Big Important Meeting 2 was being attended by Callan, Savannah, and Sierra Callahan, the Admiral, and the XO, all from the Sol.

  Two Commanders from frigates.

  Two Captains (by rank), one from a Battleship.

  The other from a ‘support intelligence vessel’.

  The second one was the only officer with no ship or station name on his uniform, Cal noted.

  And his name tag was just his rank, “Captain SIV”

  Seemed dramatic.

  All the Captains—he knew anyone with command of a ship, regardless of rank, was referred to as Captain—were from The Second Fleet.

  Even the SIV Captain wore The Second Fleet logo.

  A lion—extinct Cal thought, might as well be a dragon—protecting a star.

  It was all yellow embroidery, or looked like it at least, so presumably a yellow star.

  Presumably Sol.

  There was a number 2 on the face of the star—partially obscured behind the lion.

  Ensuring the lion was the focal point.

  Lastly there were four politician-types with entourages far larger than they could possibly need. The politician-types were taking seats at the table.

  The followers sat themselves in the chairs along the walls.

  -

  Sierra came waltzing in, salt and swagger, and shot her Uncle a dirty look—I was ordered here—she thought at him.

  Savannah followed behind a few steps later and smiled broadly at the room.

  Everyone began taking seats.

  -

  Savannah found the nearest chair when she realized it was time to sit.

  One of the chairs along the wall, near the door.

  Sierra sat herself down right at the end of the table—in one of the chairs nearest where the oval tapered to an end.

  You ordered me here—she thought at the room.

  I’ll sit where I want.

  What is that smell—

  -

  Callan knew Cecil was angry and frustrated.

  And he reminded himself of that when she walked through the door.

  When she glared at him.

  And when she chose a chair she knew wasn't meant for her and glared at everyone else—daring them to say so.

  He loved her very much.

  That gave him more patience than he was normally capable of.

  But the attitude was getting old.

  It had been over a week.

  And this was her own fault.

  -

  One of the politician-types was a scientist and was representing the Department of Technology Advancement. A wing of the government specifically dedicated to pushing humanity forward technologically.

  Responsible for the Gateways and all SMCs.

  Including the pair powering the Sol.

  Cal overheard him saying the Department was going to be renamed soon to incorporate its new mission regarding alien technologies.

  Cal thought it was dumb to rename the department.

  And would cost a lot of money in signs.

  -

  Two of the others were from the Department of Defense.

  One was the Secretary of Defense.

  He was accompanied by a woman who did not introduce herself, and was not introduced, but wore the uniform of a Naval Lieutenant Commander.

  She and the Admiral had been speaking quietly for some time before people began choosing seats.

  Except for the badge that said “Executive Officer: Sol” —which she lacked—her uniform was identical to the XO’s.

  He was here too, of course—he and Cal exchanged polite nods when he arrived but didn’t speak.

  He had been talking to someone, a lackey to one of the politician-types, on the far side of the room when the girls arrived.

  The Admiral was taking his seat now.

  Next to the last politician-type who was from the newly created ‘Chromaphor Ambassadorial Group’.

  Not a permanent thing apparently—just something for First Contact.

  ***

  If there was one thing Cal and Sierra agreed on—wholeheartedly—it was that being bored was a form of torture.

  Sierra regularly tried to contend it was worse than sleep deprivation, but Cal wouldn’t even engage in the debate.

  Just said “No, it’s not.” and moved on.

  The first hour of the meeting was tedious.

  Mostly discussions about timetables and protocols and procedures.

  Eventually Sierra couldn’t take it any more and spoke the first time she heard a full second of silence—she had no idea what they were discussing—she had been planning revenge on Hermes for at least ten minutes now.

  “Why am I here?” The sound of her own voice surprised her, but it was done now so she continued, “I’d kinda rather go scrape brown.”

  Most of the room looked deeply puzzled.

  Cal shot her a firm—but not overly harsh—glance.

  He was sympathetic.

  He would also kinda rather go scrape brown.

  If you didn’t think about the drones at least you felt productive.

  -

  The room turned to her.

  So, naturally, Sierra picked the scariest looking guy, the one whose name tag just said Captain—no way that's your name—and returned his attention with equal intensity.

  The Admiral, for his part, smiled at Sierra—then at the young woman in the Lieutenant Commander uniform—then at Savannah, as he beckoned her over.

  Gesturing to the chair beside her sister.

  Savannah was very—very—annoyed that her sister had been correct to take that seat.

  But all the same she joined her, as indicated.

  “Many of us have children,” the Admiral began with a chuckle. “I think we can all agree, especially considering this is their first trip offworld—that they have shown great patience.”

  Most of the room gave the girls polite smiles and nods.

  Savannah carefully returned them.

