The Genius Asylum: Sic Transit Terra Book 1 (27 page)

Chapter 46

“Am I
too early?”

Ridout glanced up from his paperwork and waved his visitor into the office. “Not at all. I was just about to put this away and break out the bubbly.”

“So, Townsend pulled it off?” Barry Novak commented, easing himself into the chair closest to the desk.

Ridout delved into the bottommost drawer of his filing cabinet and brought up an ice-packed wine bottle and four stemmed glasses, which he arranged carefully in the middle of his antique desk blotter. “Don’t sound so surprised,” he chided. “We chose the right man and trained him well. I’ve already sent the gatecast confirming his permanent appointment to the post of station manager. The Space Installation Authority isn’t happy about it, but it’s a done deal.”

“What about the murder investigation he was supposed to be conducting?”

“Closed, and the records have been sealed indefinitely. Officially, the death has been ruled accidental. Are you making any progress in the Patel matter?”

“We know who didn’t do it, and that’s something, I guess. But it’s going to take a lot more digging to get to the bottom of this.”

“Well, I have complete confidence in you and your team — which, if I may remind you, we also chose and trained well.”

Novak nodded his agreement as a third person appeared in the Chief’s doorway.

“You’re right on time, Nayo,” Ridout greeted him. “We’re celebrating.”

Naguchi sank down with a sigh into the indicated guest chair. “So I hear. I also hear that my old nemesis Nestor Quan has resurfaced.”

“On Riviera Hub,” said Novak. “I’ve issued standing orders to all operatives to take him out on sight. He won’t be a problem much longer.”

Naguchi smiled faintly. “Good. It took Marion a long time to accept my death. I’d hate to have to rise from my grave to settle this.”

“Speaking of rising from graves, how is the erstwhile Captain Bonelli doing?” Ridout inquired.

“Bonelli is recovering nicely,” replied Naguchi. “Marion did an exemplary job of putting him back together. Of course, I expected no less from my star student.”

A rustling sound in the anteroom drew all their attention to the doorway, and a moment later, the fourth member of their group stepped into Ridout’s office.

Instantly, the other three rose to their feet.

“Madam Chief Adjudicator, we’re honored that you could join us,” said Ridout.

She gave them a regal nod of acknowledgement before taking the seat that Novak vacated for her. “I’m always glad to help celebrate the successful conclusion of a long-term project like Daisy Hub,” she responded. “How soon before they can be activated?”

“Based on the reports, we estimate one Earth year before we can begin giving them level one assignments,” Novak told her. “They’ll need another year after that to properly consolidate their own defense systems.”

“So,” she said thoughtfully, “in another two years we can begin setting things in motion here on Earth. The Reformation is right on schedule, gentlemen. That
is
something to drink to.”

* * * *

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Read ahead for a preview of the second book in the Sic Transit Terra universe.

THE OTHERNESS FACTOR

Sic Transit Terra Book 2

By

Arlene F. Marks

ABOARD THE
MARCO POLO

Watch Commander
Gael Dedrick gazed around the ship’s mess, shaking his head in bemusement. Red and green streamers looped drunkenly across the ceiling. Cut-out snowflakes and asymmetrical foil stars were stuck haphazardly to the bulkheads. In the corner farthest from the door sat a metal cone nearly two meters tall, studded with intermittently flashing lights and topped with a figure crafted out of spare computer parts, supposed to represent an angel. A plate of flat cookies shaped like snowmen and bells had been placed on every table. (Some of these ‘confections’ had tooth marks on them. From year to year, people forgot that the cookies were decorations as well.) And everywhere on the ship, the comm system was sighing out songs about sleigh rides and fireplaces and snow.

All this because it was December on Earth.

Ten standard years earlier, when Ensign Gael Dedrick had been newly assigned to the
Marco Polo
, he had surveyed the crew manifest to see how many Christians were aboard ship and had found nineteen, besides himself. Twenty out of 199. Most of the rest had designated themselves either agnostic or atheist. Only a handful had declared affiliation with one of Earth’s other organized religions. Dedrick knew that other faiths observed holy days in the month of December — he had overheard crew members talking about it. These tended to be private rituals, conducted in crew quarters. Christmas, however, was a different matter.

