“Thank you. As I was saying, the technology is miraculous. We shared our glassmaking process with their engineer, Kyne Xi, and he said our mix of ingredients was only marginally different from what the Gaians use. I’m told he programmed their matter printer for perhaps three ticks and then produced the first sheet of glass.”
“Kyne Xi?” Shantu asked. “I understood they had no caste system.”
“They don’t, but in the course of discussing glassmaking, it was mentioned that kyne is the honorific for a builder, and Trooper Xi said he thought all engineers should have an honorific. So we’ve made him a temporary member of the builder caste and are calling him by the appropriate name.” She shot Shantu a challenging look. “You had first swing at them last night; perhaps you should have made an offer to the captain and her commander.”
He snorted, but his eyes crinkled as he met her grin. “We were a little busy fighting off the most dangerous foe our planet has ever seen. Next time we gather around a sheet of glass and drink a bottle of spirits, perhaps the topic will come up.”
“That is exactly the sort of interaction I hoped for,” Tal said. “You chose your people well, Eroles.”
“They’re good people. And they’re doing good work. Between the Gaians and my builders, we’re producing four-by-nine sheets of the highest-grade tempered glass at such a rate that we’ll be able to repair all of the reported damage within half a moon. There’s no difference between what the Gaian matter printer outputs and what our own factories can produce, except that they can do it a great deal faster.”
“That sounds like disruptive technology,” said Arabisar.
“No, it sounds like profitable technology,” Parser answered, and Tal could practically see the cogs turning in his head.
“It’s both,” she said. “And the topic of a High Council meeting all by itself, but that’s not what we’re speaking of right now.” She nodded at Eroles, who detailed the establishment of a virtual assembly line of cargo pilots between Blacksun and the Caphenon, taking delivery of the glass in the ship’s cargo bay and shuttling it to temporary depots.
“If I may,” Yaserka said. “Why are we pouring resources into repairing windows when we’re expecting a potential invasion? Shouldn’t we be preparing for that instead?”
“We’re preparing for that as best we can right now,” Shantu answered. “Fueling, arming, drilling…but there’s only so much we can do without knowing the exact nature of the threat and establishing a strategy to meet it. Hence tonight’s meeting with Captain Serrado.”
“Precisely,” said Tal. “And in the meantime, we have a very nervous population out there looking to us for leadership. We need to show them that we have everything in hand. We also need to show them that the Gaians are part of the solution. Having them help us with repairs accomplishes both objectives.”
Parser nodded. “That makes sense. The last thing we need is a panic-fueled economic crisis.”
“Not to mention that we can’t afford to expend warriors for riot control when we may need them for something a great deal more important than rescuing merchants,” Shantu added.
“Those merchants keep your warriors clothed, fed, and armed,” Parser snapped.
“Excuse me,” said Arabisar. “The producers keep everyone fed. The merchants just distribute.”
Tal could feel her headache coming back.
“Regarding the ownership of the Caphenon…” She paused as every High Council member leaned forward. “I have confirmed with our legal scholars that salvage law applies, and the ship belongs to its captain.”
Shantu and Yaserka both made noises of disapproval, but she spoke over them. “However, the captain does not intend to keep her ship.”
“What?” Shantu demanded. “Why not?”
“When can we have access?” Yaserka wanted to know.
“If I may finish?”
They sat back with matching glowers.
“Thank you. Now, what I’m about to say is classified at Level One. Captain Serrado plans to destroy her ship, but she doesn’t know that we know it. Do not even think of interrupting me now,” she said when Parser opened his mouth. He clamped it shut again. “So I’ve put my alternative plan in motion, and we’re already gathering the necessary information. Once the captain abandons her ship, as she must before she can give the order to destroy it, we can legally claim it. The catch will be making certain that she can’t go through with the self-destruct, which is initiated by a voice command from both the captain and commander. I’ve made certain those voice commands will be ineffective.”
