Confluence

by S. K. Dunstall

  The clerk assigning jumps sounded the same as the one in the Roscracian sector. “Please be aware requesting an immediate jump incurs a surcharge of 200 percent. You must—”

  “Confirmed and accepted as officer in charge,” the captain said. “Now send me the jump, or you’ll kill us all.”

  “Please use a thumbprint and retina scan to confirm that you are the authorizing officer.”

  “One hundred thirty,” Mael said. “One hundred twenty.”

  The ship disappeared.

  “One hundred ten. Ship has jumped.”

  “Captain, please use a thumbprint and retina scan to confirm you are the authorizing officer,” the clerk at the other end of the now-empty line five repeated.

  Ean blew on his hands, which were icy.

  “They jumped cold.” Kari Wang shivered. “Ean, swap us back.”

  Ean dutifully switched the two ships and breathed deep as he listened to the celebration around him. He should have insisted they trust the lines to jump them safely into Aratogan space. Then the first ship wouldn’t have been sent into the void, and the second wouldn’t have taken that desperate jump.

  Now they were stuck in the void forever. Ean had been in it long enough to know how horrible that was, and based on the condition of the original crew of the Eleven—stuck in stasis like the crew of the Balao—the aliens must hate it as much as he did.

  “Why did you send them into the void?” He used the sound for line nine because he didn’t know how to differentiate between the line that took them into the void and the void itself.

  “Void?” line one on the Eleven replied. “Not the void. We sent them.” What came through was the heavy strength of line six.

  “You used the void to flick them into line six?”

  “Not line six. This.”

  The second time around, Ean heard subtle changes in the sound. It was fainter, deeper, heavier. Stationary. He’d heard the sound on the Eleven back near Haladea III. He’d never been sure what it was.

  “Quick. Kind.”

  Bose Engines were mostly energy. Was the Eleven telling him it had flicked the first enemy ship into a massive energy source? Like a sun?

  Summers was relieved to see the Eleven back. “I wasn’t sure what happened there,” he said.

  “Some Gate Union ships tailing us.” Kari Wang glanced over to Ean, looked as if she would say something, then didn’t. “There are another three ships. We might need to jump again to eliminate them.”

  Summers nodded. “You will be back in time though?”

  “Yes. Currently on track to arrive in ten minutes,” Kari Wang said. “Any changes to our plan?”

  He looked bemused at that, as if wondering why she asked. “Negative.”

  That plan had been agreed to and valid five minutes ago. In that five minutes, they’d destroyed a ship full of people and lines, and forced another to jump cold.

  And no one but them had noticed. Ean shivered. He’d never get warm again.

  Kari Wang let her crew celebrate for another five minutes, then called them back to their tasks. She glanced at Ean occasionally but said nothing, although she did look at Bhaksir once, and incline her head toward Ean.

  Bhaksir came over and sat beside Ean. “Is there a problem?”

  “No,” Ean said. “Missing Radko, actually.”

  He didn’t know why he’d said it, but Radko’s absence was an ache that wouldn’t go away. He’d have given anything to have her nearby, even if she was making him do laps on the Lancastrian Princess when his throat was burning, and he couldn’t breathe. His throat was burning now, too, and he hoped Bhaksir wouldn’t ask him any more questions. He wasn’t sure he could answer.

  “Me too, Ean. Me too,” Bhaksir said.

  Wendell watched the boards carefully. “The third ship’s definitely slowing. So are the ones chasing us.”

  Two minutes later, all three jumped out, one after the other, at intervals of half a minute.

  “That’s one problem out of the way,” Kari Wang said. “I wish the ships around here would do that.” She looked at Ean. “Do I need to state the obvious? No shield here, or we’ll annihilate ships on our own side.”

  She hadn’t needed to state it, but Ean said, “Understood.”

  Kari Wang opened her comms to the whole ship. “Positions.”

  Line one echoed with the wave of anticipation and nerves.

  “Abascal, Dhalmans. Ready on the weapons?”

  “Ready, Captain,” from two different parts of the ship.

  Ean moved over to Mael. “Which ones are friends; which ones are foe?”

  Mael sang the IDs for the enemy first. “Here, here, here, and here. Enemy.”

  Ean sang them back to the ship. “Enemy. And the Aratogans?”

  Mael sang their IDs.

  Ean sang them back to the Eleven as well. “Friends.”

  He hoped the lines could distinguish between the terms.

  After which, they waited some more. War seemed to be one long wait, with tiny bits of action between.

  On the Lancastrian Princess, Abram was making tea for himself and Michelle. Captain Helmo wandered the decks, stopping occasionally to talk to crew. The lines were melancholy. They were melancholy on the Wendell as well. Captain Wendell was sitting—a rare still moment for him—staring at the screens as if he expected the enemy ships to jump out of the void again. Ean didn’t think he thought that at all.

  The only ship that had any real life was the Galactic News ship, where the engineer who’d been so animated two nights previously was animated again.

  “I tell you, Coop. We’re getting live news again. This time from the Aratogan sector.”

  And, of course, from Spacer Tinatin on the Eleven. “. . . Lady Lyan, and no one is happy about it because it means she’s trying to make Lancia back into the power it used to be back in the Alliance.”