On a Fleet ship, everybody celebrated Christmas, whether they were Christian or not. Christmas was colorful and happy. It was decorations and music and special food served on special dishes. And it was gifts. Once each Earth year, Fleet Control was granted funding earmarked for the transportation of gifts and holiday messages from relatives to the personnel serving aboard Earth’s spacegoing vessels. And once each Earth year, over a four week period, the credit units were disbursed. Families in modest circumstances, regardless of faith, were left with no other choice than to send their packages and good wishes in December, turning Christmas on the
Marco Polo
into a month-long, shipwide festival.

Involuntarily, Dedrick sighed. There hadn’t been any Christmas parcels or greetings for him for several years now, not since Aunt Emma had died. Abner’s mother had been the last Dedrick left on Earth, and even though she knew Gael blamed her for his own parents’ death, she had summarily ‘adopted’ him shortly after they were gone. At that point, there had been no word from Abner for four Earth years. For the next six years, as Gael worked his way up through the ranks of Earth’s spacegoing Fleet, he had received Abner’s birthday presents, Abner’s Christmas gifts, Abner’s share of love and best wishes. Then, on the tenth anniversary of her son’s disappearance, Aunt Emma had gone to bed with a mystery novel, a bottle of well-aged scotch, and enough sedative capsules to put her to sleep for good. End of story, end of Dedricks.

There probably weren’t more than five crew members who knew the Christmas story well enough to tell it. Gael Dedrick was one of them, but he had long ago decided to keep the truth about Christmas to himself. There was no point in spoiling everyone’s fun by bringing a doomed savior to their party.

His wristcomm began to buzz. He stepped over to a wall unit and punched in his identification code to access the comm line:

“Commander Dedrick, please report to the captain in his strategy room right away.”

“Acknowledged. I’m on my way.”

Five minutes later, he was walking through the strategy room door. Captain Takamura was in conference with Doctor Deneuve, the Supervisor of Medical Services. They halted their conversation and looked up as Dedrick entered the room, but only Takamura smiled a welcome.

Hiro Takamura’s age was indefinable, but it was common knowledge that he had been out in space for more than thirty years, twenty of them spent in the captain’s chair. And, adding mystery to his powerful aura of authority, he had somehow managed while out in space to acquire the tough, weathered look of an old salt who had spent half his life on Earth’s oceans.

Deneuve, on the other hand, with her short stature and fair, flawless complexion had the smooth, polished appearance of a porcelain doll. Seen side by side, they made an odd pairing.

“Commander Dedrick,” said Takamura, waving him closer. “The
Marco Polo
is about to receive a singular privilege. An alien has asked to join our crew.”

A guerrilla memory sent Dedrick’s heart crashing down into his stomach. “Please, tell me it’s not a Nandrian.”

“No, it’s not a Nandrian,” Deneuve cut in. “It’s a Dimmlesi. At least, that’s what the individual claimed who replied to my posting.”

“Claimed?”

Takamura nodded. “According to the Great Council’s database, there is no such race in our arm of the galaxy.”

“Is Fleet Control aware of this?”

“They are, and I’ve been informed that our orders stand. We’re to add Doctor Minegar to our ship’s complement.” Takamura shifted his stance and folded his arms thoughtfully. “I don’t believe this is a practical joke, although it may be a test. Or a confidence game of some sort. Or possibly an attempt by a fugitive to elude pursuit. Whatever it is, we have no choice but to deal with it. Doctor Deneuve and I have been attempting to formulate a plan. We decided to ask for your input as well, since you’re the one who will be making first contact.”

“Me? I—” For a moment, the watch commander couldn’t trust himself to speak. Sending a subordinate ranked officer to make first contact was what had triggered the incident with the Nandrians one year earlier. Three crew members had ended up in Trauma with serious injuries. Surely they didn’t want to go through that again! Finally, Dedrick cleared his throat and continued in what he hoped would be a calm, professional-sounding voice, “I’m honored, Captain, but with all respect, wouldn’t it be more appropriate for the highest ranking officer on the ship to deliver a formal greeting to the alien first?”

“Doctor Minegar has requested that we forego all ceremony and let her come aboard quietly,” explained Deneuve.

All the more reason to wonder about her motives, Dedrick realized.

“Your recommendations, Watch Commander?”

Dedrick sucked in a breath, feeling two pairs of eyes resting expectantly on his face. “Foregoing ceremony doesn’t mean we forego security,” he decided. “Where are we meeting this Doctor Minegar, exactly?”

“Zekaris Station, just outside Earth space,” replied Takamura. “The High Council has forwarded me the coordinates — it’s a two-interval journey from here. I’ve been assured that the only ships docking when we arrive will be the alien’s and our own. You’ll have to cross the landing deck, meet our new crew member and escort her onto the
Marco Polo
and into this room.”

