Relief Pitcher
Tasser was slated to land any minute now.
It had been too long.
Nai and I waited at a safe distance overlooking the launch pad. The ship was an unusual model. It was paneled jet black with bright gold peeking out from between the sections of fuselage. In a design I hadn’t seen before, twin thrusters were strapped to the sides rather than a large single thruster beneath.
But the High Harbor launch pads were suited for just about any ship, save for megavessels that never descended any gravity wells. The real highlights were the massive anti-gravity generators, ready to catch the ship as it slowed its descent. As it fired its engines and maneuvering thrusters in short bursts, two dozen spherical devices surrounding the launch pad hummed to life and oriented themselves to point toward the ship.
There was no visible interaction—it was all just gravity after all—but the difference was notable. The ship lurched upward under its own reduced weight before they cut the thrusters and it started drifting carefully down to the pad below.
A million pounds of steel touched down with a gentle thunk.
“Come on,” Nai beckoned. “We can meet Tasser on the lower levels after he disembarks.”
The launch pads had tall walls on three sides, forming more of a pit really, with the fourth open side looked out at the barren moonscape past the edge of High Harbor base.
Descending steep flights of stairs to the sublevels leading to the launch pad level didn’t take more than a minute, and I was practically buzzing the whole way.
I expected a dozen crew to disembark. But while a swarm of ground crew went out to work on the landed ship, there was only one Casti to come in off the tarmac.
Tasser.
“[Hey man,]” I grinned, holding my arms wide for a hug.
“Good to see you too, [brother],” Tasser grinned right back.
Nai threw her arms around him, beating me to the punch and wrapping Tasser in a big bear hug.
“Rude!” I scoffed.
“Not my fault you didn’t take the initiative,” Nai said.
Once Nai let him go I got my own hug from Tasser. Dang it had been too long…ever since I’d landed here, chaos had just kept unfolding. Even when Lakandt had been boring, it had still managed to be stressful at the same time.
But Tasser was back!
It made all the difference in the world.
“So what’s new that I don’t already know?” he asked, settling us into walking toward base.
“I’ve been participating in one of the Adept workshops—I taught them psionics,” I said. “First time try didn’t go so well, but that was with a different group.”
“Tiv’s class,” Nai explained for Tasser.
“Oh yeah? Did you get Caleb with the…” Tasser gestured leadingly.
“Of course we got him,” Nai chuckled. “You should have seen him try to figure out the clone.”
“Hey, I got it quickly enough,” I frowned.
“Only once he made one right in front of you,” Nai scoffed. “Tiv put Caleb through some spars. He didn’t do too badly actually. He shot Tiv with paint.”
“Impressive,” Tasser nodded. “Are you better than me in a fight now, Caleb?”
“I hate to say it, but probably,” Nai said. “He’s gotten very good very quickly.”
“Well I certainly don’t feel that way,” I said. “Tasser stays ice cold under fire. But even when we did spars, I always felt like I was just a couple seconds away from losing my composure.”
“Who says I’m not the same way?” Tasser asked. “Maybe I just don’t show it.”
“You don’t actually show it much either, Caleb,” Nai said. “I didn’t realize just how high strung you were until your superconnector showed me.”
Tasser glanced between Nai and me.
“You two are different,” he decided. “You two were doing better after the Green Complex, but not this well.”
“I had to make more friends than you sooner or later,” I joked. “Besides, we had to help each other out in Cirinsko. It was…”
I trailed off. Tasser was still out of the loop on my superconnector and the things it had traded between Nai’s brain and mine.
“…an illuminating experience,” Nai finished. “This superconnector Caleb has is…intense. I got some perspective, and Caleb provided moral support while I thrashed some Vorak. Did you get to see what I pulled off?”
“I did,” Tasser grinned. “With the spikes? You know the Archo press were calling it the ‘Warlock’s Bramble’? You should have heard the chatter. You can forget your dreams of a low profile. There’s footage of the whole thing.”
“Seriously? I didn’t sense anyone on radar,” Nai frowned.
