Integration

by A. C. Ellas

  “Enough,” Lyto said mildly. “I’m sorry I even brought it up. Both of them were exceptional gladiators. Can’t you just leave it at that?”

  “Both of you need to calm down,” Nick told them, meeting their gazes in turn. After a moment, each looked down and away, but it took longer than usual for the trained reflex to force them to break eye contact. The adrenaline, Nick knew.

  “Walk it off, gatehs. I’ll go fetch more tea.” Lyto stood and hefted the empty pitcher.

  Riko and Raki exchanged sheepish glances. “Sorry, Captain,” Riko offered.

  “It’s an old debate.” Raki drained the remainder of his tea and set the empty glass back down.

  “I’m curious,” Nick said after a moment. “Have you ever asked Yeri’s opinion about it?”

  They both blinked at him. Raki shook his head.

  Riko shrugged a shoulder. “It wasn’t something we could ask when we were younger.”

  “Yeri was more approachable than Taco but not that approachable.” Raki grimaced.

  “Either one of them could trounce any of the other studs,” Lyto remarked, returning to the table with a full pitcher. “Watching them spar against each other was easily the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen. They moved so fast they blurred.”

  “It was beautiful,” Raki agreed. “The dance of death, Yeri called it.”

  “I miss Tachero,” Riko said after a moment. “It saddens me that we’ll never get to watch Taco chase Yeri across the field again.”

  “Yeri gave as good as he got,” Raki protested. “They ended in a draw half the time, at least.”

  “Almost always,” Lyto corrected. “On purpose, because if they really had gone after each other with the intent to kill, one of them would have died, even with the heavy padding on the staves.”

  “How well did you know the War Leader, since you’re not one of his sons?” Evie asked Lyto.

  “All the male gatakia were trained together by the studs,” Lyto said dryly. “I had lessons with Yeri and Taco both, the same as the rest. I liked the music lessons from Yeraki better than the fighting lessons from Tachero.”

  Riko raised his glass. “To the old lion.”

  “And the shadow,” Raki added, raising his glass as well.

  After the toast, Nick asked, “The shadow?”

  “Yeri,” Lyto said. “He’s a grey and black spotted tabby, so he’s hard to see in the shadows. Picture Veloki, or those two, but silver and charcoal instead. Yeri also walks silently and is generally very quiet. He would often startle people without meaning to, and at one point, the Breedmasters got so tired of it they tied bells to his ankles.”

  “I remember that,” Riko said, grinning.

  “He hated them,” Raki agreed with a chuckle.

  “He managed to lose them.”

  “In less than a week.”

  * * * *

  Cai took a deep breath as he settled himself in the chair. The Synde in his body was already expanding his awareness. He could feel his adjuncts as they merged into the system. The crystal array descended. He reached up and out and became Dark Star. He studied the data from the sensors. They were in interstellar space. There was no star nearby, they were well past any fuzzy Oort border. According to the readings, the nearest star was three lightyears away.

  He actually had protocols for a situation like this. He quickly pinpointed specific stars and globular clusters by their spectrums, these were stable features that didn’t change. From them, he could triangulate his position. The good news was that he was still in the Milky Way Galaxy. The bad news was that he was no longer in the Orion Arm. He was very far from home, floating in the gap between the galactic arms.

  “Nick,” he pinged his husband and captain. He sent the location report.

  “What do you want to do?” Nick asked after a silent moment spent digesting the news.

  “I want to redline the engines and jump as quickly and as often as I can without killing myself.”

  “Without harming yourself or the ship,” Nick demanded. “If I think you’re pushing it, I reserve the right to make you rest.”

  “Agreed.” Cai knew better than to argue about something like this. Having secured Nick’s cooperation, he turned his bow homeward and started to accelerate, pushing the three massive ion engines to their maximum capacity within a matter of minutes.

