Confluence

by S. K. Dunstall

  He could feel Sale’s disapproval right through his bones but ignored it.

  “Allow me to introduce you to the Xanto linesmen.” Trask moved over to where four soldiers stood at attention. “Spacer Thomas Peacock, Engineer, currently stationed on the Foundation.” Peacock had six bars under his name. “Group leader Lina Vang, currently part of our own training team at Xanto barracks.” Vang also had six bars under her name. “Spacer Alex Joy, also of the training department.” Joy had no bars under his name. “And team leader Nadia Kentish, from the Elysium.” Likewise, no bars.

  “I’m delighted to meet you,” Ean said. “I look forward to seeing you all at line training.”

  Kentish’s stare back at him was more of a glare. Ean and Fergus had planned on splitting the linesmen into smaller groups for future training. They’d already worked out the groups, and they’d put Kentish under Hernandez. Maybe they should rethink that. Two strong personalities might clash.

  Who would have thought, twelve months ago, that juggling people based on how well they got on with other people would be part of Ean’s job description?

  He said, half to Trask, half to the trainees, “We’re putting the initial batch of trainees on the Gruen.” It had worked last time, and it would get them used to being on line ships while he, Ean, still had control of the ship.

  “So I hear.” Trask looked at the soldiers. “Dismissed.”

  They marched out. Ean was glad to see Sale, and Captain Auburn—from Orsaya’s staff—intercept them at the door and lead them down to a smaller room, where they could wait for their admiral in comfort.

  “Can I offer you a drink? Tea?” Ean asked.

  “A whiskey would be nice.”

  What did he do about that? He looked at Bhaksir, standing on guard with Hana, Gossamer, and Ru Li. Bhaksir tapped something into her comms.

  “Please, won’t you sit down,” Ean said, before the wait got too long.

  Trask sat. “So what level do you think the two singles are?”

  The admiral hadn’t given them a chance to speak. “I won’t know until I hear them sing.”

  Trask nodded. “They have a choir on the Elysium. They put on two concerts a year for the crew. Team Leader Kentish was in that choir and most upset that we pulled her off two weeks before the show. Her captain wasn’t happy either. Tried to get us to wait two weeks.”

  “It must be a good concert.”

  “Their captain thinks so. Thinks it is good for the ship. Morale is high for weeks afterward.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I thought so, too,” Trask said. “Thank you,” to Bhaksir, as she came across with the whiskey.

  Bhaksir brought one for Ean as well. He didn’t know what to do with it.

  “Kentish was the lead female voice in that choir. Her opposite, the male, is left-handed as well, although he didn’t do any line training. He should have been invalided out of the fleet years ago. A nerve in the left hand was severed, and the regen didn’t take. Not a problem if he were right-handed, but a big issue when it’s his primary hand. The captain downplayed the damage because apparently the ship is calmer when he’s there.”

  What role did a captain have in retaining linesmen on his ship? If a ship liked a soldier because he or she was a linesman, was the captain more likely to keep them on? If so, maybe they should look at the more stable ships.

  Trask gave a grim smile. “We’d never have known if we hadn’t been looking for linesmen. Handedness is faster to search for than who did line training. It’s in the crew medical records.”

  If Trask asked what level Ean thought the other man was, Ean would evade the question by saying he’d need to test the linesman, but he already knew he’d be a one. The ones monitored line and crew health. Combine that with a man who had a natural affinity for working with people, and no wonder the captain wanted to keep him there.

  “You should have brought him in with the other line trainees.”

  Trask scowled into his whiskey. “I should discipline the captain.”

  How did you discipline a good captain without their ship taking umbrage? “How do his crew feel about him?”

  “It’s my most stable ship.” He tossed the whiskey back in one swallow. “I wouldn’t mind a little more stability in the New Alliance council right now.”

  Neither would Ean.