“Apparently a camera crew caught you fighting eight Adept Vorak from two angles. It was shot from a few hundred yards away, but it’s pretty thrilling,” Tasser said.
“I’m not sure a fight of mine has been recorded before,” Nai said.
“Which makes your reputation all the more interesting,” Tasser said. “So many people out there, listening to the legend of the Warlock without ever having seen her in action, without ever really putting a face to the name.”
“Right,” Nai snorted. “No way would the Admiralty Board capitalize on rumors…they would never exploit free propaganda about one of their star soldiers.”
Tasser chuckled. “Yeah, they’re a bunch of worms, but they’re supposed to be our worms, right?”
“Now that you mention it, I should probably learn more about this Admiralty Board, shouldn’t I?” I said. “Especially if I’m actually going to take this diplomat thing seriously.”
“As your newly appointed peer diplomat, I shall be holding you to my exacting standards,” Tasser jeered. “This assignment is going to be fun.”
“What were you told?” Nai asked.
“Nemuleki was the one coordinating with Laranta to get me off Archo,” Tasser said. “Past that, I just learned about the rest on my approach into High Harbor. Serral issued me my new orders, assigning me the ambassadorship. Still missing most of the specifics, but I don’t have to formally report to him until tomorrow.”
“Such a racket…” Nai shook her head. “They debriefed me for almost two days straight when I got back. If not for us, you wouldn’t have to talk to anyone when you landed.”
“Difference in timing,” Tasser shrugged. “You know what’s coming?”
“Red Sails are waking up,” Nai nodded. “In the next month, Laranta thinks we’re in for a blockade at least. Maybe a full-blown invasion."
“And unlike most people, we know what set it off,” I grumbled.
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Tasser reassured me. “We’re not going to stick around long enough to get caught in the fighting. Our very special diplomatic mission is getting a dedicated starship; it’s a beauty. ”
“I heard. You’ve already seen it?” I asked.
“It’s the one I flew in on, and how I got off Archo,” Tasser said. “Laranta got it flown into Asrin-Memel with a blank registry. The thing was totally empty, so it was basically guaranteed to pass muster, coming and going. A totally empty new ship can’t be smuggling anything, right?”
“Except the pilot,” I grinned. “One ship, capacity, what, forty people? All just to carry one Casti off a moon…”
“It was Nemuleki’s idea,” Tasser said. “She worked it out with Laranta in the last transmission window. She’s sorry she couldn’t make it back too, but she’s been fitting in really well in the Archo underground.”
“She’ll be missed,” I nodded. “Sorry for missing that transmission window, by the way. A lot has been happening here.”
“So I’ve heard. This other human jumped ship?”
I nodded glumly.
“She caught me and Nai off guard,” I said. “Now we can only assume she’s [playing ball] with the Vorak. The worst part is, I feel like I can’t blame her. However she did it, she’s going to help those abductees a lot quicker than we were ever going to be able to.”
“…You might be too forgiving, Caleb,” Tasser said.
“Who said anything about forgiving? I can think two things,” I frowned. “She might have had a good reason, but she still went about it just about as terribly as she could have. She lied to all of us for weeks, and I’m [pissed] about it…Nai?”
I gestured for her to take over before I could ruin my mood any further.
“There’s nothing we can do about Nora for the time being,” she said. “So we’re…what was it? [Dogs?]”
“We’re letting sleeping [dogs] lie,” I said. “Let’s talk about anything else right now. What’s the plan with this ship?”
“It’s in drydock for the time being,” Tasser said. “It’s not fitted for Beacon-skips yet, and Serral wanted to replace the default water and air systems. Plus, we’re apparently due for some extras.”
“Extras?” I asked. “Like what?”
“That yacht you guys stole getting off Archo? Apparently it’s engines are to be cannibalized and integrated with our ship. Plus? Get this, remember that fabricator we found at Ramshackle?”
“No way,” Nai said. “We’re getting it?”
