Sol (The Silver Ships Book 5) (12 page)

“I can’t say that I know what’s in the president’s mind, but I could hazard a guess,” Lumley replied.

“Do educate us, Captain,” Woo said, gesturing toward Lumley with her crystal glass of fine vintage port.

“I would like to be forgiven in advance for what I’m about to say, Tribunes.” When both nodded to Lumley, he put aside his glass of port and leaned on the table. “I believe the president came here as he said to prevent our fleet from arriving in one of his systems without his foreknowledge. It’s the sort of smart strategic move that I think he would make, but now he’s stuck.”

“What do you mean stuck?” Brennan asked.

“The Harakens strike me as honorable people, so I don’t think they’ll be the ones to start a war, even though they might well be the ones who end it. Problem is they find us despicable and corrupt. So how do you start a dialog with people you can’t trust?”

Lumley sat back in his chair and regarded the two tribunes, who appeared lost in their own thoughts. He didn’t have a clue as to the answer to the question he just asked, but he hoped he had presented the Harakens’ conundrum properly.

“By not employing dialog,” Brennan said, suddenly sitting upright and spilling his port. “You don’t talk; you do.” He looked expectantly at the table’s other diners. “Don’t you see? The president has had the inside story on us from the beginning … first from our over-ambitious high judge and speaker and then from our scientists who defected. So when the president takes Idona Station for his headquarters, he finds a perfect example of our systematic failures — people rebelling against harsh policies, corruption of militia officers, and critical infrastructure repairs ignored — the works.”

“The images of the station before repair were appalling,” Woo agreed. “I wonder how many other locations we have that are in as bad a shape as the station, which we are completely ignorant about.”

“Probably more than we care to contemplate, but that’s not the lesson we’re supposed to be learning. The captain gave us the clue,” Brennan said, hoisting his glass to Lumley. “The Harakens are honorable people. Look at the president’s goal and how he intends to get there. He’s teaching us that if you remove the strife between our people and give them a common goal that supports their welfare … watch what happens.”

“Do you think that he can succeed?” Woo asked.

“I have no idea, but let’s face it,” Brennan replied. “We’re out of our depth here. President Racine might as well truly be an alien. His mindset is worlds away from ours … no pun intended … and his people possess technology that we can’t even conceive.”

“So what if we learn this lesson … unite and things will be better?” Woo asked, shaking her head at the preposterousness of it all. “What could we do with it? We can’t replicate it. No one would accept this concept coming from the Supreme Tribunal.”

“Maybe you won’t have to worry,” Lumley said, leaning back into his chair with a grin.

Twenty-eight carriers wasn’t the only lie Alex told the Tribunal. Progress on the station wasn’t proceeding as smoothly as Alex might have indicated. In fact, there were many more complications to sorting out the issues on board the station than Alex and his people could have conceived — everything was far from copacetic.

To begin with, the rebels suffered from a lack of quality medical care and insufficient nutritional intake. Some of the rebels displayed symptoms of genetically inherited diseases, and others suffered from ailments and accidents, displaying arthritic joints, poorly healed multiple fractures, and severe burns.

In preparation for the journey to Sol, Terese Lechaux, the Harakens’ senior medical expert, ordered the medical teams to initiate the manufacture of large quantities of medical nanites. Her intentions were to be prepared for her people’s treatment.

Terese was observing vid streams of the rebels as they emerged into the outer ring, courtesy of the SADEs’ transmissions to the fleet, when the sight of a young boy with burns along one side of his face and into his scalp galvanized her. She organized her people and commandeered three travelers, which were landing at the station within hours and were filled with medical teams, equipment, containers of medical nanites, and GEN machines. Julien was conscripted to assist Terese in reprogramming the medical nanites, which were set for a 180-day lifetime in order to cure some of the rebels’ more obstinate medical problems.

A little-used medical facility was commandeered by Terese, and Haraken crew began clearing out the outdated medical supplies and equipment, replacing it with the fleet’s surplus stock. Once the facilities were ready, Terese waited impatiently for the first patients to arrive. She intended to service every rebel, even the healthy, using the medical nanites to bolster their health. However, despite sending medical personnel to collect the first groups of rebels, none arrived at the medical station.

Terese sent.

the
No Retreat
’s chief medical officer, Darrin Hesterly, sent back.

Terese hurried to the meeting hall, working her way through the rebels lining the corridor and up to the table where the main constituents sat.

Tatia sent to Alex, who looked up to see his flame-haired medical expert striding purposefully toward them.

“Pardon me, Ser Fowler, we need to deal with an important issue before we continue,” Alex said.

“You’re Ser Fowler, I believe,” Terese said firmly to Nikki, her hands on her hips and an impatient look in her eyes.

“Allow me to present our chief medical adviser, Ser Terese Lechaux, Ser Fowler,” Alex said as diplomatically as he could. “She obviously is ready to help your people with medical issues.”

“We’ve just met you,” Nikki said. “I have no idea what medical experimentation you wish to perform on my people.”

“Medical experimentation —” Terese replied hotly, which caused more than one Haraken within earshot to wince. Fortunately, Terese was interrupted, before she could continue.

“Ser Lechaux, allow me to help,” Wombo said, stepping forward. “Ser Fowler, my associates and I are UE scientists who left the explorer-ship
Reunion
while it was in the Haraken system. We’ve received medical treatment from Ser Lechaux and her people, and I can tell you that your people will be most carefully treated and will enjoy health improvements that you can’t imagine.”

Wombo explained to Nikki the ills that the Harakens had cured for him. The other scientists joined in and related their personal stories of ailments cured by the Harakens’ amazing medical technology.

