Golsubril looked at the colonel. Jun’s file said he came from very old, very loyal Nautilan stock, which stretched back to the very beginning of the Starstate. Unlike so many of the conquered peoples, who very often made poor soldiers, and were fit only for regional subjugation on their individual worlds of origin, Jun’s folk had been Nautilan from the start. His father had served ably in the echelons of the previous kosmarch’s administration. Nothing about the man’s breeding spoke of intemperate nor seditious tendencies. And yet he insisted on a level of informality—around Vex—which bordered on scandalous.
How much longer should she allow it to continue, lest it degrade the level of discipline among the other officers and staff? Allowing oneself to tolerate an ignored standard, she knew, was essentially setting a new one.
But—and this was Ekk’s pleading—Jun did know a lot about the Waymakers. As much as could be reasonably known about them, based on what little technology had been left behind other than the Keys which gave humanity access to the Waywork.
The trio used handholds to pull themselves over to where Alliance’s current Waypoint pilot was seated at her control board—the spherical Key resting in a pedestal-like installation which rose from the deck. The pilot’s gee chair was like any other in the command module, but unlike the other officers, this pilot’s uniform was stained with perspiration. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and beads of sweat were scattered across her face. In microgravity, the fluid merely collected on the surface, versus running down.
“Are you too fatigued to perform the crossing?” Golsubril Vex asked seriously.
“No, ma’am,” the young woman said. “I am fully prepared and capable of doing my duty until it is time for me to be relieved.”
“Very good,” Vex said. “I like a woman who can persevere under adverse conditions. Does my presence in the command module add to your burden?”
The young woman’s eyes darted from Vex’s face, to General Ekk’s, then to Colonel Jun’s, and back to Vex’s.
“It does not, Madam Kosmarch.”
Vex allowed herself a small smile. The Waypoint pilot was lying, just as they all lied. But it had been a brave lie. Being able to control and suborn one’s discomfort—enduring a superior’s scrutiny during the carrying out of one’s operational duty—was the mark of a quality Nautilan individual. Such underlings were always valuable, in any capacity they could be had.
“Continue, please,” Vex said. “I would merely like to watch as you explain.”
The Waypoint pilot swallowed twice, without lifting her hands from the Key’s spherical, smooth surface, and turned her eyes back to her status display.
“You won’t be able to see what I see,” the woman said, working to keep her voice calm, “but right now I am accessing the Waywork, and readying the Key to execute the crossing over the Slipway to the target star’s Waypoint. Everything at this stage in the process looks and feels nominal.”
“Feels?” Vex said, the tone of her voice implying her intrigue.
“Yes, Madam Kosmarch,” the Waypoint pilot said, before swallowing again and continuing. “Much of what I do—what every Waypoint pilot does—is an act of intuition. You know that we are tested before entering the school to become Waypoint pilots. Very few people have the gift.”
“You consider it to be a talent, then?” Vex asked.
“Madam Kosmarch, I do. A talent which has made me valuable to the Starstate, thus my family can be proud of me, and we can be proud together.”
“Very good,” Vex said. “That is correct. You may continue.”
“As the Alliance moves to within operational distance of the Waypoint coordinates, I can feel the Waypoint’s proximity, as well as the Slipways which stretch across the light-years to the nearest connecting Waypoints around other stars. Once these connections are solid in my mind, I will use this control interface in front of me to divert a great amount of the ship’s power into the Key itself. No conventional thrust will assist me in what I have to do next. Once the Key is primed for activation, I must devote my attention utterly to bridging the two Waypoints—feeling the ship across the Slipway—so that the energized Key can do its work. After that, everything happens too quickly to describe. We simply cease to be one place, and arrive at another.”
“Does it hurt you?” Vex asked.
“Not physical pain per se, Madam Kosmarch. Rather…there is an intense sensation of expenditure. Although the headaches are something every Waypoint pilot experiences so frequently, we just learn to live with them while on duty. That too is part of the screening process, before you can be schooled in Waypoint use.”
“Madam Kosmarch,” General Ekk said, “we’re moments now from executing the maneuver.”
