For a while, attending trainees was all he had time to do.
Afterward, he sat on the dais, elbows on his knees, and watched the paramedics attend the final few who still needed attention. Four paramedics attended one linesman. Ean could hear the distress in her lines. She was a four.
“Fix,” the Eleven offered, and the other ships in fleet agreed. “Fix.” Ean could feel the ship lines tapping at the edges of the line four.
“No, no. You’re too strong.” He could taste the strength and the alienness in the lines, even those of the human ship, who were learning fast from their fleet parent. Ean could almost see the linesman turning gray. He jumped up, but even as he stood, the four lines disappeared.
No.
He hurried across.
Sale stepped in front of him. “You can’t do anything, Ean.”
He knew he couldn’t. The lines were gone. “But—”
“They sign a waiver. They know the danger.”
No one expected to die from a line-induced heart attack, even if it sometimes felt as if you were going to.
* * *
“I hear you’re killing off linesmen now,” Rossi said at dinner.
They were all there tonight. Orsaya, Rossi, and Orsaya’s people; Sale, and Craik and Bhaksir with their teams.
“Only the ones he doesn’t like, Rossi,” Ru Li said.
“I’ll be careful, then,” Rossi said.
Ru Li looked at Hana. “Did he just—?”
Orsaya took a sip of Yaolin whiskey and visibly savored it. Everyone had alcohol tonight. Nearly everyone, anyway. Hana and Ru Li weren’t drinking, and nor was one of Rossi’s minders. Ean wasn’t sure if everyone else was drinking because Orsaya was there, because they were off duty, or because it had been a truly bad day.
“We’ve had preliminary results from the autopsy,” Orsaya said. “Linesman Park showed evidence of narrowed arteries. Her medical records show no indication of it.”
“Those medical requirements aren’t there just so we have the healthiest crew in the fleet,” Sale said.
Orsaya knew that already, and Ean could hear through the lines that Sale was only saying it to vent some of her own frustration.
“The medic on her last ship but one—six months ago now—recommended surgery. She was booked to go in after her current tour.”
Until the alien ships had come along, and everyone wanted linesmen. Or maybe they had planned all along she would arrive after her surgery, only there’d been this mad scramble to supply linesmen since Emperor Yu had announced Michelle’s engagement.
Ean hated Yu more than he hated anything in his life.
Except, perhaps, Sattur Dow.
Rossi gripped the table. “A little strong, Linesman. We don’t all need to share.” He gritted his teeth, and Ean could hear the effort it took to loosen his hold.
“Sorry.” But Ean couldn’t stop it all, for little eddies of anxiety about Yu—and yes, some hatred, too—whirled around him and the ship.
Orsaya watched them.
Sale leaned across. “Are you okay, Ean?”
“Fine.” It was a lie. Ship was agitated, and he with it.
Except, he wasn’t on the ship. He was on Confluence Station, and the agitation was coming from the Lancastrian Princess. Coming from Ship himself.
Ean had never heard Captain Helmo express such strong negative emotion.
“If you—”
He held up a hand to silence Sale.
Whatever had caused Captain Helmo to momentarily lose his customary calmness was gone.
“Nothing,” Sale said, putting away the comms Ean hadn’t seen her take out.
“Nothing on my end either.” Orsaya had her comms out as well.
The Lancastrian Princess was a flurry of activity. Ean could hear it, but couldn’t tell what was happening. He asked the lines, and got literal answers.
“VIP module brought online.”
He could tell that for himself.
“Welcome. Unwelcome welcome.” The kitchens were busier than normal. Preparing for something.
Visitors. Unwelcome ones. Sattur Dow was the most unwelcome person Ean could think of.
“Sattur Dow is coming.” Surely he didn’t warrant that much activity. And not only from the Lancastrian Princess. The linesman on the Galactic News ship was getting excited.
“Coop, you have got to see this.”
“I’ve a news show to deliver.”