  That news was only two hours old. Where was she getting it from?

  “Combat ship coming into range,” Kari Wang said, crisp and clear, making Ean jump.

  The whole ship seemed to brighten.

  “Abascal, Dhalmans. Are you ready?”

  “Ready, Captain.”

  “We’re ready too,” Tinatin said to Qatar.

  “We’re on the wrong side of the ship for fighting.”

  “But we’re still ready.”

  “Ready,” the ship echoed.

  “Fire on my command. Three, two, one, fire.”

  Line eight sang. Two twangs, and seconds later—it felt like hours—Abascal said, “Missile gone.” Dhalmans said the same, almost on top of her.

  Did the other ship realize they had fired? Ean sang gently to the lines on the other ship to find out.

  Yes, and they were firing rockets now, moving away. But the Eleven had fired first.

  “They’re taking evasive action,” he said. “And they fired at us.”

  “Calliope. Fire jets eighty-seven and eighty-eight. Five seconds on half thrust.”

  Calliope sang instructions to the ship, and the ship responded instantly.

  The Eleven’s missiles hit the enemy ship then. It bucked against the force.

  “Fire again, on my command. Three, two, one, fire.” Two more missiles headed toward the ship. The enemy ship’s own sudden, evasive acceleration turned it into their path. The ship lines jangled and stayed jangling.

  Ean clasped his fingers together, saw Kari Wang glance at them, and crossed his arms instead.

  “Weapons ready,” Abascal said, and Dhalmans, almost on top of her again. “Ready.”

  “Ready,” line eight echoed.

  Ready to pound other lines into oblivion. Then, that was what battles were for, and this was a warship.

  “Missile will pass fifty meters from port side,” Mael said. �
��And two vessels have broken away from the main fight, making toward us. Staying within two hundred kilometers of Aratogan ships.”

  “Acknowledged,” Kari Wang said.

  “Ready,” line eight sang again. A persistent tune under everything that was happening on the bridge.

  “Line eight is ready,” Ean said. “Ready to do what?”

  The answer that came back was quiet and blue and smelled like hot blood.

  “Not your green field.” They’d kill everyone within a two-hundred-kilometer radius, friend and foe.

  “Not the automatic defense system. The . . .” Quiet, blue, hot blood.

  “Ready to what?” Kari Wang asked.

  Use? Do? “The thing.”

  “That’s really helpful, Lambert. I need more information.” She opened the comms. “Those of you not at active stations, see if you can work out what Lambert’s talking about.”

  “It’s line eight,” Ean said.

  What questions would Radko ask?

  Is it a weapon? How do you use it?

  “How does it work?”

  In line eight’s song, the tune twisted and turned into a hot, blue ball.

  “I think it’s a weapon,” Ean said. “Can you fire at a specific ship?”

  “Of course.”

  “The GU Salvan has fired,” Mael said. “Two missiles, coming this way.”

  Kari Wang checked her boards. “Calliope. Fire jets eighty-seven and eighty-eight. Five seconds on full thrust.”

  “Can you fire at that one?” Ean made the sound for the GU Salvan.

  For a moment, they were in the void. Line eight released something, then they were out again.

  “Lambert. Do that again without my permission, and I will kill you personally.”

  A bright blue ball of flame engulfed the GU Salvan. The metallic smell of hot blood swamped Ean momentarily. The lines on the GU Salvan went dead.

  Ean put a hand to his mouth. Lives and lines, so easily wiped out.

  “And what did you do, anyway?” Kari Wang asked.

  The three single eights started cheering.

  “GU Salvan has been neutralized,” one of them—Boleslav—said.

  “How do you know this?” Kari Wang demanded.

  “Didn’t you see it, ma’am?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “There are no lines left alive on that ship,” Ean said.

  “Another missile leaving the GU Salvan,” Mael said. “And another. No, scratch that. Lifepods exiting.”

  At least something had come out of it alive.

  Ean watched the exiting pods while Kari Wang turned her attention to the next ship Summers had assigned her. “Can we do it again?”

  She had to stand right in front of him before he realized she was talking to him.

  “Can you?” Ean asked line eight.

  “Time. Wait.”

  “Not yet, I think.”

  “Let me know when it can.”

  Ean nodded and went back to watching escaping pods.

  The sounds of war went on around him. The Eleven destroyed another ship, and damaged two more. It was hit twice, neither time badly.

  “Ready,” line eight said finally.

  Ean took a deep breath.

  One of the Gate Union ships disappeared. It had jumped. Then another, and another. In five minutes they were all gone, scattered no doubt over the galaxy to whatever jumps they’d been assigned.

  Ean blew out his breath.

  Summers was all smiles over the comms. “Thank you, Captain. Your presence here routed the enemy. It was good to see you in action. Most impressive.”

  “We’re still learning the ins and outs of the ship,” Kari Wang said. “Once we know it, then you’ll see impressive.”

  The lines sang with pleasure. “You will.”

  Kari Wang patted the console, then called up the Wendell. “If we’re to jump together, I’d prefer to be closer. We know how much space we have to clear.”