She met Shantu’s eyes. “Before you ask, no, we are not taking over the ship proactively. There’s still a chance that Captain Serrado will be able to persuade her Protectorate to defend Alsea, and as long as that chance lives, she must be given room to work. The other issue is that if we take the ship by force, we’ll be locked out of every system protected by a command code—which I’m reliably informed is practically all of them. That lockout was the first thing Captain Serrado did when her ship crashed, for this exact reason. I’m taking care of that problem as well.”
Parser was smiling now. “You’re spinning quite a web, Lancer Tal. I must confess I’m impressed. You’re usually much less…covert.”
“I usually have much less at stake. There can be zero mistakes, which is why I delayed Captain Serrado’s arrival tonight. For this to work, she cannot suspect us of anything but blind belief in her intentions. If she even begins to suspect, we’ll lose our free access and any chance of learning what we need to know in time. We can’t possibly learn enough without their help, not in the time frame we’re facing. Now, she knows about high empaths and she knows she can’t lie when I’m in the room. She’s probably figured out that there are other high empaths here as well. We cannot put her in the position of answering questions about what she plans to do with her ship when she leaves. Ask her or Lhyn Rivers anything else you want; I’m sure you have no shortage of things you’d like to know. Shantu and I have no shortage of things we need to know. But do not ask her that. Let her think that the idea hasn’t even occurred to us.”
She looked around the table and saw their understanding.
“This information you’re gathering,” said Eroles, “will it include anything other than how to use the ship’s weapons?”
“The weapons must be our first priority, but yes, I have a list. The next thing on it is the theoretical basis of that matter printer.”
Eroles smiled. “Good.”
“You need scholars for that, not warriors,” Yaserka said.
“I agree. And very specific ones at that. Aldirk?”
“This is a list of the requirements for any scholars you may suggest,” Aldirk said, tapping his reader card.
Yaserka picked up his own reader card and scanned the file. His eyebrows rose. “I see.”
“I’m confident that we’ll soon have full access to the Caphenon,” Tal said. “The only question is whether we’ll be able to take immediate advantage of it, or whether we’ll spend the next ten cycles wandering around it like lost children—assuming we survive to the end of this moon. I think we can all agree that the latter option is not attractive. But there is more to learn than we could have imagined, and something for every caste. Yes, including the producers and crafters,” she said when Arabisar would have spoken. “You’ll want to see their arboretum and corridor plantings. They use plants for oxygen exchange, food, and simple aesthetics. Bylwytin, you might weep to see the way they’ve incorporated art into the fabric of their working spaces. Ask Captain Serrado about it when you meet her in a few ticks; I think you’ll find her happy to speak of her people’s accomplishments. But remember: it is critically important that you give the appearance of unsuspecting, technologically disadvantaged people.”
“Much as I would like access to that ship sooner rather than later,” Shantu said, “you’re right. This is a delicate situation and we need a consistent strategy. And I confess I’
m rather enjoying the idea of knowing more than the aliens who think themselves so much more advanced.”
Of course he would. But in this case, Shantu’s arrogance worked in her favor.
She could live with that.
Chapter 37
Morning after
Ekatya woke to the most beautiful sight she could imagine, and spent several indulgent minutes simply enjoying it in the stillness of the early morning.
Just as she always had, though, Lhyn somehow knew when she was being watched even while asleep. Her eyes blinked open, and she gave Ekatya a drowsy smile. “Morning.”
“Good morning.” Ekatya reached out to brush the hair away from her face. “Thanks for staying.”
Lhyn rolled onto her back, stretched luxuriously, and turned over again looking far more awake. “You’re kidding, right? Like I’d waste a chance like this?”
“It was nice of her.”
“Lancer Tal is my favorite world leader ever. Seriously, who would have thought a politician could be that thoughtful and discreet?”
“Isn’t discretion the soul of politics?”
“Okay, yes, but not thoughtfulness.”