“Serral’s orders for the ship said so. I assume Coalition techs already pulled it apart and back together again, so there really isn’t anything more reverse engineering to be gained from it. Someone’s gotta use it, and since Serral’s command acquired it, he must have first dibs,” Tasser explained.
“This is going to be the nicest ship in the Coalition!” Nai grinned.
“Is it really that much to be excited about?” I asked. “I know you can build ships with a fabricator like that, but what would we use it for?”
“That fabricator was all-purpose, Caleb! It means as long as we have materials to feed it, can calibrate it for those materials, and the data to instruct it, it can build us anything we want to add to the ship,” Nai said. “Most military vessels are barren, and depressing. Long-term ship life is just terrible. Unless you have a machine that can endlessly customize the ship’s layout, hardware, amenities…and that’s all just with conventional fabricator usage.”
She was practically buzzing. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen Nai this exuberant before.
“Implying non-conventional fabricator usage?” I asked.
“Think about it,” Nai said. “Normally, to get a fabricator to spit something out, you have to have some pretty specific directions to give it. Usually something preformulated and written to an executable computer disk for the fabricator to read.”
“Yeah?” I followed.
“Oh, I see what you’re getting at,” Tasser grinned. “This is going to be a really fun assignment.”
I was still behind the plot however, and Nai wasn’t patient enough to wait.
“Psionics!” she grinned. “We can figure out how to write fabricator instructions psionically! Between the fabricator, Adeptry, and psionics, we’re basically going to be able to reconfigure the ship however we want. I mean, we’ll have to probably do the maintenance ourselves, but if we wanted to we could even modify the size of the ship itself.”
“Nai’s right,” Tasser said. “But she’s also getting ahead of herself. This is all good thinking for the future, but there’s an important order of business to do first, because the ship flew into High Harbor with no registry, and it can’t leave before it gets one.”
“And?”
“It needs a name,” Tasser grinned.
And we had all day to come up with one.
·····
Hours later and we were enjoying lunch in Nai and Nerin’s apartment. Having Tasser back had everyone in a good mood.
Unfortunately, (or maybe not, depending on your perspective) Tasser and Nai were more interested in giving each other shit than giving me naming help.
“Waitwaitwait, is it still there?” Tasser asked.
“No, of course not...” Nai said. “…I think. Laranta had to have gotten someone to collect it. Surely…”
“Caleb, is the drone equipment ya’ll found still just sitting upstairs?” Tasser asked.
I was only partially paying attention to their conversation.
“Ummm…I don’t know. Does it matter? ENVY’s gone who knows where, and Tolar isn’t in a position to maintain the equipment,” I said.
“Of course it matters,” Tasser muttered. “Bad tradecraft otherwise…”
“I’m sure someone collected whatever hasn’t dematerialized,” Nai said.
“Yeah, forget that,” I said. “Help me name the ship.”
“The Shurgaka,” Tasser suggested. “It means ‘dark lightning’.”
“In what language?” Nai scoffed.
“Loshi,” Tasser insisted.
“You don’t speak Loshi.”
“I know a few words,” he protested.
“Like what?”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Like shurgaka!”
“Don’t make me find a dictionary,” Nai said.
“What about naming it after a person?” I interrupted.
“Farnata don’t do that much,” Nai said. “But if it’s Human practice, go for it.”
Tasser and Nai had quickly agreed that a ship carrying a human diplomatic mission needed to be named by a human. I was more than eager to give it a try. The Apollo missions, all the different Space Shuttles, the Enterprise, Millennium Falcon, Rocinante. Between fiction and reality both, home had a rich tradition of cool spaceship names.
“Ships get named after people all the time. Boats, I mean,” I explained.
“I know one of the Vorak fleets has a flagship called the Azinza, Ironic, I know,” Tasser said. “So it definitely happens. Do you have a human figure in mind?”
“A few,” I said. “Personal heroes of mine, famous people, maybe even someone fictional.”
“I’d ask who, but unless you explain the significance of every name, it’s just going to be a bunch of names to us,” Nai pointed out.
