“Quick response. Bet we startled them as much as they startled us,” Lin murmured. Her face remained calm and her gaze focused on the slowly changing stream of numbers moving up her board.
“Three minutes,” Ganfer said. Then, “Four minutes.” At the announcement of five minutes, Bain thought the muscles in his arms would break from tension. He had to force himself to let go of the edge of the control panel before he dented the metal and plastic with his grip.
“Greetings, Sunsinger, from the Leap-ship Estal'es'cai, flagship of the Leaper Sisterhood,” that familiar female voice said, speaking slowly. The enunciation on a few words was off, and she spoke slowly—but she did say the words in passable Commonwealth Standard. The use of Bain's mother language suddenly made the familiar voice sound alien.
“Well, we never expected that kind of response, did we?” Lin nearly whispered. She coughed and cleared her throat and sat up to lean over the board.
“We are pleased and greatly relieved to find starships in this universe again,” the woman continued. “Tell us, please—this Commonwealth you mentioned, does it exist in peace or at war?"
“Again?” Bain blurted. “They've been here before?"
“This universe,” Lin said. She stared at him. “Bain we think it's wonderful if we go from one galaxy to another and know where we are. These Leapers deal with universes."
“They speak our language. They've been here before. Lin, if strangers speaking our language had visited the Commonwealth before, wouldn't there be records?"
“No. They don't recognize the Commonwealth as a government, I think. A government that was current when they were here.” She swallowed hard. “I think they remember First Civ, whatever it was before the Downfall.” Lin suddenly slammed her fist against the control panel. “We have to answer them!"
“How?"
Lin shook her head. “Ganfer, open the channel again.” She took a deep breath. “Captain of the Estal'es'cai, I am glad to tell you the Commonwealth is at peace ... but not the peace that is only the absence of war. Our peace comes from freedom and safety.” She paused five seconds. “Cut that and send, Ganfer."
“Transmitted,” the ship-brain responded a fraction of a second later.
Two minutes and twenty-five seconds later, the response came back. With joy in her voice, the captain of the Estal'es'cai asked Sunsinger to wait, so the crews of the two ships could meet. Lin agreed.
“We'll stay right here,” she said, when the communication had been transmitted. “Turn Sunsinger so we have a straight line for escape and keep the engines at ready."
“You think we could still be in trouble?” Bain asked. He felt almost relieved that Lin wasn't accepting all this with a grin and foolish speed.
“Always expect to be in trouble and all your surprises will be pleasant ones.” She glanced down at the screen. Nearly half of the strings of numbers and data had vanished. “They've stopped transmitting altogether. I guess they found what they wanted."
“That could mean they're alone."
“It could.” Lin shivered, wrapping her arms tight around herself. “Bain, do you have any idea what this could mean?"
“A big mystery."
“Probably. But maybe answers, too. Remember what they said about being glad to find people in space again?"
“I thought you missed that part,” he admitted. “It means they were in space the last time people in this galaxy were in space. That's a long time ago, isn't it?"
“Bain, this could be a scouting party from more lost colonies. Near the end of the destruction of First Civ, things were so bad colonists set off with no real destination in mind. They just wanted to get far, far away. They didn't take the right equipment or personnel, but they were willing to risk everything just to escape. What if some of those colonies were able to hold onto spaceflight through all these centuries? What if they've come back to find out what happened to the people left behind?"
“They're worried whether we're at war or not,” he pointed out.
“I know. That's a pretty good point in favor of my theory. If they've held onto their technology all this time, they could be generations ahead of us in development. They could tell us things about the past that even the Order hasn't been able to find out or preserve."
“Don't you think we should talk to them, first?"
“Ha!” She leaned back in her chair and let out a few tired giggles. Soft though they were, they were enough to shake her whole body. “Talk to them ... did you notice how their captain seemed a little awkward with the language—like they know it, but they don't use it that much?"