True. Ekatya had been just as grateful as Lhyn when Lancer Tal had shown them to their new quarters at Blacksun Base last night. Looking slightly embarrassed, she’d indicated the door in the outside wall of Lhyn’s room and said that it opened onto a veranda that would connect with Ekatya’s room. She hadn’t been certain whether or not to give them a room together, so she’d hedged her bets and given them separate rooms with what Lhyn promptly called the sneak-out option.
An option which they’d taken advantage of so quickly that they hadn’t had time to talk.
“Did you have any idea about their beliefs regarding hugs?” Ekatya asked.
“Well, I know they’re reserved about physical touch. But I’ve seen so many parents hugging children, bondmates hugging each other, and lovers…I did observe that friends don’t embrace, but we have several cultures in the Protectorate where that’s the case. There’s usually some alternate form of physical connection, and here it’s the palm touch. It didn’t occur to me that an embrace between non-related adults was actually an advertisement of a sexual connection.”
“We must have scandalized them in the strategy room after the battle.” Ekatya couldn’t help smiling at the memory. Lhyn had needed that hug, and she wouldn’t have done anything else even if she had known how the Alseans would interpret it, but it was still a bit amusing to imagine their reaction.
“For certain. I’m feeling a sudden urge to go find Commander Kameha at breakfast this morning and give him a big hug.”
The snort came out of Ekatya’s throat before she could stop it, and they both burst out laughing.
“This is why I love waking up with you,” Ekatya said. “Nobody else can make me laugh like that.”
Lhyn leaned over to kiss her before settling in with her head on Ekatya’s shoulder. “I love their word for it. Warmron. It just sounds so…warm, and sweet and fuzzy.”
Ekatya hadn’t thought about it. “Now that you mention it, it does sound nice. Like the toddies my grandmother gave me whenever I got sick.”
“Language is powerful. Words often reflect the emotions or values associated with them. Warmrons are clearly treasured in Alsean culture—if they weren’t, there wouldn’t be such a strong stricture against offering them outside the proper relationship. Which makes me really curious about that stricture. Where did it come from?”
“Why does it have to come from anywhere?”
“Every cultural restriction or observation has some source. There has to be a meaning for it. Usually, the origin is ancient and everyone’s forgotten what it was. Half the time there’s no longer any reason for it, because whatever made it important eons ago doesn’t apply anymore. My guess is that at some point a gazillion years ago, there was a perfectly good reason why adults who weren’t romantically connected shouldn’t hug each other. I’d also guess that reason doesn’t exist anymore, though the stricture still does, and that’s a damned shame. Imagine never being able to give a friend a hug when she needs one.”
“Or never getting one unless you have a spouse or a lover.” Ekatya had been through many a dry spell in her life—it came with being a Fleet captain—but there were always her grandparents when she went home on leave and the old friends she managed to meet now and again. “I guess I could live without hugs from friends if I had to. But from my grandparents?”
“Yes, that’s the one that really interests me. Restricting touch between non-related Alseans isn’t surprising, but restricting it within families…wow. Parental physicality is built into our DNA. And it’s so arbitrary, too. One day you can hug your mom, and the next day it’s your Rite of Ascension and boom, you can never hug your mom again. Ever.”
Ekatya ran her fingers through Lhyn’s hair while she thought about it. That was certainly a part of Alsean culture she couldn’t get behind.
Lhyn chuckled. “I’m just glad Lancer Tal had the tact to wait until we were alone before asking us about our supposed bonding advertisement.”
“I think ‘tact’ might be that woman’s middle name. She puts me to shame.”
“Ekatya, you just think you’re tactful. Probably because all you have to compare yourself to are other Fleeters.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t say things like that when you’re in this position.” Ekatya grabbed her and began tickling, which led to a laughing struggle until Lhyn agreed to take it back, which then led to a repeat of the previous night’s lovemaking. When they finally noticed the time, it was too late for anything but Lhyn’s rapid retreat.
