“A full case, untouched? Probably not,” Desjani replied as if unconcerned. “When do you need it?”
“Now.”
“All right.” Desjani looked to her communications watch-stander. “Have Master Chief Gioninni call up here again. The Alliance fleet is in need of his special talents.”
Half an hour later, a shuttle left Dauntless, carrying the pilot and a Marine guard sealed into the flight deck and Rione and Charban in the passenger area, Charban holding a full, unopened case labeled ALLIANCE FLEET ISSUE, TAPE, DUCT, MULTIPURPOSE, TWENTY COUNT (NOT FOR USE ON DUCTS). Dauntless’s supply officer had just finished telling Captain Desjani that an exhaustive search had confirmed that there were no unopened cases of duct tape aboard. Desjani had not informed her supply officer that fifteen minutes earlier, Master Chief Gioninni, with such a case under one arm, had appeared on the hangar deck where General Charban awaited him.
As the shuttle lifted from Dauntless’s hangar deck and headed out toward the spider-wolf formation, a small shape detached itself from one of the spider-wolf ships and came zipping toward a rendezvous. “Even their shuttles are hot rods,” Desjani remarked.
“You’re in an awfully good mood,” Geary replied.
“It’s a nice day, Admiral.”
“You mean it’s a day when Victoria Rione has to embrace a spider-wolf.”
“Is that what’s going to happen?” Desjani asked in a surprised tone that didn’t sound remotely authentic. “What do you suppose those spider-wolves are going to do when they read that duct tape can’t fix ducts? They think it can fix anything, but the only thing it can’t fix is what it’s named for.”
“They can’t read our language.”
“That’s true. At least now we know that the next time the pattern of the universe frays a little, the spider-wolves will be able to patch it up with duct tape.”
“You do realize,” Geary said, “that Victoria Rione is going to be in all of the histories? She will be the first human known to have made physical contact with a friendly alien species.”
Desjani shrugged. “The Marines made physical contact with an awful lot of bear-cows.”
“Not friendly, and I don’t think anyone can sort out who first made contact in that fight anyway.”
“There are the enigmas—”
“Given the mysteries surrounding when they first encountered humans and where, the identity of the first human the enigmas met will probably remain eternally unknown except perhaps to the enigmas themselves. And, definitely, not friendly.”
The human shuttle and the spider-wolf craft came together, the human pilot making a special effort to pilot her shuttle just as smoothly and surely as the spider-wolf craft moved. Geary had a good view of the shuttle passenger area in the video feed being sent to him, and he watched both Charban and Rione for signs of nerves. Remarkably, they appeared perfectly calm.
The two vessels came alongside each other, and the shuttle pilot glanced out from her own video feed. “At dead stop relative to alien craft. Awaiting further instructions.”
“This is Admiral Geary. Let’s wait and see what they do.”
“Yes, sir.”
He had external views from the shuttle as well, and now the one focused on the smooth egg shape that was the spider-wolf spacecraft showed an oval tube extending toward the human shuttle.
“It feels right,” Desjani commented. “That oval shape. The proportions, I mean. It’s like these spider-wolves share the same fondness we have for that Golden Mean thing.”
The tube came to rest against the side of the shuttle, and warning lights flashed before the pilot’s seat. “We’ve got hull contact. I’m not sure what’s happening.” Her voice stayed steady.
“Are they all on drugs?” Geary asked. “Why aren’t any of them nervous?”
“I picked the pilot, Admiral,” Desjani replied. “She’s as sound as they come. You’ll have to ask the emissaries if they took anything.”
“Pressure outside the air lock,” the pilot announced. “About point nine five standard. Composition of gases is within acceptable standards for humans to breathe. I can’t confirm this, but that flexible tube that joined us to the alien ship seems to have become rigid now.”
How had the spider-wolf tube formed an airtight seal against the shuttle hull? And how had it then become a rigid tube rather than the flexing object that had reached out toward the shuttle?
