The Chain Unbound
Chapter 9
"Objectives at Rest"
Hours ago, Ariyaa received a tip. 'Go to your home, stay there, and wait.'
So she want to her home. Stayed. Waited. Watched the news as the first reports of Regulators seizing important facilities, of martial law being declared, of military vehicles hovering over the planet's major cities, before all media was silenced.
She waited for more news. When the day turned to evening she couldn't wait much longer. She refreshed in the sonic shower, dressed in her night clothes, and went to bed.
Only to wake up restless in the middle of the night.
Ariyaa stepped out onto the rear balcony of her home, overlooking an expansive black silhouette of an evergreen forest under a sparkling night sky. How different it was at her wilderness surrounded home compared to the capitol, where the stars competed with neon signage and light pollution. She overheard the chirp of insects, the howl of a pack of predators. She took in the sounds, sucked in air with a deep, evergreen scented inhalation.
Indoors were stifling, climate control or not, on the hot summer evening. She stepped outside for relief, fanning the Tholian silk chemise which clung closely to her sheening olive drab skin.
The natural beauty of her surroundings at night invoked a meditative mood. In the middle of the night during the golden hour was when temporal equations and other bright ideas came out of hiding to execute their intellectual ambushes. During these times she dictated instead of activating the holoPADD, preferring not to spoil the natural light of the stars with the garish emerald neon of her tricom projector. When sleep caught her again, she saved the dictated file and returned to bed.
At the moment, she considered the power requirements for manipulating time.
A request for attention from her home security system interrupted her thoughts.. A personal transporter beam asked for access to her living room. When she opened her holoPADD and read the request, she granted access without hesitation.
So what if he saw her in her lingerie at three in the morning? During her dealings with Leonidas Van-Der-Puls Hawksley, her state of undress might prove an advantage.
Materializing out of the transporter beam, the Governor approached. He wore a crisp dark grey business suit with a minimalist cut favored by the Deneb elite. His status also reflected in the close trim of his salt-and-pepper beard, the close crop of his hair, leaving wizened grey in the slight recesses of a developing widow's peak. His purposeful gait didn't falter from fatigue. There were no bags under his eyes.
She didn't imagine usurpers as fresh faced and energetic as Hawksley
By the bottle of Saurian Brandy in his hand, it looked like he wanted to celebrate like one.
"Apologies for dropping in at such an hour. Just wrapped up the congress's emergency session." He went to the kitchen in search of glasses. "It's official. We are now an independent star nation. Welcome to the Free States of the Northern Cross." He stated with sarcastic florish, "The others in the cabinet came up with the Free States moniker themselves. Still, one can't underestimate the power of delusion, so I let them have that one concession to free agency." Ariyaa was about to guide him until he found what he was looking for. He produced two brandy snifters, crossed in his free hand. She was mildly impressed by the evidence of his refinement.
She asked, coyly, "You'd think they'd see though such nonsense."
"Those that can are fewer than you think. That's why you bring them on side." He set the glasses on a table and uncorked the bottle. "And if that doesn't work, you take them out of the equation, where they're not seen nor heard from again." He poured the rich, amber liquid into each snifter, offering one to Ariyaa. "A toast?"
"And who are we to toast to?"
"Why, to your new Prime Minister, and his new Minister of Science and Technology. By the way, one of those dissenting voices was the last Chief Invigilator. You're sworn in tomorrow. Congratulations."
Ariyaa smiled like a predator over a fresh kill. "Results, the deciding factor between eloquence and verbosity." She raises her glass. "To your continued success, and our continued ascent."
"Cheers." He raised his glass in return.
Both drank deeply and in unison. When Hawksley offered to fill her drink, she accepted, but hesitated to partake in haste. Saurian brandy was potent. Ariyaa was already feeling its effects. "I feel I've hosted inadequately. You brought such a fine vintage, I should only return the gesture in kind. Kwejian Caviar? It's authentic. Non-replicated."
"That would be lovely, my dear." Hawksley settled on the couch. "You are a woman of refined tastes."
"All Orions women have refined tastes, Prime Minister." She opened up her cold storage and found the caviar. She opened the tin, replicated a bowl of crushed ice for the caviar to sit. Once nestled, she found crackers and an ivory spreader. She explained as she brought the food to the living room table. "We live life to our fullest and pursue our endeavors to its ultimate conclusions. We do not compromise on experiences. Our efforts are equally demanding."