“Well I don’t know what kind of dumb stuff Casti and Farnata have done in their civilization’s history, but my country was really stupid about ethnicity for centuries. Still kinda is, honestly. But in the decades before I was born it started to turn around. There was a [baseball] player who was part of that change.”
“Oh no,” Tasser said, slapping his forehead. “Do not let him explain this sport.”
“The word makes my brain itch,” Nai said. “I can almost picture what you’re talking about…”
“Point is,” I said. “The guy’s one of my heroes.”
“Sounds like you might have made up your mind,” Tasser said.
“Maybe. I could still be convinced otherwise, but I think this is a frontrunner.”
“If it feels right to you, spill,” Nai said.
“How does flying aboard the Jackie Robinson sound to you?” I asked.
Tasser mulled it over, but Nai got a grin on her face.
“Forty-two…” she said. I could almost imagine her mind reaching for connotations she’d never experienced before. “That name resonates. I’m basically guessing, but if I understand right, the name gives a good impression. I like it.”
“It’s five syllables,” Tasser pointed out. “Kinda long.”
“We can abbreviate it,” Nai said. “The Jack. It’s got a good ring to it.”
“Isn’t it a little ironic for the Farnata to suggest abbreviating a name?” Tasser prodded.
Nai just smirked. “It’s only rude if you abbreviate a Kiraeni name.”
"Aren't most of your people's names already single syllables?" I asked.
"That's why it would be rude to abbreviate it even shorter," she replied.
I turned over the Jackie Robinson in my head, getting a feel for the name’s flavor. It grew on me by the minute.
We’d been hanging out in the apartment for hours, but it was only then did I realize I’d called it ‘Nai and Nerin’s apartment. My stuff was packed up and ready to move to this ship and I’d already stopped thinking of this place as mine.
It had never been that. But I’d still felt welcome, despite how the obvious alien sensibilities in the design.
Farnata building customs were funny. Interior doors weren’t common in Kiraeni architecture. Privacy was about respect, not security. So the heavy curtains blocked prying eyes, and it was on the guest to respect that boundary. Nai had even showed me how you could set something gingerly within the curtain, to fall if disturbed even the slightest bit. That way you could tell if someone had gone through in your absence. Everything doorway except the apartment entrance had such a heavy curtain instead of a slab and lock.
Our little siesta was interrupted by a knock at that door.
The three of us exchanged looks. The only other person with reason to be here was Nerin, and she would never knock on the door to her own place.
“
Ah.
Nai let him in. “Visiting my home, Ase? Not very proper, I have to say…”
“Can it,” Serral snorted. “And it’s Captain now.”
He tapped the new badge pinned to his collar and poncho. It was slightly smaller than the one I remembered him wearing."Still an Ase, though," Tasser mumbled quietly.
“You’re the one in charge of Caleb’s diplomatic mission,” she recognized.
“Leading our diplomatic mission,” he corrected. “You and Rahi Tasser are already tapped.”
“That’s ambassador Tasser to you,” my friend said, wearing the widest grin I’d ever seen. Only when he saw Serral’s unamused face, he added on the end, “…Captain.”
“That means now you have an actually defined mission,” I noticed, getting serious. “We get details?”
“It’s auxiliary and paramilitary,” Serral explained. “Technically, we’re all resigning our military commissions in order to join this unit. We’re being given indefinite leave to carry out the assignment, but it’s not a discharge. We have a charter from the Admiralty Board, and the Coalition Council to protect Caleb Hane, and any other humans that we find. Ratified by…fifteen of the Coalition delegations.”
Serral gave us a glance to let that sink in, but the message only reached some of us.
“Is that…a bad number?” I asked.
“The Coalition’s civilian governance is…loose,” Serral said. “But there’s twenty-nine Council delegations in all, from maybe half that many planets and moons.”
“Fifteen out of twenty-nine is a majority by just one,” I noticed.
“Quite the vote of confidence,” Nai deadpanned.