Vex watched as the Waypoint pilot’s eyes lost focus, and suddenly the young woman seemed to be very far away. In her mind. A slightly knit expression formed on the Waypoint pilot’s brow, while a tiny groan passed from her lips. Followed by the ordinarily smooth, opaque surface of the Key doing something Vex had never witnessed in person before. The sphere seemed to illuminate from within itself, but only enough for the surface to take on a translucent quality. Just beneath the semitransparent surface, a geometry of regular lines became visible. Not machinery, per se. But rather, a network of fissures in the substrate, each of them giving off a faint, sea-blue light. Which glowed up through the actual surface of the Key—over which the Waypoint pilot’s hands appeared to float, as if she were not even touching the device.
There was a flashbulb moment, which crossed the kosmarch’s consciousness so quickly she couldn’t be sure that it registered.
Then the surface of the Key snapped back to its familiar, metallic, pristine self.
The Waypoint pilot practically rolled up in her gee chair, chest rising and falling with deep, sucking breaths of air.
Vex looked to Ekk, who looked to the conventional pilots in the command module. They were busy using the Alliance’s sensor modules to recalibrate position—based on relative starfield shift. After a few moments, one of them turned his head and announced, “We appear to have successfully made the crossing to the unexplored system, sir.”
Before anyone could reply, the Waypoint pilot’s hands reached out, clutching wildly for anyone or anything to grab onto, until she ultimately latched onto Vex’s outstretched arm. The young woman’s skin was cold and clammy, almost to the point of being disgusting, but Vex kept her revulsion in check long enough to ask questions.
“It’s not always this hard,” Vex intuited. “You were surprised by that?”
“Yes,” the Waypoint pilot whispered. “It’s not…you don’t have to…I had to pinch so much for that one. It was almost too difficult to stand. I don’t know why.”
“Was there something or, perhaps, someone in the way?”
“Yes and no,” the Waypoint pilot said, her eyes closed, and a look of extreme fatigue settling over her face—which almost seemed to be aging before Vex’s very eyes.
Ekk raised a hand, and two of the security personal flanking either side of the command module door used handrails to float over to the Waypoint pilot’s position.
“Take her away for double the ordinary recovery period,” Ekk ordered. “And have the next Waypoint pilot on the rotation report to the command module now.”
The young woman allowed herself to be floated out of the command module without protest, leaving Ekk to stare at the Key nervously, while Vex evaluated what had just happened.
“Extraordinary,” whispered Colonel Jun.
“How so?” Vex demanded.
“An experienced Waypoint pilot should have had no more trouble crossing this Slipway than any other in the Waywork. Yet, if her reaction is any gauge, there was something about this particular Slipway which resisted her effort. That’s either a function of the Slipway itself—perhaps being so newly formed, it requires some form of roughening out, before it smoothly accepts our use of it—or we may be dealing with an opposing force other than conventional.
”
“And what does that mean?” Ekk asked the sickly Waymaker expert.
Jun coughed many times into a handkerchief before neatly folding it and placing the cloth back into a pocket on his uniform.
“We’ve always assumed that the Keys and the Waywork are neutral,” Jun replied matter-of-factly. “We’ve never seen anything to make us believe that the Waymakers themselves might not want us using their technology. But if something has changed in this regard…perhaps some kind of failsafe has been triggered? I am guessing, really. But that Waypoint pilot put herself through extreme strain taking us across. I’ve never seen any of our Waypoint pilots have to fight so much to execute Slipway navigation. Especially one as youthful as she was. I suggest we proceed with caution. Now that we’re on their side, we can’t be too careful.”
“You speak as if the Waymakers are no longer a past-tense part of the equation?” Golsubril Vex remarked.
“Maybe they’re not?” Colonel Jun replied.
PART TWO
Chapter 15
There were no exterior portholes nor observation bubbles in the Catapult’s command module. The entire thing was up-armored, with triple-integrity hull reinforcement, to safeguard against decompression during battle. Which did not make the command module invulnerable. But did make it so that Admiral Mikton couldn’t get an immediate naked-eye view of the new star system into which she and her small Task Group had ventured.