  Acceleration was a cumulative effect, limited by two factors. The first was the structural tolerances of the ship itself. Relativistic speed stressed the ship in ways jumping did not, but his was a strong body, rated to tolerances of up to .9 c. The second, and key limit to his speed, was relativity itself. Since energy equaled mass times the speed of light squared, the faster he tried to go, the more energy it would require until both mass and energy reached a point of infinite requirement. For all practical purposes, .8 c was as fast as he could go, and after that, the energy requirements for each incremental point faster were just too high to be borne.

  It took a couple of hours before he reached .8 c. At that rate, he’d reach home in two million years or so. Instead of relaxing, Cai started the calculations for a jump. He could jump from anywhere, it was one of the advantages he held over mechanical jump engines such as the Rels employed. They could only jump from stable hardpoints. The question here was, how far could he travel in a single jump? There weren’t many stars here in the gap between arms, but there were some. Even in open interstellar space, there were odd things such as rogue, sunless planets, brown and black dwarf stars, even singularities. All of them were obstacles for him, masses that would skew him even in subspace. That’s why most jumps were done from gravity well to gravity well. It was easier to work with them than to avoid them.

  “Ten minutes until FTL transit,” he announced ship-wide, then slowed his perception of time. Those ten minutes objective time would take four or five times longer subjectively.

  Even with the vast majority of his attention now on the tricky equations of the jump, he heard Juan Cortez announce, “All hands, prepare for jump. Everyone must be in an acceleration couch in seven minutes from mark. Three, two, mark.”

  Thus assured that everything was as normal as it could be, Cai shut out peripheral awareness. The five-minute warning was issued by one of his adjuncts without his conscious awareness. He was deeply in tune with Dark Star now, the cascade of equations racing through his mind, through the minds of his adjuncts, through the banks of computer processors and back at astonishing speeds. Arriving at his solution, he twisted the untwistable and dropped into subspace.

  He felt the vague tugs of gravity wells all around him, none close enough to force his hand. He was sliding down a shallow slope toward the galactic center, which was the default slope of subspace because everything in the galaxy had to bow to the immense power of Sagittarius A, the supermassive black hole dwelling in the center of the Milky Way. Even in subspace with its inversion, the slope was toward the star-eater, not away. Cai surfed the slope, heading sideways toward the Orion Arm, seeking a star along the general bearing he wanted.

  It was easier sailing in the void like this, so much easier that he wondered why it hadn’t been tried before. He suspected the answer laid in how they were trained, the Guild did not smile upon Astrogators pushing the envelope. He found a good-sized star and tried to catch the edge of it. It was surprisingly difficult, and Cai strained his systems reaching and grabbing the edge of the gravity well. He crawled, painfully crawled, up the slope toward the heliopause. Finally, in a stable place, he retwisted the untwistable and fell into normal space with a minimal forward momentum of only .1 c.

  He coaxed energy back into his systems one by one as he swept his attention across the system, looking for enemies. He fed power to the ion engines once the Dark Star’s systems were all in the green, accelerating to a comfortable .5 c. Now, he scanned for likely hardpoints, calculating their probable locations. This system was unexplored, though it was on his maps, being at the very
edge of the galactic arm. Anything usable for his purposes would be on the far side of the system, and he quickly set a course to transit the system. He continued to accelerate until he reached .75 c then allowed the engines to idle down to just enough output to counter the slowing effects of the solar winds. Then, he exited the Chamber. He needed food, rest, and Nick, but not necessarily in that order.

  Chapter Twelve

  Yeraki checked the fit of the new uniform one last time. He had traded the cadet greys for the black uniform of the Space Corps. Tonight was the graduation ceremony, although he wouldn’t be attending. This was at his own request. He didn’t feel it was proper since he hadn’t truly been a part of the class that was graduating, he just happened to be finishing at the same time. He would have a private meeting with the commandant instead, after which he’d learn where he’d be posted. He had requested shipboard duty, but Lee doubted he’d get it.

  “You’re too smart, too useful to be wasted as a line officer. They’ll put you on a strategic planning staff.”