"To which I expect no less." He spread caviar onto his cracker, stopping short of biting into it. "Of course, now that your research is essential to my plans to hold power and expand, you'll still have to deliver."
"True." She spread her own cracker with caviar and savoured a salty bite before continuing. "I'll spare you the excuses on why what you're asking is a monumental task, and how your requests are unreasonable and optimistic. You already know all this."
"And yet you take the risk of failure regardless. Why is that?"
"Because like my people, I'm a person of extremes. Do you think I want to remain an obscure Invigilator with no prospects, Prime Minister? If I fail, I fail spectacularly. And if I succeed, it will be equally spectacular. Either way, it's a choice between dying by millimetres in obscurity or taking a chance at glory. I choose the latter." She finished the last morsel. "Besides, the accolades alone will set me up for a life worth living."
"I respect that." Hawksley bit down on the cracker. Even the act of chewing looked thoughtful to Ariyaa. "When I became the Governor of the Deneb Sector, it was, until today, the greatest moment of my career. But when Minister Osyraa promoted me, something she said stuck in my mind and refused to let go. She said, 'Congratulations, you have reached the highest station anyone of your kind can aspire.' Do you know what she meant by that?"
"If you're implying a certain systemic racism in the power structure of the Emerald Chain, I'm not denying it."
"Of course not. What group doesn't attempt to secure favor for themselves at the expense of other groups of people? It's the way of the universe since sentience first sparked." His voice took on a bitter cast. "Orions dominate the leadership structures and all major commerce, backed up by the partnership of their Andorian Janissaries. Or should I say the illusion of partnership. I don't believe the Andorians know they're second class citizens. A clever grift, my hat's off to your people, but beside the point. The Chain has the Orions on top, the Andorians slightly below that, and everyone else at the bottom, including the Human race. Governing a sector is the best any of my kind can hope, for fear of reawakening the centuries old spectre of Human domination."
Ariyaa sniffed, "Maybe so, but it's no small token. Governor's hardly a terrible fate as I see it. You could have just as easily been a slave."
"Fundamentally, what's the difference when your potential is capped? What if I want more? Why can't I practice the meritocracy and egalitarianism The Chain claims to preach? Why should I let the insecurities of its leadership prevent me from reaching their lofty heights? When your ambition exceeds your reach, any restriction feels like a slave implant at the base of your neck. But I work with what I have, and I plan. Plan for the day when I find myself within reach of my goals. And let nothing stop me when I do. Surely you sympathize, unbridled ambition bridled by other's fears?"
Ariyaa thought it over for a moment. For all the dangers of a human-centric view, Leonidas was correct. Stuck working with equations and theoretical models. Never allowed to innovate or test theories. She hated the restrictions of her profession.
"I do." She said, finding herself agreeing with the stately, well-mannered Leonidas. He risked a lot personally to be so candid. Why not share the same trust by confessing her own ambitions? Through kinship and recognition came a feeling of safety and security.
She felt safe enough to ignore the strap on her chemise slipping off her shoulder, proven right when he gave the briefest of acknowledged glances, and grin of approval, when she showed more skin. She watched for his reaction, was rewarded with his momentary acknowledgement, the most minimally lingered look. If there was lust, it was well under control.
She took another swallow of brandy, and planned a few more before their conversation was over.
"I'm curious, how much have you read into my papers?" Ariyaa asked.
"Enough to understand your theories of temporal manipulation and its disastrous effects." Leonidas answered. "But I've also read your essays on the errors made by the Krenim and the Na'Kuhl's attempts to alter the timeline. I had a sense, through your theories on temporal manipulation, and the criticism of past methods, that you had a more... deft touch. So if anyone knew how to manipulate time without unravelling existence, it would be you."
"We may never even get that chance." Ariyaa warned.
"And if we don't try, we never will." Hawksley countered. "So what better time than now to try?"
"An incredibly risky gamble."
"As we humans say, chance favors the prepared mind."
Ariyaa hummed, "Louis Pasteur. I'm familiar."