  “Bringing in the Worlds of the Lesser Gods is a clever idea. With Redmond trapped between us and them like that, we might get rid of Redmond once and for all. But it was poorly done.”

  Orsaya must have known this was coming. She could have warned him. He might have known what to say. Ean swirled the drink he didn’t want, then cupped it in his hands.

  “Personally, I hadn’t realized the split between them and Redmond was quite that bad, but sometimes the luck runs our way. Even so, we—as a council—could have offered the Factor enough if he had shown any interest in joining the New Alliance.” Trask put his glass down carefully and stood up. “Unfortunately, the way it was done makes it look like a power grab by Lancia.”

  Ean stood up, too. What did Trask want him to say? “I’ll mention your concerns to Abram and Michelle.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you did. Maybe not mention any names. Only that some people are concerned.”

  Ean nodded.

  “I’d best get these linesmen across to the Gruen.” And Trask and the new trainees were escorted down to the shuttle by two members of Craik’s team and two of Orsaya’s.

  Ean looked at the whiskey in his hand, looked at Bhaksir.

  “Don’t give it to me,” she said. “I’m on duty.”

  Ean went to find Orsaya.

  “Did you know he was going to say that?”

  “People are concerned. I’m concerned. It was badly done, and exceedingly poor timing, with Lancia just managing the numbers.”

  “It wasn’t Mi—” He stopped. Orsaya wasn’t his friend, and he had to remember that.

  The lines around Orsaya’s mouth tightened. “That’s what we’re afraid of.”

  * * *

  TRASK wasn’t the last. A steady stream of admirals brought their linesmen along to meet him, and, “By the way, while I’m here, I’m a little concerned with Lancia’s handling of the Worlds of the Lesser Gods. We’re happy the Worlds of the Lesser Gods are considering joining the New Alliance, but the way it was done, allying Lancia with the Worlds . . . You might mention that it looks like a grab for power on Lancia’s part.”

  Not mentioning any names, of course.

  Sale took her concerns to Vega. Ean heard it through the lines.

  “I don’t know why we bothered taking Ean off the Lancastrian Princess if Orsaya lets in all and sundry.”

  “Believe me, I don’t like it any better than you.”

  “Then I can stop it?”

  “Admiral Galenos thinks it is beneficial.”

  “Damage control,” the lines sang underneath Vega’s words.

  Sale might have talked to Abram as well, for she disappeared for hours one day, and when she came back, she stopped complaining about the visits.

  Damage control.

  The one person he could talk it over with was on a special mission. And Vega still hadn’t told him where she’d gone.

  Radko could look after herself. But still . . . “If Radko calls Vega—or anyone on the ship—I want to know about it. If anyone mentions Radko, I want to know about it.”

  The fleet ships hummed in assent.

  So far, all his snooping had done was pick up Hana saying to Ru Li, “If Radko were here, you wouldn’t dare say that.”

  Ean had no idea what Ru Li had said.

  * * *

  EAN was pleased when Admiral Katida joined them for dinner.

  “It’s like a flipping public house,” Ean heard Sale mutter to Craik, out i
n the main watch room. “He’d be safer on the Lancastrian Princess. We should open a bar and charge for the drinks.” She came over to the arch between the mess hall and the watch room proper. “Everyone who comes here hands over all weapons, Admiral Katida. Even you.”

  “Sale. Katida’s a friend.”

  “Sale is doing her job.” Katida handed over her blaster. Her lines were stronger today, more in tune with Confluence Station.

  “You’re listening to the lines,” Ean said. She hadn’t come to him for training, but her lines skill had improved. Hernandez? “Why didn’t you come to me?” Ean had offered. Plenty of times.

  “Lancia cannot be seen to favor Balian, Ean. Balian cannot be seen to be too close to Lancia.” It was what she had always said. “But I am exceptionally happy I chose Hernandez for that first group of line training. She was my strongest linesman although at the time I wondered if I should have chosen someone with more stability.”

  Hernandez had certified as a level-seven linesman. She was, in fact, a ten.