Dedrick nodded. It was doable. “I’ll take a security detail with me. Assuming she’s traveling alone, two men should be enough.”

“Dress them as ordinary crewmen,” Deneuve advised, explaining to Takamura, “We don’t want to risk frightening her as she steps through the docking portal. They can carry her bags while Commander Dedrick accompanies her on board.”

“And have a second security detail waiting just this side of the airlock, to escort us to the strategy room,” Dedrick continued. “I’ll tell her it’s an honor guard.”

“Tell her whatever is necessary to avoid the sort of debacle that occurred last year with the Nandrians,” said Takamura sternly. “The High Council has indicated that it is willing to forgive that unfortunate misunderstanding, provided we are successful at integrating Doctor Minegar into our crew.”

“Aye, sir.”

“And, Commander? We know nothing about this alien’s culture. Anything at all could be interpreted as an insult, so I want you to be extremely careful around her. Your wording, your body language — everything must be calm and neutral.”

“Understood, sir.”

Takamura bowed slightly to each of them in turn, murmuring, “Doctor Deneuve, Watch Commander, thank you for your time.” Then he spun and headed for the strategy room door.

When it had sighed closed behind him, Deneuve sank into a chair and said wearily, “A moment, Gael, please.”

Curious, Dedrick sat down beside her. Deneuve reached a hand into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a datawafer. “This message arrived earlier today, from Leslie Eberhart’s brother Sam. You were right — once the diagnosis of cancer was confirmed, they tried to rescind his Eligibility for medical reasons.”

“They tried,” he echoed, “but…?”

She smiled. “Whoever your contact is, he’s got pull. Once the cancer is cured, Sam gets to stay Eligible for purposes of financial security, consumer options and health care priority. That’s the good news.”

“And what’s the bad news?”

“They’re keeping him on Earth, indefinitely. Leslie doesn’t know yet, and I dread having to tell her that her brother will have to watch his kids grow up on a commscreen from now on. You know how strongly she feels about family.”

Dedrick sighed. Yes, he knew. Eberhart’s fierce protectiveness towards those she cared about was the thing that had first attracted him to her. This wasn’t a perfect situation, admittedly, but it could have been a lot worse, for both Leslie and her brother. If Sam carried a genetic predisposition for cancerous growths, then Leslie might be carrying it as well. Once the Authority stripped someone of his Eligibility for medical reasons, they could use the rescision as grounds for reviewing the status of
all
his blood relatives. Entire families had been recalled from off-planet postings and restricted to Earth until either their bloodline was cleared or their Eligibility was revoked…

…which, now that he thought about it, might not be such a terrible thing, Dedrick mused. Interplanetary travel was one hell of an adventure. However, families
needed
to gather in times of stress, to support and comfort one another, and that was hard to do when the Relocation Authority seemed bent on scattering Eligible Humans all over the galaxy. Leslie’s two brothers had been posted to colonies at opposite ends of Earth space, where they’d married and were raising broods of little Eberharts. As long as Watch Commander Eberhart wore a Fleet uniform, she would remain, like Dedrick, a singleton, in transit. By some miracle, the Eberhart clan had come through Angel of Death almost unscathed. But once all those nieces and nephews had grown to adulthood, the Relocation Authority would separate them and start moving them around, strowing Eberharts across Earth space like seeds blown by the wind. Thanks to Abner, Dedrick would never again know the pain of that kind of separation. It was the only benefit, he reflected sadly, of not having any family at all.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tell her what you’ve done for Sam?” Deneuve asked, breaking into his thoughts.

“Positive.”

Deneuve’s expression became the portrait of incredulity. “You want her to go on thinking you’re a coldhearted bastard who wouldn’t lift a finger when she asked you for help?”

Dedrick blew out his breath in a sigh. What he wanted was to remain an anonymous benefactor so he wouldn’t end up like Uncle Dennis, constantly pursued by ‘friends’ with ulterior motives. He was already regretting having confided in the ship’s Supervisor of Med Services, but what was done couldn’t be undone.

“Until I’m ready to tell her myself, yes, that’s exactly what I want. And I don’t want anyone else aboard to know about this either. I want your word, Doctor,” he added, holding eye contact with her until she finally, reluctantly, nodded assent.

* * * *

THE OTHERNESS FACTOR

Sic Transit Terra book 2

Forthcoming from EDGE-Lite in Fall 2016

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