Once released from the hospital, Alex proceeded back to McFadden, stopping in first at the ONI offices to have his new implants tested. The Mk. IV Amp booted slower than his old Mk. III, despite the generational upgrades. They ran his translator through a handful of tests, playing back several recordings from a variety of angles. It worked well, even though the tests didn’t really stress the translator, particularly since they only ran it with a few short sentences that sounded like military radio chatter. Clipped, easy to make out over a bad connection. He’d have Carbon give it something hard to digest when she could.
ONI issued him a variety of hardware to use in conjunction with the IT, and drilled its use into him. Most visible was a translator yoke. An off the shelf unit updated with a non-standard dictionary, it rested around the back of the neck like the AI that Carbon had worn. Though this one extended further down the shoulders, two ‘arms’ coming around the front resting on the collarbone. It was scarf-like, rigid ceramic white segments linked by a soft, flexible base layer, a subtle blue glow letting everyone know it was on. The whole thing was self-contained, transmitting to an earpiece or any built-in connections that were handy. They were common, inexpensive, and the batteries would last for days between charges. Humans had been using them with the Tsla’o for several decades, so they shouldn’t draw unwanted attention. They gave him a handful of peel-and-stick one time use translators as well, in flimsy plastic packages with pictograph instructions. The battery would run down in about six hours and they were highly directional. Important considerations.
They verified that the Whisper was booting and making contact with his brain as it should, and in turn making contact with the neural link interface they wanted him to try. The technician who was working with Alex seemed somewhat relieved when he declined the opportunity to test it. The interface for the Whisper was currently a jury rigged mess. There was a nylon web harness that kept a small electronics package pressed against his back over four of his near-field data ports. Two meters of cable snaked out of the plastic lump, ending in a pair of sensors glued to a headband. Alex was assured they were working on a more refined version, but was silently glad they hadn’t built it to look like Tsla’o antennae. He didn’t think he could pull those off.
The technician also covered more of what the doctor had been talking about. Keeping a low profile with a million dCred worth of augments. There was a concern that he might wake up in a bathtub full of ice with his head wrapped in tape, or simply get killed. Alex did not like the sound of either of those. He didn’t have much choice in the matter anyway - it was made clear that he would be wearing some sort of external translator whenever he used his internal.
With his new accessories in hand, he took his leave. He had a few days of R&R lined up and was looking forward to not having anything that looked like work in front of him.
He called his parents to see if the next morning was a good time to drop in. It was. He probably could have shown up unannounced in the middle of the night and it would have been fine. He emailed Carbon to let her know where he was going, packed a bag and hopped the evening shuttle to Earth Terminal NorAm. There was enough traffic out of Humanity’s birthplace that it had a terminal station for each main continent to handle ground-to-space traffic.
Alex wasn’t about to tell anyone, unless they clearly worked in navigation, but he was eyeballing the numbers. Departure time, expected transit speed, McFadden’s current distance to Earth, plus the difference in time zones. Most stations were set to UTC. Was it easier to just ask the kiosk what to take to arrive when you want? Yes.
Did it feel good to put all his training to use again? Incredibly.
He coughed up the extra dC for a private cabin and spent most of the trip snoozing in the pleasantly compact area. The shuttle pulled into NorAm at about seven AM Pacific. God damn it he was good at that. He shuffled through customs, even though he hadn’t been outside of Sol since quarantine. He was unaware that stay had been logged on his Navy ID and got a wide-eyed, slightly fearful look from the agent. Travel timestamps where there’s an eight month gap that starts on a exploratory trip to deep space and ends in a visit to a quarantine station out past Neptune is understandably unsettling.
The transfer shuttle was nothing but seats - it was an hour, tops, from station to ground, after all. The main pad on Berkley was way up on Deck 8, clear sunny skies and a gentle breeze met him when he returned to Earth for the first time in almost two years. It was nice to feel the real sun on his face, all of the varied smells of Earth in his nose. The Dyson sphere had been good, coming out of months living in a tin can. Now that he was back on Earth, there was no way it could compete. Not for him, anyway.
It would be an understatement to say his parents were glad to see him again when he got down to their place on Deck 5. They both tried to hug the life out of him before he could get in the door. They wanted to know everything he had been doing, and he got to very patiently explain that he couldn’t talk about it. Any of it. Not even that, or that, or that. Eventually the conversation shifted into a two hour long inquiry about current events over lunch... Everybody knew about the artifact, which the military had claimed they had towed in-system from deep space. Everyone except Alex, of course.
Alex laughed and shook his head, seated across the table from his parents. Now that he was thinking about it, he probably could discuss whatever had been disclosed to the public. But that meant keeping track of what was available and what he wasn’t supposed to know about, and he knew he’d screw that up at some point. “I’m telling you, I’ve been so busy with quarantine, debriefings and these mountains of paperwork... I haven’t had time to keep up with the news.”
His father was exasperated by this - not that he was avoiding the question, but that one of his sons would be so out of the loop about the goings on in the universe. Still, he grinned, “it figures they would make you work more when you got back than when you were out on a mission.”
“It does. Turns out they don’t tell you how much writing you’re in for once you’re done.” His deflection was getting better, which was nice. He didn’t like lying to his parents, and this sort of felt less bad to lead them around topics he wasn’t supposed to discuss. “Nobody would sign up if they did.”
“You have been getting rest, Alex? You’ve been back for a few weeks now, you haven’t just been working every day?” His mother gave him an inquisitive look. He had called a few times, but hadn’t been able to get away until now.
“I have been working a lot, I wanted to get everything done while it was still...” He petered off, thoughtful for a moment as he reconsidered his words. “Just to get it all done and taken care of. I’ve been making sure to put it up at a regular time to have a long stretch of time off. Relax a little, show Carbon around the station and all.”
