Episode 8 – Showing the Flag, part 12

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


Lt. Commander Ebbe was a short, unassuming man with brown hair and brown eyes.  He was decidedly average in appearance, but behind his eyes sparkled a deep intelligence that piqued Jaya’s interest.

As they approached, she gestured to the cryo casket next to her.  It was labeled with a false name, with no image or window inside to keep the true identity of its occupant a secret.

“Everything that is left of Hoc Rem is in here,” she told them.

“Best not to say the name aloud,” Ebbe said.  His voice was softer than Jaya would have expected.

She nodded.  “Very well.  I wish you luck in finding anything useful.  Unfortunately, his brain has largely been destroyed, and his personal data files deleted themselves.”

“Did they suffer physical destruction?” Ebbe asked.  “Like internal acid compounds or the like.”

“It does not seem so – there’s some physical evidence that Rem had some systems removed, which could have included those sorts of things.”

Ebbe’s lips went into a grim line.  “So they were put in unwillingly without his knowledge.”

“It’s barbaric,” Jaya said.  “Not to know, at least.”

Ebbe eyed her curiously and she knew he was wondering if she knew that intelligence officers like himself willingly had such measures installed.  Even in death they would give away nothing.

“I agree,” he said.

Jaya looked around the hangar; it had been emptied of all other personnel, as had several other docks, along with other small shuttles docking at them.  All of them had good reasons for the security, that would hopefully not draw the attention of spies.

Rare to see it so empty, she thought.

“Here are all the data drives.”

“Have you copied them?” Ebbe asked.

“Yes.”

“Delete all the duplicate copies,” he told her.  “I will send my authorization code at a later time, after we have left the vessel.”

Jaya frowned.  “You do not wish us to sift the data?”

“We don’t know if any of it is dangerous,” the man said.  “And we can be certain that having the data is dangerous.  It’s best if you delete it.”

Jaya was disquieted by that – not by the danger, but that they wouldn’t even get a chance to take a crack at it themselves.

“Does this order originate from above?” she asked.

The man did not answer, just fixing his eyes on hers for a moment before looking back.  “Prepare the wipe, but don’t perform it until I signal.  Just in case we are destroyed.”

A tingle went down the back of Jaya’s neck.  “Just how important do you believe this data to be?”

The man looked at her.  “I am not at liberty to say.”

Jaya narrowed her eyes.  “I am your superior officer, Lt. Commander.”

The man kept his eyes on hers, but she did not blink.

“You’re right, ma’am,” he said.  “No offense was intended.”

She did not believe he was accepting their relative ranking so much as calculating that it wasn’t a fight worth taking.

“Until I receive orders from above my rank, I will not be deleting any data,” she told him.

The man kept his face calm, but said nothing to her.

“Get it all on the ship,” he told his crew.

They moved to it, rolling the trolleys onto the ship that contained the data and body.

As they moved out of earshot, she turned on privacy mode.  It was a simple acoustic trick, directed interference audio that would prevent eavesdropping.

“Now that we are alone,” she said, “Tell me what you know.”

Ebbe regarded her with confusion.

“Override code #375BGH1JK,” she told him.

The man’s eyes widened, and he studied her, realizing that he had underestimated her.

“I did not realize,” he said.  “I’ll answer what I can.”

“What is on this data that makes it so important?” she asked him.

“Hoc Rem had sent out tentative feelers to us some weeks ago.  We believe he was just hedging his bets, but he did tell us that even though he did not know who his true masters were when he was first hired, he had done some digging of his own.”

“And?”

“He would not transmit any data on it, but we believed him.  If he found a trail back to who we suspect they were it would be extremely important.”

She looked up into the ship where the body was.  “Pity most of his mind was destroyed.  If he was this secretive, he might have kept the data on his person instead of the external drives.”

“Do not worry,” Ebbe told her.  “We have our methods.  We will learn exactly what Hoc Rem discovered.”