"And so everything I've done, up to this point, has been in preparation for realizing my ambitions. Not in rigid plans, which fail at alarming rates, but to exploit opportunities as they come along. Even I have limits and can't do it all. It's why I have good people around me. Admiral O'Key in military matters, my Regulator in the field, and, of course, you."
"Your Minister of Science and Technology, to develop the means to gain control."
"Not just develop, but define it's use. Now, I want you to indulge me a moment. Assume I know next to nothing. Explain how your temporal technology will solve our new nation's issues."
Ariyaa hid her puzzlement. She knew he read her papers, what more did he need to know? Regardless, she explained. "First, I'd start with the time crystal. The time crystal is key. Time crystals carry fourth dimensional characteristics, that being of time itself. To paraphrase, what was and what could be are, to this crystal, all the same." She emptied her glass in one swallow, grabbed the bottle, and poured. "Take this bottle. It exists in three-dimensional space. Its capacity is limited by its volume." She stopped pouring. "With the fourth dimension, you access all its potential volume throughout its existence. What do you get with that?"
"A near-infinite bottle of plenty."
"Correct. However, that bottle still needs to be filled, which is where we have a problem. With a time crystal we fill it with energy, massive amounts of it. Last time I heard it being attempted, it required the power of a supernova. Maybe we could do it with the combined power outputs of all our matter/anti-matter reactors, but not only will our power grid not handle the load, we would drain all our dilithium reserves."
"Pick the vinyards bare and drain the cask reserves dry." Hawksley saluted with his glass. "Leaving us with nothing to replenish."
"And much like the vinyard without so much as a seed to replant, so too will we be left with no way to replenish our energy reserves. All for one pretty blue stone." Ariyaa quipped.
"And there's been many empires who collapsed when they put all their fortunes into one expensive, resource-consuming technology at the expense of all else. So we need to reduce the expense."
"Exactly! It's not enough to have the temporal tech. We need the initial investment of energy to make it work. Nothing short of a quasar, a supernova, or a black hole will do. Then we have to harvest the energy."
"Well, why didn't you say so?" Hawksley grinned. "We already have that capability."
"Oh?" she said, curious.
"Tell me, what do you know of Project Hemispheres?"
She wracked her brain for an answer and found none. "Sorry, nothing. What is it?"
Hawksley explained, "Your near-limitless source of power. It was an answer to the energy crisis, but without the ability to transmit or store power it was a dead end. An efficient, portable storage medium is necessary. Such as your time crystal."
"That would power the crystal, but to use it to solve your energy transmission issues? That would be a waste. They're capable of so much more."
"Of course, but that's much later once we solve the time crystal creation problem. I have a quicker solution to the dilithium shortage issue. One you theorized with your localized temporal manipulation models."
Her most controversial theory was the isolated pinpointing and manipulations of time in a localized area while preventing outside changes in the timeline. Not just changing events, but isolating them, and restoring them to a previous temporal development.
Even with proposed temporal containment protocols and timeline repair and reconstruction procedures, she could never dream of attempting one of her theories because of the temporal technology ban.
What he proposed was to put her theory into practice. Not travel through time, but bring objects from time to them.
With the right objects brought back, they could tip the balance of power in their favor.
Ariyaa's eyes went wide when she realized what he proposed.
"You want to bring dilithium from the past back to us." She gasped.
Hawksley nodded his approval. "Breathtaking in its simplicity, if not in its execution, isn't it? Decommissioned power plants back on line. Starships once mothballed due to fuel shortages travelling the space lanes once again. Power and projection restored. Enough to hold the line until your temporal science dominates."
She conceded, "Yes, an interim solution, but with the potential to dominate the area. Still, we could do it more efficiently if we bide our time, develop the technology in secret, don't rush it. Why are we in such a hurry?"
"I wish we had that luxury of time, my dear." He frowned, ruefully. "The Federation upended the dilithium market. While The Chain runs dry, the Federation exports dilithium to potential allies with 'no strings attached'. Throwing it around like common hydrogen. Nobody knows how they got it, but they have it, and if we don't act soon we have no chance at hegemony."
She showed genuine surprise, "The Federation found a new source of dilithium? Impossible."
"Apparently not. How is a mystery. All we know is they have it. If leveraged properly..."
