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4

With five days to go until the interstellar caravan was scheduled to depart for Trinity, Kemmerine Station was a bustle of activity. The technical teams were all on station and almost all of the thirty thousand migrants had started to arrive, so many in fact that almost half of them had to be housed on the surface of Kemmerine itself. Among those on the station was a certain couple from Ceta named the Clements, whose son just happened to be the Fleet Admiral.

Clement made his way through the thick crowds on the Galleria deck of the station, heading for dinner with his parents at the Battered Hull. Yan had promised to join them at 1900. As he sifted through the crowd in a stop-start manner, he got his share of head-turns from the many migrants who had been lucky enough to be called up to the station first. He also got his share of salutes from passing sailors mixed in with the bustling crowd, which he just passed off with a nod. If he stopped to salute every officer and tech he passed on this station he’d never get where he was going. He pulled out his com pad as he walked and made a voice note to issue a memo to restrict saluting to just the admiralty offices or the individual ships. All of this respect was getting tedious in light of the chaos around him.

Yan had mentioned that the station’s five thousand tourist berths had been completely taken up by the migrants and their possessions. The first ten thousand arrivals from Ceta, Argyle, and Helios were already on the transports. Over the next few days even more would be transitioned from the surface of Kemmerine to their transport ships in a (hopefully) orderly manner. Yan had planned out the logistics months ago and Clement was thankful for that. He also hoped things would go according to her plan.

He finally emerged from the crowd to stand in front of the neon sign over the door of the Battered Hull. Two Navy corpsmen saluted him and he saluted back, vowing that would be the last time until the mission started. It was partly his fault, as he had restricted the Battered Hull to Navy personnel until the caravan left for Trinity. His people needed somewhere to hang their hats away from the civilian overflow.

He stepped up.

“We have your booth ready, Admiral. Your parents are already here,” said the female corpsman, gesturing for him to follow her inside. He did so, and was promptly greeted by eighty Navy personnel jumping to their feet and saluting him. He stopped and whipped off a return salute, then spoke to the crowd in a loud voice.

“At ease, everyone. I want you to all to know that I will soon be issuing a memo suspending the need to salute in the commercial areas of the station. Kemmerine is way too busy for every sailor to stop and salute when a senior officer walks by, especially me. In all honesty, I’m more than a bit tired of it. We all have a lot of work to do; let’s stick to protocol only in the military areas of the station, and the Battered Hull is hereby declared a nonmilitary area. Now get back to your meals and ale.” There was a round of cheers and applause at that and Clement waved to the crowd and then proceeded to follow the corpsman. She directed him to the booth and he sat down across from his parents, a haggard look on his face. He hadn’t even got out a hello when Yan showed up. He looked at his watch. 1900 on the dot. She was nothing if not prompt. She said hello to his parents and then pushed Clement further into the booth so she could sit on the old wooden bench next to him. His father held a half-drunk ale glass in his hand while his mother was nursing her usual tea.

Clement let out a big sigh. “I can’t believe it just took me forty minutes to navigate from my office to get here,” he said.

“I had the same problem,” said Yan, smiling.

“Well, here we all are, finally,” he said.

“You look tired, son,” said his father.

“Yes,” chimed in Abigail. “I think this job is getting to you.”

“That’s what he has me for,” said Yan, smiling.

“Enough with all of you criticizing me. I’m fine. I just need a station ale, pronto.” Promptly the frosty ale showed up at the table, one for him and one for Yan. Clement took a deep drink of the beer while Yan took her customary smaller sip.

“So, how is everything going?” asked his mother.

“As well as could be expected, I guess. We have half our complement of migrants staying on the station or on their transports, and they all seem to be out and about today. There’s another fifteen thousand more down on Kemmerine right now waiting to come up. If Yan here has planned this right, five days from now we’ll all be on our ships and on our way to Trinity.”

Yan took another sip of her ale before chiming in. “Well, everything is going to plan so far, and if anything goes off the rails I’ll just make sure to lay the blame at the feet of the admiral here.”

“Why not?” said Clement. “Everybody else does.” He took another long drink.

