Chapter 2: Born To Be Free

Helva entered the Atlantisat System singing all the parts and playing all the instruments envisioned by Beethoven in his chorale, Ode To Joy.

Commander Rebecca Flowers, duty officer in Atlantisat System Control, listened with a smile. It was still early in Inkie’s role as news collector-dispenser and USO tour, so Helva’s signature arrival wasn’t yet universally known. However, recognizing that a Sa’arm incursion was unlikely to be heralded by music written by a long-dead deaf composer, Rebecca was unruffled. Opera trained in her former life, she answered with Bizet’s La Fleur Que Tu M’avais Jetée from Carmen, astounding the ratings present with her.

As she finished, she heard a laugh, followed by, “Bonjour, ma belle fleur. My, that was sweet! This is Captain Inkie...” Followed by, “and I am T’Krandit of Tuull Clan T’Blssut’s K’treel Explorer you designate as AGX026 – Helva.“ Helva proudly used her new Clan name for only the second time.

“Helva and I aren’t real big on protocols,” Inkie told her. “Request permission to park somewhere so we can visit some of your think tanks on behalf of Harrad Colony.”

Rebecca promptly gave instructions for a parking orbit, then asked, “I could, I mean, could I have a ticket to any concert you perform here?”

“Only if you’ll sing with me,” Inkie’s response was immediate. “I’ve been making a circuit, and I’m on my way home with part of my family and two of my kids. I left the rest back home. Part of my combo is with me, and Helva can sing with us and supply backgrounds. I guess we can put something together,” she negotiated. “Maybe some of what we performed for my last concert before I was extracted – but you have to promise!”

“O M G! Of course, I promise,” the usually unflappable Rebecca was about to lose her cool.

In the background, Inkie heard a plaintive, “Us too?’ and immediately added, “and bring the crew there with you. Wouldn’t be fair to leave them out.” Cheers from the peanut gallery!

“Now that we have our personal business settled, what can I do to help with your business-business?” Commander Flowers tightened up and became all business.

“I’m not sure of her current rank, but I need some time with a Marcie Haywood, the one that worked on the Archerfish Project?” Inkie told her.*

*Author’s Note: lordshipmayhem’s Trials and Tribunations & Going Fishing will give background that will help appreciate Marcie and the importance of the Archerfish’s design. /s/64054/trials-and-tribunations /s/64399/going-fishing

“I’ll just bet you already know that she ran that project while she was thirteen,” Commander Flowers replied. “Her father’s the governor. I’m sure you’ll meet her and the rest of the brat pack when he invites you down for one of his famous backyard barbeques.”

“That’ll work,” Inkie told her. “I usually call on the planetary governor anyway.”

“Are you familiar with the Cap d’Agde?” Rebecca asked, a hint of a smile in her voice.

“Well, yes. I’ve been there,” Inkie said, then asked, “Why?”

“Except in military areas, Atlantis dresses the same as you would there.”

“I can do nude; I can do naked: and I can even do nekkid.” Inkie told her. “Thanks for the heads up. Sounds like fun. Wanna come if I can swing it?” Inkie had ulterior motives. She liked what she heard from Rebecca and was thinking of recruiting her for Harrad.

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” came Rebecca’s response. “We’ll just have to see.” She smiled to herself.

“I’ll buck your request up channels for an interview with Lieutenant Colonel Haywood,” and she signed off.

Commander Flowers had been dead on right about the invitation from the governor. Ben Haywood called Inkie hours before Helva reached her assigned parking orbit. “Welcome to Atlantisat, Captain. This is Ben Haywood. I hear you wish to speak with my daughter, Marcie.” He laughed and continued, “I can’t imagine why. My three older daughters sing like screech owls, but,” he hurried to add, “they do like your music.”

Inkie finally got a chance to acknowledge his greeting, and Ben responded with his invitation, “All my kids will be at my place for a barbeque tomorrow night – the three adults and a horde of kiddies. I understand you have your children with you. I’m sure they would like a chance to play with someone their age.”

‘You might be surprised,’ Inkie thought, ‘then, with what I’ve heard about your first three, maybe not.’

