That last quality, of course, was the reason Petr found himself here.
At times Petr thought perhaps all castes should undergo the same rigorous training the warriors endured. Naiveté did not last long under the grueling physical and mental exercises begun at the age of seven, or the ruthless pummeling of a shiv-trainer molding a new warrior to suit his ultimate calling.
Jesup flowed into the room. The man arrowed toward him, grabbed the same pole Petr used, then spun around to the back of the chair, coming to rest with his magnetic slips adhering to the deck.
“Are you ever not early, oh precipitous one?” Jesup mocked.
Petr smiled. “Someday I might be late, but hopefully you will not see it.” They both chuckled, then grew somber as scientist Kif entered. The man appeared to have aged a decade in the fourteen days since the disastrous results of his experiment.
“I do believe he is ready for a solahma unit,” Jesup said, his own tone warring between humor and horror.
“I have never heard of a scientific solahma unit. Age does not inhibit them as it does us. After all, unlike a warrior, they cannot die in one last attempt at glory and honor for the Clan they failed.”
“Oh, but they could. For example, Kif could have been on the ship he destroyed,” Jesup responded, deadpan.
Petr turned so quickly that he nearly broke the static charge and floated free. He saw humor dancing in the other man’s eyes, though a slight crease in Jesup’s forehead made Petr think his aide believed Kif (or any person, perhaps—another dig?) should be put directly in the path of his choices, to suffer the consequences immediately and not allow them to be ignored or to affect others.
Petr slowly shook his head and fought a smile (it was ironic to think of the man going down with his ship). “One of these days you will reach too far, Jesup.”
He swept a flourishing bow. “As you say, oh mighty one.”
“But until then you will be my court jester, as though I am a spheroid tyrant?” Petr cocked an eyebrow, waiting for the response.
Jesup swallowed, then looked slightly abashed.
“Do I find you tongue-tied?”
“Naturally not, ovKhan, but—we are ready to begin.”
Petr looked at the two benches directly in front of him and found scientist Jonnic already present, the waiting throngs silent and peering at him quizzically. He gave Jesup a dirty look before turning to the crowd.
He stood, tapping his feet to the deck to attach his slips, then bowed formally in a mimicry of the sea fox, a mark of respect for those present. “Scientists, we have gathered this day for a Trial of Grievance. Because both individuals hail from the same subcaste, there is no need for a quorum of Bloodnamed from the Clan Council extant in our flotilla. Instead, scientist Kif will be judged by his peers. I, as ovKhan of Delta Aimag, will mete out the final sentence. In this, we shall not deny justice. In this, we shall all prosper.”
“Seyla,” echoed around the room, the scientists sealing the trial with affirmation.
All bowed formally in return.
“Scientist Jonnic, proceed,” he said, then resumed his seat.
A tall woman stood, pale of hair and flesh, with fingers that reminded Petr of spider legs in their length and skeletal appearance, not to mention their almost constant flickering. Disengaging her slips, she used the small pneumatic air pump at the small of her back to smoothly maneuver into the air, then spread her arms to bow once more, and began.
“Scientists, I am present to prove unequivocally that scientist Kif grossly underestimated the challenges involved in this experiment, and wasted precious Clan resources, in the destruction of the JumpShip and in the wasted man-hours of the scientists on his development team and the technician and labor castemen tasked with the construction of the failed prototype,” she began, her sonorous voice weaving a cadence that immediately enthralled her audience. Petr wondered how she found the breath for such long sentences in her emaciated-looking body.
“Not because of an unforeseen problem,” she continued, “but due simply to his arrogance. His belief that he knew a shortcut the rest of his peers not only could not see, but would never see if he did not show the way.”
She tapped the small remote she held, and the lights dimmed as holographic projections filled the room. “Each of these diagrams elucidates the points that Kif failed to take into account, thus leading to the failure of his program, regardless of the promise it held for success.”
Petr glanced sideways for a moment at Jesup, startled to hear even a backhanded compliment from Jonnic. Did the rival scientist actually accept Kif’s theory? A slight shrug from Jesup reflected Petr’s inability to answer that question. Only time would tell.
“Diagram A demonstrates, of course, the most egregious error and yet the simplest correction of all the issues he failed to address. Why did he not use a mock-up JumpShip for this experiment? Rejecting such an obvious choice reveals Kif’s arrogance and recklessness. His imminent failure would then not have destroyed such a valuable asset as the Invader.”
Suspended among the glowing spheres of data, her long hair floating around her head in a halo of slowly undulating waves, her hypnotic voice flowing into the darkness, she captivated her audience like an avenging angel come to serve justice to mere mortals. Though Petr could not make out Kif in the shadows, he knew the man cowered on his seat, wishing he could avoid the inevitable consequences of his actions.
“Turn your attention to Diagram B, where his second error can be seen. The anchor points have no safety cutout feature. A simple series of explosive bolts would have saved the JumpShip; the DropShips could easily have been retrieved at a later time.”
“There were safety measures in place,” Kif exploded, surging up from his seat, his head just breaking into the light cast by the holographic images.
