echo down the corridor. He, on the other hand, had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. His hope was that Librans’ cool heads would prevail over his sister’s hot one. Then again, he could be forgiven for not foreseeing the strong ties the three teenage girls would forge.

At ten hours, Alex sat in the
Rêveur
’s command chair next to Tatia and signaled Julien for all Captains.

Julien sent.

Alex announced. Alex sent an image to Julien for distribution to the SADEs, arranging the two freighters in front, the two city-ships as wings, and the four liners trailing behind in a diamond pattern, with Alex’s ship at the tip of the diamond. He ordered the freighters out of orbit first while the other ships were still preparing to get underway.