< Ep 8 Part 11 | Ep 8 Part 13 >

Episode 8 – Showing the Flag, part 11

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


Clumping through the doorway with less grace than she would have liked, Pirra kicked off her boots wearily and then leaned against the wall with a long, deep whistle.

“That kinda day, huh?” Alexander asked.

Her eyes had drifted closed, but they snapped open and onto him.  “Not worse than any other lately.  You wouldn’t believe the amount of administrative work they’ve got me doing now!”

“Tell me about it,” he replied with a grimace.  “I spent all day having to fill out forms just to propose my latest study.”

“Bureaucracy, the devil we can’t live without,” she sighed.  “But wait, new project?  Is it your rewrite on . . . what are they called again, diddylions?”

“Dandelions!” he replied, grinning.  The word was difficult for a Dessei to pronounce.  “They were once a very common Earth plant, driven to extinction in the ecological collapses.  But yes . . . finally I’m going to reconstruct them!”

“Oh, that’s great!  I know you’ve been wanting to get started on that for years!”

“This time, the academy assures me, they’re going to sponsor me.”  He took a deep breath.  “I just still have to wade through the paperwork.”

“Good luck.  It’s certainly more useful than the paperwork I have to fill out,” she replied with good-cheered grumbling.

“And speaking of that . . .” Alexander went on.  “How’s this attempted murder case going . . . ?”

“Oh, that’s the biggest taker of my time.  We’ve got to go over every inch the man stepped on the ship.  I’ve got a pile of medical reports on his augments and state of mind over the last day to go through . . .”

“I just can’t believe the man thought he could get away with it,” Alexander said.  “What was he thinking?”

“I have no idea.  When we brought him in he yelled something about the ship being outside of anyone’s jurisdiction.  And I guess technically there’s a gap of about two hundred meters where that’s true . . .”  She shook her head.  “I just can’t believe anyone would think there wasn’t legal precedent for this.  It was a Union shuttle, so he’s fully in our jurisdiction.”

Alexander listened carefully – he had always been a good listener, she thought, and when she was finished he gestured her towards the main room.

“Well, you can leave that all at the door.  Come on, I’ve got dinner ready,” he said, waving her to follow.  “I made your favorite – streakfish with guava.”

“Oh, you’re the best husband,” she said playfully, running up behind him and hugging his head.  She pecked the closest thing she could manage to a kiss onto the back of it, making him laugh.

Sitting down, he pushed a plate towards her.

It even looked like he’d cooked it well – and he definitely had made it, as the only other beings on the ship that could cook it at all were the AI chefs.  And despite her fiddling with the preferences, on this particular dish they never did it justice.

“So, did you decide on the last officer to fill the slot on your team?” he asked.

Pirra tore her eyes off the streakfish.  “No,” she said quickly.  “I’m still weighing my options.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.  “It’s been awhile . . . is the choice that hard?”

Taking a fork, she jabbed at the streakfish distractedly.  “Yes and no,” she replied.  “I’ve got a candidate, but I’m unsure about him.”

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Kessissiin,” she replied shortly.

Alexander didn’t reply immediately, frowning and looking down at his own food.  He was not eating streakfish, but an Earth fish that was actually edible to him.

She now poked at the gauva – which was not true Earth guava, merely a very clever genetic recreation palatable to Dessei.

Sighing, she stabbed the fruit, then tilted her head back, opening her mouth.

Under the area that a human might call a chin, near where her head met her neck, the throat pouch opened wide, its teeth downward pointing.

Dropping the guave in whole, she closed it, her narrow throat stretching visibly as it went down.

Alexander had long gotten used to the sight of her kind’s way of eating, though many humans were quite alarmed to see a wide open maw whenever they ate.  Some even though the singer on their face was how they ingested!  They’d starve as a species if that was the case.

In a moment she’d swallow her streakfish down whole as well, which would be quite a bit more dramatic a sight.

“I just am not sure if-” she began, picking back up the conversation – only to be interrupted as a request for entry came from the front door.

She jumped slightly, as if caught doing something wrong, but then stood before Alexander could.

“I’ll get it,” she said, and hurried off to the door.

