"I see. Who are these, 'others'?" Dz4!bz sounded skeptical.
"Captain, I am very sorry, but if you do not know, you are probably not in that security compartment," Ariela replied. "All I can say is that there is another group of beings, currently in contact with both sides who wish us to become acquainted. If you are able to do so, I would recommend you send back to Shizzle at once for guidance on that matter."
"I shall take that under advisement, Lieutenant." There was a tinge of humor in the captain's voice. "In the meantime, what can I do for you? And may I congratulate you on your quite excellent command of our language?"
"I fear I cannot take credit for that," said Ariela, regretfully. "Our mutual friends are handling translations back and forth. But other than language, my government wishes to negotiate a pact of mutual amity between our peoples, as a starting point for more comprehensive treaties and agreements to come later. We have come to arrange this initial negotiation, if that can be done, to take place between appropriate parties at a time in the not-too-distant future."
There was another short pause.
"Perhaps you should come with us to Shizzle and treat there with a representative of our government," proposed Dz4!bz. "I can and will guarantee you safe passage there and back. If you have any knowledge of my people, you will be aware that my word is good on this; it would touch upon my personal honor should anything untoward happen to you while under my guarantee."
Ariela looked at Wolff and von Barronov, who again traded glances. Wolff looked back at her, and gave her a thumbs-up. Ariela pantomimed holding a glass, and drinking it, then pointed over her shoulder to the galley, and gave Wolff a quizzical look, which he returned with interest.
She sighed, said, "Wait one, Captain," and hit the mute button. "I would like to offer him a gift of the bottle of bourbon we received from Dr. del Toro," she explained.
"I would wait until we go there and return before you did that," Wolff counseled. "Make it a gift in thanks for a completed mission rather than a bribe up front for his good will."
"Ah, yes, thanks." She let up on the mute button. "Captain, we accept your offer with thanks, and will be pleased to follow you to Shizzle."
"It is a long way to travel," cautioned the captain. "It is nearly three hundred and fifty hours at our fastest translight speed."
Beam waved at her, and she muted the microphone again. "The translator is making the conversions for you, so it is actually three hundred and fifty of your hours," he said. "I just wanted to be sure you knew that."
"Thanks!" Ariela left up on the mute button. "Captain, allow me a few moments to consult with my superior officers aboard to see if there is anything we can do to speed that up."
The captain sounded surprised. "You are not in command?" he asked.
"No, sir," she replied, "my brief is the diplomatic mission. There are two majors aboard who are the pilot and navigator. The pilot," she smiled, "is my father."
"Ah, I see. Very well. I will wait while you consult. If we can get to Shizzle faster than fifteen days, that will make me a happy man. Proven in Battle, out, and listening."
"Frumious Bandersnatch out, and listening." Ariela turned to the two majors in question. "Is there any way we can snuggle up to them and rotate both vessels directly to the Shizzle system? Like you were talking about doing with the Chinese pirate ship."
"Wow," laughed Wolff, "you don't ask for much when you ask, do you? That's ship's a damn sight larger than the pirate."
"I thought it might be an interesting exercise, especially if we can show them something they don't currently have. I realize Yuz8!rfk has objections to handing that technology over, but perhaps two of you can convince them of the danger inherent in its irresponsible use." Ariela gave the two men her saintly smile.
Both of them erupted in laughter. "Okay, dear, dial down the voltage," chuckled Wolff. "We'll run some quick calculations and see if we can do it." He and von Barronov then turned to their consoles and holotabs, and started conversing in low tones.
Ariela looked at Beam, who said, "They will be able to do it. It will take a significant fraction of their drive's total capacity, but enlarging the field doesn't take that much more energy than running it at normal size. And besides, the singularity drive on this vessel is several times larger than it needs to be."
"Can you tell me something, Beam?" asked Ariela.
Beam considered, then smiled. "I can try."
"This, this Lion of God schtick. Is it baked into this timeline, and I'm fated to carry on with it for the rest of what is shaping up to be a very long life, or am I just naturally this way?"