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They looked at him, confused. His mother spoke first, “Carbon?”
“Oh, uh.” He laughed, nervous for a moment before he regained his composure. “Shipmaster - Lan is the proper title actually - Lan Tshalen. We’re on a first-name basis now. It’s a sign of respect.”
His mother seemed particularly pleased with that. She’d always been a bit interested in aliens. “That’s wonderful. Do you suppose we’ll get to meet her?”
He was relieved by that question, that they might find some acceptance from his parents. “You might, yes. She’s taking care of some work now that a Tsla’o ship is in the system. Last time we spoke, she wasn’t sure when she would be done.”
“Well let her know that I’d very much like to meet her, if she has the time. She seemed very nice, even though we never got to speak in person.” His mother referred to when she was using him to pass notes to Carbon, before the attack on the Kshlav’o.
“I will be sure to. She didn’t know what to make of your messages at first, but she grew to appreciate them.” At least, she grew to appreciate the sentiment, well after the fact.
“Good.” She turned to his father, patting him on the knee. “I’m going to start dinner, why don’t you call Peter and see if he can come over too? Bring his family if he can.”
“Sure. Excuse me.” They both got up, his mother bustling off into the kitchen and father heading towards the nook with the comm by the door. Alex picked his glass of slightly coffee-flavored lemonade up and pointed to the deck, his father nodding in acknowledgement as he tapped the comm screen.
Alex sunk into a chair and kicked his sneakers up onto the rail. The breeze was freshly filtered, none of the usual particulate matter in it today. They must have had the electrostatic arrays out in the Pacific turned all the way up. He could see the top of the North San Francisco arcology across the bay. The massive building arched over the top of Old San Francisco, giving it a physical link to the South arcology.
He let his mind drift, staring out into the pale blue sky with a handful of fluffy clouds riding the winds. It was good to be back, but he didn’t think he wanted to stay for more than a day or two. He wanted to be back on the artifact, back with Carbon... He wanted to be doing something. It would be good to see his brother again, though.
He sat there doing nothing but idly tapping his foot on the rail... it didn’t feel like it had been very long before the door chime went off. Peter lived in San Francisco South, the better part of an hour by tube. Still would have taken thirty by air.
He listened to the faint sounds of talking through the glass, the insulation layer muffling everything. His father slid the door open and popped his head out. “Your friend is here. Brought company, too.”
With the door open, he could clearly hear Carbon and his mother discussing niceties. It was deeply surreal. He took a sip of lemonade and pondered that before standing and stepping back inside.
For a moment, Alex wasn’t sure what he was seeing. It carried over onto his face, eyebrows knitted as he took in Carbon in what he assumed was more traditional Tsla’o clothing. Dark blue flowing pants that hid the legs and a black shirt under a bright blue brocade jacket with silver detail. The long jacket sat half way down her shoulders, leaving the thin stripes on the back of her neck visible.
Her company was wearing the standard lightly armored encounter suit. He - Alex figured it was a he from the body shape - the Tsla’o males he had seen in her memories were always a little more wiry than the females. He was differently colored as well, sort of a dark ruddy brown, eyes hidden behind a tinted visor. He stood rigidly by the door, definitely military.
Alex made a mental note to ask if the fur coloration meant anything important. Carbon noticed him, her eyes lighting up as her smile widened. “Pilot Sorenson. It is very good to see you again.”
He wasn’t a pilot any more, but he liked the title much more than ‘desk jockey’ or whatever it was he officially did now. He didn’t miss the formality of what she said, either. “Lan Tshalen. It has been too long. What brings you here?”
“A small matter. The Empress has requested an audience with you.”
That didn’t strike him as a small matter. He’d never had royalty request an audience with him before, so maybe it was. Either way, this was not how he had expected this afternoon to go. It did explain why they'd brought one of their largest capital ships to Earth, though. “Uhm, yeah, sure. You could have just sent me-”
“The Empress has requested an audience with you immediately.” There was a certain weight in her voice that she’d never really used with him before. The way she spoke hadn’t changed, but the familiarity had been carefully stripped out of it. It would probably be what she would have sounded like when they’d first met, if she hadn’t been under so much stress at the time.
“But... My brother is coming over.” He hesitated and his brain locked up, less sure of what to do now that it was clearly a demand. “I was going to have dinner with him and the family.”
She had leaned in towards him as he was talking, eyes intent and eyebrows raised, disbelief and a hint of fear on her face.
“Or, you know... I could probably just go meet the Empress. Not every day she wants to talk to me, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked to his mother. “If that’s alright with you guys?”
“This is a bit of an occasion, but I suppose it isn’t very often that royalty comes calling. Just hurry back, ok?” Audrey seemed somewhat impressed by this turn of events.
Carbon smiled, relieved. “Thank you. I promise I will return him to you as soon as is possible, I do not expect he will be gone a full day.”
“Suppose I should change...” Alex gestured at his shorts, already feeling a bit under dressed.
She looked him over, nodding slowly. “Yes, that would be good.”
Alex excused himself, taking refuge in the second bedroom to swap clothes. He fished the translator out of his bag and slipped it over his shoulders before he returned to the living room. They said their goodbyes, exchanged hugs and the usual before stepping out into the hallway.
Carbon and the soldier she didn’t bother to introduce him to conversed in low tones. Alex hit the button on his yoke as he turned his Immersion Translator on, considering this a perfectly good time to give it a try in a real-world environment.
“...ship is prepared?” He caught the end of Carbon’s question.
“The pilot has been notified we are returning, Princess. It will be ready to depart when we arrive.”
Alex stopped, his face screwed up in confusion. Carbon noticed he wasn’t following and looked back at him, eyebrows raised. His voice was an octave higher than he would have liked, very close to cracking. “Princess?”