Proving True
Chapter One -- At Angus' House

It’s the little things that one takes for granted that make life so sweet. I have been at Angus’ house for three weeks now, refreshing, relaxing, reflecting and rebuilding. For example, while sitting on the front porch I can watch the sun melt behind the mountains and their trees, hear the birdsong give way to the chirping of the crickets, the tinkle of the wind chime, feel the breeze on my cheek, and smell the newly mown grass. None of this is available on a starship. I reflect on my starship career. I hired onto Night Searcher as an apprentice engineer. Following some pretty bizarre circumstances, I got promoted to department head and then Captain before I had to relinquish command. Not bad for a girl’s first interstellar trip, I think taking a sip of my tea., I smile at Angus as he settles into a chair beside me.

“Talking to Bob, are ye lass?” he asks as he fills his own mug from the kettle.

“Bob?” I ask looking at him quizzically. Daisy, Angus’ dog is asleep at my feet. Athena is in the kitchen preparing dinner. Shawna and Freddie are on Atlas, specifically at Danfellows Main looking for departing ships hiring crew. There’s not another soul on the property to my knowledge. “Who’s this Bob then?”

After filling his mug Angus stuffs his pipe, then nods towards the sunset. “Bob. B.O.B. Big orange ball.” He winks at me and grins his impish grin as he lights the pipe. His tobacco is a potent blend. The wind pushes the pungent blue smoke past him and away from me. The only thing thicker than his smoke is his brogue. Praise Isis he only smokes outside, otherwise the house would reek. We sit quietly for several minutes, sipping tea, listening to the crickets, and watching the sun sink.

“Uncle, does the pain ever stop? All the people that died, because of me, because of decisions I made.” I ask him. Gwendolyn was taken from me, Sherri was killed in combat, Mack died of some horrible disease, and Captain Prowse was assassinated just to mention a few. Even now, some of the memories bring tears to my eyes.

He sips his tea and puffs the pipe pensively before answering. “No’ really,” he says at length. “It dulls over the years, the wounds scab over. Then somethin’ ye don’t expect tears the wound open making the pain fresh again. They’ll always live in yuir heart and memory. In time, the good memories will make you laugh rather than cry even though there’s that ache in yuir heart. But the only way the pain would stop would be for you to forget about them. I don’ know about you, but tha’ cost is too high for me.”

He’s right, as usual. “I suppose so, uncle.”

More quiet minutes pass.

“Ye’re thinkin’ o’ goin’ back to space, aren’t ye?”

“Does it show?” I ask looking at him. He grins and nods. “Aye, I have.” I sip my tea. “I feel I’ve something to prove yet.”

“Oh?” he holds another match to his pipe. “To whom? You were started as a wrench spinner and were eventually given a starship to command and brought most of the crew home safe and alive. I think you’ve proved your abilities.”

“Not to me,” I argue. “They gave me the engineering department because they needed a chief engineer and I was the closest thing to a chief engineer they had. They gave me the command because … well, I still don’t know exactly why. And that’s what I have to learn. Do I really have what it takes or was I just in the right place at the right time? Make no mistake, I’m grateful for the opportunities I had aboard Night Searcher just as I am for the ones I’ve had here, and all that ye’ve taught me. But I don’t feel … complete.”

“Ye’re a grown woman, there’s no doubt o’that.” He pauses and draws deeply on his pipe. “But you need to understand, there’s always a high price for an education the likes o’ which you mean.”

I nod and drink my tea. We sit quietly as the darkness deepens. Soon the only lights are Angus’ pipe and the fireflies. Daisy has woken and trotted out to the yard, jumping and nipping at the flying, glowing insects.

“Ah, ye daft, lass!” Angus calls after her. “What will you do with one should you catch it? Leave me a glowing yard bomb the following day?” Of course in the dark I can’t see him, but I know he turns to me. “An’ you, an engineer’s mind never stops workin’ you know that as well as I. What’s on yer idea board now?”

I sip my tea before answering, “I’m remembering the wormhole Night Searcher went through. In the blink of an eye, we were parsecs away. It occurs to me, that if there were a way to generate a stable, predictable wormhole, it would revolutionize interstellar travel. Perhaps even open the door to intergalactic travel.” The distances between planets are measured in millions of kilometers. Between stars it’s in light years, which are billions of kilometers. The gulf between galaxies though, is thousands of light years, quadrillions of kilometers. Contemporary ships, as fast as they are, would still be in Transit for generations before reaching the nearest galaxy. “Of course, the trick would be to know where the other end would be. And to make sure it will stay open long enough.”

“Aye,” Angus says, “Tha’ would be somethin’.” He puffs more on his pipe. “O’ course, some jackanapes would try to weaponize it.”

It’s never really a pleasant thought to realize that what is intended for good might be used for ill, but I can’t help but giggle. “And an effective one it would be. I can imagine the surprise when a raider assumes an attack position on a big fat merchant, suddenly there’s a flash of light and they’re over the event horizon before they can say ‘Bob’s your uncle.’ That would be a bit easier because whoever is generating it wouldn’t necessarily care where the other end is.”

“Aye, or narrow it down so it occurs inside the target. That would probably tear the ship in half. Or cause a planet to explode.”

“The liberals should be happy though, with dropping an entire ship through the hole, that is. The enemy crew would still be alive.”

“Aye, ya dinna kill’em outright,” he takes a long draw on his pipe. “But you have potentially sentenced them to a slow, lingering death. Fer me, it would be kinder to kill’em.” He’s right again. As he reminds me often enough though, at his age, being right has become a habit. I try to divert the thought string.

“I’m sure the power requirements would be astronomical, no pun intended. A 2,000-ton ship would probably only have three people as crew. The bulk of the vessel would be engines, weapons, the wormhole generator, and your power cells.”

“Fit for exploration,” he says. “But not much else.”

“Aye.”

He pours himself some more tea. “What else is rattlin’ round in that noggin o’yours?”

“Some way of being invisible. There were a few times when just being undetectable would have helped.” My own mug is empty, but I don’t want any more. “I remember casualties we probably could have avoided, had no one seen the troopers.”

A light comes on behind us as Athena has opened the door. “Dinner is prepared. I could not avoid overhearing your conversation. I would be remiss to not point out that there were also times Night Searcher could have benefited on the attack had the foe been ignorant of our location.” She is also right, but as she’s an android, I’ve come to expect it. Angus and I collect our mugs and go inside.

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