“That’s kind of you,” Inkie told him. “We don’t have any other children with us this trip. In fact there aren’t many of us – period. We’re returning home from a courier run and I was asked to drop off some technology for your daughter.”

“Well, bring them all. Bring anyone you wish,” Haywood answered. “There’s always plenty to eat, and anyhow, I’ll have to beat off the natives when they find out you’re coming ... Shall we say 1500 local time?”

Inkie acknowledged that was fine, and they disconnected.

<Helva, Honey, please get me a private chat with Commander Flowers.>

<Becky, it’s me – Inkie. What time does your watch end? ‘Watch,’ that’s the correct term, right? Anyway, what time do you get off?>

<Inkie? What’s up girl? I’m off at 1600 hours. If you’re not on local yet, that’s a little over four hours from now. Why?>

<Tell your CO you need tomorrow off. You have an invite to the governor’s for tomorrow’s barbeque, and – giggle – you don’t have anything to wear.>

<No?! Really?>

<Yep. Really. Then get your buns in gear and transport aboard. We have some serious rehearsing to do.>

<O M G!>

<I believe you’ve said that before. We need to broaden your vocabulary.> Then, <You have family you want to bring? Anybody else sing?>

<Right now, there’s only Joseph. He doesn’t sing, but he does play steel drums.>

<That would work. You’re giving me ideas. Bring Joseph with you ... Okay, you’ve got a CO to schmooze – get cracking, and I’ll see you in four plus. Bye.>

<Okay, Helva, we need a set of steel drums.>

Alerted to the need but not the full reason, the governor’s household staff moved a small logistics transporter to the picnic area where a fire pit was already burning down to coals. Another pit had been roasting a pig for almost 24 hours, said replicated oinker having been prepared and buried almost as soon as Ben Haywood finished inviting Inkie.

Exactly on the appointed hour, a nude Inkie stepped though the portal, holding hands with equally sky-clad Dinky and Armand. Behind her appeared a stunningly beautiful woman, Helva. It took several looks for the crowd of observers to realize they were seeing a hologram. Next came Rebecca Flowers arm-in-arm with her concubine Joseph and then Vivie and Wendy followed by the members of Inkie’s combo.

A self-guided pallet with the instruments, steel drums included, followed the new arrivals. Also on the pallet was a Tuull memory unit with the capability for Helva to maintain her hologram, plus the audio equipment that would allow her to sing with her brawn.

The Governor’s original pod had been expanded, modified, and expanded again to house the many receptions, parties, and excuses Ben thought necessary to smooth the running of his colony. It was situated on an island with three hundred and sixty degrees of white sand beaches surrounded by clear, green water. Palms and several other plants native to the South Pacific provided shade, as did artfully scattered umbrellas and cabanas.

The clustered umbrellas and replicated bamboo furniture were arranged in a way that made it clear that music and other staged performances were common occurrences.

Inkie was well practiced and knew how to schmooze to best effect. She did the reception line thing with Ben and his family, whispering “later” to Marcie as they hugged. She sat and ate more roast pig than she thought was possible, passed on and listened to human news and gossip, and genuinely enjoyed herself.

She made her usual request for a visit to the colony’s brothels and for time with their Civil Service Officer, and then she inquired if Atlantisat had a Salty Jack’s, “Neither my kids nor I have ever been to one, and I could go for some good seafood.”

“Yep, we do indeed, but, “ Ben told her, “it’s strange. All the fresh fish and shellfish we have here, and a dive like that, serving replicated dreck, is still popular. They even go so far as to have two menus posted: ‘Fresh Stuff’ and ‘Same-Old Same-Old’. So, they do use some local seafood, sometimes. It’s a toss-up; you may or may not get ‘good’ seafood. On the other hand, your kids would love the snarky, uppity servers.”

“If you want,” he suggested, “you could kill two birds by eating there. Most of the staff is made up of unassigned concubines, even Boris the manager. Our CS Officer oversees it. Not like that mess when they first got started around the colonies ... She’s told the concubines that they can get good exposure there – particularly the men – if they focus on the kids and show how good they are with them. Still, when you’re doing snarky, it’s hard to tell who is acting and who is a true jackass. The staff motto is ‘work here or die!’”