“Yes,” Serral grimaced. “Regardless, that’s the gist of our orders. Admiral Laranta didn’t say so, but I’m fairly sure she’s been arranging this for a while.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Because Nai was cleared to join the mission,” Serral said. “She’s a major military asset being cleared for a non-combat assignment. It’s unusual, to say the least. The Admirals on the board will know better, but civilian leadership were probably opposed to the idea. It might even be why the ratification was so thin.”
“Coalition politicians don’t like the idea of Nai not fighting?” I asked.
“Could be a lot of things,” Nai said. “…But I doubt you’re wrong about that.”
“So the four of us,” I said. “Who else is going to be joining this merry crew?”
·····
“Me,” Nerin said, two days later.
The four of us were taking inventory of a slew of crates, equipment, machinery, and supplies that were going to be loaded onto the Jackie Robinson as soon as the work crews finished the retrofitting.
Nerin found us in the warehouse attached to the launch pad, handing Serral a thick file.
“What’s this?” Serral asked.
“A resume,” Nerin said. “I want on this diplomatic mission.”
“It’s really more diplomatic-adjacent…” Serral said. “I'm not signing you onto this mission just because of your sister. I can only crew ten.”
“I have never once coasted on Nai’s merits,” Nerin said unflinchingly. “I’m actually qualified. I’m in the medical corps, not armed forces, so I already fit the non-combat duty requirements. I have medical experience with humans unless you plan on Dyn being the only medic attached to the mission. Also, I’m the only person here besides Tasser with any experience in human languages.”
Serral blinked in surprise, before handing her the file back without reading it.
“Sold.”
“Wait, really? That was so much easier than I thought,” Nerin said.
“Waitwaitwait,” Nai frowned. “If we’re both coming on this mission, what do we do with the apartment? Who’s going to take care of Toe?”
“I assume starving him is out of the question?” Nerin needled.
Nai looked aghast.
“Relax, I looked it up. Since it’s technically a diplomatic mission, crew quarters aren’t just lodgings. The vessel will be considered our residence. As long as the vessel's Captain allows, Toe can come too,” Nerin said.
“So Captain Serral?” I asked.
“The worm thing?” he asked. “Fine, but it stays in quarters."
“Then I’m reporting for duty, Captain,” Nerin said, giving a stiff salute. “I already gave the hospital notice I might be transferred. I’m ready to work.”
“Then the first thing you can do is go help Dyn secure his own leave,” Serral said. “Arranging personnel for this thing is a pain.”
“Who else do you have in mind?” I asked.
“Nai will be second in command. You and Tasser will be attached as diplomats, Dyn—and now also young Nerin—will fulfill medical duty, and for the last four slots, I was thinking of picking among the bodyguard rotation.”
“Shinshay,” I recommended. “For obvious reasons.”
“We do need someone with engineering experience,” Serral said. “I’ll put them on the short list.”
“I have engineering experience,” Tasser frowned.
“Can you recite every component to a fusion reactor?” Nai asked.
“…Yes,” Tasser said.
“Without checking any psionic notes?” I added.
“…Okay, maybe not.”
“Shinshay can,” I said. “Trust me, you’re going to love them.”
“Looking forward to it,” Tasser said simply.
“How quickly are we going to get the whole crew assembled?” I asked.
“Before the Red Sails move to avenge Korbanok,” Serral said. "Laranta estimates they'll attack in the next three weeks, so we're leaving at the end of this one."
·····
Our esteemed Captain, of course, jinxed it.
The final crew count was ten. For Casti, we had Serral in command of the ship; Tasser serving as diplomat, mechanic, and backup pilot; Weith could pilot too, and he was apparently fluent in six languages; Fenno was the most experienced soldier in the crew, and was shockingly older than Serral; and finally Shinshay had availed themselves of the Jackie Robinson’s technical specifications within a day of receiving Serralinitus’s invitation to the crew.
For Farnata, Dyn was acting as chief medical officer; while Nerin would handle surgery and intensive treatment; Deg was vocal about feeling like a black sheep—or rather the Farnata equivalent—and Nai was second in command, doubling as the tactical officer.
And one human neatly rounded out the crew.
