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Other-Terrestrial
Season 1, Episode 6
“Diplomatic Maneuvers”
by Nolan Conrey
Prologue
Persis didn’t seem to want to look at him, but Hannah couldn’t pull her eyes away.
“Don’t worry, Professor Browning will still be with you,” he told the two girls.
They had just passed through the airlock from the Magic Crystal Puffer Slug to Plucharon Station.
The dock was a secondary one, but that was fine for him; it meant it was not crowded, with only a few people scattered about. Mostly dock workers, it seemed, who were arguing loudly over where to move certain containers.
“I’ll be back in a couple weeks. Or, more likely you’ll get to take a trip with a convoy to meet us!” He tried to make it sound fun. Perhaps at another time it would have been.
“Dad, will we see you again?” Hannah asked.
The words were like knives to Zachariah Urle’s ears, and he struggled to show nothing on his face but a smile.
She was still staring at him, looking much younger than even her twelve years. Persis’s eyes finally went to him, and he could see how afraid they were.
“You will,” he told them both firmly. “We’re not going off to war. It’s only a tense diplomatic situation-“
“I heard that Hev eat people,” Persis burst out, then looked back down. “That they’re cannibals.”
He wanted to say it wasn’t true; but he knew it was. “Some Hev do,” he admitted. “Among their own kind. But most don’t – like Ambassador N’Keeea, he’d never do that. Absolutely never.”
“But what about the bad ones you’re going to talk to? Do they do that?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “To their own kind. They’re a very violent faction-“
“I don’t want you to get eaten!” Persis cried, throwing her arms around him. “Don’t go, dad! Stay with us!”
His heart felt like it had dropped from his chest as he put his arm around her, then beckoned Hannah in. Embracing them both, he spoke softly but firmly.
“I have to go. But I will not be eaten, and I will be back. I will do everything in my power to return. So will Captain Brooks and Jaya and Cenz and Dr. Y and everyone else.”
“But what if the . . . Pug-Maij attack you?”
“It’s pronounced Puh Guh Maig,” he said, emphasizing the hard G at the end. “And I don’t think they will. Because then they’d have everybody mad at them, and that wouldn’t go well for them.”
“Unless they don’t care,” Hannah said.
Urle couldn’t really counter that; it was always possible for a leadership to just not care if their path was self-destructive. One could just point to the fascist states of the 20th and 21st centuries . . .
But he didn’t believe that would be the case here. Or at least, he wanted them to believe he felt that way.
“You’re worrying way too much,” he said, reaching over and tousling her hair.
“Daaaad!” she complained.
He just gazed upon her, feeling a deep familial love, while Hannah tried to put her hair back to normal.
“Dad, this is for you,” Persis said, pulling from her backpack a sheet of paper.
“For me? Thank you,” he replied, taking it. It was a drawing of him in the command center – he could recognize Brooks, Jaya, and Cenz, and . . . he wasn’t sure who the last figure was. But it was a reasonably good representation of the ship’s heart, with its disc-like tiers and large screen walls. “I’ll put it in my office!”
“No, keep it with you!” Persis insisted. “It’s lucky, so you won’t get hurt that way.”
Urle nodded. “Well I can’t say I really believe in luck – but you made it, so I’ll keep it with me.”
“Give this one to Kell,” Persis continued, offering another drawing she pulled from her bag.
“Ambassador Kell?” he repeated, confusion in his voice.
“Yes,” Persis said matter-of-factly. “He doesn’t have a family, and so I wanted to make him that.”
“Professor Browning said we should think of the people who don’t have families, and make something for them,” Hannah explained to him. “So Persis drew that for Kell.”
Urle looked at the drawing. It appeared to be a puffer slug, the thing she’d been obsessed with for some time.
“That is very sweet of you,” he told her. “I promise I’ll give it to him.”
How the hell was he going to explain this? Just the thought of trying to impart to Kell about child drawings . . .
His girls were leaving now, walking off towards their Professor who had gathered a group of children around him, showing them a holobook of Fantasy Basket, a story he knew was popular with their age groups. He’d even liked it as a kid.
Now was the time he should go. The children had pulled themselves away, and now it was down to him to do the same.
Turning on his heels was hard. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to drop them off while he was on a dangerous assignment, but it was never easy.
Had Verena felt this way, before she went off to Terris?
The crunching of paper in his hand made him look down. He relaxed his grip and the drawings flattened back out.
Taking a deep breath, he went out through the door. He couldn’t let his anxiety show.
His girls had left, but he still had to put on a strong front for every other person on the Craton. He was the First Officer, and it was his duty.
“Are you sure you want to stay?” Brooks asked.
“I’m sure,” Apollonia replied. “I know we’re going into a threatening situation, but . . . This is my home now, right?”
Brooks nodded. “I’m glad you feel that way, but I would feel better if your were safe.”
“Honestly,” she replied. “I’m more worried about Urle. He’s got two kids and no wife . . . what if something happens to him?”
“He’s far from the only man aboard with children – or to be a single parent,” Brooks told her.
“What, really? I figured that single parents would be a rare thing in the Sapient Union. That everyone would just be happy with each other all the time.”
Brooks’s smile turned a little sad. “We cannot mandate the human heart. And people change with time.”
Apollonia took that in with a nod. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to help? I mean, you give me a gun, I can probably point it the right way.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary. Arming untrained civilians is something a leader does if they’re trying to get their people killed, it’s not a responsible action. However, there are going to be various levels of Volunteer units that will go around doing everything from patching holes to putting out fires and helping the injured. If you like . . . you could volunteer for one of those. They’ll give you training for it.”
Those were not things she felt particularly keen on doing. But doing something was usually better than just waiting around for everything to go to shit . . . “I’ll take a look into patch crews. I actually had a job doing that on Hellrock- I mean New Vitriol, sometimes.”
Brooks caught her slip on the name, but didn’t comment. “That is always needed in a battle. Even autocannons can punch holes in thinner parts of the hull at close range.”
“Aren’t there drones for that sort of thing?”
“Yes – the worst jobs. But for minor work, it helps to have volunteers.”
“Gives us something to do,” she noted. “We can’t possibly be as good as drones.”
“There’s truth in that,” Brooks admitted. “But we also need all available hands. There can easily get to be a lot of holes in a ship during action.” He paused, frowning. “You are comfortable in a vacuum suit, right?”
While nearly all standard wear worn on a station or ship tended to be vacuum-rated and have quick-fold hoods in case of a breach . . . she’d never worn a proper space suit before. Just basic stuff.
But it couldn’t be that bad, right?
“I’m fine with them,” she lied.
“Good.” He made a motion in the air, interacting with his system, and she heard the beep of a message on her tablet.
“I enrolled you in the Auxiliary Light Engineering Volunteers,” he said. “It will tell you when to report for your initiation.”
“Oh,” she said, now feeling nervous about the prospect of human interaction more than the potential of work. “Thanks.”
Brooks patted her on the shoulder and then walked away.
She glanced over, and saw a shuttle was just irising its airlock closed. The last ship would be leaving soon.
Other Terrestrial 
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