Ariyaa shivered. "The return of Federation dominance."
Hawksley made a sour face. "The voices of great people. All their potential. Like yours. Like mine. Everyone with drive, ambition, dreams. Drowned out by the mewling pleas and parasitic demands of the majority. Restricted by their limits. Limited to their idea of paradise. A paradise of the many, at the expense of the extraordinary." He finished his glass in one galled gulp. "A return of Federation dominance means a return of the systemic issues that doomed them, and therefore dooming us."
Ariyaa grimaced, raising her glass, to toast. "History will not repeat itself. Never again."
"Never again." He refilled their glasses and clinked them together.
Drinking once more, Ariyaa found the potent spirit's cumulative effects coming to bear. She did her best to keep poised, unsure if the muskiness of the air was her pheromones or a trick of her inebriated state. Leonidas appeared better practised at taking his liquor. He hardly changed in appearance. It was his eyes that changed, dropping the pretense of a lack of notice, a preoccupation with machinations, while those around him were an afterthought.
Ariyaa had Hawksley's undivided attention.
Right where she wanted it to be.
Much easier to make requests.
"I want to get started right away. Materials, personnel, everything. And I want to see Project Hemispheres."
"I'll take you there personally. And it's real close by. At Cygnus X-1 to be exact."
"Really?"
"Yes, for two centuries now. We've repossessed the facility last week."
"Hmmmm." She leaned back on the couch and stretched. "You thought of everything, did you?"
"Hawksley grinned as if touched by flattery. "Not everything, but enough. The finer details I leave to you to solve, but I assure you I'll provide you the means as long as you make your discoveries usable and practical. So, do you accept?"
All he needed was Ariyaa's silent acknowledgement, which she gave quickly.
She underestimated Hawksley's will, doubted his ability to deliver. Yet when she looked into his eyes and saw his confidence, she couldn't see a sign of deception anywhere. He really believed he could do all he promised.
Were it any other man, she would laugh at his arrogance and kick him out of her house.
But this was a man who took over a major portion of The Emerald Chain. Had the trust of his people. Led them through crisis and made them believe in the promise of a new tomorrow. He made grandiose promises and proved his intention to deliver on them. A person like that she wanted to follow, and would, far beyond sane limits.
Men like Hawksley, worthy of her best effort, were as rare as latinum.
A welcome presence, even beyond their professional arrangement.
Part of her wondered if there was something more to be found. Two powerful, ambitious people, fighting the universe and climbing towards similar goals. There were few who could match her, few to relate to, and none so unashamed of their own abilities.
It also helped by any alien standards he was a handsome older man.
"It would be an intriguing match. I could see myself with him. The question is, could he see myself with me? Or is he so focused he'll only love his ambitions? Should I find out?"
She halted her instinctual response, to releasing potent Orion pheromones into the air. "No, not that. It might land me the job, but even he would see through the tawdry displays and actions like I was a common slave girl. Let's test the waters another way."
Her tone was low and sultry. "I suppose you must be going, what with building your own nation-state. It's busy work. Leaves little time for anything else. Anyone else."
"Aye, it does." Hawksley acknowledged, "You must know. Academics are known for burying themselves in their work until it literally defines them. It's not much different between us. You have your science. I have my nation. It's not that there is no room for anything else. It's that our passions become us, impose on our time in ways normal people do not understand, and are inevitably driven away as a result. The question is less about finding room and more of finding time. That's our reality."
Ariyaa was conflicted, impressed by how quickly Hawksley understood what she really asked, and deflated by his answer.
She wasn't sure if he sensed an opportunity or he displayed genuine empathy, but his response surprised her. "Still, I can think of no better partner in our endeavors. This makes the moments we spend together, however brief, efficient, and opportunistically snatched, something cherished, and something worth repeating." He set the glass down and stood up, eyes on the door. "Thank you for this collaboration, and I look forward to our future meetings together."
Two taps on his lapel and he vanished.
Leaving Ariyaa to feel less confident in being on top in their exchange.
And therefore more intrigued.
"This isn't over, my dear."
In the dream she was pulled by many strong, rough hands.
As she was groped and pinned, they twisted her away every time she came close to seeing her assailants. Their laughter was an ambient mockery, assaulting the ears and antennae in a constant sleet of noise. She screamed, but found her voice muffled when a blue palm clamped down on her mouth.