Jonnic flinched, then speared the man with an outstretched arm. “Do not interrupt me, stravag.”
“They malfunctioned,” he babbled, tumbling gently, unable to master his own maneuvering pack in his urgency to defend himself. “The vibrations must have disabled them, or—”
“Silence!” Petr spoke softly, but the chill of death in his voice cut off Kif’s protests as though he were struck dumb. “You will not speak until your turn in this trial, Scientist Kif. For your outburst, you have forfeited your right to present counterarguments point by point. If you commit a second infraction, I will pass judgment summarily, relegating you to the laborer caste. I will brook no further interference in this trial.” No need to ask if he understood.
Silence descended, a viscous entity born of Petr’s decree; even Jonnic recoiled from the ruling. Significant failure within a caste required the offending party be ejected from his station and moved to the next lower caste—in this case, scientist to technician. For a scientist of Kif’s abilities and preeminence to be relegated to the bottom rung of Clan society meant he would never be able to atone for his mistakes and regain his previous station through hard work and perseverance. Three lifetimes would not be enough to work his way up such a distant ladder.
A soft grunt echoed in the room as Kif reseated himself.
“Proceed,” Petr said. Though Jesup made no movement or sound, Petr knew—just knew!—that his aide was at this very moment thinking that those same iron-clad penalties should apply to the ovKhan.
How many times have I erred due to my arrogance? The lost market on Chamdo that led to such deadly conflict; the lost chance to build an enclave on Chesterton; the lost colony around Klathandu IV. Petr suppressed a shiver and shoved those thoughts deep into his mind.
Visibly collecting herself, Jonnic continued. “Diagram C illustrates another lapse in judgment. Though a series of counterweight balances were installed on the tethers to dampen oscillations and to compensate for shifting weight within the DropShips once the system entered standard use, the addition of antioscillation myomer lines to further strengthen against dangerous vibrations spiraling beyond accepted parameters would ha
ve prevented this entire affair.”
She slowly rotated around, centering attention on the final holographic image. “In this final image we see one more example of Kif’s arrogance and unwillingness to follow proscribed and logical steps for safety, which led to failure instead of success. Rather than risking four DropShips on a single collar, scientist Kif could have chosen to balance a pair of DropShips, an appreciably easier task. This would have allowed us to fully test and vet the entire system, measuring peak and trough parameters of each subsystem. Once full success was achieved, then a series of spinning axles could be built across any given JumpShip. Instead of four DropShips anchored to a single collar, a set of four collars—or more—could anchor eight vessels, each within a larger margin of safety, thus limiting the possibility of future mishaps and guaranteeing the Clan’s expansion within an acceptable margin of error.”
The imagery disappeared as she brought up the lights, then slowly rotated, bowing to the entire assembly. “Thus the primary points have been presented. Each of your compads have now received this data. I thank the assembly for hearing my words.” She finished, then smoothly transitioned back to her seat, a predator gone to ground, toying with her prey before launching for the throat.
“You have thirty minutes to review the material,” Petr announced, moving to the next phase, “then input any queries for scientist Jonnic in her second cycle of the Trial. At that time, scientist Kif may argue to prove the accusations false.”
“ovKhan,” Kif said, slowly standing.
Petr’s face darkened with rage at his audacity; gasps and startled murmurs swept through the gathering.
“I know I risk your extreme censure for once more breaking the forms of this trial,” he began. His voice gained composure as he spoke; his face and body took on the appearance of calm as though imposed by sheer force of will. “And if you deem me fit only for the laborer caste, I accept your judgment. Yet I would voluntarily spare the Clan’s expense of any more time and effort on my behalf. Of my own free will and accord, I do not contest the accusations against me. Scientist Jonnic is correct on all accounts. I speak a surkairede to voluntarily accept Abjurement from the scientist caste.”
The stunned silence thickened the air, tension drawn to the breaking point. Despite the man’s terrible failures and twice interrupting this council, Petr found admiration stirring within him. Staring at a man reborn from his broken state simply by admitting his failure and by his willingness to accept the consequences—when so many others would have fought like cornered diamond sharks to retain their place—Petr was compelled to his feet. “So be it,” he intoned, respect coating his words. Then he bowed deeply, holding the position for a long moment.
A ripple of surprise, then a wave of bows swept the assembly. Scientist Jonnic bowed last, stiffly, as though forced to perform the honorific against her will. Then, in a move that sent another shockwave through the assembly, she took two steps and grasped Kif’s shoulders, saying something only he could hear. He looked stunned, then pleased, a small smile lighting his face.
Kif bowed in return, then moved toward the entryway. His former colleagues turned away in unison; though the assembled scientists obviously respected Kif’s courage in making his choice, he was no longer of their caste, and no longer deserved their full attention.
The assembly began to break up. The abrupt conclusion to the trial, expected to stretch for many more hours, created small groups animated by emphatic nods and gestures.
“Now that was unexpected,” Jesup said.
Petr nodded. His own feelings exactly.
“I have rarely seen such honorable actions outside the warrior caste. To so freely take on his burdens—would we all have such grace when our time comes, quiaff?”