  A lot, because Abram didn’t like the ships too close together. But at least Kari Wang was prepared to jump home cold. Although, really, when you had instantaneous communication between two sectors, and feeds from ships in the other sector, how dangerous was it? The jump took a millisecond, and you knew what was there.

  Even so, Ean was going to make good and sure the jump was a safe one.

  Afterward, while the Eleven made for its rendezvous with the Wendell, Kari Wang walked around the ship.

  “Walk with me,” she said to Ean.

  He wanted to sit and think, but he could tell from the lines that she’d insist if he didn’t. He trailed her out, and Bhaksir trailed him.

  Kari Wang stopped and talked to some of her crew close by. “Well done,” she said. They talked some moments, then moved on. As they moved off Ean noticed she listed slightly to the left. So the fight hadn’t been as easy as it looked. He was glad about that.

  “You should sit down,” he said.

  “I need to check my crew,” she said. “Was this your first fight?”

  “No.” He’d been in a battle before, back when he’d been with Orsaya on the shuttle, escaping from Markan. Kari Wang wouldn’t be satisfied with a no. She’d keep on at him until she got to the root of what she thought was the problem. All Ean wanted was to forget what had happened. “Today was . . . it was so easy to destroy a ship full of people. Normal people like you and me. And they didn’t have a chance. We just—”

  Either ship—the one they had destroyed with the green protective field or the one they had destroyed with the hot blue ball that no one but the eights had been able to see—and the Eleven was as bloodthirsty as its crew. But then, ship sentience came in part from its crew, so a warship would think that was right.

  “It makes you wonder what damage the aliens did to each other,” Kari Wang said.

  They knew what damage they did. Some ships looked as if they’d been bitten in two; on other ships, the lines were so bad Ean still hadn’t fixed them properly.

  “That weapon I couldn’t see. Does every ship have that?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll ask later.” When he could work out a way to formulate the question. Maybe he should approach each ship and ask it if it had one. “There is so much we don’t know.”

  Kari Wang stopped to talk to more crew. Ean waited, quiet beside her.

  After they resumed their walk, she said, “You did well today.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And it’s comforting to know that our leading linesman isn’t going to opt for the kill every time if he can help it.”

  EIGHT

  DOMINIQUE RADKO

  THEY HAD A two-room suite on the liner to Redmond. An outer room for Tiana Chen’s staff, and an inner room with a huge double bed that was bigger than Radko’s cabin on the Lancastrian Princess.

  The screen on the wall, tuned to a news channel, was as tall as she was.

  “I could get used to this.” Van Heel looked around the outer room with satisfaction. She settled onto a comfortable couch. “Toss me some fruit, Chaudry,” for Chaudry was inspecting the contents of the bowl on the table.

  “I don’t even know what most of it is,” Chaudry said.

  “I don’t care. Send some over.”

  “I need sleep,” Radko said. This was the third time zone, and third set of daylight hours she’d been awake for. “Stay in quarters. Do any prep you think you might need, but if I don’t get some rest, I’ll be useless.”

  She jerked awake when they turned up the sound. The first word she heard was “Eleven,” followed soon after by “alien ships.” She recognized the voice of the man being interviewed. Admiral Markan of Roscracia.

  Radko rolled out of bed and went to see what was happening.

  Markan looked calm, but Radko h
ad seen enough of him to know that underneath he was ready to blow.

  “It is only one ship,” Markan said. “It can’t be everywhere at once.”

  “But there are another 130 ships in orbit around Haladea III. And one of those is larger than the Eleven.”

  “Half those ships are damaged too badly to use. The rest have no crew. Including the Confluence. It will be months before they can use them. The war will be over by then.”

  “Even one ship can do massive damage, as we’ve seen.”

  The reporter had a Roscracian accent. It was the first time Radko had seen Markan put on the spot by his own people.

  “Of course it can,” Markan said. “But as I mentioned, it is only one ship. If it arrives at a battle, we know how to counteract it. We can simply jump away until the ship leaves, then come back. The New Alliance cannot get the jumps. Everything is under control.”

  “There is a rumor the alien ships don’t need jumps. That they can jump cold. What do you say to that?”

  Markan stared straight at the camera. “I say that is an absolute lie. Furthermore, if the New Alliance is jumping cold, they risk the lives of billions of people every time they do so. These are the monsters we are fighting.”

  “Sometimes I admire that man,” Radko said.

  Han gave her a strange look.

  She ignored it. “What happened?” but the screen had already changed.

  Filming a battle was difficult, for the distances were huge and ships relatively small. News crews deployed drones to a battle and used them to create composites, with the distances compressed. Hundreds of drones, tiny little mechanized cameras that clogged up the spaceways and could be more dangerous than incoming fire.

  “They deployed one of the alien ships,” Han said.

  She could see that. The Eleven loomed closer and closer, then suddenly it wasn’t the Eleven anymore.

  “They swapped with the Wendell.” That was the kind of thing Ean would do. Kari Wang would never switch ships like that, and Radko bet it had been a cold jump.

  “They swapped with the enemy,” Chaudry said. He looked as pleased as if he’d arranged it himself. “They planned that ship would be destroyed in place of them.”