She awoke, eyes shot open, looking up at the familiar sight of a metal plating and piping.
"Another shuttle. But where?"
Groggily, she rose from her bed and pieced together events from several hours ago. After salvaging her personal goods, and a crystal of dilithium, from the Master and Servant, she accepted an invitation to the EDF officer's home. So tired was Mikolo she didn't remember arriving, entering what looked like a crew's quarters, and crashing on its bed.
"Oh no, he didn't... did he?"
She threw off the blanket.
Still dressed in yesterday's outfit. To her relief, her host didn't even remove her shoes.
"Right... I wasn't his type. I wonder what he meant by that? Still, just because he isn't a pervert doesn't mean he's won't take advantage of a foreigner."
She surveyed a room cluttered with cases and boxes, moved aside to accommodate her. Her time capsule was at the side of her bed, appearing intact.
"Thank the gods!" She sighed heavily. "Maybe this human is trustworthy." She reminded herself, "To a point. So far he's an exceptional case. Everyone else I met here is atrocious.I should proceed with caution. Figure out this place. Get what I need here, and find a way off. If that's possible."
Her stomach growled, a reminder of the long hours between meals.
"I better find some food before the Terrans find another way to screw me over."
As if answering a prayer, her nose and antennae detected the smell of grilling meat, heard its sizzle on a heated metal surface. Drawn out of bed by her hunger, she followed the source of the smell, taking her down the narrow bulkhead, through the cockpit (heavily modified into a living room), and out the port hatch.
Mikolo found Richard Corrigan outside, next to a programmable matter picnic table. Dressed in jean shorts and a 'Stud Muffin' cooking apron, he gyrated to the heavy metal strains of his holoPADD's playlist while flipping a meat patty on a heated grille.
The surreal sight of the big, bald man shouting 'Turbo Lover' to the morning sky, with the enthusiasm and showmanship of a lead singer of a band in front of a stadium of thousands, was somewhat amusing.
Amplified a thousand fold by the fact he possessed the natural talent and voice of a wounded Andorian Tundra Yak.
She couldn't help but giggle, snapping the barrel-chested human out of his reverie.
"Well, good morning sunshine!" Richard Corrigan enthusiastically said, flipping the meat patty blind on his spatula without missing. "I took the liberty of making breakfast. The exobiology cheat sheet tells me your species prefers a high protein diet? So I threw in some extra sausage and bacon to go with the pancakes. How do you like your eggs?"
The food held an alien color palette to it. Yellow yolks, reddish brown meats. Odd and foreign, yet smelled delicious. She broke her indecision once she squeaked, "Over easy?"
"Yeah, you got it!" He plucked two eggs out of a carton and cracked them over the metal grille.
"Just curious. What animals are these from?" She pointed to the meat.
Corrigan answered, as if stating the obvious. "You know, the usual. Cow. Chicken. Pig."
"What kind of cow, chicken, or pig?"
"The Terran variety. You're telling me you never ate Terran before?"
She said, "Maybe on Freecloud, but there's a saying we have back home for food off-moon. 'Don't ask and don't look too deep.' We just scan and scarf."
"Huh. Suppose you'd have to, like how we're told not to drink tapwater. Well don't worry, your species can handle the meat. Same with the hash browns. Terran potatoes. Trust me, it's good, or I'm the universe's worst host. If you want to grab some cutlery I got a variety, couldn't find out what you use, but I have knives, forks, chopsticks..."
She checked her wrist, finding the personal matter storage device still affixed. One tap and a thought through her neural-link summoned a short, two-pronged skewer and a short, stubby dagger, already in her hands. "That's okay, I brought my own."
"Heh. So you did." He served up the breakfast sausage and bacon on a plate and set it in front of her.
Despite the off color of the meat, she couldn't argue with the delicious smell, or the faint feeling of having not eaten during her incarceration. She devoured the meat, starved as she was, while Richard was serving a generous pile of hash browns. Conventional fare, as every world had their own kind of sausage, bacon, fried tuber root, and grain-based pancake, separated by unique composition, preparation, and variety of spices. The Terran food, to her Andorian palette, appeared conventional on the outside, but hid a spicy excitement.