In an ideal world, we would have had weeks running drills, familiarizing ourselves with the ship, establishing a duty rotation, ensuring emergency procedures.
We had just three days instead.
Because on the fourth day the entire moon got a rude awakening.
In my case, literally.
Nai kicked the edge of the cot I’d set up in the hangar next to the Jack’s launch pad.
“Caleb, wake up, you need to see this.”
“Huh?” I mumbled.
“Serral’s talking to Laranta,” Nai said. “We’re launching early, sounds like.”
That got my attention. Fear was always better than coffee.
“What happened?” I asked coldly.
“An hour ago, twenty Red Sails fleet ships entered range of Draylend’s scopes. Minutes later, that number doubled,” Nai said. “The final headcount is still climbing, but the Red Sails are done sitting back.”
“It’s too early,” I said, still groggy. “I thought we had weeks before an attack.”
“Draylend bases are still reading trajectories, and it looks like the ships are heading toward both Coalition moons, but most of them are coming here. They’re decelerating with some pretty hard burns too,” she said.
“For landing?” I asked.
Nai nodded. “That or an orbital blockade. Serral said scopes have flagged six gunships so far, and more troop transports than we fielded for Korbanok.”
“That doesn’t really describe a number for me,” I said.
“Does it matter? It’s a bunch of Vorak guns headed here. We need to get you off this rock yesterday.”
“The retrofits aren’t finished,” I noted. “Are we Beacon capable yet?”
“No,” Serral interjected. “Water and Air finished today, but we haven’t finished saturating the hull yet. We have to launch, land on Draylend to complete the work, and then punch our way out.”
“We have to fly to a new moon just to finish maintenance?” I asked. “Besides, aren’t they going to Draylend too?”
“You haven’t seen? No, course you haven’t,” Serral sighed. “The furfish are screeching a broadcast at everything orbiting Paris.”
We climbed into the Jackie Robinson for its comm screen to see just what the Red Sails were saying. Tasser was waiting onboard, having the video paused, awaiting us.
As soon as I could see it, he pressed a button on the console.
“To all inhabitants of Paris’s moons, I am Marshal Tispas Ustaramma. Whatever battle occurs today, I must warn you all in case I fall,” a Vorak spoke on a plain grey background.
A portrait of me appeared next to him on screen.
“This is Caleb Hane. He is a First Contact from another star, and he has created something dangerous which has wriggled beyond his control. His creation is a thing of the mind, named Psionics. The appearance of this Human and his psionics can be linked to the Beacon shutdowns. Thus, I must warn you all. If Caleb Hane—or any psionic creation—is to reach a Beacon, or mercy forbidding, transit one, then all interstellar travel might be threatened. So I beg of you all, friend and foe alike, do not give these threats passage.”
My voice caught in my throat. I recognized the otter speaking after all.
“[Halberd,]” I remembered. That realization did little to dull the feeling I got in my stomach. Nora had made this message possible. The Marshal was even calling them psionics. He knew it all, now.
“What?” Nai asked.
“Nothing,” I murmured. “I just didn’t know I’d met Tispas in person before.”
“From Korbanok?” she asked.
I nodded.
The Marshal wasn’t quite done yet though.
“Do not let this unknown creation spread to threaten more systems,” Tispas spoke. “But equally important: do not attack the human. Killing him, or even harming him would disturb and exacerbate these psionics. This would shut down more Beacons and put more at risk. Simply give no passage, and stay far away. The Red Sails have a method which can render his creations safe. No one need die to solve this problem, but all are at risk, until he can be taken into custody.”
The message reached its end and flickered back to the start, playing on loop.
I bit down on the anger that welled up in my throat.
Stow it away. Not forever, but for now…
“What can I do?” I asked, all business. “What lets us launch even a minute sooner?”
“Loading,” Nai said. “Help Tasser get things aboard. Keep them organized—you know what? Just label them psionically. It doesn’t matter if we can make sense of it immediately. As long as we know what contents are where, we can organize it later.”
“Understood,” I said.
If packing boxes would get my life to safety faster, then I was happy to comply.