Her system told her that it was Cassandra Caraval, and she hesitated before answering it, watching the woman on the external camera.

The woman was standing there patiently, looking slightly nervous but still smiling pleasantly.

Nothing about it was suspicious, but Pirra still felt off about her.

Alexander must have noticed her hesitation in actually opening the door, as she heard him rise in the other room and start walking her way.

She opened the door.

“Hello,” Cassandra said pleasantly.  “I hope it’s not a bad time.”

“We were eating dinner,” Pirra said, trying to not sound defensive.  Though Dessei were usually defensive around meal-time, in ancient times feeling vulnerable both during and after.

“I apologize . . .”

Alexander walked up.  “Oh, Cass, what’s up?” he asked happily, smiling brightly.

Pirra was happy to let him butt in.  She moved to the side, feeling a slight bit of guilt at her demeanor, but her unease with the woman’s return was hard to hide.

“I did not mean to intrude, I only wanted to extend an invitation,” she said.  “Iago and I were hoping you’d join us for dinner tomorrow night.”

Pirra said nothing.  But Alexander was prepared.

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” he said.  “Though you know that Dessei have some unique eating habits compared to humans, right?”

“Yes, I know,” she said.  “And of course Iago and Elliot know,” she added.  Her eyes went to Pirra.

“Yes, we’ll be happy to come,” Pirra said, forcing a cheerful demeanor.

“Great, I am so pleased,” Cassandra said, nearly gushing with relief.  “I wasn’t sure if . . .  Ah, well, it’s all well.”

“He’s my close friend, and you were always a friend as well,” Alexander said.  “Would 1800 be good?”

“That would be perfect.  Don’t worry about bringing anything, we’ll be sure to have everything Pirra could want!”

She left, and Alexander closed the door, arching one eyebrow to Pirra.

“Don’t say anything,” she said.  “I accepted, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t say anything about it,” he replied, putting his hands up.  “I know it’s hard for you to accept that she’s back, but . . .”  He trailed off, lost in his head for a moment.  Lines on his face went deeper.  “I’m just really glad for Iago.  He’s my best friend and he wouldn’t even talk to me for weeks – so if he’s doing better, I’m only thankful for that.”

At least she could agree with that.  Iago had been a good friend to her, as well.

She went back to the living room, though Alexander lingered in the hall.

As delicious as the streakfish looked, she wasn’t sure she could eat it all now.  She felt too flustered.

Taking a knife, she slit it in half, and swallowed that as Alexander came back in.

“Saving room, huh?” he said pleasantly.

“Yeah.  I didn’t want the rest of my evening to be just sitting around digesting.”

“Oh, so did you have some plans?” he asked, a grin slipping onto his face.

She looked back at him, her crest showing her own amusement.  “I’m sure we can think of something to do . . .”


< Ep 8 Part 10 | Ep 8 Part 12 >

Episode 8 – Showing the Flag, part 10

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


“All right,” Brooks said to the mostly-empty meeting room.  “We’ve got a few issues to sort out.”

The only officers present were Urle, Jaya, and Zeela.

Every other officer was already up to their eyes in duties, checking over their respective sections with a fine-tooth comb to check for post-battle damage.

Operations had been first to go, using the lion share of resources; after a battle you had to be sure you were ready for the next fight.  You rarely had a choice about when an engagement started.

Which meant Jaya was currently one of the few officers caught up on her post-battle work.

And Zeela, well . . . he could always count on her.  She had her own hands full, but he knew she had a large cabal of effective support staff who she expertly delegated appropriate duties to.  Administration was practically a separate government within the command structure.

“Jaya, in an hour you will meet with Lt. Commander Ebbe and hand over what’s left of Hoc Rem along with the originals of the data drives.”

She nodded and looked to Urle.  “You have completed the copy of those drives?”

“Yep,” Urle replied.  “We have duplicated those and also captured atomic-snaps of the drives so we can potentially reconstruct any data that might get corrupted.”

Brooks watched his friend and Executive Commander carefully as he spoke.