“I feel like a teenager out after curfew,” she said, picking up her clothes from the floor.
“I never had this kind of fun as a teenager.” Ekatya watched lazily from the bed. “My grandparents were very strict.”
“And that explains so much about you. Stern in public, wild anywhere else.”
“Not anywhere. Just with you.”
Lhyn paused, an enormous smile on her face. “That might just be one of my greatest accomplishments. I only wish I could put it on my résumé.”
They shared a final kiss before Lhyn silently opened the door, looked both ways, blew a kiss back into the room, and tiptoed out.
Ekatya rolled onto her back and sighed. Wonderful as last night and this morning had been, she was getting tired of hiding. Maybe she should confess to Baldassar and be done with it.
“Bad idea,” she muttered. That was the problem with a lie of omission: the longer you let it go, the bigger it grew. This one was already too big to handle.
All thoughts of catching a little extra sleep had now fled. Grumbling, she threw back the covers. Might as well get ready for what promised to be another long day.
Chapter 38
Flight of the Return
“Fancy meeting you here,” said Lieutenant Candini.
“We do seem to spend a lot of time in this transport, don’t we?” Ekatya sat next to her pilot and fastened her harness. “Maybe you should ask them for training. Then they could give us one of their transports as a loaner.”
“Well, I thought I’d be flying our own shuttle today.”
“I know. But Lancer Tal does have a point. If she’s got nervous citizens to worry about, having an obviously alien shuttle zipping back and forth over their largest city is probably not going to help matters.”
In truth, Ekatya wasn’t happy with the Lancer’s decision either. But she understood it. Besides, the most important thing was that their shuttle had operated perfectly, landing at Blacksun Base with no sign of the hullskin issue that continued to eat at the Caphenon. And now she had access to a quantum com within easy walking distance of her quarters, which was also acting as a relay between the Arkadia and their pads. She could communicate, and she could leave.
Though the latter might be difficult, she mused as she watched Lhyn coming up the ramp with Baldassar. She
was gesticulating as she spoke, her face alight, and Ekatya would have bet a week’s salary that she was telling him about their tour of the State House the night before. After the High Council meeting, which had been surprisingly low-key, Lancer Tal had offered a tour and Lhyn had nearly fallen out of her chair in her eagerness to say yes. They walked through high-ceilinged corridors and rooms steeped in history, and Lhyn asked so many questions that Ekatya was overwhelmed by the amount of information the Lancer gave in answer.
Her crew enjoyed the rest of their day as well. Xi and the weapons team had only good things to say about the builders who worked with them on the glass project, Kameha was impressed with the engineers he’d spoken to, and everyone came back from the markets in new clothes and high spirits. Ekatya was beginning to think she was the only one who remembered that they hadn’t actually been sent here on a diplomatic mission.
“I hear I missed out on a spectacular tour last night.” Baldassar stepped around Ekatya’s seat to slide into the row behind her.
Lhyn settled into the aisle seat across from Ekatya and leaned over toward them. “I was just telling Commander Baldassar about the Council Chamber.”
“Oh, that was spectacular,” Ekatya agreed. “Think of the Assembly Room, with one-fifth the number of seats and five times the elegance.”
“They’re that wealthy in resources here?”
Lhyn made a pishing sound. “They’re wealthy in history, Commander. And in the knowledge and abilities of their builders and crafters. The Assembly Room is ostentatious, like the Protectorate is trying to impress new member worlds with the collected wealth of the confederation. The Alsean Council Chamber doesn’t try to impress. It’s just…beautiful. My stars, the carvings! The benches are made of wood so polished that it glows, and every one has a story carved into it. The ceiling tells the history of Alsea’s greatest battles and the formation of the unified government, and it’s all carved so well that I swear some of those figures moved. I just wanted to lie down on the floor and stare up at it for an hour.”
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