Thirsty too, she drank deep from a glass of bright orange fruit juice Richard claimed was called 'orange juice', and assured it was real Terran oranges. He tried his best, but a lack of familiarity with off-worlders resulted in a hit-or-miss kind of accommodation.
Terrans. Formerly one of the most powerful planets in the galaxy and home to one of it's most prolific races. Now regressed to the cosmopolitan sophistication of the most backwards colony.
She saw parallels in their history, wondering if Romans reacted the same way when their empire moved its capitol from Rome to Ravenna. Did they too regress to a culture of backwardness and xenophobia? It certainly fit the tale of many planets after the Federation pulled out to parts unknown.
Was it enough to forgive Terrans for missing some of the finer subtleties of cosmopolitan interaction, such as due process and humane incarceration?
No, she decided, but it was enough to forgive her host. None of it was his fault. In fact, she liked this hulking, intimidating human with a goofy side and a talent for cooking. It didn't mean she trusted him, or his planet, but it was enough to work on.
Which raised her waking question. Where on Earth was she? She looked at the post-industrial decay all around her as she ate. Behind the spacecraft that served as Richard's home were others like it, arranged in rows, some stacked one over the other in solid metal towers lined with walkways and steps. None of the derelict vessels looked mobile. Some sank into the foundations and rusted on their supports. Others were stripped to bare hulls.
There were visible signs of settlement. Children's cries, the hum of machinery, the buzz of hover vehicles, the smells of cooking and crack of electricity. Not a prosperous place, but thankfully free of the smells of effluence. There was electricity and waste reclamation. A step up from the slave slums of Freecloud, but not by much.
Richard's home must have represented what amounted to luxury accommodations in this ramshackle arrangement of spaceships. His ship was on the ground level, resting on a foundation of plastcreet tarmac. The ship, gaily colored in pinks, oranges, greens, and yellows, like a sunset over a paradise planet, was also festooned with strange symbols of stars, circles, and writing. Her universal translator guessed the writing were prayers. Still more she saw from the brightly colored banners and flags, hung on ropes and attacked to the shelter awning, unfurled over their heads, leading to neighboring shuttle homes.
His home also afforded the best open view in this neighborhood. Beyond Richard's home was an expanse of pavement with metal fencing. Beyond the bent metal posts and breached chain-link was what she assumed was a river or bay, then beyond that another city skyline.
No wonder people decorated their homes so brightly here. It must have been to break up the tedium of post-Burn industrial decay.
"So... where are we?" she asked between bites.
"Here?" His hand panned their surroundings. "We're in Newark, New Jersey, just a short distance from New York City."
"And this place? Doesn't look like a conventional settlement. Was this some sort of dock or shipyard?"
He explained, "Yes and no. You're standing on top of the Newark Liberty Intergalactic Spaceport. At least it was until The Burn."
Mikolo grimaced, knowing full well a story repeated on nearly every habited planet. A spaceport, having so much as one ship or shuttle with a running dilithium-powered matter/anti-matter reactor, became less a spaceport and more a smoking smoking ruin, destroying a sizable chunk of the surrounding area with it.
"Remarkably... un-crater-like for a space port, isn't it? Why would they fill in the hole and stack a bunch of shuttles on it?" Asked the inquisitive Mikolo.
Richard's chuckle was less than amused. "Because this place was lucky. La Guardia, JFK, and most every other spaceport in the eastern seaboard? Boom, bye bye! All surviving shuttle had to go somewhere. So they collected in places like this. Then we grounded everything but military traffic outside our planet's atmosphere. Time passed, JFK was rebuilt, and Newark Liberty was no longer being used for its intended purpose, the Big Apple's got a housing crisis, and Newark Liberty's got more abandoned hulls than it knows what to do with. Simple answer, turn it into a trailer park!"
"I see. It's a... novel solution."
"I know it ain't the Waldorf Astoria, but it's home." Richard slapped the hull proudly, beaming with pride. "It's a two hundred-year-old Zambezi Class Runabout. Close to work, more spacious than an apartment in the city, better amenities, and I own it, one hundred percent."
Mikolo joked. "Old Emerald Chain saying. Why rent when you can own?"