  He grimaced at the memory of Lee’s words and hoped they weren’t prophetic. He really did want to serve on a spaceship, to know the thrill of sailing the void in an interstellar craft.

  “You look good, kitty cat,” Lee commented as he stepped into their small room.

  “Thank you, Lee.” Yeri glanced at the man. “You look good, too. Did you add the Lineage mark?”

  Lee wasn’t graduating because he hadn’t attended the academy, but he was now wearing the Corps uniform as well, with the full insignia of a medical officer embroidered onto the black jacket. Someone had also embroidered the winged gamma of the Lineage onto Lee’s jacket, aligned in such a way that it didn’t look out of place. “No, I didn’t request it. Apparently, someone who designates such things decided it would signify that I am a doctor of Rovani medicine.” Lee shrugged. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Yeri stepped away from the desk and paused, waiting for Lee to proceed.

  Lee smiled at him before stepping out of the doorway. Yeri followed him silently, but once they were in the corridor, they walked side by side.

  “Father would be proud of you,” Lee murmured.

  Even after so many years, the memory of George hurt. Yeri missed his human keenly. He sighed, though, wondering if Lee was correct in his assessment. George had been a wonderful man, but he had his faults. “I’m not so sure of that. He never did understand my fascination with physics and space.”

  “Doesn’t matter. He would have loved to see you like this, free and about to join an elite force on your own terms.”

  Yeri had to nod at that. George had campaigned long and hard, but ultimately unsuccessfully, to earn the Rovania the right to be freed. George’s dream hadn’t been realized until decades after his death, and it had taken a massacre and the near-extinction of the Rovania to make it a reality. They passed the rest of the walk in companionable silence.

  Lee reached the door first and placed his palm on the scanner. The door chimed softly and opened. Lee motioned for Yeri to go ahead of him, and after a moment’s hesitation, Yeri did so.

  Commandant Hennersby was standing beside his desk, facing the viewscreen. He turned as Yeri and Lee entered. “Congratulations, Yeraki. You’ve exceeded everyone’s expectations, and those expectations were high to begin with.”

  Yeri inclined his head. “Thank you.”

  “You’ve been a challenge to us from day one, simply because of who you are. That hasn’t changed. You have been the topic of much discussion among the admirals, discussions that have nearly come to blows on at least three occasions. Your stated preference for shipboard duty didn’t help the situation. Nobody in their right minds can picture you as a mere lieutenant, but you’re not experienced enough in our service to be breveted to captain’s rank and given a ship of your own. So, a compromise was reached. You will be breveted to commander’s rank and, if a captain can be found who’s willing to work with you, you’ll serve as the ship’s executive officer until you’re experienced enough for promotion. Is that acceptable?”

  “What if a willing captain can’t be found?”

  “In that case, you will serve on the strategic staff at Hevetich. That will be where you’re going in either case, since Admiral Nbuntu of Fourth Fleet won the drawing.”

  “The drawing?” Yeri blinked in surprise even as he considered the details of the assignment. It was more than fair and better than he’d dared hope for.

  “Yes,” Hennersby drawled, rolling his eyes. “There were so many admirals demanding you for their staffs that it was decided to leave your assignment to chance. Nbuntu drew the winning token.”

  “I see.” Yeri allowed himself to smile a little. “The assignment is acceptable.”

  “Your... family... has completed basic and tech training and will be transferred to Hevetich with you,” Commandant Hennersby added after a moment. He held out a hand expectantly.

  Yeri took the man’s hand and gave it a firm shake. “Thank you, Commandant. It’s been a pleasure to learn here.”

  Hennersby nodded, released his hand, and turned to Lee. “You will accompany Yeraki, of course. Admiral Nbuntu would like you to set up a program to train medics in Rovani medicine at Hevetich Station.”

  “Thank you, Commandant.” Lee inclined his head politely. He smelled amused to Yeri and a little bored.

  “There is one issue.”

