by A. C. Ellas
“Five minutes until FTL transit,” Cai announced then lost himself in his calculations. He had no more time or attention to spare for the crew, even under subjective-time dilation. The hardpoint was so close, he could feel it, his subspace insertion speed and angle of approach were perfect, and his singularity was singing a lovely melody on the pedals of a pipe organ. He knew better than to fall for the seductive song, it was a siren at heart, bound in chains of magnetism and gravity fields, but it would kill him if it could.
He reached into the heart of his chained siren and twisted the untwistable, the gorgeous tones of Bach’s Passacaglia in C minor surrounding him as the wormhole opened and Laughing Owl surfed down the incline, accelerating just below the redline of acceptable levels. He looked forward, searching for the next system, the system almost touching this point based on the curvature of the universe. It wouldn’t necessarily be the closest system, because the fabric of space more closely resembled a crumbled, balled up, holey pile of rags than the smooth rubbery surface it was often rendered as for easier understanding. Sometimes, even to Cai, it was mind-boggling how two systems, so far apart in normal space, could be so close as to almost touch in subspace.
He found something further out than any other jump he’d ever made, and it was the only possible target, the norm for a hardpoint jump like this. He gathered himself, accelerating past the redline tolerances of his body, knowing there was a safety margin built in and using all of it to leap the impossibly wide gap. He leaped, feeling the strain of the gee forces, but it wasn’t as bad as the singularity that had nearly marooned them back when they’d been hunting the Rel home world. He remained within his structural tolerances.
He caught the very edge of the destination system. Usually, he’d climb inward, past the Oort Cloud and Kuiper Belt before exiting subspace at the heliopause but not this time. He climbed for several seconds, until the Oort Cloud was behind him and the Kuiper Belt before him and untwisted the untwistable, emerging from subspace at a crawling point one c with absolutely no power available. Even life support was running on the emergency backup system.
He held the wormhole open as he looked. It was the Rel home system. His readings confirmed it; he’d been here before. He was absolutely amazed that the scientists had gotten it right. There was absolutely nothing out here waiting for him either. The closest Rel ship he could detect was millions of kays in-system. He might not have power or shields, but there was absolutely nothing that could take advantage of that fact out here. He sent the signal, a pulse of psionic energy containing his jump data, back through to the other two and allowed the wormhole to close. It was the only warning he could give them of the super-long gap they’d have to leap.
He coaxed energy back into his systems, drawing hard on all three of his fusion reactors. His first concern had to be the containment fields around the singularity. The backup batteries could only maintain those fields for five minutes with life support functioning or seven minutes without it. He could cut the air exchangers feeding oxygen to the acceleration couches and would do so if he had to in order to save the ship. The couches had rebreathing capability built in; he could run up to twenty minutes with the exchangers off before his crew would be in jeopardy. He’d prefer not to rely on that.
The power was flowing into him now like water into parched ground. He switched the field generators from batteries to fusion power four minutes after ending his jump. Once the singularity was secured, he brought up his defensive shields, double checked his dampeners and other stealth devices, all of which had their own power supplies just in case of an event like this. One by one, he brought his systems back online. The last thing he brought back was the artificial gravity field and full, normal life support. He permitted the clamshells of the acceleration couches to open once Laughing Owl had returned to full and normal function.
“That was rough,” Nick told him over the shipnet.
“At least you don’t have to scrape foam off the walls this time,” Cai replied. “That jump was insanely long; I almost didn’t make it across.”
“What would have happened if you didn’t?”
“We would have emerged into normal space in a completely random location, almost anywhere in the universe. My recollections of this from training are not pleasant. Of course, I suspect Ortat was stacking the odds against me, but he did get the point across that a random subspace exit was very undesirable.”
Through his bridge sensors, Cai watched and listened as Nick issued the orders necessary to secure from the jump. They wouldn’t move from this place until the other two ships joined them, so Cai remained in Chamber. He studied the system. It was crawling with Rels. Every rocky planet was covered with signs of occupation, most of the moons around the gas giants were the same. Orbital stations followed every planet in their L4 and L5 positions. There were mining stations in the asteroid belt—one of the thinnest such belts Cai had ever seen. The Rels had clearly been mining it for a long, long time. Spherical ships were everywhere, but they remained in-system of the Kuiper Belt, and Cai had to wonder why. As much mining as they’re doing of their asteroid belt, why would they ignore a second, abundant source of resources like this?
Cai pinged both Nick and the admiral over the shipnet. “Admiral, Cai here. I have analyzed the readings. They’ve occupied all the rocky planets and almost all of the moons in the system, but the fourth planet has the highest density of activity.”
“Then, the fourth planet is still our primary target,” Nbuntu told them. “Set your course and be prepared to fly once the others arrive.” He paused, and Cai waited, sensing the man wasn’t done. “Cai, I based my strategy on the back of your talent. Are you strong enough to find the Gators of the other three groups and relay my orders?”