“No, no. You have to see this. A ship’s arrived.” He put it on Cooper’s screen.
It was a massive fleet carrier, bearing the colors of Lancia. Apart from the mother ships—which were too expensive and big to move around much—this was the largest ship in the Lancian fleet.
“So,” Cooper said. “Another warship. We’re surrounded by the line-blamed things, Christian, and I have a show to get out.”
Ean sang the image onto the main screen. If the other linesman were interested, so was he.
Everyone around the table stopped and watched, seemingly transfixed.
“But look, Coop.” Christian zoomed in to a close-up of the ship, where there was an enormous pattern of light displayed on the hull.
A familiar pattern. Ean saw it every day on the shoulders of his crewmates.
“That is the Lancian flagship. That’s—”
“Emperor Yu,” Orsaya said.
* * *
JUDGING from the grim look on Orsaya’s face as she rose and went into her apartment, closing the door behind her, Yu’s arrival wouldn’t be well received.
Ean left, too, into the semiprivacy of his own room, where he could still see—and hear—the others, silent at the table.
Michelle was sitting on Abram’s couch in her workroom, staring at nothing. He heard a song of resoluteness, and a whiff of steely gray determination. Michelle had known her father would come. That was why she had insisted Abram stay away from the Lancastrian Princess, as well as Ean.
He sang gently to the comms lines. Yu would be hours yet. He got that from the ship chatter.
Michelle looked up. “Ean.”
He could smell the fizzy citrus smell the lines associated with her. “Are you okay?”
She gave a smile that came out more like a grimace. “I’ll be happier when it’s over.”
“One way or another,” the lines whispered underneath her.
Whose thoughts were they picking up? Ean shivered.
Michelle had never been one to let depression get in the way of practicality. She said now, “Sometime soon, I will invite you to a function to welcome my father and to introduce the Factor. I know you will be too busy to attend.”
He didn’t need the stress on “too busy” to understand what she meant, but right now he was more concerned about other things. “The Factor is here, too?”
“Of course. That is why my father has come. To introduce me to my betrothed.” And by the sound of it, to make himself wildly unpopular. “No doubt, while he’s here, he will petition to address the council.”
Which, from the way she said it, was the real reason she thought the Factor and her father had arrived.
“But, Ean—”
“I understand. I’m a busy, busy linesman.”
It got a smile out of her even if it didn’t have a dimple. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will. The lines will take care of you, too, Michelle.”
* * *
THE Lancastrian Emperor departed as soon as Emperor Yu had settled into quarters on the Lancastrian Princess. How long did he plan on staying?
Sattur Dow arrived with the royal party. A day earlier, that would have been the worst of Ean’s problems. Now it was the least of them. Radko was safely away. Ean hoped it was safely, anyway.
Dow brought his own entourage. Two servants an
d two assistants. With Emperor Yu’s own Royal Guard, and the Factor’s guards and support staff, the ship was nearly as full as it had been when Michelle and Abram had first gone chasing the Eleven.
How many support staff did one need?
Commodore Bach, in charge of the Emperor’s security, didn’t need the sophisticated surveillance equipment he set up in the VIP area Helmo set aside for him.
“I am sure we’ll be aware of any security issues that crop up long before Bach is,” Helmo had said, aloud on the bridge, the day after that had been set up.
“Naturally,” Ean sang, through line one.
Vanje Solberg, Helmo’s second-in-command, looked at him in query.
Helmo smiled. “Message received, Vanje.”
Solberg didn’t ask. He and Helmo weren’t as close as Wendell was with his second, Grayson. One day, Solberg would take a promotion and captain his own ship. The lines would notice his going, but they wouldn’t miss him the way they missed Abram’s not being there.
What made specific humans important to the lines on a ship?
Ship itself—the captain—was always important. But the ship singled out specific members of the crew as well. Esfir Chantsmith, for example, was a Gruen favorite. And no doubt Trask’s singer with the damaged arm was a favorite on his own ship.