The man seemed mostly back to normal, but Brooks knew he was somewhat off.  Ever since he’d gotten that memory fragment from a murdered man, experienced the man’s death . . .  He had been bothered on some level.

Which seemed entirely appropriate.  But Brooks wanted to make sure to keep an eye on him.

“After you have passed that off to Ebbe, you’re to report to the bridge and monitor things there, Jaya,” Brooks continued.

“Is a detachment of the Glorian Task Force still moving our way?” she asked.

“Yes.  They are still outside of effective combat range, but unless they change course we expect them to enter the outer fringes of that in about six hours.”

Jaya leaned forward.  “Do we have any reason to expect them to initiate hostilities?”

“Frankly, no.  And lots of reasons for them not to.  The situation they were causing last week is beginning to defuse, reports say.  It amounted to nothing, but also no loss of face for them, at least in their eyes.  So, while we can never rule out a warmongering force commander, they are likely just posturing and perhaps hoping for some sensor scans.”

“Very well.  I will keep our drone defenses on max and dissuade their attempts at spying.”

“Good.  All right, Zeela, I know you’re busy, but I’d like you to focus on immigrant selection.  Given our recent issue with an attempted killer on one of our shuttles, I’d like to be extra thorough.  If you do find anyone you find questionable, then pass them on to Urle for another point of view.”

“Yes, Captain,” Zeela said.  “What is going on with the killer’s case?”

“Well,” Urle said.  “We’re building a case against him for attempted murder, but such things take time.  The Gohhians themselves have also begun some moves to object and interfere, but I think what will matter most is what the Gohhi ruling class want.  They’re the only ones with the clout to actually cause us issues.”  He paused.  “Though the phrase ‘RepatriateJan’ is trending among the bot puppet accounts and pretty soon we expect it will spread to living users of social media.”

“We’ll get more of a feel for it once Romon Xatier arrives, I think,” Brooks said.  “But I believe that is all for your specific tasks.  Let’s get on with it.”

“And you, Captain?” Zeela asked.  “Not to pry, but you’re not one to sit idle while others work, so I know you’re up to something.”

Brooks smiled thinly.  “I’ve got a lot of fallout to clean up . . . and unfortunately a party to go to tomorrow.”


“Zeela, wait up,” Urle said, jogging up to the woman.

Brooks had kept him a few moments longer, but now he did need to speak with her, and in-person was best.

“Do you have a docket of your interviewees?  Anyone pre-flagged?”

Zeela smiled at him, but arched an eyebrow.  “Eager, Commander?”

“Well . . .  the Captain hasn’t exactly assigned me a lot of tasks here,” he admitted.  He’d brought it up, but Ian had brushed it off.

And he wasn’t sure why.  Or rather, he did not want to think that Ian was treating him carefully.

“Hm, well our preliminary checks don’t make anyone stand out,” Zeela said.

“Share your feed, maybe there’s something else I can help with.”

Zeela clicked her tongue.  “Volunteering?  You keep this up you may end up under my command.”

“I’d rather do that than be bored,” he laughed.

“Be careful what you wish for . . .”

Her docket came up and Urle paused.

“Dark!” he spit out.  “You have 27 messages unread, Zeela?”

“Oh, those are just from during the meeting,” she said.  “When you’re administrator, you get it all hours of the day.  Don’t worry, my secretary team are already going through them.”

“All right . . .”

Urle’s eyes scanned down the list.  Most of the items were administration – but there were still quite a few that weren’t.

He saw one from Cenz, asking about some equipment she’d said she’d get for him.

‘As I know you have a pleasant working relationship with Commander Sulp and I do not . . .’

The next one was from Commander Eboh, asking for a few extra hands for the comms checks.  Even as he looked, Zeela zipped that one away.

“I’ve got some spare hands headed his way,” she said.  “Civvies who are interested in that sort of thing.  They love it.”

Urle continued to scan down.  There were also messages from Cutter, Kai, Sulp, and Zhu . . . along with another from Brooks.

“You really have your hands full,” he said.

