by Diane Duane
He bowed again, and straightened. “I wish that you may do it well. No, do not; I saw the way out. I bid you farewell, noble deihu.”
He opened the door and was gone.
Arrhae stood there, and now her hands twisted together in the way that they would have liked to do while he was still there.
And now what? she thought. Only a few possibilities. Do as I have done; stay as I have stayed.
Or act as if the letter I was describing has dropped on my own front doormat. ‘Flee! All is revealed!’ But what would happen is exactly as I described it to him. It would neither help my situation, nor leave me free to continue doing the work I need to be doing.
She let out a long breath.
Or…
Arrhae sat down again in that comfortable chair. It is perhaps time, she thought, to start acting like a senator. If I have one of the great Three as my patron, then perhaps it is time to start being a little proactive. He has reposed great trust in me. Now it will be seen if the same can be done with him. If not…
Arrhae began to consider the finer details of the visit she was about to make.
The space around 553 Tri was an undistinguished place. The little yellow sun itself had nothing of any interest around it, just an asteroid belt in the system’s far outer reaches that was too sparse to be of any concern. But there was another band of bright bodies closer in, catching the star’s golden light and glittering it back at any newcomer. The local space was full of ships.
Ael looked out on the vista her viewscreen showed her with considerable trepidation. So many. Then she was tempted to laugh at herself. I would have been as upset had there been too few. Why am I complaining?
She turned to Hvaid. “How many now?”
“There are at least a hundred, khre’Riov,” she said. “The massed armament is impressive. And already we will have exceeded the abilities of the command-and-control structures that Uhura and Sulu and Khiy have been designing.”
Ael sighed, leaning on the back of her command chair. “It seems ungrateful of me to look at all this and feel that things are going too well. I am sure that such an appraisal would be erroneous. I feel some stroke hanging in the air over us, something that we will not expect.”
“But if you expect it, khre’Riov,” Hvaid said, “then surely it is no threat.”
Ael leaned lower over the back of the chair, looking at the reflection of ships and stars in the blade of the Sword. Then she laughed and pushed herself away from the chair, straightening. “Would it were so simple,” she said. “But the question is where to expect it.” She stood up straight, and stretched, and rubbed her eyes. “Which brings us to the matter at hand. When will they be expecting me?”
“Quite shortly, khre’Riov. They are gathering now.”
“Well,” Ael said, “best I should get going, then. Do you run another set of diagnostics on the C&C protocols while I am gone. I am not yet comfortable with how they interweave with our systems. I much fear that in the middle of a battle, we are likely to have the systems crash.”
Hvaid opened her eyes wide. “Khre’Riov, Khiy would never permit anything so commonplace. For our systems to fail, it would be for some much far more exotic reason.”
Ael laughed. “You’re right, of course. Mind the bridge for me. I will be back within the hour.”
She stepped into the lift, and as the doors closed on her, she thought, Therein, of course, lies the constant danger. Expect the exotic steadfastly, and without doubt it is the commonplace that will be the end of you. She rubbed her eyes, and sagged against the wall of the lift. It was something she dared not do anywhere her crew could see her. Would that there were someone to be strong for me, she thought, someone I could collapse on. But I seem to have cast myself in too harsh a role for that.
The lift doors opened. Ael came out on the level where the ship’s transporters lay, and as she walked down that narrow little corridor, her friend tr’Hrienteh came out of the transporter room’s door, turned toward her, and seemed a little surprised to see her. “Did you need me for anything, khre’Riov? I am just now going back to the sickbay.”
“No, cousin,” Ael said. “All is well enough with me. What brings you down here?”
“Technician Gioufv’s head aches him,” tr’Hrienteh said. “I brought him a pain-relief gel.”
Ael smiled a little wanly, and massaged her own brow. “I’d wager there’s no one aboard who either has not had one of those in very recent time, or shortly will have one.”
Tr’Hrienteh looked at Ael sympathetically. “It has been hard for you, khre’Riov. Harder, I think, than anyone aboard knows.”
“But it would not be their job to know,” Ael said. “If they did, I would not be doing my job well as their commander. My work is to bear the burden, and not burden them with it.” She looked narrowly at tr’Hrienteh, seeing the circles under her eyes. “But how does it go with you, cousin? You, too, have felt the burden of late—”
“No worse than with many others,” the surgeon said. “But for you, khre’Riov, I do have some concerns. I have some new stress-relief and biorhythm managers down in my offices. They are adaptations of some equipment McCoy has given us, which I have altered to suit our physiology. Come down, if you have time, and try one of them out. It may give you some relief.”
“Had I a moment now,” Ael said, “I would do that. But they are expecting me over on Tyrava. Remind me of that again in a day or two; I will certainly come.” She smiled, and rubbed her head again. “Any relief would be welcome, especially now, when I can take it without feeling too guilty. Closer to the battle—” She shook her head. “—I would be too concerned that I might somehow impair my function.”
“As you say, khre’Riov,” tr’Hrienteh said. She patted Ael on the shoulder and headed for the lift.