“Sure you should be drinking that so fast, son?” said Cletus, looking down at his own drinking glass. “From what I’ve been sampling this stuff is pretty powerful.”

Clement smiled. “It has to be, Dad. Otherwise the sailors would be too angry to fly anything. The only thing worse than a drunken sailor is an angry one.” There were some light chuckles around the table at that. Cletus took another drink and then frowned, looking down at his thick brown ale with a look of distaste on his face. An uncomfortable silence settled around the table then, the unsubtle din of the Five Suns sailors filling the background.

The silence went on for a few more seconds. “Have you two ordered food?” said Yan cheerily, trying to move the conversation away from her perpetually grumpy commanding officer.

“Abby ordered the clam chowder, and I really think she made a mistake. I ordered the steak,” said Cletus.

“I’m sure it will be fine, Cletus. I hope you two don’t mind that we ordered ahead. Our time clocks are all off from being at home on Ceta and we were both pretty hungry.”

Clement nodded his head at his mother. “I don’t mind at all. These next few days are going to be crazy. Eat when you can and when you feel like it. Once we get on board the transports all the meals will be coordinated so you’ll have to eat on their schedule.”

His mother piped up at that. “But aren’t we the parents of the Fleet Admiral? Don’t we get some kind of special dispensation?”

“If I did that, Mother, I’d have to do it for everyone going on this trip, including the crews. I’m not sure I want that kind of logistical problem on my hands,” Clement said, cracking a small smile.

Presently he and Yan were greeted by Maggie the barmaid, who also happened to be Nobli’s girlfriend. She asked them what they wanted to eat and he and Yan punched up the Battered Hull’s menu on their com pads. Clement ordered the pulled pork sandwich with coleslaw and cornbread on the side. Yan ordered her usual standby soup and salad. Maggie smiled and said, “Coming right up,” then departed. Yan turned to Clement.

“Is that sandwich on your diet, Admiral?” she asked more than a bit impishly, trying to lighten the mood. Clement gave her a stern look and then said, “It is as long as you don’t report it to the medical staff.”

“Well, he’s in a mood,” said Abby.

“Mother, if you were running this station day in and day out, you’d be in a mood too. I was born to be a sailor, not a paper pusher.”

“Administration is not his strong point,” said Yan.

His parents’ food arrived then and Clement told them not to wait for him and Yan as the service was always unreliable. They both politely started eating, obviously famished. After a few bites of food his mother started in on the conversation again.

“You know, it occurs to me that you two act like an old married couple,” she said. “Finishing each other’s sentences, complementing the other’s strong points, taking unnecessary responsibility off of each other.”

“Mother . . .”

“Are you sure it’s against the rules for you two to, you know, get married and all that?”

Clement rubbed at his brow, shaking his head, unhappy with this turn in the conversation.

“That is not happening, Mother, for all the reasons I’ve already told you. And besides, if I married her then she’d have to transfer out of my command, and I couldn’t have her as my chief assistant. And if that were to happen, this whole project would fall apart completely.”

His father put his knife and fork down. “Which leads me to another question, son. I wasn’t all for this move, you know that. It’s hard to start over at our age. We left almost everything behind us on Ceta, including our farming equipment, hell, even our seeds for the wheat and barley crops.”

“You’ll have all the seeds you need on Bellus, Dad, and far better quality than the crops you left behind on poor old Ceta. I know it’s a new start and not something you expected at your age, but the Trinity worlds are a blessing that we can’t even comprehend yet. It’s like a gift from the gods.”

“But what about things like cows and chickens and fish? We can’t just live on fruit, corn, and bread all the time. That’s what we left behind on the Rim.”

Clement leaned in toward his father, trying to allay his concerns. “The transports are full of thousands of frozen embryos of every kind of animal you can imagine. Scientists have come up with accelerated growing processes, so we should have full herds of everything we could possibly need within a couple of months. As for cross-pollination and things like that, the survey teams that have gone to Bellus have said that the native insects take care of all of it. Compared to life on Ceta living on Bellus will seem like a walk in the park.”

“We had plenty of parkland on Ceta,” said Cletus.