  “How long has she been training you?” Ean couldn’t imagine Hernandez with the patience to teach anyone. Especially not an admiral of the fleet.

  “Since you started training her. With time out when she was on the Gruen.”

  Ean spent dinner quizzing Katida about her training and how she was doing. He made her sing to the lines and listened critically, gently nudging her lines straight when they needed it.

  “Not bad,” he conceded eventually.

  If Hernandez could teach Katida, she was certainly ready to train others. And if she could, then so could Rossi. Their plan of combined initial training until the linesmen could hear the lines, then splitting them into groups, should work well.

  “High praise indeed. But how have you been, Ean? Without Radko when you need the support?”

  Was she getting that from the lines?

  “I’ll be glad when she’s back,” he admitted. He could speak honestly to Katida. “Sometimes I want to—” He stopped. Admitting the urge to do harm to another person wasn’t something one should say aloud. “The other part of it doesn’t help.”

  “Other part?” Katida’s voice was sharp suddenly.

  Sale came to stand in the archway again.

  “The Worlds of the Lesser Gods and Yu.”

  Katida’s eyebrows rose at that.

  “It’s not really part of it, it just happened at the same time.” It would be forever ingrained in Ean’s mind as one thing, not two. “And while no one knows for certain, everyone thinks Yu told Radko she was to marry Sattur Dow in exchange for the mine Yu is going to give the Worlds of the Lesser Gods. Sattur Dow’s mine, I mean.”

  Sale sighed.

  Let her sigh. Katida would already know this. Abram and Radko both said she ran the best covert ops of any world.

  “And everyone is telling me how foolish the whole thing is and how it could have been handled better. Abram and Michelle already know this.”

  “They come to you because they see the three of you as representing Lancia here at the New Alliance. If, as they fear, Lancia is moving to strengthen its power base and become de facto leader of the New Alliance, then saying it to Galenos or Lady Lyan will weaken their own position in the future.”

  “It wasn’t Michelle’s idea.”

  The song that was Katida’s lines drooped and slowed. “Ean, that’s the last thing anyone needs to hear.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that means Emperor Yu is behind it, and Lady Lyan can’t stop him.”

  “She is trying,” Ean said.

  “Perhaps if someone shared her problem, she’d get more support.”

  He didn’t need Sale’s, “Ean,” to know not to say any more. He shook his head.

  Katida sighed. “I’ll be around if you need to talk, Ean,” and moved on to discuss the line training that was to commence the following day.

  * * *

  AS they arrived on the Gruen, the antagonism of the first batch of trainees hit Ean like a wall of sound. It was a rancid taste at the back of his throat, a dizzying buzz that kept trying to pull the lines out of tune.

  “Phwagh,” Hernandez said. Ean had Hernandez and Sale with him but was without the support of Fergus, who was running experiments on the Wendell, and Rossi, performing emergency line repairs on a badly damaged warship. Right now, Ean would have preferred to be doing the repairs, leaving Rossi here with the mob.

  Captain Hilda Gruen accosted Ean as soon as he stepped out of the shuttle. “I don’t want these people on my ship.”

  Bhaksir and her team moved in to surround him. He was grateful for the protection.

  “They’re linesmen,” Ean said. “This is the training ship.”

  “They’re breaking my ship lines.”

  They certainly were. There were strong linesmen in the group, and some of them really didn’t want to be here. What had they been told? “I’ll do what I can.” He sang line one as straight as he could. “As soon as these people know who you are, they’ll be better.”

  Sale set the pace to the large cargo hold that was the de facto training area. “I’ll talk to them first.”

  Ean nodded. Sale would give the usual pretraining spiel. “These are the oxygen tanks, here’s what to do if someone is overcome by the lines. Oh, and by the way, if the person next to you isn’t looking at me, nudge them,” for some multilevel linesmen got caught up in the ecstasy of line eleven and stopped thinking about anything else.