"I suppose it's all how you look at it, my dear. Your nature is what it is because of everything that produced you converging at the time and place of your birth. Whether the timeline was programmed specifically to produce you, or it was mere happenstance that two particular strands of DNA got together to produce you, is a decision you have to take for yourself."
Ariela didn't look convinced. "But you know which timeline I came from, and its nature before it was repaired, many years after I was born."
"Indeed," Beam nodded. "But have you considered, even though your birth timeline was created in static mode, its history already pre-determined, it was still something your mother and your father – albeit your father from this timeline – set in motion themselves before your timeline split and became fully static?"
Ariela sat back, wide-eyed. "Er. No. But wouldn't I have been born in this timeline, if my mother hadn't been such a 'fraidy-cat and married this version of my dad?"
"It's difficult to say, but on initial consideration, I would have to say, 'no,' because there's no way to say that the particular sperm that met up with your mother's egg would have been the same one, with a load of DNA identical to the one that created you. It might not even have been the same egg." Beam looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued, "Given what I know about how your mother and father met in both timelines, I suspect your mother in this timeline would have been less inclined to marry your father as quickly as she did in your timeline. She did not have the benefit of the talk this version of your father," and Beam inclined his head at Wolff, still bent over the holotab, "had with your version of your mother."
"I see. That makes sense. She really did not like him at first in this timeline," agreed Ariela.
"No, she did not. I believe the phrase 'she looked at me like I was pond scum' was used to describe that first meeting," grinned Beam.
Ariela grinned back. "So, what you're saying is, regardless of the pre-programmed nature of my birth timeline, there was a great deal of random chance thrown in at the start, and I am what I am due to what amounts to a random throw of the dice . . . just one that happened several years before I was conceived."
"Correct." Beam toned the grin down to a grandfatherly smile, and said, "Does that make you feel better, along with what your Dr. del Toro told you?"
"What?"
"Oh. I am sorry – there is no privacy at all in our, er, business. I should not have made that reference, yes?"
"No! No, you're right," realized Ariela. "I am who I am because of many choices that were made before I or my timeline ever existed. After the timeline was repaired, it's clear I was never an automaton, going through pre-programmed motions; I really did have the mind Dr. del Toro says I had, and still do. So I must also," she concluded, "really have the abilities that make me a natural diplomat and, er, damn it, saint – to the way of thinking of certain people, anyway."
Beam smiled again, very gently. "I believe you will find, my dear, that your abilities in the realm of personal and diplomatic relations make you an object of veneration, religious or otherwise, to more than just certain people."
Ariela rolled her eyes. "It's a curse I'll have to bear, I guess."
"Don't your people usually say, 'cross'?"
"Christians do. I'm not a Christian."
"I see. But, far from being a curse, it seems your sainthood has the po
tential to bring great blessings, if your earlier exploits in that realm are any indication."
"Perhaps," shrugged Ariela. "It's the constant need to deal with my adoring fans when I'm in public, though. I had to hire a team just to deal with the mail – in both timelines. I have to disguise myself just to go to the mall, or to get a cup of coffee at a restaurant. And somehow they still figure out it's me, and I end up having to bless everyone before they'll leave me alone."
"You have something of an aura," said Beam. "I doubt you're aware of it, and your admirers likely don't see so much as feel it, and are thereby drawn to it. But it is noticeable."
"Got it," said Wolff, abruptly, as he and von Barronov both looked up from their holotabs and took a stretch. "Ari, call the captain back and tell him this is what we need to do . . . "
Chapter 11
Rotation Ain't All It's Cracked Up To Be
"Are you sure this will work?" crackled the voice of Captain Dz4!bz, over the radio link.
Wolff and von Barronov were outside the ship, working to tie the Frumious Bandersnatch down to the topside of the Proven in Battle. Beam, saying the longer he stayed, the harder it was to wake up back home, had bid the team goodbye, and translated back to his own realspace body just before the two majors suited up and went EVA.