"Exactly! When you don't grow up with much, you take whatever you can get."
"But that's not all of it." She chuckles. "The rest of the saying goes, 'Why own when you can landlord?' What's this going to cost me?"
Richard thought for a moment. "You're new in town and you had a rough go of it."
"Understatement of the cycle."
"And just 'cuz we're stuck with each other doesn't mean I can't be a decent sentient being. Least I can do is offer free room and board for as long as you need it. Getting off this planet's gonna be a copper-plated bitch, so let me tell ya, it'll add up. It's the best deal you'll get out here, so what do you say? Roommates?" He offered his hand to shake.
She stopped short of shaking his hand. "Understand I'm staying only long enough to get some answers. Then I'm leaving."
"I figured."
"And if I'm going to be here awhile I might as well contribute to the living expenses."
Richard Corrigan's eyebrows twitched in a strange, human way, their substitute for the antennae flicker.
"I think we'll both get what we want." Corrigan said, "Get your dilithium crystal. I got something to show you."
After inserting Mikolo's dilithium crystal, Richard locked the matter/anti-matter reactor chamber. Tapping several buttons on the chamber caused it to gather light and glow. Moments later, the dilithium chamber hovered inside.
The runabout took on a distinct character as lights and consoles activated all at once, while the hull took on a warm, vibrating tone. More energetic. More alive.
"And just like that, we have free power. For decades" Corrigan grinned. "Suck it, utilities!"
"For decades?" Mikolo asked, skeptically. "I was told there was only enough for a round trip from Andoria to the Sol System."
"Yeah, for your old ship. No offence, but when we were salvaging your old ship I got a look at your warp core. Your ship was fast, but its dilithium re-crystallization tech sucks. Incredibly wasteful. You all must burn dilithium by the tonne."
Mikolo felt a reactionary flash of embarrassment. She wasn't used to bumpkins from the middle of nowhere criticizing Emerald Chain technology. And weren't the humans the ones restricted to one planet while she came from a galaxy-spanning empire?
She thought Richard had to be joking.
But how could she be sure? She was no engineer.
"Then I take it I've more than covered my room and board" She stated.
"Covered? Hell, this is overkill. If I had a crystal like yours I wouldn't live here. A good thing you didn't let the salvage yard grift you. Do you know how much the EDF would give for this crystal? Your own mansion in France, a penthouse suite in New York, your own vessel, if you're okay with not having a crystal to power it. You can write your own ticket!"
"Yeah, except the only ticket I want is the next ride off this planet."
"You got me there, but it's not hopeless. You got other assets, don't you?"
"Well, I have all the artifacts I brought with me, but there's not nearly enough to buy a new ship, unless you're feeling incredibly generous or brain-damaged enough to part with yours for a few bars of gold pressed latinum?"
Richard chuckled. "I like your boldness, but no. Not a chance."
Mikolo shrugged, "Then I'm stuck here, unless you're willing to fly me."
"I know where you're going with this and let me just say I'm in."
She didn't expect Richard to so easily accept. "Wait, don't you want to hear what I have in mind first?"
"Nope. I'm in."
She sputtered. "But I don't even know when I'll go. How to get there. If it's even possible. By the gods, I have no idea what we're in for!"
He waved off the concerns. "Staaapppphhhhh, you've twisted my arm. I told ya I'm in."
Mikolo's antennae faced each other in surprise. "Really? Just like that?"
"Just like that. Come on, I'm assigned to you, and nothing short of orders from my superiors will change that, off-world or not. Besides, it's not like the whole deal is one-sided. I'll get something out of it too."
"Like what?"
"Like getting off this planet. I mean, think about it. You've seen my home. You've seen the other homes in this trailer park. Did you notice mine looks like the only one functional enough for its intended purpose?"
Upon realization, she flushed with embarrassment. "You're telling me you kept it functional so you can fly it?"
"Clever girl! There you go!" Richard clapped his hands together.
"Even though dilithium's rare and your chances of getting a crystal are slim."
"Yup."
"And you're on a planet full of isolationists with a nightmare bureaucracy."
"That's right."
"By all sane measures there's no way your dream will happen. Why do you try anyways?"
