33
Trystin waited in the bay for the Willis, his bags stacked neatly beside him. He was glad to escape the drudgery of junior operations duty officer for Perdya station—much more than glad.
“Who are you waiting for, Lieutenant?” asked the tech standing by the lock control panel.
“The Willis.”
“This is the place.” The noncom glanced at Trystin and his bags. “She’s a cruiser, not a transport.”
“I know.”
The tech’s eyes flicked to the wings on Trystin’s uniform. “New pilot officer?”
Trystin nodded, then asked, “You know anything about her?”
“CO’s Major Sasaki. He’s pretty senior. They say he’s related to the armaments people.”
“He could be. Anything’s possible, but Sasaki’s a pretty common name.”
“You haven’t met the major.” The tech shook his head.
A dull thud, followed by a second thud, echoed through the station frame. Shortly, the green light flickered above the lock tube.
“Little rough,” announced the tech, “like always, but she’s here.” His fingers danced across the lock console.
Trystin could sense the locking-system data flows through his implant, and with more time, could probably have tapped them, but there was no point in it. Instead, he waited for the clunking of the mechanical holdtights.
A row of green lights flashed across the console.
“All set. Ready, Lieutenant?”
Trystin hoisted his bags and followed the tech down the lock tube, heavy frost on its permaplast sides. His breath steamed.
The noncom checked the seals and exterior holdtights again before pulsing the entry clearance. With a hiss, the cruiser’s door slid open.
“Ah, it’s you, Liendrelli.” Standing in the lock was a woman with dark mahogany hair in the uniform of a senior tech, a belted stunner in place.
“Who else would it be? Everyone else goes to the other side of the station when you people dock.”
The ship’s tech glanced beyond Liendrelli to Trystin. “Lieutenant Desoll. Major Doniger will be pleased to see you, ser. I’m Keiko Muralto, ship’s senior tech.”
“Pleased to meet you, Tech Muralto.”
“Keiko, please, ser.” She finished checking the lock seals, and ensuring that the emergency closure lanes were free. “You can set your gear in the locker here for a while. Welcome aboard.” Then she turned to Liendrelli. “We’re low on organonutrient—we take the alpha class—and just about everything else.”
“You cruiser types …”
“Don’t complain, Liendrelli. The captain wants us out as soon as possible after Major Doniger’s replacement shows, and since he’s here …”
“All right, Muralto. We’ll get on it.”
Keiko Muralto smiled sweetly at Liendrelli.
Trystin decided he wanted the tech on his side. “You’re certain putting my gear here won’t be a problem?”
“Not at all. Just set it in the alcove there.” She stepped back and pressed a stud. “Captain, Lieutenant Desoll is here.”
“Send him forward, Keiko.”
Trystin carefully stacked his gear in the space, keeping only the thin case with his orders, data cubes, and records.
“Yes, ser.”
The tech gestured toward the passageway heading forward. “I’m sure you can find your way, ser. I need to pound on Liendrelli some more.”
“Give me a break, Muralto,” protested the station tech.
Trystin smiled and stepped through the area that functioned as a quarterdeck, half nodding at the familiar scents of plastic, ozone, Sustain, and human beings.
The forward passage was empty, and he found himself stepping through the hatch to the cruiser’s cockpit, where a small officer stood, waiting.
“Lieutenant Desoll, Major.” Taking into account the name and the apparent parashinto background of Major Sasaki, Trystin offered a slight bow to the Captain of the Willis.
“So you’re the new second? You look more like a rev than most revs I’ve seen.” Major Sasaki brushed the black hair that was on the long side of the Service-recommended length back off his forehead and offered a boyish grin that emphasized his sparkling white teeth.
“My family helped found Cambria, ser.”
“I’m sure. Don’t worry about it. It’s what you do that counts, not how you look.” Major Sasaki glanced around the cockpit. “I wanted you to meet Andrya before she left, but when she heard you were already here, she went back to get her stuff.”