Thus Ariela had been left to talk to the Xzl5!vt captain, and smooth over any issues that might arise. She was finding that fairly easy; the captain was happy to chat and clearly had a strong interest in the rotation capabilities of the singularity drive.
But he was still a little nervous about the humans' little ship and its ability to transfer his rather large cruiser across the 300 light years to his home system.
"Captain," replied Ariela, gently, "about twenty years ago, they used this very ship to alter the orbit of an asteroid that was predicted to collide with Earth on its next close approach, about twenty years from now. That asteroid was about twelve hundred feet in diameter and weighed about twenty-seven million metric tons. It's now sitting in Earth's L5 point, being mined and turned into a space habitat. They used a similar method of rigging to hold the ship down to the asteroid's surface while they applied power to slow and maneuver it. The current situation differs only in that we're going to rotate both ships together, rather than apply power to slow both vessels. This should be easily within the ability of the overpowered drive and warp field aboard the Bandersnatch. It might not be strictly necessary to tie the two ships physically together, but my father – Major Wolff – and his associate, Major von Barronov, believe strongly in what they call the 'belt and suspenders' approach. Did that concept translate adequately?"
The captain chuckled. "Indeed it did, Lieutenant. We have a cognate of whatever you just said in your language, but if I were to utter it, I suspect you'd just hear 'belt and suspenders' on your end."
Ariela laughed. "And so I did, Captain."
"My gunner is simply unhappy two of his topside barbettes are out of action because they are being used as anchors. I believe we can conciliate him to this when he is able to speak to his family in real-time, once we return to Shizzle orbit, without a two-week warp journey there and back. In the meantime, I have no idea what his crews would be shooting at; our guns have not been fired in anger since the ship was completed and placed in commission. There has simply not been anyone to use them against; pirates tend to give way quickly when we loom up next to them, and other, non-piratical miscreants have a similar reaction."
"Ah, so you thought us pirates at first?"
"It was mooted by command staff, and we decided to try a low-power tickle just to get your attention, since normal radio channels weren't yielding any results. We were rather taken aback when your ship disappeared and we detected an exit shock nearly fifty light-hours away."
The ship shuddered slightly. Ariela knew it was Wolff and von Barronov re-entering the airlock and closing the outer hatch. "Captain," she said, "I hate to break this off, but the majors have come back from their EVA, and I need to help them with their suits."
"Very well, Lieutenant. We will be here when you get back. Proven in Battle, out and listening."
"Frumious Bandersnatch, out and listening." Ariela tore off the headset and went back to the airlock, where Wolff and von Barronov were, in fact, returning to the ship. They waved her back, though, as they stepped into the ship proper, and shut the inner hatch before they cracked open their helmets.
"The suits are really cold," explained Wolff, "and you'd get a nasty ice burn if you touched any of the metal parts or, really, even any of the canvas parts. We need to warm them up for a few minutes before we get out of them."
Indeed, Ariela could feel the cold "radiating" from the suits as the ship's air circulators moved air past them. "Thanks for the warning," she said, with a smile. "First time you've gone EVA while I've been aboard."
Wolff grinned. "We try like the dickens to avoid it. Sometimes, we can't."
"I hate these suits," groused von Barronov, "but they're what NASA and SpaceX had back in the late '20's, and they're what Space Force still uses for short EVAs and for walking around on the Moon and Mars. Nobody really goes outside in space or no-atmo anymore, except dockyard people and surface construction workers – and they don't wear these suits."
"What suits do they use?"
"Special hullmetal armored construction suits," replied von Barronov. "They have to be radiation-proof, in case of solar flares, and they also have to be a little more tough to ward off micrometeorite hits."
"And hits from orbital space trash," grunted Wolff. "They're almost miniature spacecraft in their own right. These do have hullmetal mesh woven in with the canvas, and of course the helmet faceplates are aliglass, so they're okay for short exposure and they'll ward off most of the small stuff. But they're not really the right thing for what we just did."
