<I am sympathetic, Ser,> Cordelia responded, <but it would violate our tenets. You’re requesting comm traces on our people, breeching their implant security, and wiping personal data without their approval.>
<Yes, I am,> Renée said. <These New Terrans are not Méridiens. You have seen this for yourself, Cordelia.>
<That I have, Ser, and I am among those most grateful for their attributes.>
<It’s critical that the Librans believe in the Admiral and what he is trying to do. This vid is being shared and treated as a sexual fantasy item. Is that how you would want the Admiral viewed—the one who recently elevated you in the eyes of your Leaders and enabled the display of your art?>
<Ser, what you ask is too much. With regrets, Ser, I cannot do this,> Cordelia said.
<It is your right to refuse, Cordelia,> Renée replied and cut the comm to her. She was about to sever her comm with Julien when he signaled her.
<Cordelia’s cooperation is not necessary, Ser,> Julien sent. <Leave this issue to me. I will ensure that our friend is protected.>
<You have my deepest gratitude, Julien,> Renée said. <To us, it seems a trivial matter. Were it so for the New Terrans, I would not ask this of you.>
<But you are not asking this of me, Ser. I do this of my own volition. Sleep well, Ser.>
Following their latest sleep cycle, eighteen Bergfalk orbital station workers woke and began their day’s work. Each of the women were surprised when they couldn’t find their fantasy vid of the Admiral within their implant and queried their associates for another copy, only to find none of them had it. In the following days, the subject of the missing vid would occupy much of their discussions and would add to the growing mystique of the New Terran Admiral.
* * *
While Mickey supported the readying of the Freedom for launch, Lazlo drove Mickey’s engineering and flight crew teams to complete the Money Maker. They hurried to add the final environmental system runs through the spine from the aft engineering compartments to the forward bays and build out the final bays, especially the two front bays that would house meal facilities, Medical, and additional crew cabins.
Tatia continued to support the freighter’s outfitting. Julien, choosing to take some liberty with crew assignments, sent Alain, Tatia’s Méridien lover, to support her. Lazlo managed the freighter’s bay assembly, and Tatia and Alain managed the deliveries of unassembled fighter sections, missiles, and cabin fittings.
In addition to Tatia’s other duties, she began handling pallet shipments of the new minelettes she snuck through the manufacturing process with Julien’s help, minelettes that were never loaded on the freighter.
At the end of a long day, Tatia and Alain would find a spare cabin, arrange some bedding, and curl up together for the night, enjoying the precious time to hold one another. Their morning chimes would wake them still curled in one another’s arms, too tired to have even moved during the night.
Breakfast was dispensed for the freighter’s crew in a commandeered station restaurant where everyone would get progress updates from the SADEs while they ate and before they started their day all over again.
At the rate everyone was working, Alex worried about accidents, primarily for the EVA crews and the shuttle pilots. He ordered the SADEs to ensure that those crews, after two days of heavy work, were rotated to lighter duties for a full day. Z had insisted this was inefficient.
<So is a shuttle pilot falling asleep at the controls and putting his ship through your bridge,> Alex had replied.
Z took a moment to work out the possibilities of that scenario occurring. Much to his surprise, he found several instances where it was possible—not probable, but possible. After that, the SADEs began diligently rotating all critical and dangerous crew assignments.
Bumps, bruises, cuts, and broken limbs became commonplace. The lines at the city-ships’ and orbital stations’ Medicals were never-ending. People were hurrying. Many sections were not completed, exposing sharp bulkheads and hanging conduits. Heavy loads, despite being floated by grav-lifts, were dangerous if not properly managed. They had mass, and once in motion, they had inertia.
The rapid work pace cost the flotilla its first death. Aboard the Freedom, a Bergfalk crew member was pushing a heavily loaded grav-lift ahead of her. Bobbie Singh, a New Terran tech, stepped aside to let her pass, when a young Libran girl, chased by her brother, raced around the corner directly into the grav-lift’s path. Bobbie realized the Bergfalk tech could not stop in time, and he screamed an urgent warning to her and dived in front of the lift to enfold the child in his arms. His heavy, gravity-built torso took the brunt of the impact. The girl was unharmed except for some bruises, but Bobbie died of multiple traumatic injuries to his neck and spine. They were injuries that even Méridien nanites couldn’t repair fast enough to save him.
Thereafter, no Rêveur New Terran ever stepped up to a Freedom meal dispenser again. The Librans politely requested their cousins be seated. Food and drink were brought to them until they were full.
-19-
After Bobbie Singh’s star services, the ten-year-old Libran girl, Amelia, whom Bobbie had saved, stopped playing games with her younger brother. She began following the New Terrans, any New Terran, asking to help. The crew members began by giving her small jobs just to keep her busy and out of their way. After days of effort, she was adopted and became indispensable as a runner. Implants were great communications tools, but an implement left behind, a replacement part required, or a tool requiring recharge, were not transportable by implant. Feet were required, and a young girl had the energy and time to do what would cost the workers both of these.
