Méridien (The Silver Ships Book 3) (38 page)
Read Méridien (The Silver Ships Book 3) Online
Authors: S. H. Jucha
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Alien Invasion, #First Contact, #Space Opera
Z could scarcely contain himself at the thought of having the funds to direct his own mobility research. His comm burst to Julien and Cordelia outlined a myriad of potential uses of personal income. Driven by Z’s excitement, Julien and Cordelia began to have their own thoughts. Cordelia anticipated practicing her art in facilities that would be visited by the public. Julien was entertaining the notion of both he and Cordelia occupying human forms. New algorithms originated in all three SADEs at lightning speed, postulating alternate futures.
A chorus of enthusiastic responses hit his implant at once.
While Alex spoke, Julien was transferring his research at maximum rates, and Cordelia and Z accepted the data without security restrictions—such were the triumvirate’s bonds, forged through their efforts to survive the incursion of the Nua’ll into the Arnos system.
Cordelia remained unconvinced.
Alex was trying to puzzle a way to introduce his Méridien-trained SADEs to the concepts of fair-market speculation without disrupting their ingrained focus on accuracy. Their algorithms operated best with facts not suppositions.
Z asked,
Cordelia reviewed her ethics programming, which was limiting her ability to embrace Alex’s concepts. She made some subtle changes to several programs. Cordelia sent.
Cordelia’s excitement over her understanding of the concept was infectious, and soon the SADEs were heavily entwined on scenario planning. Deep in their cores, hierarchal steps were reordered at the kernel level. From top to bottom, these steps became—self-preservation, safety of their people, the President’s well-being and support, fabrication of the traveler shuttles, New Terran investment, development of their Exchange, Directors’ income, mobility research, and finally … true freedom.
It took only ticks of time for the liner and freighter SADEs to realize the value of the opportunity. Each of those SADEs had harbored thoughts of independence and never dared express them.
During the last day of the flotilla’s FTL flight to Hellébore, Alex didn’t intend to leave his suite. He rose early that morning, dressed in a simple ship suit, took a seat on the lounge, and connected to Julien, Cordelia, and Z.
Renée allowed Alex to miss morning meal. It was his habit during critical events, and this certainly qualified as an important event—becoming the President of a new world of a quarter-million people with no infrastructure and the unenviable task of duplicating alien technology. However, when midday meal approached and Alex showed no signs of stopping, Renée took matters into her own hand.
Renée replied.
Alex’s personnel organization model, compiled from the SADEs’ databases of bio-IDs, froze in place.
when I requested your evacuation plan for the
Rêveur
’s personnel from the city-ship, including yours?>
He opened his eyes, jumped up, and snatched Renée up to twirl her around several times while she uselessly pounded her fists on his shoulders in frustration. Alex set her down and began plastering kisses on her neck and ear.
“Stop that. I wish to be angry with you,” Renée declared, attempting to be free of Alex’s embrace, with no success whatsoever.
“Okay,” Alex replied, continuing to kiss her cheek, nose, and forehead.
“I’m serious, Alex,” Renée said.
“Okay,” Alex replied between more kisses.
When Alex found her lips, Renée gave in, leaning into the kiss until the thought of a meal as well as her anger dissipated. Suddenly she was whisked up in Alex’s arms, and he was running at the cabin door. It barely had time to slide open before they barreled through. Renée laughed in delight as the crew jumped out of their way, and Alex raced down the corridor, repeatedly crying out, “Food, food!”
Renée tucked her legs close to prevent them striking anyone, and returned the smiles and grins of the crew. Through her laughter came the thought that her anger over Alex missing a meal or two seemed petty in contrast to the events of the last year and a half. It was a lesson that seventy years in stasis had taught her, but she occasionally forgot. No matter how long your life span, life was too short not to make the most of every day.
Alex signaled the meal room doors open, stepped though cradling Renée, leaned his head back, and, with all the force he could muster, yelled, “Food!”
The crew in the meal room was caught off guard. A few sought to reciprocate in some fashion and called back timidly, “Food,” only to hear Alex repeat his yell. This time, more of the crew, energized by Alex, returned his yell. But Alex wasn’t done. He bellowed his cry again, and the crew responded by jumping up, shooting a fist into the air, and shouting as one, “Food!”
Alex set Renée down amid the laughter and shouts, a huge grin on his face. The cheers of the crew were a salve on his worries.
* * *
In the afternoon, Julien announced their impending exit from FTL into the Hellébore system, and a few of the crew reported to Medical for the transition. Afterward, Alex returned to his cabin and took the opportunity to engage the SADEs in launching some additional steps since the flotilla’s sub-light speed would allow shuttles to transition between ships.
Alex started a comm to his Directors.
Eric said.
* * *
Early in the evening and before Alex could settle in with the SADEs, Renée told him he had an important appointment to keep. Alex’s response was interrupted by the cabin door sliding open.
Terese, Geneviève, and Eloise came through, trailing a small grav-lift piled high with clothes, boots, and accessories.
“New wardrobe, Sers?” Alex asked, producing a giggle from Eloise, who was tickled at the thought her people’s leader should confer the respectful adult term on her. “I wouldn’t have thought you would have had time to design and produce one set of clothes, much less all this,” Alex said, walking over to the grav-lift.
“There are many talents among the people that are still being discovered, Ser President,” Geneviève replied. “Among our pioneers, we have found a garment manufacturer, a ‘tailor’ he calls himself, and his extended family. But these are not New Terran or Méridien fashions. My comm to the tailor, Ser Delacroix, was routed through Cordelia. It was she who offered to design the clothes. If I had not heard it myself, I would never have believed a SADE would beg to be granted a responsibility.” As Geneviève dug through the pile, she mumbled, “So many changes.” Finding what she wanted, Geneviève offered a set of clothes to Alex. “I am most fond of these, Ser President, and would be pleased to have a preview.”
Alex nodded, taking the clothes from Geneviève and carrying them into the sleeping quarters to change.
As the door closed, Eloise turned to Geneviève. “Why did he do that, Ser? Does he not want us to see him in his new clothes?”
“He will return to show us, little one,” Renée replied. “It is a New Terran custom.”
As if that was all the explanation required, Eloise nodded. If it was the President’s custom, who was she to question it?
Alex stepped back through the sleeping quarters’ door to stand before his small audience. His jacket resembled a military cut with its short collar and tight fit, but its body length extended to his wrists. On Alex, the cut emphasized his physique. The color was deep purple. Gold buttons decorated the front, featuring raised seals of Haraken designed by Cordelia. The buttons were pure ornament, as the jacket self-sealed. Two smaller buttons sat on each collar’s tab with a stylized “H.” No other ornament or decoration disturbed the coat, except for the hint of the shirt’s short white collar band peeking over the jacket’s neckline. The trousers were black with deep purple trim along the trouser legs.