Rione and Charban had both heard the pilot’s report, and now Charban moved to the air lock. He turned to salute the video feed, smiling crookedly. “Here we go.”
Rione came up beside him as the inner air lock hatch cycled open, then the outer hatch. Geary saw her inhale deeply as the alien atmosphere mixed with that inside the shuttle. “Spicy,” she announced to no one in particular. “Not too sharp or pungent. Almost pleasant.”
“Maybe they smell good,” Geary speculated.
“It sounds like they smell better than we do, anyway,” Desjani replied. “Present company excepted, of course.”
He wondered what he was supposed to feel as they waited for the spider-wolves to appear. Finally, humanity was making contact with another intelligence. The enigmas refused to really converse with humans, only making threats and demands, and the bear-cows had refused to communicate at all. But the spider-wolves were intelligent and willing to talk. For the first time, humans would learn how a different intelligence viewed the universe the two species shared. In time, the crude methods used to exchange information would be refined, the two peoples would learn each other’s language, and—
The spider-wolves would still be incredibly hard to look at, Geary concluded as two of them came into view inside the oval tube, which was wide enough for them to stand side by side.
He had seen spider-wolves in armor inside Balestra’s escape pod, but armor could exaggerate many things. For the first time, seeing these spider-wolves wearing nothing but their brilliant silklike garments, he could be sure of the size. Not short like the bear-cows, but not as tall as humans, either. Perhaps a meter and a half in height, the spider-wolves were wider than humans because of the way their arms protruded outward and the middle of their abdomens swelled to the sides.
Charban offered the case of duct tape to them. “For our friends,” he said. “One of humanity’s greatest secrets and discoveries, but we freely share it with your species in the spirit of friendship and understanding.”
Somehow, the case of duct tape didn’t seem quite worthy of the language surrounding its transfer to the spider-wolves. One of the aliens extended four arms, the claws closing on the case and holding it with what struck Geary as great care, as if an immensely valuable item was being grasped.
The other spider-wolf faced Rione, who stood with a certain tenseness that he found oddly familiar. Not in her . . . but . . . Perhaps it was Rione’s earlier use of the analogy of a date that triggered his memory of his own youthful dates, the unsuccessful ones where, during the good-bye, his date had stood so. It hadn’t taken too many such experiences before he realized that slightly tense posture foretold an offered cheek instead of lips for a good-night kiss and a loose-armed “hug” with no body contact.
Did the spider-wolf feel the same way? Its four claw-tipped arms rose, swinging around slowly, to barely touch Rione, then its hideous head dipped forward just enough to barely graze her forehead as she lowered her head to mimic his gesture.
The spider-wolf dropped its “embrace” quickly and Geary saw colors shift on its face and upper abdomen. A rose shade, then something bluish, and finally a purple that spread and stayed. He and others had joked that humans might be as repulsive to the spider-wolves as the spider-wolves were to humans. If he read the reactions of this spider-wolf properly, that guess might well be right.
Desjani laughed, the sound short and soft. “She’s got guts. I hate that woman, but she’s brave. How long are they going to have to stay in quarantine?”
“That’ll be up to medical after they get bac
k and get examined.”
“Damn.” Desjani’s voice had changed, low and intense now. “It’s really hitting me. This is a moment the human race has looked forward to, dreamed about, feared, for who knows how many thousands of years. And now it’s happening, and we’re here to watch it.”
“Pretty awesome, isn’t it?” Geary said.
“Am I still being evil if I hope that I can see the spider-wolf delegation we take back with us embracing the politicians on the Alliance grand council?”
“No.” He had a vision of Senator Suva in the embrace of a spider-wolf and smiled. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that myself.”
The first spider-wolf was speaking in the high-pitched, rapid buzz of the alien language. Its arms waved in what looked like carefully made gestures, ending folded across the front of its body, the claws clicking several times before the creature bowed toward Charban and Rione. It gestured again, this time pointing in the direction of one of the jump points, then pointed back to the humans with all four arms.