Ael made her way into the transporter chamber. There one of her antecenturions was standing, and to her shock she actually had to feel about in her mind for his name, though tr’Hrienteh had said it to her only a moment ago. Indeed, she thought, the stress is becoming a problem. I think as soon as I have time, I must take tr’Hrienteh’s advice. “So,” she said, “they require my company on Tyrava, Gioufv. Would you do the honors?”
“At once, khre’Riov,” the antecenturion said.
Ael stepped up onto the pad, and turned. “And are you feeling better now?”
“Much better, khre’Riov,” he said, and smiled back at her. “The surgeon’s remedies are sometimes rather a shock to the system, but they do the job.”
Ael nodded. “I agree. Meanwhile, I should go. I will call you shortly for pickup from Tyrava’s pad; just scan for my presence there in a while.”
The antecenturion nodded. “Ready, khre’Riov?”
She nodded, composing herself for the transport.
When Tyrava shimmered into view around her, she looked out from its huge receiving pad and then had to exert great control to keep from standing there openmouthed in astonishment. A hundred ships’ captains, give or take a few—that she had expected. A hundred ships’ crews—that took Ael by surprise. But it occurred to her, then, that they were coming as much to prove to themselves that it was actually she who was leading them as for any other reason. Perhaps the caution is wise. The Empire had often enough used ruses and hoaxes to trick disaffected individuals into places or situations where they could be easily trapped or taken.
Ael walked off the pad toward where they all stood. There to one side, Veilt tr’Tyrava stood, watching her calm, watching the reactions of those who saw her approach. The look on his face was unusual. He was reacting to his guests’ expressions, of course. Many of them looked like people who had not truly believed in the prospect of the fight before them until they saw the slight little woman with the braided dark hair coming toward them. Others looked almost belligerent, though toward whom was difficult to tell at this remove. Others looked astounded, as if they had believed this was going to be a trick all along, and were now put out of compos
ure by her presence.
“So, my associates,” she said. The word was one of the more neutral ones in Rihannsu. Ally required a commitment she thought was about to be made, but had not been quite yet. “I must apologize for not being here with you sooner. I dislike making people wait for me. And some few—” She glanced around at them. “—would, I guess, have been waiting a long while.”
A rustle went through the men and women standing there in their many uniforms—mercantile, private, some of them even old Grand Fleet uniforms—as they waited to hear what Ael had to say. She met the eyes of all the closest, one after another. “But I, too, have been waiting for you,” she said. “For a long while now, events have waited upon the people who would finally rise up to take back their Empire. And in that endeavor, I am glad—to lead you perhaps would be the wrong phrase. To be in this battle with you; to be at the forefront of it, yes. But many of you will be there too. To lend, perhaps, a sense of direction. We are all going the same way, led by mnhei’sahe.” She glanced around them, saw the effect of the word, was heartened. “Too long that word has been absent from the lips of those who govern us, and from their hearts, and from their actions. Time to bring it back into government and rule again, and into the ken of those who guard our world, and deal on our behalf with other. If you have come here on that journey, right gladly I will travel with you.”
Another transporter hum came from the pad behind her. Ael looked over her shoulder, and saw Kirk appear there, and the little rustling among the ships’ captains and crews before her now died away to complete stillness. Ael smiled very slightly to herself. Here, too, was one the assembled group had not quite believed in, one who might have been a hoax. Even the sight of his ship, hanging there off 553 Trianguli, apparently had not entirely convinced some of them. “And this man,” Ael said, as Kirk walked over to her, “has come much farther than I on this particular journey, and has proven himself more completely than you can know. To my satisfaction, certainly.” She glanced over at Veilt. “And to that of Tyrava’s command.”
Kirk came up to stand beside her, and looked out over the group waiting there. “Anything in particular I need to say here?” he said under his breath.
Ael raised an eyebrow. “Only what you would normally say to perhaps a thousand people who were trained not to trust you, and now find they must.”
Kirk nodded fractionally. “Oh,” he said softly. “Just like Starfleet Command. No problem.”
He looked around at the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “commanders and antecenturions and civilian commanders of all ranks and styles.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’m here to fight alongside you. I’m here to help you take back your worlds.”
“And what then?” someone said, from the center of the group. The person was safely hidden away among all numbers. There was no telling who had spoken.
Kirk glanced that way. “Then, I expect to go home and find the best possible legal representation for my court-martial.” He smiled, an edged smile with no more curve than Ael’s, but considerably sharper. “I have something of a name among my own people for stretching my orders to just the point before they’ll snap. I think I may have exceeded my reputation this time, even among my own.” He looked rueful. “But for the time being—let’s just say that there are some fights that must be fought, at the risk of refusing them and letting the world change much for the worse. This is one of those fights. And if I have a reputation in this part of the universe at all, I hope it’s for not leaving a fight until it’s finished.”
They all stood there quietly for a few moments, digesting that. Then Ael said, “What more needs saying, friends? Events are moving, and so must we. We cannot linger here long.”
Slowly a group of about fifty moved forward. The young man at the head of them said, “We need only to swear you our fealty.” And he broke off.