Sometimes, the lines didn’t have anyone else. The Confluence looked favorably on Sale and the team she took across with her, but they were the ones who spent most of the time on ship. Who else did the Confluence have? Would the ship give up Sale when it got a new captain? Ean didn’t think so. That was something else he would have to talk to Abram about.
But not right now, not while Yu and the Factor were here. Nor while Sattur Dow was, either.
Sattur Dow’s staff’s whole job seemed to be to find Radko. One—a youth named Ethan Saylor—kept calling Vega and demanding to see Radko.
“Spacer Radko is on special duties,” Vega said, every time. “As soon as she arrives back on ship, I will notify Merchant Dow.”
Saylor said the same thing every time after he clicked off. “Stupid bitch. You won’t last long. I’ll be sure Merchant Dow personally requests your dismissal.”
Ean never heard him ask it of Dow, so he didn’t know if Saylor meant it, but he wasn’t above a little petty meanness of his own in return.
“Too cool,” he sang to line two, directing heating into Saylor’s room; and when Saylor complained about that, “Too hot.”
Which lasted until Captain Helmo twigged to what was going on, and said sternly to both Ean and the ship, “Not on my ship, you don’t.”
FIFTEEN
EAN LAMBERT
EAN HAD JUST strapped himself into the shuttle on his way to training the next day when a request came through from Abram.
Linesman Lambert, as the senior New Alliance Linesman, you are required to attend the Confluence today.
Ean wasn’t sure if it was a real summons or another of those he was supposed to be too busy to attend.
“Do I say I can’t go?” he asked Bhaksir.
“You can’t ignore a summons from Admiral Galenos.”
“But suppose he doesn’t want me to go?”
“He wouldn’t have asked you if he didn’t, would he?”
Ean checked the whereabouts of Michelle. She could tell him if he was supposed to attend or not.
Michelle was breakfasting with her father. Talking reasonably, but the Lancastrian Princess’s lines had a faint brown taint that told Ean she was choosing her words carefully.
“Everyone who visits the alien ships must request to, and be cleared by the committee. I cannot send Merchant Dow with the Factor.”
“And who controls this committee, Daughter?”
Not a good time to interrupt her.
“Shuttle’s waiting for you, Ean,” Sale said, through the comms. “We need to get there before the main party.”
He still didn’t know if Abram meant him to go or to refuse. He called Fergus and Hernandez. “Can you run line training today, please? I need to go out to the Confluence.”
“The grand tour,” Fergus said. “We heard about it. We’ll treat your trainees gently.”
Ean jogged down to the shuttle bays, Bhaksir’s whole team behind him.
* * *
THE Confluence was happy to greet them.
It had been a patient ship, waiting for its crew, and there were some people Ean didn’t want on it. Like Arnold Peters. Maybe he could convince Abram to let the Confluence choose its own crew. It wouldn’t choose Peters.
The song of the Confluence changed to a pleased purr.
“Ean. What did you do?” Sale asked.
Ean was glad Sale’s comms beeped then. “Lancastrian Princess Shuttle Four requesting permission to dock.”
A team of Yaolin guards stepped out, followed by Admiral Orsaya.
They’d left Orsaya on Confluence Station. Shuttle Four must have collected her on the way. Why hadn’t she come with Sale and Ean? How close behind them had Shuttle Four been all this time?
Governor Jade of Aratoga stepped out next, then the Factor of the Lesser Gods. It was hard to pick who wore the most gold jewelry. The Factor was followed by his bodyguards—six of them—and after him, Abram.
The Lancastrian soldiers on board the Confluence saluted. Ean didn’t.
One of the bodyguards was smiling.
The Factor moved up to where Governor Jade halted.
“Linesman,” Governor Jade said to Ean, and the chill that had come in with the visitors rolled away with the warmth of her words. “Allow me to present the Factor of the Lesser Gods. Factor, this is Linesman Ean Lambert, leading linesman for the New Alliance.”