Cai had suspected that this would be required of him since he’d first heard the plan. Fortunately, that part of the plan hadn’t worried him. “Yes, Admiral, I can do that. I’ll have to be in Chamber to reach that far, of course, but as I shall be in Chamber twice a day, there should be no difficultly.” Backed by the power of the singularity, Cai didn’t think he’d have any trouble contacting the other Astrogators. When he had been a young Astrogator, he’d believed his range was limited to a hundred kays, but he now knew that was merely his unaugmented range. Augmented, Cai wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he could reach across a significant chunk of the galactic arm.
“That’s what I thought,” Nbuntu replied. “You’re wasted on a ship this small.”
“I believe I’m in line for the second Star Wolf-class heavy cruiser.”
“Yes, you are. Once we’re underway, I would like Captain Steele and you to join me for dinner.”
“We’d be honored,” Cai replied formally, but he was actually disappointed—he far preferred Nick’s cooking to anything the admiral would be able to dish out for them.
“Admiral, I would be honored to cook that dinner for us,” Nick replied smoothly, as if he were the telepath here. “I swore to Cai that he’d never have to cope with the standard ship’s fare again.”
“I’ve heard rumor that you’re an accomplished cook,” Nbuntu replied. “I accept your offer in the spirit which it was meant. By all means, treat our palates to something better. Thank you.”
“If Captain Steele is cooking, then we had best hold our dinner in my chambers,” Cai said. “I have a far superior kitchen, according to our chef.”
They finalized the arrangements before the Barn Owl emerged from the jump.
Chapter Nine: Nbuntu’s Dinner
The other two ships had arrived; the admiral hadn’t complained about the delay. Cai doubted the man had even noticed it. They were sailing into the target system now, still making like a bunch of rocks on a perfect cometary ellipse. Cai’s first check for the other teams had turned up nothing, but there was time.
Cai had taken a nap after he left the Chamber, because he’d set up for battle drill, he’d been fed sugar continuously, so he wasn’
t so hungry that he had to eat immediately, he could wait.
He thought that if the damn feeding tube weren’t so uncomfortable, he’d run with it every time. But the insertion, down his nose to the back of his throat and then to his stomach, was a nearly intolerable procedure, and the removal made him gag and heave every time. It wasn’t something he wanted to put up with unless there was a dire need, and ideally, his mind would already be separated from his body by the time his adjuncts rammed the nasogastric tube down him.
By the time he awoke, feeling refreshed, Nick was already making his chambers smell wonderful. Cai dressed and padded out to his parlor. The admiral wasn’t there yet, at least. He poked his head into the kitchen. “Everything okay in here?”
“Yes, fine, now shoo,” Nick scolded. “Go read Homer—you left it on the coffee table.”
“Yes, dear,” Cai replied, hiding a grin. Nick hated to be bothered in the kitchen. It was in Cai’s interests to indulge him in this, so he retreated to his sitting area and picked up the Iliad, quickly finding his place. He’d worked through perhaps three lines and was just starting to get back into the rhythm of it when the door chimed. Annoyed, he sent Si-el to answer the door, fully aware that the adjunct’s head was uncovered.
This made most people uncomfortable, because the entire right side of the head was covered with the metal of an implant that actually occupied the entire skull space but only showed through the surface on the right. And the strange thing was it didn’t need to show at all. Cai had far more implants than his adjuncts, and all he showed on the outside was the standard dataport behind his ear and the crystal in his palm. Cai had often wondered why the adjuncts had been left this way. Currently, his theory was it was done so that people would leave the adjuncts alone.
The admiral walked over with a carefully blank expression. “Astrogator, may I join you?”
“Of course, Admiral. Please, have a seat.” Cai gave up on getting any reading done. He marked his place and set the book down.
The admiral sat and looked at the book. “What are you reading?”
“The Iliad,” Cai said reservedly.
“Ah, talk about a classic.” The man smiled easily, the expression appeared genuine enough.
The actual interest he sensed led Cai to add, “Nick gave me this copy. It’s in the original Greek, with an accurate translation on the facing page.”
“Which version are you reading?” Nbuntu asked, after picking the book up and glancing at a few pages. The man was careful not to lose Cai’s place in it. His expression was a cross between interest and jealousy.
“I’m reading it in the Greek,” Cai said. “It’s slow going. Homer’s word choice is interesting; he seems to pick words as much for their sound and imagery as for their actual meaning.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.” Nbuntu set the book back on the table. “If it weren’t from your husband, I’d ask to borrow this.”
Cai just smiled at that, and they discussed literature until Nick summoned them to the table. They were still discussing their favorites among the ancient writers as they moved to the dining room. One look at the table and Cai decided that Nick had outdone himself. This wasn’t food on the plates but culinary artwork.
Nbuntu’s eyes widened appreciatively, too. “Captain, I wasn’t expecting fine cuisine.”
“Please, be seated,” Nick said without a trace of smugness. “Start eating before it all gets cold.”
Cai was quick to sit beside Nick; the admiral sat across from them. “What is it?” Cai asked politely but also because he was curious. He took the first bite and no longer cared what was in it, because whatever it was, it was amazing.
Nick rattled off ingredients, most of which Cai ignored in favor of eating, though he caught the gist of it: beef, mushrooms and deliciousness.
