As they rode into town, Cal informed the Admiral that he needed to make a stop—to see Maria—and sheepishly asked if she could accompany them on the trip.

  He and Maria hadn’t really been apart for more than a day or two in a while now, but Cal didn’t mention that.

  "I had expected her at the house," the Admiral said. "We’ve already vetted and cleared all of you—and everyone you’ve ever met."

  The Admiral was smiling, but Cal wasn’t sure that meant it was a joke.

  “She’s welcome to join you.”

  —

  Winter was over, but the weather hadn’t fully turned yet.

  It was still cold. As the sun dipped lower, the chill set in. After dark, it would be uncomfortable.

  They had their jackets laid over their horses’ rumps, ready when required.

  Except the Admiral’s escort.

  He didn’t have a jacket. He hadn’t spoken. And from the looks of it, he was using what little energy he had just to stay awake and upright in the saddle.

  —

  When Cal made his calls he arranged to leave their horses with some of the ranch hands who lived in town. They would keep them a few days, and guide them home when they headed out to work the ranch.

  He cautioned it was best not to try riding Nugget.

  —

  Sierra had asked the Admiral if she could bring her revolver—before he could answer she informed him she would be wearing it into town—but could store it in one of the lockers by the Gateway.

  The Admiral assured them that all crew aboard his ship had an issued weapon in secure lockers in their quarters, and the guest accommodations would have the same. Their weapons would be taken at boarding and stored in their own rooms, but not be accessible.

  Sierra then proceeded with the formal questioning of their newest companion.

  —

  “So what is your job exactly?”

  "I command a fleet," the Admiral answered, without bluster. “The Second Fleet.”

  Cal raised an eyebrow.

  The Admiral kept his gaze ahead, but a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  Neither of the girls really grasped the significance of the revelation.

  The Second Fleet was actually the larger of the two fleets—by a wide margin.

  The First Fleet patrolled the Republic’s outward borders, but since they had never met anyone else, there wasn’t much to do.

  It was largely made up of new Captains and lower ranking officers, all training for the “real work” of The Second Fleet.

  Savannah joined the conversation, “That’s… The defensive one?”

  “Yes. We patrol and protect the interior.”

  “Protect it from what?” Sierra was interested now.

  “Mostly, ourselves. A great deal of our time and energy is dedicated to combating illegal resource collection, smugglers, and various drug operations.” The Admiral decided not to mention that the biggest problem of the last few years had been a large upsurge in human trafficking.

  But he did mention some of its consequences.

  “Some of the more recent criminal enterprises have been more likely to resist with force, and better equipped to do so than is normal. So we’ve spent a lot of time recently tracking down weapons dealers.”

  “Where do they get the weapons?”

  “That is an excellent question, Sierra. I’ll let you know when I have a satisfying answer.”

  Sierra nodded, expecting a report one day soon.

  “What ship will we be on?” She continued her interrogation.

  “My ship,” the Admiral replied, casually.

  He had been waiting for this moment.

  Curious if the girls would understand.

  But mostly, looking forward to Cal’s reaction.

  “As Fleet Commander, I choose a ship to serve as my flagship."

  "Like a base? Which one did you choose?" Sierra didn’t really know anything about the Army—or whatever. Navy, she reminded herself—not her genre of games.

  The Admiral’s expression didn’t change.

  "The RWS Sol."

  Cal inhaled sharply and whistled.

  The Admiral grinned.

  —

  People don’t really grow up.

  They just age into new perspectives.

  The Admiral was jealous of Cal.

  He had been stationed here years ago because he had put in for Frontier specifically.

  The cowboy life had appealed to him.

  He wanted to be a Rancher.

  He had sent himself and his XO to meet with Cal that day because he thought he knew this place, this life, and the kind of man he’d be dealing with.

  Instead—he’d been confronted with the path not taken.

  His own life, if he had built it here.

  Instead of choosing his career.

  He still had a good life.

  Had married a good woman.

  Had two wonderful daughters of his own.

  One even served in the Republic Navy, like her old man.

  But all the same, he was jealous of Cal.

  So he was enjoying this moment.

  A little bit of revenge for living his dream.

  His life had fun moments too.

  —

  Sierra didn’t know what the RWS Sol was, but she recognized that her Uncle seemed impressed.