“Welcome to the Confluence,” Ean said.
Abram nodded at Ean, as if he was supposed to be there. Ean was relieved.
“A ten.” The Factor glanced at the bars on Ean’s shirt. “I thought all the higher-level linesmen worked with Gate Union.”
Ean didn’t need the lines to know he was lying. It was common knowledge that both Ean’s contract and Jordan Rossi’s belonged to the New Alliance.
“We have two level-ten linesmen working with the New Alliance.” You couldn’t hear the smile in Abram’s voice, but it came through clearly on Confluence line one.
Abram wasn’t lying, for if you took Ean to be a level twelve they still had two other tens. Jordan Rossi and Ami Hernandez. Not that Grand Master Rickenback had certified Hernandez yet. For the moment, Admiral Katida preferred that no one knew the Balians had a ten as well.
Abram indicated the cart that waited for them.
Sale didn’t like the cart. She made her crew march to the bridge most days. “If you exercise while you’re here,” she’d said once, “you don’t need to go back to ship and spend hours in the gym.”
Ean thought it was because the Confluence didn’t like the cart, but he’d never told Sale that. The Confluence didn’t see the point of the cart. “Not need. Faster,” and showed an image of something that looked like a pipe. He’d drawn a picture of the image and shown it to Sale, who’d shaken her head. She’d not seen anything like it. Maybe Ean had misinterpreted the image. Whatever it was, one day he’d find it. Or Sale would.
The cart was a long box with an electronic motor at the front, a seat for a driver—Craik—and a long, flat tray at the back others could stand or sit on. A raised bar along the center allowed you to hold on.
“I hate these things,” Governor Jade said, stepping on and gripping tight. Two of Craik’s team stepped up either side of her. The others stepped on as well, all except the bodyguard who’d been smiling.
His face was alight with wonder.
A linesman, though he didn’t have bars on his shirt.
Confluence line eleven surged—not Ean’s doing.
The l
inesman gasped and tried to breathe. Sale reached for the nearest oxygen with a scowl, while Craik and Losan stretched the linesman out on the floor. Craik placed the oxygen mask over the man’s face.
Abram’s voice was hard. “There is a reason we asked you not to include linesmen in your party.”
“A linesman.” The Factor looked bemused. “Surely you are mistaken.” The overriding emotion emanating from him was irritation rather than surprise. He glanced at the bodyguard beside him.
The bodyguard’s nod was so slight, Ean wondered if he had imagined it, but he’d had a lot of practice lately interpreting the secret deals people in power made. He recognized an agreement when he almost didn’t see it.
“Our linesmen undergo rigorous training before we allow them on board the alien line ships,” Orsaya said. “The lines are too strong for them. We need to acclimate them first. Without that training, the strength of the alien lines can be incapacitating on occasion.”
Training Ean should have been conducting right now. Hernandez was berating the linesmen for their sloppy responses. Or she had been, until the surge of line eleven. Now she was waiting for the paramedics to declare everyone all right. It was another new batch of paramedics. Ean would be glad when they were all trained. He hadn’t realized how much they had come to rely on the paramedics Abram had supplied, or how skilled those paramedics had become.
“Given that this gentleman is here without bars on his shirt”—Orsaya indicated the linesman on the floor—“one can only assume he is here dishonestly.” She looked directly at the Factor as she said it.
“So it would seem.” The Factor frowned down at the gasping linesman.
“I take full responsibility for this.” The bodyguard looked at the Factor. “My apologies for the deception, sir. I was aware of what this man was. I’d heard about the ban. I thought it was a security measure. I didn’t realize it was for their own safety.”
He couldn’t say anything else, could he. Not if the Factor still wanted to see the ship.
“I am disappointed in you, Captain Jakob,” the Factor said. “We had strict instructions to bring no linesmen.”
Jakob bowed in apology.
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