“Maybe they never used it at all. What if it's a trap, Lin?"
“I don't think so. Something deep inside me says this is all for very much real. I think there's been a language drift—on both our parts. When the Commonwealth started rediscovering the lost colonies that make up the Conclave, we discovered language had drifted a little in only a few centuries. Check the really ancient manuscripts and you can find it happened just on Vidan. That's probably what happened here."
“Maybe we should ask them when they get here,” Bain said. “That'd be a good test for if they're friendly or not, won't it? If they have to think of an answer or they stall, that means it's a trick."
“They could have made up the answer a long time ago, knowing we would probably ask it,” she returned.
“Lin..."
“I know. I'm being a pessimist to keep from bouncing off the ceiling."
* * * *
“Visual capability,” Ganfer announced sixteen hours later.
“Put it on.” Lin's voice nearly cracked from excitement. She had ordered Ganfer to process every bit of data he could gather from the approaching ship, but not to show her or Bain what the ship looked like until they could see it with their eyes—no computer simulations or approximations.
Bain turned to the largest screen on the far wall and braced himself. He knew that if the Estal'es'cai had looked anything even remotely like a Mashrami ship, Ganfer would have warned them hours ago and they would have fled. All the power signatures were unfamiliar—a good sign, since he had come to know Mashrami power signatures on sight.
At first glance, he knew the Leaper ship was made to stay in space. No landing fins, no aerodynamic design for cutting through the atmosphere. She was long and sleek with a humped area near her nose and a slightly flattened tail and slight projections at regular intervals on her belly. She reminded him faintly of an eel, but there was nothing predatory about this ship. Lights glowed across her flanks, spangles of color. Bain didn't doubt some of those colors came from sensor arrays, studying Sunsinger just as intently as Ganfer had been studying the Leapers all this time.
“How do you like that pretty lady?” Lin murmured. She got up from her chair and floated over the control panel and hovered to one side of the screen, studying the Estal'es'cai as closely as she could.
“She's big, isn't she?” Bain finally said.
“Energy pulses which covered the ship and which denied sensors have reduced in the last hour,” Ganfer reported. “I read thirty-six distinct life-forms. All appear to be Human at this time. The back half of the ship holds no life-forms at all. Sensors show large amounts of machinery, most of it active at this time."
“I wonder if they can read through our Mashrami-proof shield plates?” Lin said. Bain doubted she was really talking to either him or Ganfer.
“Do you think all that machinery in the back is weapons systems?” Bain asked. He had to ask. Lin certainly wasn't asking the unpleasant questions that could save their lives.
“The power signatures do not match known configurations for power build-up for weaponry.” Ganfer paused. “This ship is an unknown design from an unknown people and technology. It is wise to assume anything we do not understand could be a weapon and to prepare against it."
“But don't ruin everything with paranoia,” Lin added. “Ganfer, we're pretty much at instantaneous transmission speed now, right?
"
“Perhaps a second or two of delay."
“Open channels."
“Ready."
“Estal'es'cai, this is Sunsinger. We have you on visual now."
“Greetings, Sunsinger, this is Captain Lorian K'veer,” the now-familiar voice responded. The woman certainly sounded cheerful enough, to Bain's ears. “I suppose you're having as much fun scanning us as we are having scanning you?"
“Quite,” Lin said with a chuckle.
“My scientist is curious, Captain Fieran—is your language the dominant language of your Commonwealth?"
“Pretty much. There might be a few dialectical variations, but we all understand each other. Even the Conclave speaks what we call Commonwealth Standard.” Lin frowned slightly at Bain, tilting her head to one side in a gesture that asked what he thought of the question. He could only shrug.
“The Conclave? Who is that? Are they another government in this universe?"
“The Conclave ... is a very long, awkward story. They're not exactly a government, but a peace treaty. The Conclave is a loosely aligned group of planets that agree to stay out of each other's business and respect the laws of each planet whenever they travel into each other's star system. They might even move to help another planet if it's to their profit. Other than that, it's every world for itself."