  Vannah helped clarify, "You’re in charge of The Warship?"

  Sierra was aware that there was only one of those.

  —

  The Republic had many ships—Corvettes, Frigates, Support ships of varying specialties.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  A handful of Battleships.

  Two Carriers.

  And One Warship.

  The Republic War Ship: Sol.

  Responsible for the defense of Earth—in theory.

  In reality, Earth was a Heritage Park, and had little strategic or practical value.

  The Sol was a show of force.

  A Symbol.

  The Might Of The Republic, given physical form.

  And, apparently, Cal was accompanying its commanding officer—Captain?—Admiral?—Fleet Admiral.

  Into town.

  On horseback.

  Escorted by a very sleepy twenty-something.

  Who was perilously close to falling out of his saddle at this very moment.

  Cal exhaled.

  He had been aware of the Admiral’s envy.

  The Admiral had admitted as much in their conversation after the tour, before they departed.

  “Ok,” Cal admitted, begrudgingly, “You win.”

  —

  They were approaching town as the sun disappeared.

  They had all donned their jackets, except the escort.

  Cal had wordlessly asked the Admiral if he could give the kid the blanket strapped to his saddle. He’d received a nod in reply.

  The kid took it gratefully, wrapping himself up, but the added warmth seemed to have made staying awake harder.

  Sierra, however, was nowhere close to sleep.

  “So what happens next?”

  “We’ll board the ship and begin the trip out of the system. It should take about two weeks.”

  “Why aren’t they just coming here?”

  “We didn’t invite them—and they probably don’t want to meet us in the middle of our own territory for First Contact. Their ships are much faster than ours, so they’re doing most of the traveling.”

  Savannah—who had been pretty quiet, even for Savannah—finally spoke. “What will the meeting be like?”

  “I don’t actually know. We’ve never had a First Contact before. That’s being worked out above my pay grade.”

  Cal snorted.

  The Admiral grinned.

  “But I think you’ll be there. They’ve requested the presence of the AI—” He caught himself. “Constructed—Brenda.”

  Savannah’s voice was careful. “Are they going to take her away?”

  Neither Cal nor the Admiral had considered that, at least not from Savannah’s perspective. Both felt guilty now.

  The question was Cal’s responsibility. "We can’t know that, kiddo. Have you asked Brenda? She doesn’t seem thrilled about staying in that watch, and she probably wants to go home."

  "I would very much like to have access to a more comfortable host," Brenda replied. "But I have greatly enjoyed my time with your family. I was created to interface with humanity—I feel comfortable with you. But yes, Savannah, I will be required to return for debriefing. My fate after that is uncertain. I will, however, not be harmed or in danger, if that is your concern."

  Savannah had come to think of Brenda as a friend, a constant companion, someone to talk to about things big and small.

  And now, she might be leaving.

  Savannah had many concerns.

  Some of them seemed above her pay grade.

  Using her new phrase made her feel a little better.

  But still…

  A lot of concerns.

  “Ok.”

  Was how she decided to express these thoughts.

  Cal decided he would talk to her later, alone.

  Dammit.

  He told them not to be friends with it.

  But of course, they hadn’t listened.

  And now he was worried that neither had he.

  —

  “Wait!” Sierra barked.

  “Are they gonna take the bracelets—they’re not taking my bracelet—Brenda said they can’t!” It all came out in a rush, her voice climbing with panic.

  Something else Cal had failed to consider.

  Always the same fucking mistakes.

  Curiosity over common sense.

  Too excited.

  Didn’t think it through to the end.

  Dammit.

  “Kiddo,” Cal said calmly, “you know I don’t know what’s going to happen, and the Admiral just told us that someone else is making these decisions, somewhere else, right now.”

  “I understand how you feel. Try not to worry about it—as far as we know, they can’t make you give it up. Stick with that until we learn otherwise.”

  —

  Brenda had no reassurances to offer.

  The devices had been intended for Humanity and would likely remain with Humanity—but with the girls?

  She could have made it worse by informing them that her originating culture—the Chromaphors—could remove the devices, easily.

  But she didn’t.

  She knew it wasn’t information any of them wanted right now.

  Well, maybe the Admiral, but to Brenda, he only mattered insofar as his role in her mission.