Charban hesitated, then slowly brought his arm up in a salute, lowered it, and backed away.
Rione spread her hands, smiling, and nodded to the spider-wolves before she stepped back as well.
The spider-wolves both backed down the oval tube, vanishing from Geary’s view.
“Now what?” Rione asked Charban.
“We close the hatch, I suppose.” General Charban cycled the outer and the inner air lock hatches closed, then stood with uncertainty obvious in his stance.
The pilot had been staring at her own video feed of the passenger area, but she now reacted to an alert on the panel before her. “Atmosphere outside the air lock is dropping very rapidly. Down, down, gone. Whatever was in contact with the shuttle hull is also gone.”
“Bring it home,” Geary ordered. “Follow quarantine procedures for all personnel and the shuttle.”
“I understand, Admiral. Returning to Dauntless now.”
The two small craft separated, each heading back to its own kind.
The moment was over, yet as Geary watched the returning shuttle, he thought that the pattern the spider-wolves spoke of had been altered in ways that no amount of duct tape could ever return to its former state.
The shuttle was just arriving at Dauntless when the spider-wolf craft zipped into a larger ship, which promptly turned and headed for another jump point than the one the humans had been told to proceed toward. Nearly simultaneously, one of the curving arms of the spider-wolf formation unraveled as six spider-wolf ships broke free and cut forward to a point between the Alliance fleet and the designated jump point.
“Our escorts, I presume,” Geary commented, as the six spider-wolf ships slid to a halt relative to the human warships. He called down to the civilian experts, knowing they would have been watching everything, and found a cross-looking Dr. Shwartz answering. “Is anything wrong?”
Shwartz took a deep breath before answering. “I am sorry for being unprofessional, Admiral, but do you have any idea how hard it was to watch that meeting and not be able to participate?”
“I regret that, Doctor, but the spider-wolves said only two human representatives, and both Emissary Rione and General Charban were specifically designated by the Alliance government as our leads for contact with alien species. I couldn’t choose anyone over them without a very good reason.”
“Yes, I know,” Shwartz said. “That’s why I admitted to being unprofessional. But, still . . . all my life I dreamed of that moment, Admiral, and I freely admit that in my dreams, I was the one greeting the aliens firsthand.”
“A lot of people dreamed that dream, Doctor. You got to see it happen.” Shwartz grinned. “Our two emissaries are going to be busy for a while being run through every health test our medical doctors can dream up. Our escort through spider-wolf space has already moved into position, but we won’t be ready to go for another twelve hours. Can you and Dr. Setin contact the spider-wolves and let them know that?”
“Twelve hours?” Dr. Shwartz questioned. “Twelve is easy. Hours, well, that will take some work. I will get my comrades on it, though I should warn you that they are sulking worse than I am at the moment.”
“Good luck, Dr. Shwartz.”
She smiled again. “Thank you, Admiral.”
He signed off, then noticed Desjani glowering in her seat. “What?”
“We’re having a problem with Commander Benan down at the quarantine site,” Desjani grumbled.
“What’s the problem?”
“He’s insisting on seeing her. The docs say no. I’m about to have him arrested.”
Geary tensed, then relaxed himself. “He wants to see her? In person, or just communication?”
She replied with an annoyed look. “Let me check . . . All right. He says he wants to see her image, talk to her. The docs want to work in peace.”
“Give Commander Benan comm access to his wife,” Geary ordered.
Desjani’s expression this time was startled. “Excuse me, sir.”
“What?”
“You used your ‘command voice.’ You don’t have to use your command voice with me. You know that.” She hit a control. “Commander Benan has authorization for comms with his wife. Video and audio. I don’t care. Just make it happen. Tell the medical staff that the admiral ordered it, and if they don’t like it, they can debate the matter with him.”
“I’m sorry, Tanya,” Geary said. “Commander Benan’s actions, his lack of self-control, are the result of something that was done to him.”