“I left my gear with your senior tech.”
“Don’t worry. Just put your stuff in the mess until Andrya clears out. She won’t be that long.” Major Sasaki gestured toward the Willis’s aft section.
“Your senior tech mentioned that the second was a major?”
“She was just promoted, and the Service doesn’t like wasting two majors on the same ship these days.”
Trystin noted the faintest edge to the words, but said nothing as he heard steps heading toward the cockpit.
“Here she is. Trystin, this is Andrya.”
The stocky major with short and frizzy brown hair extended a hand, took Trystin’s with a firm grip and shook it. “I’m Andrya Doniger.” She glanced toward the commanding officer. “Don’t let James here get the better of you. He’s bright; he’s a good tactician; he understands Service politics; and he’s a second-rate pilot with first-rate connections. And yes, he’s from those Sasakis.” She smiled at Major Sasaki.
Trystin felt as though the ship had been dropped right out from underneath him. “It’s nice to meet you. Where are you headed?”
“Me? I’m getting one of the new cruisers—the Tozini. Smaller than the Willis, but faster, more torps. Very deadly.” She looked at the three bulging kit bags. “I need to be going. They’re holding the Adams for me. I managed to pull a few strings. No sense in waiting another week for the Morgenthal. The station CO would have too good an idea of what to load on me. Good luck to you, Lieutenant.”
With a quick nod she hoisted the bags. “It’s been interesting, James. If you want to make commander, though, let him do the delicate piloting.”
“If he’s as good as you think … why not?”
Trystin swallowed a smile. What a pair! The Doniger family had been in the ecological hierarchy of the Coalition as far back as the history texts ran, and the Sasakis had evolved from using metalworking to bury nuclear wastes on old Earth into becoming the premier arms producers of the Coalition.
And now he had to take orders from Major James Sasaki.
“Let’s go have something to eat.” Sasaki smiled his broad and boyish smile. “They don’t tell you about it, but there’s a small restaurant on the lower level that has some real seafood—if you know enough to ask.”
Sasaki’s eyes glazed over momentarily, and Trystin could feel the net link. “Liam? The new second and I have to go stationside for a couple of hours. You’ve got it. Keiko’s on the deck.”
The major’s eyes unglazed. “Liam’s weapons and comm. He’s a former senior tech, and he can be duty when we’re docked. Otherwise, it’s you when I’m not around or have to sleep. Contrary to rumor, CO’s do sleep.” He smiled again. “Let’s go. I’m ready for some decent food.”
Trystin followed the major out to the quarterdeck.
“Keiko, Trystin and I have some things to do stationside. Liam’s got the duty until we get back.”
“While you’re gone, I’ll have the lieutenant’s gear put in his stateroom.” Keiko smiled pleasantly. “Have a good meal, Captain.”
“I’m sure we will.”
“I can do that when I get back,” Trystin protested.
“Don’t worry about it, ser.”
Trystin tried not to shake his head as he walked beside Major Sasaki back out the lock tube he had entered what seemed only moments before.
The major led him through a maze of corridors Trystin had never seen in his two weeks
on the station.
The restaurant lay behind a bronze-colored plastic door panel bearing the name Le Tank. Trystin frowned, but followed Sasaki inside, to find eight small tables with real linen cloths upon them. A single table was occupied, by a woman wearing a single marshal’s four-pointed star.
“Major!” A rotund woman in white bounced across the floor.
“Vivienne.” Sasaki bowed. “This is my new pilot officer, Trystin Desoll. Trystin, Vivienne LeClerc. This is her domain.”
“Welcome back, James.” The dry voice came from the marshal at the corner table.
“Thank you, Marshal Toboru.” James Sasaki bowed.
“Don’t mind me. By the way, your father is looking well. I saw him last month … and your brother.” The marshal returned her attention to the soup in the gold-trimmed white porcelain bowl before her.