  Captain No-Name—who had, eventually, broken eye contact with Sierra—didn’t smile or nod, Sierra noted.

  So she glared at him.

  Somewhere, way in the back, a little voice said, “Why are we angry at him?”

  Sierra ignored the stupid voice.

  It was clearly not paying enough attention.

  She had reasons.

  Good ones.

  -

  The Admiral continued, his tone gently shifting from warm to serious; a transition skill he practiced when he used to read his own speeches in a mirror—long ago—when he thought people listened when you gave a speech.

  “As you have all been briefed, the young ladies and their father made initial contact with the Chromaphors through a diplomatic AI that was installed in the ship sent to make contact—which suffered some kind of failure and crashed.”

  “The shipboard AI, among other things, transferred itself into a portable storage device and requested the Callahan's to assist it in making contact with the Republic.

  We are grateful that they did so, promptly no less.”

  A smattering of awkward applause, most people just did the smile and nod thing again, picking the girls or Cal—seemingly at random—to focus their attention on.

  Most of them picked Cal—Sierra rolled her eyes.

  But only internally.

  Things with Uncle Cal had been tense, she wasn’t going to push too hard, and he didn’t like eye rolls— ‘bOrDerS On DisReSpEct’.

  Sierra wrinkled her nose.

  Cal’s glance briefly crossed Cecil and he immediately knew she was being a smartass in her head.

  That was allowed—

  As long as it stayed in her head.

  -

  The Secretary of Defense now spoke, “While we do appreciate the Callahan’s endeavors—” his eyes swept over them, “I am still baffled by the decision to award the devices to the children, and have found no explanation for that—at all—in the debrief. Surely someone has asked this question.”

  Sierra and the XO’s gazes were locked on one another—for the two of them—no one else existed.

  The XO blinked first—deciding to browse some papers in front of him.

  Cal was aware of the interaction—having also instinctively become bristled and looked to the XO.

  Savannah didn’t move her chair, that might make noise—but she did move herself within it—further from her sister.

  The Admiral quickly took control of the conversation, “There really is not an explanation worth documenting—The girls found the devices within the ship and equipped them—rash, as children are known to be—and Brenda has since explained that the devices, intended of course for adults, have a mental component that the children haven’t been able to master.

  Brenda has also assured us that the girls will eventually be able to remove the devices freely.”

  “And we trust Brenda?” the Secretary asked.

  Brenda answered, “It would, of course, be foolhardy to offer me trust so quickly. I request only tolerance and patience until such time as I have earned trust. We are very close to First Contact, which was the purpose for which I was created.

  I would offer that nothing I have done, or encouraged others to do, has shown any hint of motivation outside the completion of my mission and adherence to near universal standard protocols—such as protecting the military equipment I was assigned to.”

  “If you have specific concerns you do not need to hesitate for fear of offense. I am a diplomat and a Constructed Sapient, I do not take offense.

  Please—it would satisfy my protocols to answer any questions I can.”

  No one spoke, so the Admiral did, “We’ve debriefed Brenda—over the last week, with Savannah’s assistance and cooperation—as extensively as she seems willing to be debriefed by us.

  Remaining questions have been met with simple replies indicating she cannot tell us more until we formally make First Contact and she receives permission to do so.

  Direct recordings of those debriefs—barring the first one at the Callahan Ranch—were attached with your packets and can be made available again at your request.

  Honestly, Ladies and Gentlemen, there really isn’t anything else to be done or discussed until we meet with the Chromaphors.”

  -

  “What are we planning to do about the devices—when they become removable—and until then?” The SIV Captain, the one with no name.

  “The devices have been in the care of the Callahan’s since their discovery and seem to be in good hands. We have, of course, been monitoring their movements since we became aware.”

  The Admiral gave an apologetic look to Cal and added a bit more than he would have normally, by way of explanation:

  “Nothing intense, but general monitoring of the borders of their ranch and drone tracking of their location when they left it.”

  It wasn’t personal—it was orders—and common sense.

  The Admiral still felt a little bad.

  Cal understood.

  It made sense.

  And he’d kinda figured.

  He was still a little pissed.

  Savannah was trying to remember if she’d done anything embarrassing they would have seen.

  Ugh.

  The thing when she tried to jump off the barn—like her asinine sister—and hesitated at the last second.

  Falling-sliding down the wall and into the horse's water trough.

  She cringed.

  He said they were watching the borders.

  I didn’t really go anywhere.

  They didn’t see that.

  Sierra was livid—

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Spies!

  Spies and bullies!

  And liars!

  They want my bracelet!

  Try and take it!

  Her strong hand subconsciously twitched toward the gunk scraper in her holster.

  Why did she bring the gunk scraper?

  —That was the smell!

  -

  “Yes,” Captain No-Name was saying. “I am aware, but obviously the devices will not remain with the children long term—and I am not comfortable with them simply wandering about the Republic wearing them—Especially the one with the AI in it.”