"Because it's MY dream. Look, I joined the EDF because it's the closest any Terran gets to intergalactic travel. I restored this Runabout in case some day I get to fly it, and restored the warp core in case I can go further than the Earth-Luna run. Sure, it may not happen in my lifetime, but it sure won't happen if I don't prep for it, am I right?"
Mikolo nodded. "You have a point."
Richard added forlornly, "Besides, everyone else kind of gave up. Know what I mean? Resigned to their little cubicle or shack out in the middle of nowhere, settling for basic income and nothing else, doing little with their lives and not the least bit curious about anything past the atmosphere. Well, call me a human from the old school, 'cuz I haven't forgotten who we were. Dreamers, inventors, do'ers. We explored the stars, made peace with our neighbours, helped build the most powerful star-nation in the universe, and sold our lives by the trillions to keep it alive. Most of my planet's forgotten, but I haven't. I learned it in school, in the museums, and my service in the United Earth Defence Force. I don't want to stagnate like the rest of Terra. Everyone else's free to sink in their own grav-well. Me, I wanna fly."
Mikolo smiled, sheepishly. "Well, you are a dreamer, that's for certain. I know, Earth isn't a nice place, but fair warning, it's a slice of paradise compared to the vast majority of the universe."
He exhaled sarcastically, "I'm an EDF Inspector with fifteen years experience, an expert in small arms training, has fought actual pirates, and is a first degree black belt judoka. I'm sure I can handle myself."
"Alright, you can handle yourself. But you've never been off world."
"And you've only been on two planets and a moon." Richard countered. "Yeah, I witnessed your debriefing too. You're not much better than I am."
She flushed, embarrassed. "Okay, fair. We're both not experienced Couriers. Then again, considering my options the choices are limited."
"Severely limited. In doing my thing and your thing, we both help each other out. So what'cha think?Richard dropped his smarm immediately with a bright smile.
Two dreamers to set out in a galaxy full of nightmares? Mikolo wanted to laugh, but played it cool instead. "Sure, providing we can convince your people to let us do this."
Richard laughed. "That's the hard part. Look, my people aren't totally unreasonable. If we have to solve our problem by going off-world, I'm confident we can convince my people to make it happen. After all, we're a people who respect the rule of law, but not at the expense of your rights and freedoms."
"Really?" She asked, dripping with sarcasm.
"Really!" He replied earnestly. "Otherwise I wouldn't have smashed my co-worker a table and ate a suspension to remind my entire organization of the fact. So what do you say?" He extended his hand to shake. "I'll help you solve your problem and you help me see the stars?"
Initial uncertainty lingered, the byproduct of the experience of fleeing Andoria and her incarceration on Earth. She wasn't sure about the proposed partnership until a thought occurred to her. To anyone from the Emerald Chain, this Terran was a walking contradiction of rough, brutish capability, hard truth, and optimism bordering on naivety. On Freecloud, Andoria, or about any Emerald Chain world, he'd be the most obvious con-man.
The rules were different here on Earth. Richard Corrigan showed more honestly, integrity, and openness than anyone she'd experienced in her life. A rarely afforded luxury, spent only by capable and confident people.
Or the incredibly naive byproduct of a backwards planet who didn't know better.
Willing to gamble for the former instead of the latter, she clasped his hand to shake it, his hand engulfing hers in a firm grip that didn't crush.
"If I'm gonna charter your ship, you better tell me her name." Mikolo said.
"Oh, that's easy." Richard Corrigan answered, brimming with pride. "Welcome aboard the Mary Jane's Last Dance."
Mikolo didn't share his enthusiasm. "Awkward name, isn't it?"
Richard shrugged. "Sure is, but then again I didn't name her. We'll just call her Last Dance for short. Considering the dangers of the unknown, it's kinda apropos isn't it?"
She shook her head and giggled. "As long as it's not a self-fulfilling prophecy."
"You got that right!" He let her hand go. "She hasn't been out of the atmosphere since before The Burn. I'll need a couple weeks to get her spaceworthy. Think you can do your research by then?"
"I wouldn't be much of an Invigilator if I couldn't."
"And between bureaucracy, talking to our intel folks, and doing the tourist thing, I'm sure you'll have more than enough to keep you busy."
"Well then," Mikolo grinned, "shouldn't we get busy?"