CHAPTER 48: Coalition
The First Science Officer made fine adjustments to the controls of her view screen. The display was a patch of seemingly uninteresting space, faintly specked by distant stars. At the near space coordinates a violet haze was increasing in intensity; it was this malignantly pulsating haze that riveted her attention.
An intermittent tone and synchronized blinking light caught her attention. Without diverting her eyes, she touched a sensor, silencing the tone but leaving its light still winking. The pulsating image before her acquired a faint distortion, contorted briefly, then resumed its earlier appearance. She touched a sensor, marking the recording so that spot could be found easily for review.
Tapping a button, she answered the waiting call, “Yes?”
“Lord Ptoriil is on three. Shall I have him wait…further?” The reply was that of an underling who felt he had been made to wait unreasonably.
Eebri elected to ignore the breach of etiquette and said, “No, I'll take it.” Touching the blinking panel, she said, “Science Officer Laytonn here. Sorry to keep you waiting, Your Grace.” She used Briin’s title in case the “messenger” ignored propriety, hoping to catch them in a breach of protocol.
“Quite all right, Officer Laytonn, but you know I hate formality,” Briin said. Then, without further preamble, “Got the update?”
“Affirmative,” she replied. “I just reviewed and recorded the latest image transmission from FO/17-B; the pulse rate and intensity are both increasing. The capture will begin in one hundred and fifty hours, give or take twelve percent. Also, Line Officer Uunokeener is requesting down time for an equipment diagnostic. It seems the robotic controller in charge of pulse-keostat regulators is reporting anomalous behavior.”
Briin pondered silently. Finally he asked, “What do you advise?”
She spoke careful and deliberately. “First, Uuno may be overly cautious, but his past recommendations consistently have been justified. If he’s recommending an equipment check be done now, the odds are that— if we proceed without it— we’ll risk a higher probability of failure at a critical moment. Second, we’ve just returned a supplemental unit to ready status, following extensive repairs. That brings us back— barely— within guidelines”
She drew a breath. In such moments as these, she felt the full weight of her responsibility as the head of all Coalition scientific operations. Her down-line decision making responsibility was enormous. Her official up-line responsibility went no further than making recommendations to the final link in the chain of command: Lord Ptoriil himself. Experiential evidence had utterly convinced her, however, that— in actual practice— her decisions on scientific matters were the final word. Setting aside any pretense of false humility, she knew she was the best science officer the Coalition had ever produced…and Briin knew it, too. Yet this knowledge made her burden of responsibility all the heavier.
“I believe we should have them perform the check on the unit. The particular diagnostic Uuno is requesting normally requires one hundred and sixty hours and will add certainty that the unit will perform correctly. However, we should stipulate that when servicing is ninety percent complete, if our revised projections indicate a high probability the diagnostic cannot be completed before the transfer event, then the unit is to be reinstated to on-line status.”
“So be it,” he returned without hesitation. “Please notify Uuno, complete your report and deliver a copy to my office tomorrow evening…personally…say just before sundown?”
Hearing the altered tone of voice in his last few words, she softened her crisp tones to a casual contralto tinted with sultriness. “Of course, Briin…but wouldn't the message-net be simpler? Why do you want me to visit you personally?”
He laughed. “You know why, Eebri, but I'll play the game! Both moons will be full tomorrow and I was hoping we could dine together at Towers–Crest on my private balcony. Forecasts certify the sky will be clear tomorrow night…and I might very well cashier every forecaster if they err on that when those predictions are so critical to my plans to entertain you.”
She dropped all remaining pretense; warmth oozed through her words. “Then for their sake, Briin…and ours…I hope they're right. I'll see you there about 2450 hours. Anything else?” Assured by him that nothing else remained, she broke the connection and privately smiled at her quickened pulse.
Returning full attention to her console, she flagged a down-time/alert notice for delivery to Officer Uunokeener. Then she nudged the toggle to re-play the scene of the haze’s contorted dance of swirling energies. Mighty machines are being marshaled to manage yet another capture. A slight frown etched her forehead. She knew that those deceptively innocuous flickers carried a terribly ominous import. “Hang in there, baby,” she muttered as she replayed the sequences once again.
With a sigh, she turned off the view screen and thought-instructed the autowriter to begin preliminary preparation of the summary–stats Briin had requested.