  The first time he’d run line training, a Gate Union ship had tried to destroy the fleet. Today, at least, should be quieter.

  He moved in to stand quietly behind the group while Sale gave her talk. He nudged one of the linesmen caught up in the ecstasy of line eleven and found it was Lina Vang. All four of the Xanto linesmen were together, Nadia Kentish looking as if she wished she weren’t, the others looking just as aggressive.

  He couldn’t have familiar trainers at his back all the time, but today he wished for Fergus Burns and Jordan Rossi. And Radko, of course.

  Sale followed the regular spiel with an extra talk. “I remind you that this program is top secret. The penalty for giving away these secrets is death. You have all signed agreements to this effect.” She looked toward Ean. “Linesman Lambert. All yours.”

  He moved up to stand on the podium after Sale stepped down. Sale shouldn’t be here either. Normally, she’d be out at the Confluence, and he could hear that the Confluence wasn’t happy about her and her team not being there.

  Nobody was happy today, it seemed.

  “I’m going to sing a greeting to the lines,” Ean said. “I want you to sing back, exactly the same tune. Don’t be surprised if the lines answer back.”

  “Why is Lambert training us?” one of the linesmen demanded.

  Ean hadn’t been introduced to him via admiralty, but he knew him anyway. Arnold Peters had trained at House of Rigel. He’d made the first five years of Ean’s stay there miserable. Or tried to, but Ean had been too happy just to be training.

  “Lambert’s not a linesman,” Peters said. “He does everything wrong.”

  Sale moved back to stand on the podium beside Ean. “What’s your name? Peters? Lambert is the leading linesman for the New Alliance. He is your senior. Treat him as such. Continue with the attitude you have now, and you will be kicked off the program.”

  Not a good start at all.

  Not for him, and definitely not for Peters, for the lines could feel the animosity, and the music was starting to change.

  “Gently,” Ean sang. “They’re new. They’re not sure what they’re doing.” Then he said to the trainees, “Introducing you to the ships, one line at a time. I’ll name the line and the ship first, then I’ll sing hello to them, then you sing back. Match my tune exactly.”

  He was used to the sea of faces looking up
at him, wondering what was going on.

  “Line one, the Gruen.” He sang hello to the line. “You sing now. Remember, exactly the same tune.”

  “I’d rather be at my own choir practice,” Nadia Kentish whispered to Alex Joy.

  “Everyone sing,” Ean said, for some of them hadn’t. “Don’t insult the lines by being rude to them.”

  “He is seriously as crazy as he used to be,” Peters muttered to the linesman next to him.

  Ean tuned him out. “Line one, Confluence Station.”

  FOURTEEN

  EAN LAMBERT

  AS EXPECTED, WHEN Ean introduced the trainees to line eleven, the surge sent most of the multiple linesmen to the floor. Even Hernandez.

  Especially Hernandez.

  Unfortunately, there were more linesmen than they’d ever had before, and half the paramedics were trainees as well. They’d trained in the techniques, but experiencing it firsthand was something else again. They struggled, because there was little you could do to help a linesman whose heart was trying to change its rhythm—except give them oxygen and wait until things settled back to normal.

  Ean grabbed an oxygen tank and moved over to the closest linesman having trouble. It was Lina Vang. He pushed the mask over her face. Mind over matter, where the linesman’s mind was trying to control the body. Luckily, human bodies were resilient.

  “It’s important to ensure they get oxygen,” Ean told the two Xanto singles. He nodded at the other Xanto multilevel. “See how he’s having trouble breathing. If you’re not sure, oxygen never hurts.”

  Kentish grabbed another canister.

  There were still a lot of unattended multilevel linesmen with breathing difficulties.

  Ean raised his voice, amplified it through the Gruen speaker system. “Those of you who are still standing. You all know the theory about what to do for line-related incidents like this. If you’re still standing and not administering oxygen, why aren’t you?”