“It’s a pretty normal load,” she said.  “But here’s a few requests that you can help me with.  At least, if you think Cutter would appreciate your help.”

“I think he would.  But a lot of this isn’t even in your brief,” he noted.

He’d always known that being Chief of Administration was a busy position, but technically all it was was being the head of civilian affairs.

“I know I don’t talk about it much, Zach,” she said.  “But this is the reality of the job – I look at the Craton holistically and see where I can help.  Because if any part is slacking the whole will suffer.”

Urle let out an appreciative whistle.  “You’re basically doing my job alongside me.”

“Yep.”

“You could probably be Executive Commander,” he noted wryly.

She smiled.  “I’m happy where I am.  As it is, I’m never gonna have to command the ship in combat – and I definitely prefer it that way.”

Urle accessed the list of who was ahead of her on that chain of command, and she was indeed last – civilian administration was frequently chaired by a civilian, so it made sense.

“Well, I guess things would have to go pretty damn wrong for that to happen,” he said.  Taking the tasks she had sent him, he stopped.

“Thanks, Zeela.”

“Anytime, ExCom,” she called back, walking on.  “Anytime I can pass work on to someone else I’m a happy gal.”


< Ep 8 Part 9 | Ep 8 Part 11 >

Episode 8 – Showing the Flag, part 9

New to Other-Terrestrial? Check here! Or if you need to, jump to the beginning of the episode here!


“Yes, madam- Joph- Ambassador, it’s me!” Tred said.

“Oh how wonderful!  I hadn’t made a call like this before.  I’m told that you’re not even anywhere near me on the ship, is that true?”

His heart was still racing as she spoke.

Jophiel was simply the name he’d suggested for the being, a plasma entity who they had taken on board the ship to live in one of the fusion reactors.

Her voice was synthetic, created by an AI that translated the electromagnetic impulses her kind used to communicate into sound, using masterfully crafted algorithms to try and intone the correct feeling of a being utterly alien to him.  He honestly couldn’t know how good a job it did.

And Jophiel was not actually a she.  That was a projection of his kind, humanizing an alien being who had no concept of sexes as humans knew it.

Yet she still sounded beautiful.

“You know you can just call me Jophiel,” she replied, amusement in her voice.  “But you are so sweet calling me all that.  You know I’m not really that special – I was only chosen by random . . .” the rest of her words blanked out into a garble of unclear sounds.

Some kind of idiom, perhaps?  If her people had idioms.  Who knew if they did?  They had nothing solid about them – just ionized gases bound in electromagnetic fields.  Then again, maybe he was being solidcentric in thinking idioms were bound in some way to that sort of quality . . .

“You are special to me!” he blurted out.

His cheeks burned in humiliation.

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Jophiel said.  Tred could barely hear it over the sound of blood rushing in his ears.  “I was not sure why you hadn’t been around for almost a week.  We had been talking a lot and then you seemed to get distracted.”

“Oh, uh . . .”  Tred realized that she had not taken his words in the worst possible way.  If anything, she didn’t seem to take them as that significant at all . . .  “Well, we had a battle, you see.  It was kind of a big deal.”

There was a long silence on her end.  He almost spoke, hesitated, then she finally replied.

“A battle?  I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“We were attacked by these aliens called Hev.  They were one faction called uh . . . P’G’Maig.”

“But what is a battle?”

Tred did not know how to reply to that.

“Uh . . . a fight?  Combat?  The P’G’Maig were trying to . . . destroy us.”

She fell silent again.

Oh Dark, had she even known?

“I had been told about this,” she said carefully and slowly.  “My people have never had these ‘battles’.  I was told there was a danger to me as well if one could happen.  I did not think it actually would.”

“We won!  So you don’t have to worry anymore.”

“I’m not worried,” she replied, almost sounding distracted.  “I had wondered about those little things coming at us.  Was that part of the battle?”

“You mean the missiles?”

“Things flew out of the ship, small and large.  And lots of little things flew at us but many did not make it.  I thought maybe it was some form of communication, but I couldn’t understand it . . .”