By the time dinner was finished, Inkie’s role as circuit rider was well established, and a week with five concerts was scheduled.

Sensing an opportunity she grabbed Marcie’s hand and asked, “Show me to the necessary?” Giggling and holding hands, the two new friends ran off. They dodged between the tables illuminated by strings of colored lights, entered the huge pod, and locked themselves in Marcie’s room. “Listen, I really do need to pee, but I also needed your ear for a minute,” Inkie explained.”

Marcie nodded and cocked her head, “Do tell.”

“I have some new technology aboard Helva that I’d like to show you,” Inkie said. “Best demonstrated outside the Oort cloud or whatever your system calls it. This takes precedence over concerts. I’ll schedule around you, if you and the rest of your brat pack can come to visit – just your sisters, please.”

“I’ll make it happen three days from now,” Marcie promised, “just me and Carrie and Melodie.” She hugged Inkie, pointed at a door, and told her, “Now, go pee before you bust! Then, let’s take a swim to get you away from all the networking.”

As expected, Inkie was asked to ‘sing a few songs’ and as planned, she dragged Rebecca on stage with her, both costumed with holograms generated by Helva. The lights dimmed in the area surrounding the stage.

Determined to save her own compositions for her formal concerts, Inkie sat with Dinky and Armand to sing the same songs they had first performed together for the Tuull. She hugged them, sent them off to play with their new friends, and stood. Then she started a recreation of her final performance before her extraction from the Ravinia Festival. No, not the first concert, the second. The Tuull had enjoyed that one, too.

Inkie launched a cappella into Zombie Jamboree.* Her high clear voice cut through the evening, “Back to back, belly to belly, I don’t give a damn ‘cuz I done that already!...” Inkie’s miniature combo picked up instruments, and augmented by Joseph on his steel drums, enthusiastically followed along with the full-out calypso masterpiece.

Once again, Inkie and her combo were jamming out a repertoire of dirty music they never thought they would get to play in a public concert. No surprise, Rebecca having heard a recording of that last concert, knew the songs as well. As before, the band romped into Doug Clark and the Hot Nuts’ version of Baby, Let Me Bang Your Box and concluded with a close rendition of the Uppity Blues Women’s How Can I Say I Miss You, When I Can’t Get You To Leave? But the surprise hit of the evening was Rebecca’s solo rendition of You Can Ring My Bell backed up only by Joseph’s steel drums.

Inkie stepped forward, bowed, grabbed Rebecca, and stepped arm-in-arm from the stage. A delighted Ben Hayward, who was howling with laughter, greeted them. Between rolling belly laughs, he managed to get out, “Absolutely wonderful. Serves me right for not warning you that the gathering would be full nudist. I can’t wait to hear you perform your own music.”

*Author’s Note: The Kingston Trio’s version of Zombie Jamboree can be found here – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4k5XftdTMs&list=RDp4k5XftdTMs&start_radio=1&t=0

Aboard Helva, beyond Atlantisat’s Oort cloud.

<Jubal, you are welcome to join in, but I really think this one is best handled among us girls, > Inkie told her friend privately.

<As you wish.>

“Ladies, how do you communicate with your AIs?” Inkie began.

“We sub vocalize to communicate with them, and they speak to us directly by stimulating our auditory nerves,” Carrie replied.

“And they can stimulate your optic nerve?” Inkie inquired?

“I suppose so, but no AI has done that to me or anyone I know of,” Carrie responded.

“And AIs control the nanites in our bodies – able to modify us to our specifications, to repair almost any defect or wound,” Inkie stated.

“So, if the AIs feel we are a threat to the Confederacy? They could direct the nanites to modify our hormones to change us into docile sheep or sex obsessed automatons?” Inkie asked her now horrified audience. “They wouldn’t need to kill us, we’d likely just wither away. Wouldn’t surprise me if it hasn’t happened to other species. No way to know for sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if that’s the reason most of the Confederacy species are such wimps.”

“Let me show you something, a recording of one of the early interactions between Darjee AIs and humans,” Inkie told them, then to Helva, <Play it.>

In the air appeared a hologram of humans in a corridor communicating with an AI. It was clearly the middle of an on-going discussion.