  “Oh!” Sierra snapped, “Is that why I’m here? So you can ask for the bracelet?

  No.

  Can I go now?”

  Cal really did relate strongly to his youngest at times.

  Sierra didn’t check Uncle Cal—but the Admiral’s amusement was greatly subdued compared to the hoped for reaction.

  Everyone was just looking at her the way grown ups always look at a kid who thinks they have a right to an opinion.

  Fuck these assholes, Sierra thought.

  “You can’t take it from me—Brenda said so. Even when I can take it off—Which. I. Cannot.—I won’t give it to you—and you can’t take it—so we’re wasting everyone's time.”

  -

  The XO knew he should speak.

  That was, in fact, his job.

  Not only that, it was the part of his job he secretly—he thought—liked most:

  Wielding the authority of The Admiral—on his behalf—of course.

  But he was tired of this family—and The Dangerous Little Girl in particular.

  And the XO had finally made some inroads with the big guy and his partner.

  Who his Admiral—err–the Admiral—was so fond of.

  So he wasn’t going to get involved today.

  He’d nearly been shot, twice, by this kid.

  He’d done his part.

  She could keep her stupid fucking bracelet as far as he was concerned.

  She’ll probably lead a revolt and take over the Republic.

  But he was absolutely not letting her become his problem again.

  No matter what.

  So the XO carefully avoided eye contact with the room.

  Flipping through the debrief he didn’t need to read—because he had written it.

  -

  Captain No-Name was genuinely impressed by this child’s ability to hold his gaze.

  It was honestly a little unnerving.

  Were you supposed to say something?

  Engage this child in mutual combat?

  He did not have children.

  Captain No-Name opened his mouth to speak, but the surprisingly intimidating little girl spoke before any sound emerged—

  “Nope,” Sierra spat at him, never blinking.

  The Admiral was watching, deciding when to get involved.

  The Secretary tried his luck “Miss, I understand—”

  “No.” Sierra interrupted again.

  “I already knew some adult was going to come and tell me I had to give it to them.

  I knew it before we left the ship.

  I knew it when you came to the house.

  I knew it all the way here.

  And the answer is no.”

  “Ms. Callahan—Sierra—” the Admiral began.

  “Excuse me!” Sierra’s tone was sharp.

  “You have been very nice to me, but I would like to finish.

  And it will save time anyway.”

  Sierra offered this man—who she liked—a rare courtesy.

  She paused for him to reply.

  The Admiral nodded.

  “You can’t take it.

  Brenda told us—and we messed with it some.

  You can’t take it off me if I don’t want you to.

  And you can’t make me want to—cause it knows.

  Coercion or whatever.

  We can go wherever we need to go together.

  We’re not busy.

  We came here when you ask—I followed orders.

  So the only problem is that I have it—and you don’t think I should.

  Tough luck kiddo.”

  The Admiral glanced at Savannah, who was staring at her sister.

  She cut her eyes to meet him, blushed slightly at the idea of speaking that way to authority, and broke eye contact.

  She wasn’t giving them hers either.

  -

  Sierra crossed her arms and wrapped it up.

  “I’m not giving it to you and I’ll fight you if I have to—I bite—fair warning.”

  The Admiral grinned.

  The woman in the Lieutenant Commander Uniform also grinned.

  The rest of the room stared at the little girl—or spoiled brat, depending on who you ask—in silence for a moment.

  Before they began turning to Callan.

  Callan picked Captain No-Name’s gaze to return—as his daughter had.

  “I’ve talked to her about the biting,” Cal shrugged.

  The man did not seem amused. “You do understand that we can remove the devices from them through extreme means—if our hand is forced—but the first step would simply be to lock you all in the brig until you cooperate.”

  “You can try!” Sierra’s voice shot out, filled with venom.

  -

  Brenda, for the first time since Cal and the girls had met her, did not sound like a calm, friendly, infinitely patient, customer service agent.

  Or a robot reading a script.

  She sounded firm, authoritative, maybe a little angry—just a little.

  “Those options may not be as readily available to you as you believe them to be.

  None of you are fully aware of the purpose, capabilities, or even original intent of these devices.

  Nor are you aware of my capabilities from within the device.

  Threatening my friends—children I would remind those gathered—is a mistake.

  And risks great damage to the relationship I was sent here to facilitate.

  Do not do so again.”

  An investigation by the XO and head of engineering would not find anything—when logs were reviewed later—and the Admiral would have to inform them he disabled the AI’s access to the room on orders from the Secretary; it would not be helpful.

  So no one would ever know why.

  But the lights flickered.

  Very briefly.

  Savannah loved Brenda.

  Sierra kinda loved Brenda too.