She hastily made her way—with Commodore Urrl in tow—to one of the Catapult’s lifts, which ran up the center of the ship, and departed for the nearest module which did have windows on the universe.
When they arrived, she discovered they were not the only ones with the same idea. Though space itself technically looked no different from the way it had just a few minutes before, everyone was eager to get a look at uncharted territory. They were, so far as they knew, the first human beings to ever cross to this specific Waypoint. No people had ever before observed the galaxy, unadulterated, from this place in the universe.
A crowd had gathered to look out the bay observation dome, and was speaking in hushed voices as they stared at the sand-scatter of bright, seemingly fixed points against a field of pure midnight black.
One star in particular was just a bit brighter than all the rest. And though Mikton could not be completely sure, she thought she saw just a hint of occlusion—the superjovian, which had been seen by the planet-finders, orbiting close to its home sun. Only this time you could actually witness it without instruments. An off-color mote drifting over the face of a yellow-white disc, many, many astronomical units away.
“Can’t linger too long,” Urrl said quietly into his boss’s ear.
“I know,” Zuri whispered. “But this is part of the reason we all came out here in the first place, isn’t it? With DSOD? Nobody comes strictly for the chance to fight. Or at least, I’ve never believed that’s the only reason.”
“Probably true,” Urrl replied. “I think for me, it was about wanting to go to space, and then once I’d experienced my first combat engagement, it was about wanting to make sure space stayed free.”
“No space in the Waywork has ever been this free,” Admiral Mikton said. “Think of it. This system belongs to no one. No government in human history has ever ruled it. That’s a remarkable idea, when you get down to it. Now that we’re here, I am almost ashamed to claim it—assuming there’s anything worth claiming.”
“Once we get in touch with the Daffodil, we ought to have a fuller picture.”
“Right. Let’s go check on that.”
Reluctantly, Zuri returned to the command module, where the Task Group control officer reported that all ships—military and civilian—had reported in. The crossing went well. Except for the fact that all of the Waypoint pilots each reported some degree of difficulty during the crossing proper. When Zuri ordered the on-shift Waypoint pilot to report, he merely spoke of a resistance which could not be described very well, except for the fact that he came out of the experience even more sweat soaked than before. His replacement had been called up ahead of schedule, and the exhausted young officer—who’d just taken Catapult over the Slipway—was bidden to report for off-shift recovery, with Admiral Mikton’s personal thanks for his work.
The fresh Waypoint pilot reported that the Waypoint—on this side—remained stable. No discernible perturbations—as detectable through the Key—could be sensed.
“Order the Task Group to keep formation,” Zuri commanded, “with all ships broadcasting for Daffodil’s awareness. Since she’s not in the immediate vicinity, we need to locate her, and get a report. Meanwhile, order all Waypoint pilots to stay sharp, and alert their respective captains to any Waypoint activity of any sort. We don’t know who might come through behind us. If anybody. Friend or foe. Though, I think we can safely assume that, because the Nauties aren’t already here, and already shooting at us, we’ve been lucky enough to arrive ahead of them.”
“Probably,” Urrl replied in agreement.
“Which means when they do arrive,” Zuri speculated, “we’re going to have an immediate problem on our hands. When’s the earliest we can get the Oswight yacht back across the Slipway? The sooner we begin moving the security flotilla to our side, the better.”
Some discussion went on between several junior officers.
“Ma’am,” said the Catapult’s captain, “the Hallibrand reports she will be turned around and ready to recross within fifteen minutes. Though her captain says he’s not eager to go home just yet. Wishes he could loiter and have a look at the new system along with the rest of us.”
“Tell him I fully sympathize,” Zuri said, with a small smile on her lips. “Hopefully if our luck holds, there will be time for everybody to do some sight-seeing. But first things first. The security flotilla is our only chance to hold this system against Starstate Nautilan. Or any other Starstate, for that matter. I have to think all of them are going to try to find a way to cross at some point, though they won’t be doing it through Constellar space without some gymnastic diplomacy.”
“Maybe the Nauties won’t be interested in a gun fight?” Urrl speculated.