Clement paused before responding as their food arrived from the kitchen. Apparently being the admiral had its privileges. “The parkland on Ceta was nothing but dirt, dust, and tumbleweeds,” he said. “I promise you, you won’t believe how lucky you are once you’ve spent a few days on Bellus. It’s a paradise.”

This time Cletus leaned in toward his son, who was busily working on his sandwich. “There’s just one more thing that bothers me, son,” he said.

“And what’s that, Dad?” replied Clement between bites.

“What about the natives? How much of their land will we be taking away from them?”

At that Clement stopped eating and sat back in the booth, putting distance between himself and his parents. “We’ve already discussed this, but just to remind you, we’ve reserved thousands of square kilometers for the natives, Dad. Our colonies will not interfere with their lives at all. As time goes on if they want to join our settlements, they’ll be more than welcome. Believe me, no one is more concerned about the effects of colonialism and what it might have on the Trinity natives than I am.”

His father looked him straight in the eye. “So the natives will stay on their reservations, just like the American Indians did. And then one day what will happen to them? One hundred years from now when you’re long gone all of your goodwill will be left in the hands of other men. Men that may not share your values, or your care for those people.”

Clement felt his face start to warm up with frustration. “Are you worried that I’ll sell them out? Is that what you think of me?”

His father shook his head. “No son, I don’t think you’re that kind of man. Your mother and I raised you too well for that. But when we’re all gone, back to the earth as they say, how can you ensure but the natives will be safe and protected?”

I can’t,” admitted Clement. “All I can do is set up as many laws and rules of governance as I can while I have the power to do so. And right now it looks like I’ll have that power for a very long time to come. So I guess you’ll just have to trust me and trust how you and Mom raised me.

At that he stood to leave. “The bill will be on my tab,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your meal, and enjoy your time with Yan here. I find I really have too much work to do. Now if you’ll excuse me?”

And at that he walked away, as fast as he could go.


Clement stayed away from his office at the station and instead ended up walking off his anger and frustration on the Agamemnon. He found himself on deck 9, near the science labs. After drifting down the hallway and disrupting what was surely important work merely by his presence, Clement eventually found himself at a place he had intended to go for a while. He knocked on the open door of Lieutenant Commander Laura Pomeroy. She looked up from her small work desk in her confined, rectangular space and smiled and then stood.

“Admiral,” she said, “what a pleasant surprise.”

“Quit lying,” replied Clement, “nobody’s happy to see the admiral.” Then he reached out and shook her hand. Pomeroy was a career officer in her mid to late thirties, the kind that was indispensable on any important mission, as she had been on the first Trinity mission. There she had functioned as both an engineering tech and a field medic, though it was the medic role that had been most critical.

“Regardless, I am happy to see you.”

Clement shrugged. “I’m just doing my rounds, checking in with everybody. I thought I would see what the old Beauregard crew was up to.” He looked around the small room. There were about a dozen plasma monitors floating around, showing all kinds of data and what appeared to be high-definition photographs, geological analyses, and infrared telemetry scans of the topography that had been taken on both Bellus and Camus, the third world of the Trinity system, during their first mission.

“Is geology your thing now, Commander?”

Pomeroy glanced around her personal information den before answering. “Well, I have to say my mind has been on exploring the Hill Place on Bellus ever since we came back from the first mission. And of course I’m extremely curious about those pyramid-shaped mountains on Camus. If we can get access to them, I mean, if we can get inside and figure out how they were constructed, and maybe even find out who constructed them, we may be able to unlock a key to terraforming new worlds on a massive scale. That could be very beneficial to the Five Suns Alliance in the future.”

Clement nodded agreement. “Absolutely. You’re right, of course,” he said, “and I’m anxious to take that trek up to the Hill Place with you. I want to discover what the real mysteries of Trinity are as much as anyone. I mean, just the existence of the natives, human natives no less, is a mystery for the ages. But the fact that these worlds appear to have been almost ‘manufactured’ for the natives’ use and put in perfect environmental balance, that’s another question altogether. And of course I have to consider whether we are going to throw that balance off by migrating our people there. I want those answers.”