Vivienne led them to the table in the corner farthest from the marshal.
“I’d like anything that’s fresh from the tank,” requested Major Sasaki. “And then whatever your special is.”
Vivienne nodded and looked at Trystin.
“What are my choices?”
“For appetizers, the raw fresh seafood is either clams casino or octosquid today. We also have slizirki mushrooms, sautéed, and fresh greens.”
“The mushrooms, please.”
“The specials are soft-shelled spotted crabs or broiled young silver trout amandine.”
“I’ll have the crabs.” The major added, “Don’t worry, Trystin. This is my treat. You’ll earn it later.”
“Thank you,” said Trystin. “I’ll have the crabs also.”
With a nod, Vivienne stepped back, only to return with two crystal goblets and a bottle. “The Villa Tozza is the only white right now.”
Sasaki shrugged.
Trystin just watched as the woman poured half-glasses for each of them and left the bottle in the holder.
“Not bad, although I still think the Mondiabli would have been better.”
Trystin sipped the wine, enjoying the slightly nutty, slightly fruity scent as much as the taste.
“You like wine, don’t you?” asked Sasaki.
“When I don’t have to be on duty.”
“How do you know you won’t be?” The major laughed and offered the boyish grin again.
“I don’t, but you aren’t likely to just hand the ship to me.”
Vivienne set one of the gold-rimmed porcelain plates, filled with sliced white circular objects, in front of the captain, and a second, filled with steaming browned and buttery mushrooms, in front of Trystin.
“Where are you from, Trystin?” Sasaki used the silver seafood fork to pick up one of the white slices and began to chew.
“Cambria, Academy district.” Trystin took a second sip of the Villa Tozza. Even the background hiss of his implant seemed muted.
“Are your family academics? That’s an expensive place to live.” Another swallow of the white food followed.
“Actually, my great-great-grandfather built the house and donated the land to the Academy.”
“It must have been difficult, especially in the early years.”
Trystin repressed the urge to strangle his superior officer. “My father worries that there’s more prejudice now than there ever has been.”
“How is the octosquid, Major?” asked Vivienne.
“Good. Very good. My congratulations.”
“Thank you. It did take some doing. I appreciate your help.”
“It wasn’t much.” Sasaki frowned. “The slizirkis look good. Could I have just a few?”
“Certainly. Most certainly.”
While the two talked, Trystin had several bites of the slizirki mushrooms, which carried a crispness, a warmth, a tanginess, and an unidentifiable flavor.
“I take it they are good?”
“Very,” answered Trystin. “How did you find this place?”
“I didn’t. I helped Vivienne get started. It’s good to have someplace decent to eat that’s not planetside.” Sasaki refilled his glass then looked back at Trystin. “I take it you come from a large family.”
“No. I have one sister. She’s Service, too. A senior lieutenant in charge of a biological modification section on the Helconya project.”
“What about your parents?” Sasaki chewed more of the raw octosquid. “Not bad for a tank animal. Almost like the real thing.”
“My mother was a ships’ systems engineer. After she retired a few years ago, she got a second doctorate in music. She teaches at the university. My father’s an independent integrator.”
“Job-shop stuff?”
“Actually,” Trystin said, “he’s been designing integrated regional sewage and disposal systems for stage three planoforming projects.”
“One of the big boys, then. Interesting. Quiet, longtime anglo family. Well-off, cultured, and very highly educated. Probably not many of you left.”
Vivienne slipped a small plate of the slizirki mushrooms onto the table.
“Thank you.” Sasaki chewed one slowly. “Very good.”
Vivienne smiled, nodded, and backed away.
Trystin ate several bites more before taking another sip of wine.
“Why did you choose to go Service?”
“I always wanted to be a pilot. I spent a tour on Mara—perimeter officer—before I went to Chevel Beta.”
“These days, most pilots do. It’s a good idea. You test your warriors first, sort of like the old Shintos …” Sasaki let his words trail off as Marshal Toboru paused by the table.