Zuri sighed. “Would be nice. For a change. But you and I are both too old to rely on hope alone to guide our judgment. So, let’s get busy bringing our security ships over, and hope Daffodil doesn’t take too long to report back.”
“Assuming she can report back,” Urrl said, eyebrow raised.
Zuri opened her mouth to reply, then shut it promptly. Her exec had made a cogent point, which she didn’t really have a rebuttal for. They would simply have to loiter and wait. Until or unless the Key-equipped monitor reported in, the first priority would be acting as an armed toehold on the new Waypoint’s periphery. Betting that the Task Group could bring in enough security firepower to give Starstate Nautilan second thoughts about a battle, once Nautilan arrived.
The Task Group command network came up, with Wyodreth Antagean and Lady Oswight both occupying separate squares on Catapult’s tactical command wallscreen.
“Ma’am,” Lieutenant Commander Antagean said, “we’re ready to begin burning for the inner system.”
“Not just yet,” Zuri said. “I want to wait until we’ve got word from Daffodil. Or, failing that, I want to move a few armed assets over, to augment our force, prior to departing the vicinity of the Waypoint.”
“Ummm,” he said, his mouth puckering slightly, “Lady Oswight made it quite clear that she expected to be able to begin reconnaissance of the new system as soon as we were safely over the Slipway.”
Zuri sat back in her gee chair, both eyebrows raised. This was the part she had been least looking forward to. Technically, she owned the Task Group, and Lady Oswight was merely a knowledge asset. But if Lady Oswight began throwing the Family name around, demanding concessions, to what extent could Zuri refuse? If things began to get heated, there was significant risk of causing a row between Family Oswight and DSOD proper. Admiral Mikton was already
making a lot of from-the-hip calls, as things stood. Pushing back too hard on Lady Oswight’s wishes might cause the admiral a lot of unwanted trouble.
Zuri cleared her throat, and addressed the square containing Garsina Oswight’s face.
“I know you’re eager to begin a survey, madam, but your safety demands that I not allow any of the Task Group to depart the periphery of the Waypoint before we’ve received some kind of communication from the monitor Daffodil.”
“If that ship is far into the inner system,” Lady Oswight replied, “it could take hours, or even days, to get a response. There is no system-wide network supporting comms here. Since Daffodil is clearly not waiting at the Waypoint for our arrival, we have to assume she’s engaged elsewhere. I would like to take the Antagean ships, and join in Daffodil’s effort.”
“But securing the Waypoint—”
“Is a task best suited for ships with the weapons to do the job,” Lady Oswight said, cutting Zuri off. “None of the Antagean ships will be any good to you in a fight, Admiral. The longer we linger here, the more time we waste. Better to let us leave, and spread out our ships. Besides, if we are to be attacked at the mouth of the Waypoint, and all of us are obliterated, who will warn the Daffodil of what’s happened? It makes sense, Admiral. And Mister Antagean—excuse me, the lieutenant commander—has assured me that his crews are ready to go. With DSOD personnel backing us up.”
Zuri’s face had become a creased button of indecision. She had to admit, Lady Oswight did make sense. Antagean’s ships would not be able to shoot back, if Starstate Nautilan—or anyone else—came through the Waypoint. The Gouger and Tarinock would be hard-pressed to intercede on Antagean’s behalf. Maybe it did make more sense, from a purely tactical standpoint, to send the unarmed starliners on their way?
But…
“Madam,” Zuri said, “all of this assumes hostile forces have not already crossed ahead of us, destroyed Daffodil, and now lie in wait.”
“Is there any evidence of this?” Lady Oswight asked. “I know a starship, recently arrived at a Waypoint, leaves a lot of hydrogen plasma in its wake when it begins thrusting. If a hostile force did come ahead of us, is there any discernible evidence that they were recently here? Have your military sensors detected any other ships in close proximity? Antagean’s civilian sensors—on all three of his ships—can only find the scattered, cooled wake of a vessel which crossed many days ago. I deduce this is the Daffodil, and that nobody else has crossed since. Can you verify, please?”
A Star Wheeled Sky Page 10