Eight days after starting her efforts, Amelia began organizing other children. Within days, she recruited thirty-eight of her fellow passengers to become runners. The young children such as Amelia did not yet have implants to provide translations for the New Terrans, who used their belt harnesses to communicate in Con-Fed. For complex instructions or the request of a specific part, the New Terrans communicated their requests via their readers. The children would take the readers with them, following its instructions and drawings to manage the request. When completed, they would dash back to the worker. This became such a popular means of utilizing the runners that Libran crews vied for New Terran crew members to join their group.
Parents gave up admonishing their children to be careful and walk as was the proper way to behave aboard ship. They were comforted to see their young ones involved, rather than worrying about the coming aliens as they had been doing. As far as the parents were concerned, the children had every right to work to secure their own future.
Amelia’s focus shifted from running to organizing the others. She would receive verbal messages from Cordelia via an ear comm Captain Cordova had given her. The messages detailed where her work crews had moved, enabling her to redirect her runners. Over days, the runners and work crews had become accustomed to one another, so Amelia worked to keep them together. The number of runners grew to 144, and Amelia was given her own reader, programmed in Con-Fed, for her to manage the children.
In the course of her travels, Amelia found a quiet but commanding Méridien adult. As a child, she had never known her father, who had been killed in a mining accident when she was two. So Amelia found herself intrigued by the Méridien’s serenity and easy smile. But despite her entreaties to support him as a runner, he politely refused her. It was only through constant requests that the man finally chose to give her a job. It was a small request, but one she happily complied with, dashing off at her top speed. Each day, she received one or two requests from him. Despite the time demand of organizing and managing the other runners, Amelia kept running for him.
One day, as she rushed to r
eturn to the cabin where her Méridien was working, she stepped into the path of Ser de Guirnon.
“Ah, Amelia, isn’t it?” Renée said, steadying the young girl by the shoulders to prevent the two colliding.
“Yes, Ser,” Amelia replied, bobbing her head in respect.
“And aren’t you the one who organizes the runners?” Renée asked.
“Yes, Ser,” she replied quietly.
“I hear you’re doing a fine and much-needed job for the crew, Amelia.”
Amelia felt Ser de Guirnon, House Alexander’s Co-Leader, wrap her arms around her and hold her close. She felt awkward, unsure of what to do, and she looked over to see her adopted Méridien worker smile at her. Tentatively, Amelia returned the embrace, something she had only received from her mother, and felt the awkwardness ease away.
Renée felt the stiffness leave the young girl, who relaxed and returned her embrace. Then the child began to sob in her arms.
The crew members stepped into the corridor, slipping past Renée and the young girl to give them privacy. They waited while the guilt that the young Libran had held inside of her for so many days finally broke free, her tears streaming onto Renée’s uniform.
When the tears stopped, Renée dried Amelia’s eyes. “Do not carry this guilt, young one,” she said. “We, as a people, strive to keep our children safe. Now you know that New Terrans believe the same. Ser Singh would tell you that now if he could. He protected you. Honor his memory with your work, but do not let your guilt destroy you. That would give him no honor.”
Amelia nodded her head in understanding and wiped her face on the sleeve of her dirty ship uniform. All the runners had discarded their bright, gay child-print wraps for ship uniforms. A friend of her mother’s had created armbands to identify the runners. It wasn’t necessary, but the children wore their distinction proudly.
“Did you come to see someone in particular?” Renée asked.
<Amelia seems to have adopted me, Ser,> Étienne sent while leaning in the doorway.
“Do you know whom you help, Amelia?” Renée asked, nodding to the doorway.
Amelia turned to look at her quiet Méridien. She shook her head. When Amelia had asked the Méridien’s name, he had simply replied “Étienne.” He did not profess a title or require a formal manner of address, so she thought he must be a freighter crewman, a cargo handler, or some such.
“That is Étienne de Long of House Alexander, personal escort of Admiral Racine.” Renée left while Amelia’s mouth still hung open as the young girl stared wide-eyed at her “not” freighter crewman.
<I think you’ve paralyzed the child, Ser,> Étienne sent, humor lacing his statement.
<Nonsense,> she replied. <It will do Amelia a universe of good to know of your importance to us, to the Admiral.> Renée worked to hide her grin, knowing that Étienne had probably just inherited a replacement for Christie, the Admiral’s young sister. But you managed Christie so well, Renée thought, this little one should be simple.
-20-
As the Freedom approached completion, the majority of the work force, shuttle deliveries, and passenger transfers began shifting to the Unser Menschen. The few shuttles that continued to ply between the planet and the Freedom concentrated on stocking supplies to complete the ship’s outfitting.
Eric breathed a sigh of relief when the first shuttles began docking in his city-ship again. He had perceived the SADEs’ wisdom in concentrating on one city-ship first, even though he was loath to admit it. Having two unfinished city-ships, if and when the aliens arrived, was of no value. What still irked him was the ease and readiness with which the SADEs supplied their analyses and projections to the Admiral. Even then, he wondered why he never thought to ask the questions himself.
One additional thought continued to plague Eric. The SADEs had decided that the Freedom would be completed first. When it had been announced, Eric had asked Z how the decision had been reached.