“Don’t try to corrupt him too fast, James.” She offered a smile and a pat on the shoulder before she slipped out of the restaurant.
The major took a long swallow from his glass and refilled it.
Vivienne removed the empty plates.
“So many of our problems with the revs date back to antiquity, even before the Great Die-off. If the old Shintos had won the second global war, or whatever they called it, then the anglo forerunners of the revs couldn’t have built their power base and amassed the fortunes that they took to Orum. And that would have meant that the white neo-Mahmets … .”
Trystin held in a sigh. It was likely to be a long tour.
“Do you want any more wine?”
“Not yet, thank you.”
“It’s good. Not great, but good … anyway, as I was saying, all of those problems relate to the economic relationship between the Shintos and the anglos …”
Trystin nodded, hoping the main course would come soon, even as he pushed out of his mind the thought that the meal might be costing the equivalent of a week’s pay—or more. Instead, he took another, very small, sip of the Villa Tozza. It was good, but he had the feeling that everything associated with James Sasaki had a high price.
34
Trystin put the last of his uniforms into place in the locker beside his bunk, then refolded the two bags into small oblongs that he tucked into the back corner before he closed the locker door.
He’d had to wash and wipe out the locker first, getting rid of a residue of powder. He’d also wiped the dust off the console screen. Clearly, Major Doniger hadn’t been the neatest of people. She had left what appeared to be a complete and updated set of hard-copy manuals on the Willis, though, with paper slips inserted throughout. Trystin walked over to the console and picked up the top manual, opening it to one of the slips.
“ … peak power limitations of the F4-A(R) fusactor …”
A single paragraph was highlighted. Trystin read it, and was surprised to learn that each of the twin fusactors could actually deliver one hundred ten percent of load for five minutes without damage—or one hundred twenty percent for two minutes. Would he ever need to use that knowledge? He frowned, deciding that it might not be a bad idea to study the manuals, and to start with the noted sections.
Major Doniger might have been personally messy, but she had essentially told him that the captain was a lousy shiphandler, and the manuals laid out
on the narrow space next to the console conveyed another message—that the captain might not be any great expert on systems, either.
Trystin took a deep breath, feeling the ship’s net around him. For the moment, he was the duty officer, and he hoped nothing happened. While he supposed he should have been up front, with the net it didn’t matter where he was, and he wanted to get settled as quickly as possible.
There was a rap on the door.
“Come in.”
Keiko Muralto stood in the doorway.
“Yes, Tech—Keiko?” he corrected himself.
The tech carried two flat volumes in her hands. “Before she left, Major Doniger asked me to get duplicate copies of these for you.”
Trystin looked at the two thin volumes. “What are they?”
“This is the manual for the translation system, and this one is the programming layout for the ship’s infonet.”
Trystin shook his head and pointed to the manuals beside the console. “She left me quite a stack already.” He took the two. “Looks like I’ve got a lot of studying to do.”
“Yes, ser.” Keiko’s face was almost blank.
On impulse, Trystin kicked up his reflexes and hearing, before asking, “Do you think it’s very important for me to learn all this as fast as I can?”
“Yes,” came the subvocalized response. “You would know best, ser.”
“There’s a lot I don’t know, Keiko. I’m still a rather junior pilot. Which one of these”—he gestured—“would be the best place to start?”
“Infonet.” Keiko paused. “You could start anywhere, ser.”
“I’ll have to learn it all, anyway.”
“ … soon …” The tech waited, then answered clearly, “I suspect that it’s something all pilots are expected to learn.”
Trystin caught the glint in the tech’s eye. “You’ve worked with a lot of junior officers off the perimeter lines, haven’t you?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Well,” Trystin said casually, “I appreciate having all of the manuals, and I’ll work through them as quickly as I can. Sometimes, you almost have to read between the lines to figure out what’s important.”
The Parafaith War Page 23