Kirk looked briefly confused; but Ael understood the confusion. Even among these people, rebels already in the grain, it came hard to speak the name of someone whose name had been written and burned. Ael looked at Kirk, and her smile grew an edge to match his. “Call me what you will,” she said. “I imagine there must be a calling-name for me among the volunteer fleets.”
Many of those gathered there looked at one another with slight discomfort, almost nervousness. “They call you,” said the commander nearest her, “the Sword.”
“The winged one,” said another. “The wind,” a third said. “The wind that blows, and makes things new.”
Ael flicked a glance at Jim. He caught her discomfort, perhaps. “I seem to remember,” he said under his breath again, “you telling me something about having to be careful how you choose your names…”
She nodded. “And at times like this, more so than usual.” Ael raised her head, looking at the gathered fleet-folk. “At the moment, there is one Sword on my ship that takes precedence over any other. From such a naming, I would refrain. The winged one, though,” she said, “Hlalhif: so let me be called, for this time. Come and tell me your ships’ names, and your own.” Then Ael laughed, and it was her turn to sound rueful. “There are so many of you, it will go hard with me to remember you all, at least on sight. I pray you, be patient with me until I learn all names as well as they deserve.”
Slowly they began to come up to her then, group by group: large groups, small ones, sometimes little gaggles of only three or five people, several times just one person by himself, all sworn to her service. There were no other words to say on such an occasion; the name was all. Giving it gave your business, your intention, to a certain extent your life, into the other’s hand. If Ael was a weapon in some other force’s hand, that she had learned to bear; but to have such a burden of weaponry, a veritable armory of souls, thrust upon her like this—it was hard. Their lives or deaths, their fates, were all on her head, now.
Next to her, Kirk stood straight, listening, his eyes dwelling on all the faces; but he said nothing. Perhaps he was able to tell from the hushed atmosphere that had fallen around them that this was not his place to speak. But it is his place to be. I am glad that he’s here.
The recounting of names took a long time. Finally it was over; finally Ael had spoken to them all, giving them in exchange for their own names her new gift-name, in lieu of the three she could not give and the one she would not. There was nothing more to do, now, except to go into battle. “The officers on Bloodwing and Enterprise,” Ael said, “will be in touch with all your communications and weapons officers concerning command and control for this upcoming mission. I beg you, pay the most heed to them, and carefully check the communications and coordination protocols that will be laid into your computers. In a situation like this, our coordination will prove a greater weapon than any phaser or disruptor. If we all do what we are all meant to do, victory will be ours, for our enemy counts on us being a crowd of ragged individualists who cannot set aside our personal visions long enough to cooperate. If we slip—” And then Ael shook her head. “But we will not slip. The weapon is no less sound for being untried. We will shortly teach the Empire that its head is not safe on its shoulders. If we are fortunate, if we teach it well enough, then perhaps our worlds may be spared much grief. Let us fight in that hope, and the commitment to carry on even if hope fails.”
A cheer went up from them, muted, but enthusiastic in the only kind of way that mattered. These people were determined. Ael looked at Jim, and turned away.
Standing behind the two of them, however, was Veilt. “There is one word yet to say,” he said. “My Ship-Clan is with you; I am with you. But one more thing I can say to you that will make you, and all the others, most sure.” He bent over toward Ael, and whispered a word in her ear.
Ael’s eyes went wide. Veilt looked out over the assembly. “She has my fourth name,” he said. “Should I fall, she is Clan-Chief and Clan-Captain of Tyrava. Her word in such case will weigh as heavily in the balance with the other Clan-Chiefs of the Ship-Clans as mine would have were I still br
eathing. All of you here, know this word, and know that I have given it to her. If I fall, follow her as you would follow me.” And as casually as that, he turned and walked off out of the great assembly hall into some other part of Tyrava. Ael and Kirk watched him go.
Slowly, the two of them went on to the pad. “Always full of surprises, that one,” Kirk said.
“You have no idea,” Ael said. If she had thought herself burdened before, it was nothing to what lay on her shoulders now. “I must talk to you later, if you have time.”
“No problem,” he said. “Call me just before we leave. We have to do our test on the star.”
Ael nodded. “Later, then.” She stepped up onto the pad, moved to a decent distance from him, and a few moments later, vanished.
Hours later, Enterprise hung there in the darkness, two hundred million miles out from 553 Trianguli, waiting.
Jim, sitting in the center seat, drummed his fingers on its arm and eyed the star. It was big enough to be safely out of the dwarf category, which would have made it a little too closely a twin of Sol. But the sun was much on his mind at the moment, along with other things.
He had come away from his later chat with Ael feeling all too sobered by the newest Intelligence passed to them from Tyrava. It suggested that truly massive force was being marshaled against them at Augo, and Jim was already having to think of different ways to handle the increased injection of materiel, ships, and manpower. If we ever had any kind of advantage of surprise, he thought, it’s gone now. Whether we have leaks or not in our own ranks—and it’s pretty likely, since there are thousands of people on our side whose allegiances and private alliances I know nothing about—somebody at Grand Fleet has got the message: better have a big engagement at Augo than any closer to home.
Dammit. They were doing such a good job at being stupid until now.