Once the exquisite meal was over—nothing got cold, thanks to some hot plates and the skill of the adjuncts—Nbuntu cleared his throat, took a sip from his wineglass and said, “I didn’t invite myself for dinner purely for social reasons, though I do appreciate the effort you both put out to make this happen.”
“Thank you, sir,” Nick replied.
“Then, why are you here?” Cai wanted to know, skipping past the pleasantries impatiently.
Nbuntu quirked an eyebrow at Cai and grinned. “You really get straight to the point, don’t you?” He pulled something from his pocket and set it on the table, leaving his hand atop it to obscure whatever it was. “I brought this for you, Astrogator. I thought you’d like to see it.” He lifted his hand to reveal a standard twelve-sided data crystal. “Within the matrix of this dodecahedron are the technical specifications and current construction progress of your new ship. Dex’s Star Wolf is already finished and is undergoing his first field tests. Your ship is next—you also get to choose its’ name, we included a list of appropriate names for you to select from.”
Cai looked at the crystal then at the brown man sitting across from him. “Admiral, I thank you. I appreciate this, I truly do... but what about Nick?”
“I had a feeling you’d bring this up,” Nbuntu said, still smiling. “And it’s not an issue. Steele transfers with you and remains your captain. This ship will be my new flag, as well, so any mutterings of Steele’s being too young for such a post will quickly die down because he’ll have the admiral to deal with and everyone knows what a pain in the ass that is.”
Nick coughed a laugh. “Anyone who thinks that doesn’t know you, sir,” he suggested very diplomatically.
“Of course they know me,” Nbuntu snorted. “Better than you, apparently, if you don’t think I’m a pain in the ass.”
“I only think that when you knock on my door,” Cai muttered as he picked up the crystal, so similar to the one in his hand. He studied the pentagonal planes of the twelve-sided dark-blue rock. It was a form of neurologic crystal, with stacked matrices capable of holding an immense amount of data. It appeared to be the same size as the one embedded in his hand, too. He rolled the polyhedron between his fingers and grinned at the laughing admiral.
“Astrogators are known for their fanatical desire for privacy,” Nick pointed out to the man.
“Just because I let my captain in doesn’t mean I want or welcome others,” Cai added. “Nick’s a natural impervious; I don’t have to shield against him. I do have to shield against you.”
“I hadn’t realized that Steele was an imper,” Nbuntu drawled. “I think I now see how the two of you manage to remain so close without going insane. My staff and I had wondered about that; you know how unusual you both are in that respect.”
“I know,” Cai said. “As you know, we’ve had our challenges from the Guild as well.”
“I know, and I was pleased to help. You nearly gave my lieutenant a heart attack the first time you called my office. That was the first call we’ve ever received directly from an Astrogator, though it was perfectly understandable, since with your captain missing, you could hardly pass your message to me through him, eh?”
Cai inclined his head and refrained from pointing out that he hadn’t called the admiral directly since that incident, either. He was well aware of the chain of command and proper communication channels.
Abruptly, the admiral stood. “Thank you for the excellent meal, Captain, Astrogator. I’ll see myself out and let the two of you get on with looking over your new ship.” He strode out quickly, not even acknowledging the goodbyes they tendered him.
“Let’s go pop this in the reader,” Cai suggested. Nick was hard on his heels as they went out to the parlor and Cai’s immensely powerful console. Cai pushed Nick into the chair then folded himself into Nick’s lap. “Very nice.”
“Love you,” Nick murmured, nuzzling the back of his neck in a delightful manner. “But if you don’t put that crystal in the reader like right now, I’m going to have to spank you.”
Although he thought he might enjoy that spanking, Cai was too curious to call Nick’s b
luff. He absently oriented the crystal and pressed it into the reader. His screens came up as the computer read the data. The schematic bones of the ship came to life for them. Both of them knew how to read a spaceship schematic, they knew every bolt and weld of the Laughing Owl. What struck Cai was the scale. “Ten kilometers in length? That’s not big, it’s bloody enormous.”
“The central cylinder is a full thousand meters in diameter, flaring to three kays at the beam, where the spars are at their furthest spread,” Nick added. “These numbers just don’t look right. Ten times the size of the Laughing Owl... that’s just astonishing.”
“Four decks, twin landing bays both large enough to accommodate Laughing Owl with space to spare, four full squadrons of fighters... and look at those gun batteries. I’ll have a full combat division of gunners, too.” Cai actually liked his gunners and flyers. He had a great deal of empathy for his cybernetic crew and didn’t shun them the way some full-human crewmen did. Of course, he was the ultimate in cybernetics himself. His gunners and flyers knew that—the differences between them were vanishingly slim if psychic ability wasn’t considered. Like him, they also required Synde to function. Sloppy organics just hadn’t evolved with pairing to hard crystal in mind.
“What do you want to call it?” Nick asked gently.
Cai pulled up the list and read over it quickly. “I like Dark Star. Or Dire Wolf.”
“I’d suggest Arctic Fox, but that’s not on the list, and I don’t see you as a wolf at all.” Nick kissed the back of his neck again. “So Dark Star it is. I think it suits you better than the other choices.”