“I know,” she shot back. “The Syndics—”
“And the Alliance. I told you that.”
“Fine. You didn’t tell me what was done.” Her gaze challenged him.
“It’s very highly classified, Tanya. If I tell you, it could cause difficulties for you.”
“Difficulties?” She laughed. “Oh, mercy, no! Difficulties? Whatever would I do without my guardian and protector to keep difficulties from me?”
“All right,” Geary admitted. “That did sound a little condescending—”
“Duh.”
“—but it’s not as if you don’t already have enough to worry about.”
Desjani snorted derisively. “Speaking of things I need to worry about, we both agree that Commander Benan is an accident waiting to happen. Since he is on my ship, and if he flies off the handle it will imperil my ship, perhaps it would be a good idea to let me know exactly what’s going on aboard my ship so that I can help control the situation.”
“You’ve got a point, even if you are driving it home with a jackhammer. Once we reenter jump space, I’ll tell you.”
Her eyebrows went up. “You can’t tell me in real space?”
“I just think I’ll be too busy,” Geary said. “Speaking of which . . .” He put in a call to Captain Smythe.
“It’s still twelve more hours,” Smythe announced before Geary could say anything. “Not a minute less.”
“Our escorts are waiting,” Geary pointed out.
“Unless our escorts intend helping to haul along that monstrosity you call a superbattleship, I suggest they continue waiting until I’ve gotten rigging the tow job done properly.”
“That wasn’t actually why I called. There’s an update on Orion.”
“Oh.” Captain Smythe nodded. “She’s been hit too hard, too often. The repair patches are what’s holding Orion together more than anything now.”
“Is she or is she not capable of facing combat? This update hedges and avoids giving a straight answer.”
The senior engineer frowned, checking his own readout. “It looks straightforward to me. Points in the structure where stress has accumulated, areas of the hull where armor is judged weak, cumulative effects of multiple repairs on systems . . . What is the problem, Admiral?”
“It doesn’t tell me whether or not Orion is still combat capable,” Geary repeated.
“That’s not our call to make, Admiral. We tell you what state the ship is in. You de
cide how and when to risk it. Orion has not exceeded any of the measures by which a ship is definitely declared unsafe or unable to carry out its basic functions. But it has a great many measures by which the ship is marginal. Another volley from the Kicks at Orion in that last engagement, and we would very likely have been salvaging pieces of her after the battle. I didn’t pick her as one of the battleships for towing the captured bear-cow ship because I was worried about Orion’s ability to survive the extra stress on her structure.”
Smythe was right, unfortunately. This was a case where Geary couldn’t defer to the judgment of the engineers. He would have to make the call himself. “Very well, Captain Smythe.” He paused, unable to resist his next words. “It’s still twelve hours?”
“It’s only eleven hours and fifty-seven minutes now, Admiral.”
Geary called Commander Shen, seeing him in one of the passageways of Orion, where Shen had answered on the nearest comm panel. “How is your ship, Captain?” Geary asked bluntly.
“She’s been in better condition.” Shen looked around. “I could not ask for a better crew, nor a harder working crew, but there’s been a lot to do.”
“Do you consider Orion to be combat capable?”
Shen paused, eyes hooded as he considered his reply, his usual dissatisfied expression no clue to his thoughts. “Orion is not front-line capable,” he finally said. “She can fight. We have our shields back on maximum, and about one-third of our weapons operational.”
“I saw that,” Geary said. “A remarkable achievement given the damage that Orion has sustained in the last two fights.”
“Thank you, sir. However, we have numerous patches on our hull armor, and two-thirds of our weapons are not operational.” Shen looked around again, viewing those of his crew who were in sight. “We are understrength as a result of battle casualties even though we have received a number of replacements who are former members of the crew of Invincible. They have rendered good service even though most seem to consider reassignment to a battleship from a battle cruiser to be the equivalent of being banished to the third ring of hell.”
The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Invincible Page 23