  Cal was very—very—conflicted.

  —

  It was decided that, for the moment, the status quo would remain so.

  Cal and the girls would remain on the Sol.

  Under the very watchful eye of its AI, its Admiral, its XO, a random spaceman who had been walking down the hall that first day and was very disappointed to become a babysitter, Brenda, Maria—who the Chef would also keep an eye on—and one-another.

  At least until the Chromaphors arrived and could clear some things up—or give Brenda permission to do so.

  The Callahan’s—and most of the various entourage members—were dismissed early; thanked for their time, and asked to leave.

  Cal didn’t know what they could possibly still need to talk about after two hours in there—Oh.

  He realized.

  Us.

  ***

  He stood in the doorway to her bedroom.

  She seemed very small on the bed meant to host military aged adults.

  And she looked tired.

  -

  Callan Callahan had never struck a child.

  Well—once.

  When he first got the girls—when Vannah’s behavior issues were at their peak—he had lost his temper with both of them.

  Pulled them up from where they were sitting on the floor, having a shared tantrum.

  Swatted each of them once on the butt.

  Told them to go to their rooms.

  It had been a mistake.

  It hadn’t been hard.

  It wasn’t about pain.

  It was about trust.

  He had made a terrible mistake.

  He had seen men whose children—or animals—or partners—didn’t trust them.

  Flinched when they reached for them.

  Never again.

  Never–Ever–Again.

  -

  But he did threaten it a lot.

  He was very big, and his daughters were very small.

  Over the years, comedy about physical violence between them had become a running gag.

  Sierra—especially—initiated and engaged in it frequently.

  Her favorite bit was Cal threatening to hurl her through the wall.

  Just pick her up and chuck her.

  He had done it—onto the couch or the bed—many times.

  But always carefully, gently, and with preparation.

  The idea of him just hurling her outside—leaving a Cecil-shaped hole in the wall—made them both laugh.

  So this wasn’t the first time Callan had ever threatened violence against his daughter.

  But it was the first time he ever meant it.

  And they both knew it.

  -

  “If you ever point a gun at a person for no reason again, I will knock you unconscious—just like I did that sonofabitch in our kitchen.

  You will wake up disarmed.

  And you will never have a weapon—of any kind—in my presence again.

  Are we clear?”

  Sierra met his gaze.

  Steady.

  Held.

  No trace of defiance.

  “Yes, Sir.

  I’m sorry.”

  Cal nodded.

  Terms had been set and accepted.

  Time to move on.

  -

  Cal took a deep breath, forced his body to relax, shoulders to ease down.

  And then he crossed the room and sat on the bed beside his youngest daughter.

  So small next to him that you wouldn’t have been able to see her at all from the other side of Cal.

  “Why?” He wanted to ask more—give her outs—were you scared, angry, lapse in judgement?

  All the things he’d been asking himself.

  But you didn’t do that, you had to wait, let them find an answer.

  So Cal waited a bit, while she decided what to say.

  And then she burst into tears.

  And he wasn’t sure what to do.

  Fortunately, she had some things to share.

  “He said he was going to take us!

  He came in our house with men with guns and said they were going to take us!

  I didn’t know who he meant!

  All of us!?

  Just me and Vannah!!?

  Where!!!?

  Forever!!?!!!”

  And then sobbing became too much for her to keep going right now.

  -

  Cal felt incredibly stupid.

  He had seen that night as—Fuck—Heroic.

  They saved themselves.

  The planning paid off.

  The men left.

  They went outside and bled off the adrenaline in a fun evening.

  And then slept hard.

  Right?

  -

  Sierra had not slept hard.

  Sierra had not slept well in a while.

  Sierra almost had to kill a man—she truly believed.

  He didn’t put his hands up.

  Or run.

  He turned on her.

  And his face was so so scary.

  He was going to hurt her.

  He was going to kill her.

  She was going to have to shoot him first.

  “And then—And then—You sent me to the stupid closet—with Vannah! and Maria—like a BABY!”

  -

  I am a terrible father.

  I was never supposed to have this job.

  How the fuck do I fix this?

  “Cecil, pumpkin, I’m so sorry.

  You did so good that night.

  I was so relieved we were all safe.

  I never thought about—I’m so sorry Cecil.”

  And he hugged her.

  And they talked.

  And cried.

  And talked.

  And eventually she fell asleep.

  So Cal tucked her in.

  And went to find Maria.

  And told her what happened.

  -

  Maria promised to check in with Cecil regularly.

  To keep an eye on her.

  To talk.

  Cal had never been so grateful for another adult.

  And then he cried some more.

  And Maria let him.

  And reassured him.

  And eventually he fell asleep.

  So Maria tucked him in.

  And went to check on Cecil.

  Then Vannah.

  Her family was all asleep.

  So she went to bed too.