  Lee’s attention abruptly focused on the commandant. “Oh? And what would that be?”

  “It has come to our attention that you are the only doctor of Rovani medicine alive. Until there are other trained Rovani physicians, both the Rovanis Council and admiralty are requesting that you remain stationed at Hevetich even if Yeraki receives a shipboard assignment. That way, you are available to consult with the physicians of every ship who have Rovania crew, and you will be able to train other physicians in your specialty.”

  Yeri glanced at Lee, worried that he wouldn’t take it well. He need not have worried, Lee was a physician first and everything else second.

  “I understand,” Lee replied evenly. “When do we depart?”

  “Immediately. We have a courier standing by to take you directly to Hevetich.” The commandant picked up a small case and handed it to Yeri. “Your rank insignia and orders, Commander.”

  “Thank you, Commandant.” Yeri removed the insignia and affixed them to the collar of his jacket. He left the data cube containing his orders in the case, which he pocketed.

  Lee was also given a case, but he already wore the insignia of a physician. They left together and returned to their quarters to finish packing.

  Yeri stood in the passenger lounge of the courier Sand Piper, watching their final approach into Hevetich Station. The immense, sprawling entanglement of pods, tubes, and other miscellaneous structures was organically chaotic. The largest space station in human-held space, it had grown and evolved over decades of use. It sat in the coveted L5 point in orbit around Hevetich, the high-gravity planet that gave the station its name.

  Sand Piper smoothly approached a docking ring. Yeri silently observed the approach and gentle kiss as the ship slid into position and made contact with the station. It took less time than he’d have thought. As the crew secured the mooring, he turned and headed for the small cabin he’d had all to himself. He and Lee were the courier’s only passengers, so they’d each been given a cabin of their own. Lee popped his head out of the cabin beside his. “Are we there?”

  “We are.” Yeri ducked into his cabin to grab his gear, which was already packed. He carried only two duffels plus his bouzouki in its protective case.

  Lee met him back in the lounge. Lee also had two duffels, but he didn’t have an instrument to contend with. Lee hadn’t inherited his father’s musical talent. He could play some and sing adequately, but his real talents lay elsewhere. Lee fell into step with him as they headed for the main airlock. “That station looks like a veritable maze.”
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  “I hope the internal layout makes more sense than what we can see from the outside.” Yeri glanced at the inner airlock door, which was still shut.

  “No, the inside’s worse,” said a third voice.

  Yeri turned to face the courier’s captain. “Thank you for the swift, pleasant journey, Captain Baker. Please extend my appreciation to Astrogator Zan as well.”

  “I will do so, and thank you, Commander. I have notified Admiral Nbuntu’s office of your arrival; they are sending an aide to escort you.” The man smiled, Yeri could smell his amusement. He held out a hand, palm up, offering a data cube. “Here’s a full schematic of the station, it includes mapping and route selection routines.”

  Yeri accepted the cube and pocketed it. “Thank you, that will be a big help.”

  Captain Baker stepped back as the inner airlock door opened. “Good luck, Commander.”

  Yeri saluted him properly before heading through the open airlock—both doors now stood open to the station—and into the docking unit of Hevetich Station. Two men stood waiting, both in uniform. One, by the insignia, was a station tech, and the other, a lieutenant.

  The lieutenant stepped forward. “Commander Nathizo and Doctor Tavlakis?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant, that’s us,” Yeri replied.

  “I’m Lieutenant Rosales from Admiral Nbuntu’s office. Please, come with me.”

  “Lead on, we follow,” Lee told the very earnest-smelling young man.

  They followed the lieutenant on a long, confusing journey from the docking ring to the admiral’s office. It took twice as long as Yeri thought it should have given the number of twists, turns, and changes in level the trip had required. The lieutenant eventually brought them into a conference room, provided drinks and snacks then saluted himself out of the room.

  Yeri sniffed the coffee. It smelled okay, so he added cream and sugar, stirred, and handed the mug to Lee.