“Those are all good questions, sir, to which I don’t think anyone has good answers to right now. As you said, we have to figure out the mysteries first to discover the right questions to ask, and then find the answers to those questions. I have to admit I’ve become a bit obsessive about it.”

“I can see that,” said Clement, his eyes roving around the room again at all the data on the screens. “What’s the scale of the expedition plans that you have so far?”

Pomeroy sat back down at her desk. “I’d like to keep the initial expedition to a small group, maybe five or six of us; and also, if we can find that native woman named Mary again, she may be helpful. We can use a small VTOL to get us up there from our settlement camp in a lot quicker time than Middie Telco’s old pontoon boat, that’s for sure.”

“Hey, that was very innovative by Telco,” said Clement, defending the one-time cadet’s reputation. “And Mr. Telco is not a middie anymore.”

“No, sir, he’s not. But I have a hard time not thinking of him that way. I do have him on my shortlist for the trip up there.”

Clement smiled. “Now I’m curious as to the names on that list of yours.”

Pomeroy tilted her head. “Well, usually high-ranking flag officers such as yourself wouldn’t be included on this kind of expedition . . .” She let her voice trail off.

“But?”

“Does there have to be a ‘but’?”

“There does,” Clement said firmly.

“But, since you’re the Fleet Admiral, and in command of this whole operation, and you have previous experience at the Hill Place, and you’re the one who gave me a field promotion to Commander, I think it would be pretty much impossible for me to exclude you.”

“Right answer,” said Clement, his smile turning to a broad grin now.

Pomeroy continued. “Captain Yan would also be hard to exclude since she most closely understands the natives’ language and was able to converse with the native woman, Mary.”

“Of course. It would be wrong not to include her.”

“I’d be handling the geology and the flying. Nobli recommended Kim Reck for our engineering tech, and I was thinking Telco and Tsu for the muscle. Sir.”

“Seems about right, Commander,” said Clement, then he hesitated for a second before asking the next question. “So, Laura, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh it’s Laura now, is it, Admiral? Is this off the record?”

Clement thought for a moment. “Yes, I guess it is.”

“Good. Fire away.”

“About Mr. Telco . . .” Pomeroy rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Admiral, I’m still seeing Rob on occasion. He’s a good young man, and I think he’s almost over his infatuation with me since our little aphrodisiac-inspired tryst at the pond on Bellus. I think he has his eyes on a redhead tech down in systems engineering. It’s been two years, probably time for both of us to move on to more appropriate partners.”

“So, no conflicts I should be worried about then?”

She shook her head. “None from my side, sir. I have a good working relationship with the lieutenant, sir. We had our little adventure and it was a bit of a distraction for both of us at the time, but there are no personal issues between us interfering with work.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” said Clement. “Always a good idea to tie up any loose ends before you go into the field.”

“Of course, sir. I can forward you all of my technical plans for the mission for your review before we get to Trinity, if you’d like?”

“That would be a welcome change from the routine, Commander. Frankly, I’ve been looking for things to keep myself busy, hence my trip to see you. Rank may have its privileges but it also has its limitations. You have no idea how badly I want to take the Beauregard out for a spin.”

“Oh, believe me, I understand, sir. I’ve never worked on anything as big and powerful as Agamemnon before. It presents all kinds of opportunities, but it also has some drawbacks. The Beau was a breeze to work with compared to this behemoth.”

“Well, I certainly agree with you on that. All right then, Laura, thank you. I’ll look forward to that planning report. Don’t wait too long to send it. I want to make sure I have time to get my comments back to you and still leave plenty of time for you to make changes.”

“Yes, sir. I’m well aware of the need to make editing changes on the fly, sir.” Pomeroy stood. “One more thing, sir,” she said to him. “What do you think the story is of the natives at Trinity? I mean, do you think they were sent from Earth, or do you think they’re native to the Trinity system, or do you think it was some . . . other kind of influence?”

“It’s hard to know. I guess that’s a big part of why we’re going.” With that he thanked her and then left her office, once again making his way down the hall, not really sure which way he was going next.


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