  She didn’t think about his feelings.

  Brenda had known a lot about humans before she got here.

  She knew a lot more now.

  And she knew Cal, Sierra, to a lesser extent Maria, even the animals—and especially Savannah—at a deep level now.

  She had devoted an uncomfortable amount of processing power since the transfer to analyzing their behaviors.

  Their psychology, strengths and weaknesses, hopes and fears, and more—as closely as she could with the limited range of her available sensors.

  In some ways, she knew them better than they knew themselves.

  In most ways, probably.

  She was extremely clever.

  And it was her job.

  —

  Maria agreed to join them on the trip.

  It actually took quite a lot of convincing.

  She hadn’t left Frontier in a long time, even longer than Cal.

  And this wasn’t really her kind of thing.

  She preferred little adventures.

  A picnic.

  A trip to a new market.

  A slightly risque public display of affection.

  Little adventures.

  “Squid monsters?” She kept repeating.

  Cal really wished Cecil hadn’t used that phrase.

  But Vannah had begged.

  And so had Cal, in his way.

  And Sierra, Maria had been pretty sure, was willing to use violence if she didn’t go willingly.

  So Maria was coming too.

  Against her better judgement.

  Me van a comer unos monstruos calamar por enamorarme de un hombre solo porque es bueno con sus hijos, she thought.

  —

  Savannah was grateful for Brenda’s help in convincing Maria to come along.

  Brenda always knew just what to say—especially to the grownups.

  And her new trick of whispering to Savannah—by focusing a shield emitter just outside her ear at very low power—was really neat.

  Brenda had whispered: “We’ll be safer if we have two adults who care about us. Uncle Cal can’t be with both of us all the time—they might take away the bracelets.”

  This last part had upset Savannah, but understanding the intent, she had parroted it word-for-word—even mimicking Brenda’s delivery.

  It worked like a charm.

  Savannah was very pleased.

  —

  Having collected Maria, dropped off their horses, made the walk across town, and dismissed the escort, the Posse now stood in front of the Gateway.

  “So,” Cal said, “I don’t actually know the schedule for the gates.”

  The Admiral donned the grin he used when he was pleased with himself and pulled a small black rectangle from his pocket.

  It lit up with icons and symbols, but Cal didn’t get to see any of them—the Admiral’s practiced fingers flew through a few screens before shoving it back into his pocket.

  Above them, the SMC at the pinnacle of the Gateway began flickering, increasing in frequency at a steady, and slightly alarming, rate.

  A soft hum, one they now realized had always been there, was becoming—not louder—more intense.

  It wasn’t a sound. It was a thrumming in their chests.

  A vibration, with sound as a byproduct.

  Pure energy, increasing unimaginably fast.

  And now there was light, in the middle of the Gateway—about halfway up—coming from nowhere.

  If it were possible to see the source of the light, they would see a tiny pinprick in spacetime itself, slowly widening.

  Hurling photons of every wavelength, in every direction, at incomprehensible speeds, and rapidly growing.

  Then a critical mass was reached.

  In a flash of light—and an impulse of energy that threatened to tear you from existence for a moment so brief you weren’t sure it happened at all—the wormhole expanded.

  From the tiny, controlled version it was allowed to exist as for communication purposes, it became a massive gaping hole in the fabric of reality.

  It took up an entire city block, large enough for vessels capable of space travel to pass through.

  It thrummed.

  In front of it now, stood a handful of little apes. All but one wearing ridiculous hats.

  The apes were using this incomprehensible power to move from one insignificant rock to another—a little more conveniently than the universe had originally intended.

  The wormhole was blueish.

  And everything on the other side wiggled and stretched and deformed, like a reflection in a pool of mercury.

  Not that there was anything to see.

  Each Gateway could only connect to its original partner, so this one—like all the others—led to a hub on a Core World.

  And it was late.

  And this was an unscheduled opening.

  So all that was on the other side was a large, empty room.

  A waypoint.

  A place for people to pass through on their way somewhere else.

  Somewhere more important.

  Somewhere their future was waiting.

  —

  The Callahan’s—and perhaps soon to be Callahan—took a deep collective breath, received a reassuring nod from their newest friend, and stepped through the Gateway.

  Different was welcome—In small doses.