Confluence Point (15 page)

Hillary Station

Floating just off the earthward pipe end Regan, the gracious Hilary and Ham sat together in leather armchairs watching the departing vessel. It was as if they were suspended there in space, invisible to the pipe and the parade of vessels also beginning or ending their journeys.

"How does it feel to you?" Regan asked, "Sitting here and being there on the ship at the same time?"

Hilary looked at her strangely, "Well, how does it feel to you?"

Regan thought for a moment. "I'm not really aware of it. I've only done this a few times and this will be the big one. I don't usually connect with my other when I split, it's like another me is over there and I'm watching her, a true out of body experience. The few times I've done it I only updated later, not continually, I don't think I could cope with that."

"Well," Hilary replied, "It's pretty much like that. With practice you'll get better at being in many places at once and only updating in rapid bursts, however in my case, and I can't speak for Ham; I'm just doing it all at the same time."

"Many places you say . . . how many is many?"

"Hmm, well, at the moment I'm monitoring every space and system on Hillary Station and the Hillary Step, I'm operating flight control, forwarding calls, holding on average seven hundred odd conversations." She leant forward conspiratorially and laughed. "Some of the conversations are
very
odd, truly, I could go on and on." She waved her hand down comically and laughed at some private joke.

"And she can go on, believe me." Ham interrupted, "Stop encouraging her with questions Regan." He smiled disarmingly at Hilary. "Look, we're leaving." He pointed into the distance and together they zoomed in, the Behemoth appearing to reverse nearer although she knew the ship was already accelerating for the outer system.

"How long will it take them Ham?"

"I'll be taking the new lines Marin and I used when we returned here last. That means only two lines, two waves. With the changes Aaron has made to the drive they'll only be a month in transit." He turned to look at her, "You know what that means don't you?"

"It means that they'll be having all sorts of crazy sex without me?" She looked wistful.

Ham sighed and shook his head in disbelief, "You're consistent Regan, I'll give you that. No, it means that on the path they're taking they'll have no way of knowing if someone is coming our way using the old lines. In other words they won't know until they get to Dahlia whether Beria has already sent follow up warships here. What it means, dear Regan, is that we're on our own until they get back."

"We'll be fine." Regan said confidently, "Things are quiet here, we can keep our eyes open and we've got the strategies to deal with any trouble." She shifted position to look at him, "Ham, silly question, but what happened to Bob?"

"He's gone - that's all I can tell you, he's not with the ship and he's not here. Whatever he came to find out he obviously found; not that I care."

"Did Aaron discover anything?" She looked hopeful.

"Nope, but if it's any consolation Bob said to say thank you and that's the last we saw of him."

"I can't help feeling that's not the end of it. A Mind turns up from who knows where and we find out we're being watched
-
why? That's what I want to know." She stood and stretched.

"I'm going to do a tour of the Station, you two have fun."

* * *

Majors Rod Harmon and Minjee Chow climbed into their EFDF on the flight deck of Hillary Step. Glancing across to the United States base he could see the American flight of fifty ADF drones parked there and Rod screwed up his mouth in concern. Good as their remote pilots were they would need a lot more work to get up to speed if combat eventuated. To Rod it was frustrating; the solution was obvious, use Ham.

"Why are they so damn stubborn?" He muttered under his breath.

"I can understand it, even if I don't agree." Minjee responded, much more conciliatory.

"Help me out here; all I can see is their vulnerability."

"Well, think about it. They're already coming to grips with accepting Hilary running everything on the Step. Handing over piloting to Ham as well? They've paid for the fighters and I guess it must feel a bit like handing us the money then giving back control. Understandably they want to run their own ships."

Rod stopped in mid stride, just looking at her and shaking his head. She pulled up at the same time. "What?" she asked.

"Minjee, it is so interesting to see the change in you. It's all 'we' and 'us' now . . . we're converts aren't we? We're more part of Hillary Station than our own countries."

"Hey, don't put it like that. We're working for STEIN and Hillary Station, and STEIN are right behind what the coalition is trying to do. It's just a pity the coalition seems to find that so hard to believe."

"Well, they'd better catch up. They have billions tied up in the ADFs they bought and at the moment they're just sitting there. The focus has already shifted for them to the shuttles; it's crazy. Ham could have those ADFs humming for them and do it at their command. Even our low level AIs would be infinitely better than what they're trying to do manually."

Minjee laughed out loud. "Listen to you. Only months ago you would have mocked anyone who suggested an AI could fly a fighter. Now you're a convert."

They continued chatting happily as they approached their fighter. Neither would exchange their lives at the moment for anything.

He guided the EFDF off the flight deck and out through the field screen and for a few seconds just enjoyed the thrill of flying, dipping off the edge and soaring under effector power in a sweeping curve before turning for Hillary Station and home.

"At least they're all working together now."

She shrugged. "It's still early days Rod; I try to be the optimist, but the Chinese working together with everyone else? Hmm, we'll see."

Regan monitored their progress, already beginning to starve for human contact. She tracked them as they swept in to the station flight deck on the earthward end and followed them as they walked across the deck joking together. An old familiar 'left out' feeling came back, something she hadn't felt for years and she felt like that person not invited to a party.

Like a voyeur she couldn't let go and continued tracking their progress up the corridor to Rod's rooms, following them through the door and feeling increasingly uncomfortable as they headed straight to the shower. It was obsessive and she knew it, an unforgivable invasion of privacy. Watching them both naked was the punishment she deserved; that they were both happy and aroused was unbearable.

As they rolled onto the bunk in a slow passionate coupling she could stand it no longer.

Aaaaaarrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhh! How does Ham bear this!