“The Commonwealth does not believe that way?” Captain K'veer's voice took on an intensity that excited Bain somehow.
“The Commonwealth believes that if one world suffers, eventually we all suffer. We stand together, or we will fall separately."
“Good. We are delighted to hear this ... and relieved. Leap-ships have wanted to visit this universe for several generations now, but we have been unsure of the safety conditions."
“Safety?” Bain muttered. He didn't think the speakers channeling Lin's voice to the other ship would catch his voice.
“We are traders,” Captain K'veer continued, “as you proclaimed yourself, Captain Fieran. We are not warriors in the traditional sense. We act only to defend ourselves."
“Your language, Captain,” Lin said. “Why did you need to know if ours was dominant?"
“We spoke your language many generations ago, before the Leap-ships decided to leave your universe and wander among the other dimensions. It is a tradition we have tried to keep strong, preparing against this day."
“I thought so!” she nearly crowed.
“Captain?"
“It's another long story, Captain K'veer,” Lin said with a chuckle.
“What does Estal'es'cai mean?” Bain broke in.
“That is my kinsman, Bain Kern,” Lin said. She crossed her eyes at him, but she didn't scold him for interrupting. “He is my apprentice and my heir."
“Greetings, Bain Kern,” Captain K'veer said. “In the language of the people who built her, Estal'es'cai means Starsong."
“Like Sunsinger, almost.” He felt like laughing a little.
“Exactly. Most propitious, don't you think?"
* * *
Chapter Four
For the next two days, the two ships hung in space about an hour's flight from each other, and the two captains talked, twenty or thirty minutes at a time, breaking for a few hours, then opening channels again. Bain thought the conversations wasted time, skirting the really important issues like how fast the Estal'es'cai could move, how powerful her defensive weapons were and where she was planning on going from this point in space. He was relieved the Leaper captain didn't ask how to get to Centralis or the strength of the Rangers and the Fleet.
Lin and Lorian talked about history, about navigating the stars, about politics, about how much energy and food it took to keep alive a crew of thirty-six in a ship that size. They learned the Estal'es'cai had an artificial gravity core and that a third of the people on board the ship were children. The Leapers were family-oriented; each ship belonged to their clan. Daughters inherited ships from their mothers, sons went to other ships, and genetic records were very strictly kept among the Leapers to avoid too-close breeding.
Ganfer continued to study the other ship, reporting any new conclusions or mysteries in those hours of quiet between the captains’ discussions. He couldn't read some of the power signatures of the Estal'es'cai. After nearly thirty hours of scanning and watching and analyzing reactions, Ganfer could only conclude that several of the power flows had something to do with protection. There were several layers of energy fields that wrapped around the ship whenever the engines flickered into life to keep the Estal'es'cai stationary in space. In a sense, the protective fields of energy were part and parcel of the engines.
Lin was openly envious of the ship. Bain didn't sense she was disloyal to Sunsinger, but he sensed a growing hunger in Lin to get on board the Estal'es'cai and walk the corridors, climb inside her access tubes and lift aside panels and study the ship's inner workings. If he could have given Lin a stack of schematics for the Leaper ship, Bain would have. He wanted to know the answers to the mysteries Ganfer couldn't probe, but not to the point of fascination that held Lin.
Captain K'veer hadn't said anything yet about what her crew wanted to trade with the people of the Commonwealth. That struck him as odd. If Leapers made their livelihood on trade, wouldn't they be in a hurry to get where there were plenty of people and start trading, and then go home and tell the other ships about the new market?
“Haven't you been listening?” Lin chided gently, when he finally spoke his doubts during dinner the second night. “Lorian is worried about safety. Her ship is the advance for the Leaper fleet. She's here to test the waters. And quite frankly, so am I."