"Why don't you have the armored suits, then?"
"Good question, but the answer is simple – we can't fit two of them in the airlock at the same time, and don't have anywhere to store them once we get them inside." Wolff pointed down at the floor. "There's a stowage compartment right there that both of these suits fit in, after we scrunch them down and get most of the air out of them. Can you pull that cover up?"
Ariela pulled the cover up – it was heavy, and she thanked the workout regime that had turned her into something of a hardbody after her first dose of nanos, years ago – and locked it into place while the two men clambered out of their suits. Luckily, the suits were made such that the wearer could wear an MCCUU underneath, so she didn't have to avert her eyes. The three of them worked together at scrunching each suit down to as small of a lump as possible, and dropped them, side by side, into the stowage compartment. The helmets went in last, then the cover was eased back into place and latched closed.
"I need coffee," declared Wolff.
"I'd not turn down a cup," agreed von Barronov.
They looked at Ariela.
"Do I look like the coffee girl? Make your own damn coffee," she laughed.
The two men developed broad smiles. "Second Lieutenant, there is another missing piece of your education as an officer that you seem to be in need of," replied Wolff. "That is: The junior officer always makes the coffee."
Ariela glared, then snapped to attention. "Aye, aye, Major," she said, without saluting (they were indoors, of course). "Would the Major prefer his coffee black?"
"Black as the look you're giving me," agreed Wolff, with a grin.
"Major von Barronov?"
"Same, Lieutenant, and thank you."
Ariela started to turn to the galley.
"Ari," said Wolff, gently.
She turned back to him, eyes flashing.
"While I'd like to say we're kidding, we're not," he said. "This is the way of the Corps. If you were a man, it would be no different. Junior officers always do the scut work. If you plan to remain in the Space Force Marines, this is the kind of shit duty you're going to be thrown by superior officers –
who will rarely again, if ever, be either Chris or myself."
"I didn't get a choice!"
"But you did. You did not have to accept the commission and swear the oath. I saw the look in your eyes when you did – you wanted that so bad you could taste it. And I know you know better about military life – you grew up with a Marine for a dad."
"Well . . . "
"Not a gunnery sergeant, of course, but a sergeant nonetheless."
"Well . . . "
"That's a fairly deep subject, dear, and I, being exhausted from a pain in the ass EVA, with nanos being about all that's keeping me on my feet, would really like a cup of coffee before I collapse."
Ariela looked contrite. "I'm sorry, Daddy. Major Daddy. You're right. Go sit," she said, "I'll make your coffee. And Major Uncle Chris's."
"Thanks, hon. Lieutenant hon." Wolff grinned again.
The three of them performed the little dance required for the men to get past Ariela at the galley, then the two of them went to their seats and fell gratefully into them.
"That was hard work," yawned von Barronov.
"Yeah," grunted Wolff. "It was easier than when we moved Apophis, though. We had to tie us down around the whole damn asteroid because we were kinetically slowing it. For this, I just don't want us floating away when we rotate. Mostly because I have no idea what would happen if we did while in the middle of the rotation. But theoretically, we ought to stay exactly in the same place, relative to each other, through the process."
"Better safe than sorry."
"Ayup."
"Belt and suspenders," said Ariela, playfully, as she brought the coffee forward and handed it to the two majors.
"What?" said Wolff, absently, as he took the cup and sniffed the aroma. Perfect.
"Turns out both we and the Shizzle have the same concept."
"Not surprising," replied von Barronov, after he took a sip. "I imagine they have a similar need to keep their pants or whatever they wear up. From what Bob told us, they're lizards, yes, but still built on a bilateral symmetry plan similar to humans. In order to bend at the waist, they'll have to be shaped a lot like us through the torso and hips." He took another sip. "I suspect we'll find most sentients in trunk lines near ours to be similar to us. Other trunks will likely have had differing design imperatives, depending on which Guardian races set them up."
The Lion and the Lizard Page 14