* * *

The Behemoth, In Transit

Ham, with his decades of experience lectured them on the main hazard of interstellar cruising. Boredom; potentially mind numbing boredom; the enemy within. Shut any crew in a tin can for months on end and humanoid weaknesses were bound to arise. In time, he explained, ordinary day to day issues of interpersonal relationships prove enough to stretch most people's ability to cope. From the earliest days of submarines, keeping people busy and entertained has been a challenge, sometimes tragically insurmountable.

On a modern interstellar cruiser the problems were exacerbated; engineering was almost failsafe, there were machines for everything and an AI on board. As the AI made most of the minute by minute decisions, time, he pointed out, would be something everyone had plenty of.

Regan tuned out, thinking about Aaron
-
fortunately with his modifications this journey will only take a month.

As she led a large group in laps around the flight deck, the lecture prompted her to reflect on the Behemoth crew selection. It struck her that whoever had recruited this Coran crew had chosen well. From her observation they were generally optimistic with a positive perception of service. They were also in the main positive thinkers with a good sense of humor, all qualities essential in space. The few crew who had been problems were those originally favored by the Coran hierarchical system. To them each change in leadership was simply an opportunity to advance up the hierarchy, even if they didn't deserve it. As a consequence they tended to demand obedience as opposed to earning the respect of others. The new attitude championed by Regan where leadership was first demonstrated by actions and then recognized by position did not suit the old guard and they grumbled.

The unfortunate death of Officer Cora three days out from Hillary had led to a breakthrough. He failed to survive extensive injuries sustained in some fight with crewmates, and though Regan could have pursued the issue she chose not to.

The remaining detainees had immediately negotiated freedom of the ship and it had been a good move. Every day Regan or Marin led exercise routines on the main flight deck and used the occasions to meet everyone, press the flesh, engage them in conversation and sell the dream of partnership. It turned out they were a receptive group as although they were well drilled in navy disciplines, the pursuit of dominance by force was not the traditional way. The tribe of Cora had worked for generations in the outer reaches of the Gliese 667 system mining the asteroid belt in the most dangerous of conditions. The harsh environment and hazardous work had built a culture of interdependence, trust and mutual support, not just for themselves but for all in the space faring community. There was an understanding that you never knew when you might need your neighbors help so you looked after them like yourself.

When pressure on available resources had become an issue for the tribe most were ashamed at their Emperor's response. They felt that as brothers and sisters of the other tribes they should be working together, not trying to conquer.

Regan encouraged that feeling, not pushing but nurturing by example, laughing with them, listening to their concerns, reassuring them and offering hope for the future. Her dream of a wide supportive interstellar community, an open galaxy with the ability to travel freely between the stars and to start anew as pioneers was intoxicating. In their hearts they knew if it was to happen they would have to work with her and be groundbreakers.

The new optimistic galaxy view surged through the ship like a breath of fresh air after months of tension. The lid was off, the clouds had finally lifted and like people everywhere, they celebrated.

Aaron however was missing out, a problem of his own making. Socializing was not a strength and he hid away in the bowels of the ship with nothing really to do, but more comfortable there than anywhere else. He worked, he thought, and at times sulked. Today however his attentive Coran companion was proving a welcome distraction and certainly an ego boost . . .

"You seem to be the genius of your group Aaron; as a pilot I have always appreciated the work of those who keep me safe, thank you for all your hard work."

The woman was young he presumed, although it was hard to tell from her features. Tall and thin with a winning smile, her recent interest and offer to accompany him to engineering had been welcome. For the most part people usually left him to his own devices.

He smiled, bathing in the attention. "Genius . . . oh no, far from it, Mariner was the real genius and I see his work throughout your ship drives; clearly he made breakthroughs that were adopted throughout your system." Aaron batted away the compliments while clearly enjoying the observation.

"You undervalue yourself Aaron. No one else on this ship understands these things, let alone has the ability and insight to improve them; I am in awe of you." She placed one hand on his shoulder and squeezed it affectionately, smiling shyly as she did so.

"Well, it's true probably no one else understands, but then they have other skills, we can't be good at everything." He coughed nervously as somehow without obvious movement she was closer now, looking down at him, with a hand now draped over his shoulder and the other sliding down his back.

"That is true Aaron, and sometimes those with important skills are forgotten by those who take them for granted. I have skills Aaron . . ." She used her other hand to tilt his head up, making eye contact, and then leant forward to gently kiss his cheek.

He coughed again. "I'm sure you do, I couldn't pilot a kite . . ." The hand trailed down his chest and he tried to lean away slightly but could feel the pressure of the hand on his back, that long arm holding him there as the hand on his chest stroked lower.

He was putty now and somehow she maneuvered him back to the wall, reaching down to cup him in her hand, gently bringing him to life. He closed his eyes.

"You and I, Aaron, could make a long journey more than bearable . . . I would like that . . . I would be proud to lie with you, it is our way." Rubbing him more determinedly, slowly drawing her fingers up and down the obvious hardness, barely hidden by the thin suit, she leaned in and softly licked his earlobe.

He said nothing, way beyond any attempt at restraint, his mind only on the hand, and the stroking. And then suddenly, he could feel it was too late, "Oh shit . . . I'm sorry, I . . ." and he came, ejaculating into the suit to his immense embarrassment. "Oh shit, shit, shit . . . I'm sorry." He made to push her away.

She continued to hold him there and stroked his face, "Why should you be sorry?" She reached for the collar of his ship suit, and in a deliberate sensuous action unclasped it, slowly drawing it down off his shoulders, and continuing with it to the floor. On her knees now she placed a hand on each hip, caressing as she looked at him before leaning forward and licking, then sucking him into her mouth. He groaned, feeling weak at the knees and couldn't help responding again. He reached to hold her head and looked up in ecstasy.