<It was a simple decision, Leader Stroheim,> Z had answered. <The Freedom was 9.7 percent further ahead in its completion than our ship and would be able to be flight worthy approximately nineteen days earlier.>
<How is that possible, Z?> Eric had demanded. <We had the same number of shuttles, the same number of crew, and identical orbital stations.>
<That is true, Leader. My own analysis discovered no plausible reasons for the differences. It was Julien who offered me an answer.>
<But Julien wasn’t even here for most of the construction phases, Z,> Eric had objected.
<That may be, Leader, but his reasoning offers an explanation that fits the data points. Julien attributes the difference in the construction progress to the differences in the crews. For many years, our workers were predominantly composed of House Bergfalk personnel, while the Freedom’s crew was composed entirely of Independents.>
<That doesn’t explain the difference, Z. Whether the workers were Independents or our House people, they were all Méridien and would have had the same training and information available to them from you and Cordelia,> Eric had said.
<In what you have stated, Leader Stroheim, you’re correct. However, you interrupted me,> Z had replied.
<My apologies, Z, please continue,> Stroheim had heard himself say. So many things in his well-ordered world were being shattered.
<Julien said that the difference could be ascribed to motivation. The Bergfalk people would have felt assured that their safety would be provided for, one way or the other. They have faith in their House and Méridien traditions. The Independents have faith in themselves. They believe their safety is conditional, dependent on their diligence and hard work.>
Despite Z’s explanations, which Eric hadn’t found fault with, the Leader still wondered if the Admiral didn’t have something to do with the decision to build out the Freedom first.
* * *
<Admiral,> Julien sent, <we’ve been planning exit strategies depending on the swarm’s arrival prior to our departure readiness and the planet’s orbital position in the system. In a perfect world, we will finish the build-out, load the ships, and be underway before they arrive.>
<And in an imperfect world, which is where you and I both know we live?> Alex asked.
<Our contingencies depend on getting as much notice as possible. We are at optimum construction efficiency now. This is partially achieved by focusing on the shuttles lifting construction material and limiting the number of people from planetside. Naturally, excessive people on board would hinder the construction and outfitting progress.>
<On what factors do your plans hinge that a few more days’ notice would change what we’re doing?> asked Alex.
<It might be necessary to abandon the Unser Menschen, Admiral. If this becomes necessary, we would shift the shuttle priority to transporting people to the Freedom. The more notice we have, the more people we can transfer off the planet and from the Unser Menschen.>
<Tell me about the environmental systems and the food status if we loaded the entire population on a single city-ship, Julien.>
<The ships were built to evenly share the population load and were designed to handle a 30 percent overload.>
<Could we even transfer enough people to overload a single ship if you had more warning?>
<Yes, Admiral, this could easily be accomplished with the tens of thousands working aboard the Unser Menschen. The estimates place the potential load between 173 to 186 percent.>
<Any amount of which would overburden the ship,> Alex said.
<That’s correct, Admiral. Even successfully loading these numbers of people and launching the Freedom would result in the passengers dying from oxygen starvation before they reach New Terra. Of critical note is that the Freedom’s environmental systems will not have been stress tested. It is conceivable that even a 100 percent load of passengers might be too much for their environmental systems.>
<So your contingency revolves around the Unser Menschen’s launch worthiness. If time is against us and the Unser Menschen ca
n’t be launched, you would use the additional time to ensure that the Freedom is at 100 percent passenger load or slightly more. How do you propose we get more notice?>
<Leader Stroheim’s order, for the present liner on station, is to wait until the mother ship chooses a course, which we are fairly certain will be Libre. The Captain is to warn us, enter FTL, and report here. However, if we station two liners in the system, the first could comm us the moment the swarm begins lifting from the planet. Vids show that it’s a three to four day period from the moment of swarming until the mother ship gets underway with its escorts. In our plan, the second liner would report to us when the swarm’s course was determined. The time difference with two liners on station would gain us three to four days’ more notice.>
<Understood, Julien. I’ll speak to Leader Stroheim.>
Unfortunately Alex’s conversation with the Leader did not proceed as he had expected. To Alex, it was a simple, straightforward decision. But Eric did not see it that way. That the purpose of two liners on station was to determine whether the Unser Menschen might need to be abandoned, to him, was unacceptable.
“Leader Stroheim,” Alex said, trying to reason with the man. “What good is a ship that can’t get underway? Would you trap your passengers on board a doomed ship when some of them might have the opportunity to transfer to the Freedom?”
“This is not about trapping anyone, Admiral,” Eric responded. “It’s ensuring that the maximum effort is devoted to readying the Unser Menschen just as you did the Freedom.”
Alex was halted by Eric’s words. “Just as I did the Freedom?” Alex repeated. “What do you mean by that?”
“It’s what you call a figure of speech, Admiral,” said Eric, regretting that he had expressed the thought.
“I know what a figure of speech is Leader. But it’s my people who have figures of speech, not your people. So I ask you again: What did you mean by that statement?” Alex was leaning over the Leader’s desk and belatedly realized that his entire stance had become intimidating. In response, Eric was leaning far back in his own chair on the other side of the desk.