Chapter 5

Andromeda’s advanced (as far as I was concerned) medical facility confirmed Syretia’s pregnancy before she told us. It was, apparently, the first Promethean in utero pregnancy in several millennia. Doctors among the colonists were fascinated, both by the actual event and the information available from Andromeda. As you might imagine, never had any pregnancy enjoyed so much attention. Syretia insisted on maintaining her piloting schedule, only agreeing to remain landed a month before her due date. By that time we had a full quota of qualified pilots, and everyone was getting a full week off in each Terran month.

I was beginning to relax. Anya’s parents arrived and were settled in a house within a few minutes’ walk of ours. Ivan pressed until Andromeda (with my agreement) regenerated him and Katya. He joined the Marine detachment, and I began seeing him running among them, cropped hair, stocky figure, among the mostly taller and younger members. And, of course, several taller, green-haired recruits. Katya, though, insinuated herself into the catering team at the mess-hall. It wasn’t long before she was the de facto manager. I wondered about that, but apparently that was a consensus. The brewery project had settled into a balance where the output almost matched the consumption. Gladys Ross had that well under control and a reserve was in cool storage.

Andromeda suggested I take a tour of the settlement, as there were developments of interest. She was quite correct. Certain of the domesticated species originally sent with the colonisation program were well enough established to be put to work. I was fascinated to visit a farm where the tilling was managed with the assistance of a pair of heavy horses – Clydesdales. Similarly, a small group of riding horses and ponies were working with colonists who were learning to ride and care for them. Cattle and goats were also contributing to our diets. However, red meat was not on the menu, at least for the foreseeable future. Not that I really disliked the yeast-based substitutes and replicated ones.

The immigration was a trickle, both from Alef and from Earth. Adherents of various religious and philosophical groups met together, mostly in homes, but it appeared that the meditation centre was in use too. Andromeda kept an eye on what was going on at my request after I explained the problems that had arisen on Earth when groups decided that they were ‘RIGHT’ and everyone else was ‘WRONG’. It caused issues with her ‘programming’ – I use that word in lieu of a better one – but she assented to my concerns.

Music, live music, became increasingly important as individuals like Syretia learned enough to be able to entertain alongside musicians who brought their virtuosity with them from Earth.

It was, I suppose, about six months after the first arrivals by Mat Trans from the Embassy on Earth, that James Abercrombie called me.

“Sire ... Hex ... We’ve had a light-speed transmission from the picket ship. Apparently a Terran ship squawking a diplomatic code has made transit, requesting permission to approach. I have provisionally authorised that, and have asked Captain Ross to take Jason to meet it. Of course, it will take roughly four hours for our transmission to reach them, then ten hours or so for the ship to get here. I felt that I needed to limit the delay.”

I thought about that for a couple of minutes. “I can’t see there’s any risk in permitting them to approach. Arrival early tomorrow, then?”

“Yes, I’ll give you an hour’s warning, if that’s okay? We’d better go full dress, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so,” I said, reluctantly. “Perhaps we should have a general meeting so everyone knows what’s happening. Broadcast it.”

It took several hours, but representatives from all groups met in the mess hall, and Andromeda recorded and broadcast the proceedings. I sat with James and Takeshi Sumimoto each side of me. James stood and explained the situation. When he sat down there was a thoughtful silence for several minutes. We didn’t break it.

A man stood, whose name I couldn’t remember. Judging by his clothes, he represented the Seamen’s Guild. “Do we know the significance of this? Is there any danger?”

I looked at James and Takeshi in turn, then stood. “We don’t know. Captain Gladys Ross is taking ASN Jason to meet the ship. The transponder is squawking a diplomatic code, and it is a small ship and apparently unarmed. It is just possible that the ship could launch a kinetic strike, or a suicide run. We don’t know if it’s actually crewed or under AI control. Our hope is that it is a diplomatic approach to reopen relations.”

There was a longer pause, then a woman stood, Sarah Lomax of the Weavers’ Guild. The weavers had proven very successful, despite Andromeda’s ability to produce excellent clothes. Rather, I suppose, like the preference for ‘real’ food, as against replicated food. The individuality of the fabrics and the cut appealed to something in human psyche.

“I don’t think anyone is happy about the estrangement,” she began. “However, we’ve shown that we can be self-sufficient.” She paused before continuing. “The question is just whether contact with family on Earth is important enough. I certainly don’t think we can justify any change in our Constitution to please the UFP Council.”