“Aff,” Petr responded, though he couldn’t decide if Jesup meant his comment as a general statement, or a pointed remark directed his way. He stood and launched himself away from his chair, content to accept his aide’s words at face value.
4
Clan Sea Fox CargoShip Voidswimmer
Nadir Jump Point, Savannah System
Prefecture VII, The Republic
7 July 3134
“I do not understand why we do not attempt to go downside.” Jesup’s voice, though powerful, almost failed against the hum and babble of Beta Community.
Petr looked at his aide as they both made their way through Market Square Beta. Of course, it was not square (or round or any other recognizable shape beyond an amorphous line stretching and snaking around to mark an open region), but the human mind, even one as adapted as the Sea Fox mind to the rigors of long-term space travel, latched on to traditions as old as human society.
Jostled, Petr turned to find a kind-faced woman with a thick swatch of dark, almost black hair pulled back in a severe braid. Her uniform bore the double stripes of the laborer caste, and the hurried look on her face made him think the woman late for her duty assignment. When she realized who she had run into, she swallowed convulsively and bowed deeply, the hurried look replaced with one of shame.
“ovKhan,” she began in a stammer, “I apologize. This unworthy one did not see you.”
Though a warrior born and bred, with centuries of Clan tradition supporting the superiority of the warrior caste (with the possible exception, in Clan Sea Fox, of the merchant caste), he knew the duty of an ovKhan to his Aimag to show respect when necessary. Reaching out, he raised up the woman’s head.
“Woman, there is no need to bow to me.” He smiled, though the expression did not quite reach his frosty green eyes. “You obviously were intent on reaching your duty assignment on time. What greater honor can you do me and our Aimag than to attend to your duty with such dedication?”
Though a certain wariness remained, she blushed, babbled thanks and nodded once more before vanishing into the throng of several hundred people.
“Ah, such fidelity is so admirable,” Jesup said.
“Do you mock?” Petr continued on, weaving between people moving with great purpose; he couldn’t completely conceal the distaste in his voice for his aide’s words.
“Of course I do not mock, ovKhan. Your humble servant only observes the devotion of your Aimag.”
As usual, only silence could answer such a comment. Petr felt the casual conversation almost inappropriate in the communal spaces, the cathedral Sea Fox had built to their new society.
A glance up revealed a massive, bowl-shaped open-air region—with the “market square” at its base—that flared out at the bottom and rose to a dome some one hundred fifty meters above his head. Stair-stepped around the base of the bowl and then climbing one another, like ivy run riot in an ecstasy of verdant growth, square habitats filled his vision.
Perhaps hanging nests for human occupants better described them. In addition to those using magnetic slips who moved around him, the region above held hundreds of individuals casually traversing the open air. Each landed lightly on a heavily padded wall of a given habitat and, grasping a strap, pulled him- or herself to a metal strip that allowed his or her slips to lock on, and began walking the short distance to their destination. Others launched themselves back into the open, creating an immensely complex choreographed dance accomplished without a single mishap. At any given moment, a sea of humanity met his gaze, all standing at innumerable angles, while others darted like fish in heavy currents.
The decades saw the slow transformation of one of the first Behemoth-class DropShips to be permanently sealed parallel to the Voidswimmer from an interplanetary vessel to the hollowed-out shell of Beta Community: home to more than twelve thousand.
One of four such vessels on his ship, and still small compared with Alpha Community.
Look what we have accomplished, all for the glory of my Clan! The thought resonated within him like a struck bell.
Jesup did not suffer silence well. “You did not answer my question, ovKhan.”
“No, I did not.” Without a backward glance, he began to make his way towa
rd one of the original loading bays, which under heavy modification became the entryway leading directly into one of the primary corridors of the Voidswimmer, with enough room for several abreast.
He’d finished his quarterly review of Beta Community.
“Petr, why will you not answer my question?”
“Because it is not a question worthy of answer.” He stopped in midstream of humanity, uncaring of the disruption this created, and focused the full intensity of his emerald eyes on his aide. The moment stretched as Jesup attempted to hold his gaze, his growing agitation plain. He finally lowered his eyes.
A soft murmur of voices reached him, and Petr did not realize that all nonwarriors who came within sight of their ovKhan immediately fell silent, conversation stopping as though shut off like a water spigot; even their careful zero-g walking became more so.
“Why do we not go downside?” Petr repeated the question with an edge to his voice, causing those nearest him to shy away even farther; Petr remained blithely unaware. He had great respect for his aide (why else had he not pulled the man into a Circle of Equals for his arrogance?), but there were times when he simply could not tolerate the man’s inability to grasp the obvious. Jesup wished to seize command of a vessel at some point and begin to earn credibility by sealing his own deals. He’d never succeed in this goal if he did not think more quickly on his feet.
“That is what I am asking.” The frustration was plain on Jesup’s face. “I did not question when we simply passed through Augustine—seven days when we might have made planetfall and begun bringing enlightenment to these darkened worlds. And no, the failed test of the JumpShip did not count as any sort of activity for either of us and you know it. Then another eight in Miaplacidus, once more, inactive.”
Hunters of the Deep Page 3