“But Lin—” Bain stopped. He wasn't quite sure what to say without sounding stupid and childishly petty.
“You think I've been wasting time, talking about things that don't really matter, is that it?” She smiled and leaned back in the galley booth.
“I don't know,” he moaned. “Sometimes I think you're going to get into something really important, and then you just seem to step completely around it."
“Testing the waters. That's the operative word. We learn about each other, little by little. If something strikes us as wrong, we explore that area slowly. Nobody gets hurt, nobody gets upset or offended. I think it's fascinating."
“I think it's boring."
“You're action-oriented, Bain, no matter how well I've trained you to think things through. I spent most of my childhood confined to one place. The only way I could roam—and stay sane—was to train my mind to think in a thousand different directions at once.” She shrugged. “We're different, and different is good. Diversity keeps us strong and safe. Which, by the way, is my judgment of the Leapers so far. Safe."
“We don't even know why they call themselves Leapers. Is it even safe to ask?"
“I think it has something to do with their ship. Remember, they call it a Leap-ship."
“Leap what?"
“I don't know.” Lin shrugged. “We'll find out pretty soon, I think. We've nibbled at the edges long enough. I think we're going to hit the meat of the matter soon."
* * * *
“No,” Lin said laughing, late afternoon of the next day, “Centralis is just that—the spatial center of the Commonwealth.” She paused a moment, considering. “At least, it was the center of the Commonwealth when the asteroid was made habitable. Exploration and colonization haven't been exactly equidistant on all sides since then."
“An asteroid? Then what about—don't you have a homeworld where all Human life originated?” Captain Lorian asked.
Bain gasped and raised his head from his reading screen to look through the open door of his cubicle, across the bridge to Lin. She turned to meet his eyes, and nodded.
“We have a world that we believe is the home of all Human life. Remember I told you a few times about the Conclave? Our oldest histories say that centuries ago, there was a grand civilization spreading across several galaxies, but it degenerated and collapsed. The Conclave is made of the remna
nts of that civilization's colonies who managed to survive the Downfall. They remember being abandoned and attacked by the rebels who tried to capitalize on the destruction of the central government."
“And your Commonwealth?” the other woman prodded. “Where does it come from?"
“What we consider the homeworld emerged from the ashes of the Downfall and finally reached into space again. We have no real certainty if it is the homeworld, or just a planet-wide colony that survived and recovered faster than the others."
“Is it Vidan?” Captain Lorian asked, her voice almost dropping to a whisper.
Silence on the bridge. Bain felt himself trembling. Suddenly, he understood completely the hunger for knowledge that drove Lin—and the reticence that kept her satisfied with crumbs of information. This sudden break was almost too much to bear.
“Yes. How do you know Vidan?” Lin said. How she kept her voice gentle, neither excited nor frightened nor angry, Bain didn't know. He hoped he would learn that trick soon.
“It is an ancient story among us."
“How ancient?"
Captain Lorian laughed. There were catches and breaks in the sound.
“There is too much explaining, my friend. It could take years of talking and searching records, separating bedtime stories from historical fact. Suffice it to say, we have some common roots."
“You're survivors of the Downfall, aren't you?"
“Survivors? In a manner of speaking.” Lorian paused. The silence between the two ships had a deafening, heart-pounding quality to it. “More truthfully, our ancestors were refugees. We fled the government in that time because we ... we believed in freedom, and they believed in enslaving new races to protect the old races. Perhaps our disappearance contributed to the Downfall you speak of, or perhaps it was merely another symptom of the disease."
“Mutations?” Lin almost whispered.
“Ah, that old fear stays?” Her sigh came clear across the channels. “Enough talk, my friend. I think it is time we acted. Will you take us to Vidan—or would Centralis be the place to start? Call for an escort of your warriors, these Rangers you explained to me. Do anything you wish to assure we will be no threat to you."
Leap Ships [Sunsinger Chronicles Book 7] Page 3