“You could see all that was happening?” Tred asked despite himself.

“Yes, of course.  The shielding on this little house reactor blocks some of what I can see, but not every wavelength.  So I can see the whole ship and outside it for quite some distance.”

“Can you . . . see me?” he asked.  “Like specifically, where I am now.”

“Well . . . no.  I mean, I can see the beings on the ship – there’s so many! – but they are just electromagnetic points.  I’m sorry, I can’t yet tell you all apart very well.”

“Oh, I’m not offended,” he said.  He actually felt glad – he did not like being tracked all the time.  It was a part of everyday life for AIs to do it, but for a being to monitor him gave him the willies.  “I was just curious, really,” he continued.  “But you know, if you can see out, I guess that helps not to feel claustrophobic in there.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what that means.”

“No, I’m sorry!  It means feeling . . . trapped or cooped up.”

“I see.  No, I never have that problem!  It feels pleasantly cozy, but you’re right that seeing out makes it not a bother.  I rather like it – I’ve never felt this sort of sensation.”

That was not what he would have felt in her shoes- or plasma, rather.  But she interacted with the world far differently than he did.

“Have you heard about the play that’s going to be shown?” Jophiel asked out of the blue.

He fumbled to get his brain onto a whole new topic.  “Oh, the . . . one about Ussa and Usser?”

“That’s it.  Can anyone go see it?”

“Well, sure.  They’re doing a few showings, so I think a lot of people will be going.  And there will be live feeds.”

“Oh, interesting.  I wish I could see it, too.  I can sense new people on the ship all over, and many in groups – I thought that was them.”

“Can you . . . see in the visible light spectrum?  Er, the ones we can see.  The wavelengths of 380 to 750 nanometers.”

“Yes, I can see every wavelength I know of!” she replied.

It was somewhat of an unhelpful answer, given he did not know for sure if she was aware of wavelengths she couldn’t see.

But she was not dumb, he chided himself.  Even if her people did not have technology, they were not fools.

“Well,” he said, the thought occurring to him.  “What if I took you to see it?  I mean, I know you can’t go personally.”

He found himself imagining what she might look like in that scenario; some being of light, like the angel she was named for?  Or maybe just a glowing sphere?

Either way, it would probably prove fatal for both or either of them.

“How could I go and see?”

“I could modify a drone for you!” he said.  “I know you already have some basic ones you’ve used, but I could make it better than those, and we could feed the data into the fusion reaction chamber easily!”

Yes, the emitters they’d put in that provided gentle EM emissions to translate their words into signals she could understand could just as easily convert images and sounds!  It’d be child’s-play, really.  He’d literally done it for fun as a child!  Every kid did an experiment of turning starlight into sound as a learning project, and he had quite enjoyed it.

The only issue was the drone . . .  The stock models were hardy but lacked much visual range, they wouldn’t do at all . . .

“That sounds wonderful!” Jophiel said, her voice rising to almost a squeal.  Normally a voice that high-pitched bothered him, but from her he found he did not mind.  “Can you really do that?”

“I can try,” he said, trying to be honest.  Yet he already knew he would do anything he could to not let her down.  “I mean – I’ll get it done!”

“This is so exciting!  Please, let me know how it’s going, all right?  And if you need any help, well . . . my diplomatic codes should help you open some . . . doors.”  She seemed to hesitate on the last word, as if not really sure.

Which probably meant she was actually using a human expression!  That pleased him for some reason.

She began to send codes, and he gasped.  “Jophiel, you can’t just give me these codes!  I’m not authorized-“

“I am an ambassador,” she said over him, matter-of-factly.  “And I have chosen to take you into my confidence.  Just don’t tell anyone else!”

“A-all right,” he replied nervously.  What he had was actually serious intel . . .  at least in theory.  He did not know if anyone would actually care, or if it was just him.

“I need to go . . . I’ll have to figure out how to get started,” he said, feeling very nervous now.

“Okay!  Goodbye for now, Tred!”


< Ep 8 Part 8 | Ep 8 Part 10 >