“Okay, okay,” said Nikki, raising her hands to back off the elderly scientists who had crowded around her and urged her to reconsider her decision. With the scientists eagerly sharing their ages, Nikki admitted that they did not look their advanced ages and possessed robust, healthy glows.

“I better not regret this,” Nikki said, staring intently at Terese. “You can start with the worst cases, but know that I’ll be closely monitoring your efforts.”

“I would have started with the worst cases, Ser Fowler,” Terese replied, locking eyes with Nikki. “But I will treat all your people. I can do no less.” Terese spun around and left as quickly as she had arrived.

“Bit of a whirlwind personality there,” Nikki said quietly.

“You have no idea,” Alex and Tatia said simultaneously, and they shared small smiles, relieved the issue was easily resolved.

Alex sent.

Olawale managed to send after a few moments through his new implant. Mental messaging was new and tricky for the scientists, who had filtered every thought throughout their lives immersed in the dangerous political atmosphere the UE fomented.

The scientists were constantly concerned they’d send uncensored thoughts to their new hosts. To complicate matters, their visuals often selected the message recipients. In their excitement, they sent messages to everyone in sight instead of the intended individuals. To the scientists’ relief, the Harakens found each sharing amusing rather than taking umbrage over the faux pas.

Another immediate requirement for the rebels was a substantial increase in the quality and quantity of their food intake. Cordelia supervised the offloading of a third of the fleet’s food dispensers and stocks. She selected three closed restaurant locations, equally spaced around the station, and the fleet crew went to work opening the sites, cleaning them, and installing the dispensers and the food stock tanks.

The food supplies were insufficient to feed the rebels for more than three-quarters of an Earther year, but it would be long enough to ensure their return to health and see an increase in food shipments to the station.

In an insightful move, Cordelia collected the first individuals completing their medical treatment in Terese’s clinic and took them to the meal room.

“Jason,” Cordelia said to the young boy, who had been badly burned. The medical nanites would need several Earther months to replace the badly scarred skin, restore the scalp’s follicles on one side of his head, and give little Jason a full head of hair. “I’m going to teach you and your friends to order your first Haraken meal. Then all of you will teach anyone else who has received medical treatment, but only those who have visited the medical clinic. Am I understood?”

“Why can’t we share it with anyone now?” Jason asked.

“Sometimes you have to do things that appear mean in order to actually help people. Medical treatment for your people is critical. This is one way to ensure they’ll receive it. Are you willing to help me do that?”

Jason nodded reluctantly as did the other seven rebel children accompanying him.

Cordelia turned around to demonstrate the food dispenser and explain the menu selection process. Z had added a simple visual-touch display that Earthers could access since they were without implants. A young girl, no more than eight, hurried to the side of the dispenser and stared at Cordelia’s mouth.

“That’s Ginny,” Jason said, pointing to the little girl. “She can’t hear, but she can read your lips.”

“Hello, Ginny,” Cordelia mouthed silently, and the girl’s face lit up in a bright smile. Cordelia picked her up and sat her on the dispenser’s shelf so she wouldn’t miss the instructions. Despite the children’s desire to select some of the more exotic menu items for their first meal, Cordelia gently guided them to foods packed with the nutrition the young rebels needed.

Seated at a long, bench-like table, it didn’t take long to make the children converts to Haraken food. Their first tastes were tentative, the second tastes less so, and then silence reigned as food was shoveled quickly and efficiently.

Cordelia sent to Terese.

Terese inquired.

Terese sent.

Cordelia heard Terese’s uproarious laughter, which was only silenced by the closing of the comm.

It didn’t take long for a group of passing rebels to spot the children plowing through trays of food and sought to join them. Cordelia barred their way and signaled to the medical nanites she hoped to discover in their bodies. None were present.

“Jason,” Cordelia called out, “these people haven’t been to medical yet. What should I do?”

“You have to go to medical first,” Jason called out, barely taking time to point with a spoon before he went back to shoveling his food.

“That way,” a little girl pointed with a fork before she too resumed cleaning her plate.

One of the older men might have argued, but his compatriots deserted him, heading in the direction the children had indicated, and he reluctantly trotted after them.

“Well done, children,” Cordelia said. She came to the side of the deaf girl, who with her back to the door failed to grasp the entire exchange, and gently stroked her hair. The little one smiled up at her and returned to devouring her food.

Immediately after Julien’s interview with Lieutenant Morris, he commandeered the station’s financial programs and computers, freezing out all remote access. Julien’s initial investigation provided Alex with the information the president shared with the Tribunal concerning Major Lindling’s diversion of station funds.

Julien sent.

Alex sent back. When silence greeted Alex’s message, he sent

Julien replied, sending an image of Alex sitting in an ornate, high-backed chair and playing with a replica of the station, tossing it repeatedly in the air. That Julien received just a brief laugh before the comm closed told him the pressure Alex was under to make a success of this odd venture.

Julien transferred the major’s funds to the station’s general ledger account and left a single credit in the officer’s personal account. Then he sent a short summary sheet of the station’s accounts to Alex and returned to setting up an account for each rebel. To Julien, it appeared an exercise in futility, considering the limited economic future for the rebels, but he had faith in Alex’s intuition.

Alex shifted again in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position. Despite his crew locating the widest station chairs they could find and removing the arms, the final result was terribly inadequate, and Renée ordered some wide-bodied, nanites-driven chairs from the fleet’s ships to accommodate the New Terran-born Harakens while they were on station.

“I’ve some pleasant news,” Alex announced to Nikki and Vic, seated across the table from him. The large rebel audience, who had attended their first meeting, was gone, which Alex appreciated. Now, only some of the senior rebel figures attended the ongoing meetings with Nikki and Vic. The exceptions were two scrawny teenagers, who often sat or stood near Z and rarely took their eyes off him.