The Dark Ascent

by Walter H Hunt

  She could have attended this briefing by holo, but it provided an opportunity for Jackie to see Barbara MacEwan in person—something she hadn't done since the retreat from Cicero. They'd made their ways from the zor Core to Josephson by separate routes.

  As the little vessel approached its mothership, Jackie was impressed—as always—with the dimensions of the fleet carrier. It measured nearly a kilometer in length, and almost half that in beam width, with appendages making it wider still. With no need to be aerodynamic it most resembled a sort of ungainly octopus with an elongated, flattened cylinder constituting its main bulk, and arms stretching out in six directions to hold the launch and landing-clusters for its fighter craft.

  Between the arms, the carrier had huge, almost translucent networks of thin fiber cables—Duc's sensor net, linked directly to the huge 3-V display on the carrier's flight bridge. At the angle from which Jackie's gig approached, two of the nets seemed to be on fire, with the reflected sunlight caught and multiplied by the cables, making the carrier appear to be an enormous, ungainly phoenix. The filters on the gig's forward screen fought to stay polarized against the glare.

  The short trip complete, the gig set down in a perfect landing on the main hangar deck. While she waited for the airlock to pressurize, Jackie could see that Barbara MacEwan had turned out pipers, officers in full dress and seventeen sideboys, as befit her rank.

  I'm going to hate this, she thought. And Barbara is loving it.

  It did seem as if Barbara MacEwan, captain of the Duc d'Enghien, could hardly restrain her amusement as the band struck up a frightening bagpipe approximation of a zor state anthem as Jackie descended to the deck. Barbara and her senior officers delivered perfect salutes, which Jackie returned.

  "Permission to come aboard, Captain," Jackie said.

  "Permission granted, Admiral." Unable now to restrain her smile, Barbara took Jackie's proffered hand in both of hers. "I know," she added quietly, "that there's another title now, but I wanted the chance to call you 'Admiral.' Glad to see you in person, ma'am."

  "Glad to be here. Admiral Hsien is aboard, I assume."

  "He came over from Gibraltar a few hours ago." Barbara looked down the row of officers, still at attention. "Only fifteen sideboys for old Hsien," she added, with another grin. "You outrank him."

  "You're enjoying this," Jackie said between her teeth, as they turned to inspect the waiting crew.

  "Damn right," Barbara answered in the same, low-pitched voice. "Admiral, permit me to introduce my officers. My exec, Commander Ray Santos." She indicated the officer to her immediate left, whom Jackie knew well. They exchanged salutes and a handshake.

  "Commander Van Micic, my new wing-coordinator." Jackie took the hand of a tall, thin man, obviously a Service veteran; his hair was thin and light on top, and his face had gone craggy. "Karen Schaumburg made captain and was posted to Montgomery after Thon's Well," Barbara added, explaining the change in command.

  "Honored," Van Micic said to Jackie. "I've heard much about you, Admiral, and have looked forward to meeting you."

  "Thank you," Jackie replied. "—I suppose." She looked at Barbara, whose face remained impassive, with a sort of Who, me? expression.

  "My wing-commanders." Barbara introduced six junior officers, including two of the People. They arranged their wings in the Posture of Polite Approach and each took a rapid glance at the gyaryu as they offered textbook salutes. Jackie made a polite greeting in the Highspeech, which caused Barbara to raise an eyebrow.

  Jackie could see Owen Garrett in the formation among the staff for Duc's Green Squadron; they made eye contact for a moment and then Garrett looked away. Barbara didn't introduce him.

  The captain of Duc d'Enghien took Jackie through half a dozen more introductions and then dismissed the honor guard, the bagpipers and the junior officers. In the company of Ray Santos and Van Micic, the Gyaryu'har and Duc's captain made their way to the lift.

  "All right," Jackie said, when they were on their way to the bridge. "Tell me what you said to Admiral Hsien."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Out with it, Thane." Jackie noticed a faint smile from the two other officers and a wince from Barbara when she used the nickname. "He told me himself that some officer"—Jackie smiled, remembering the exchange with Admiral Hsien—"told him off. I assumed that it was you, and told him so. He confirmed."

  "Oh, that."

  "That."

  "He had just finished blaming you for doing what you did at Cicero—not trying to fight the enemy. He wanted to know how we should fight them at Adrianople, which, by the way, had already been taken by the time he was asking me this question—"

  "—Anyway . . ." Jackie interrupted.

  "Anyway; he tried to disparage your choice of tactic and I told him that if it hadn't been for you, we'd all be dead. Or worse." She and Ray exchanged a glance. "I was polite."

  "'If the admiral pleases.' He particularly liked that," said Jackie.

  "I told you I was polite," Barbara repeated. The two other officers chuckled and Barbara turned her head to glare at them, reducing the chuckles to throat-clearing noises.

  Before the captain of Duc d'Enghien could snap out a reply, the lift doors parted.

  "Captain on the bridge," said the Officer of the Watch, standing at his station.

  "At ease," Barbara said, walking across the flight bridge. "Don," she said to the comm officer, "please offer Admiral Hsien my compliments and ask him to meet us in my briefing-room at his convenience."

  Admiral Hsien arrived a few minutes after Jackie, which left her a brief chance to evaluate the situation. While Barbara MacEwan worked at a comp preparing for the coming briefing, Jackie exchanged pleasantries with two others: a human Sensitive named Howe, and one of the zor wing-commanders, Gyes'ru HeKa'an. Gyes'ru—a polite, young warrior of the People obviously in awe of the Gyaryu'har (or the sword itself; she couldn't tell which)—had Sensitive talent as well, and had been included in this meeting so that the fighter wings could be briefed.

  As for Howe—Jackie forgot his first name as soon as he had muttered it—there seemed to be little respect between him and Jackie, from the moment they met. The human Sensitive was a civilian, quite ill-at-ease in a military setting, though he had apparently been aboard Duc d'Enghien for a few months already; he was unwilling to meet anyone's eye and would not even touch Jackie's outstretched hand. His thoughts were well shielded but with the gyaryu close by, Jackie could almost feel his disdain: though whether it was for her, for the zor, or for the military in general, she couldn't tell. She looked at Gyes'ru HeKa'an for some indication and he placed his wings in a posture usually reserved for when an adult must be patient with a child.

  Without wings, Jackie could not offer a comment of her own, so she merely nodded.

  When the admiral arrived, everyone came to attention. Jackie realized, as she offered a salute, that it wasn't necessary for her to do so anymore, but decided it didn't matter. Hsien indicated with a gesture that everyone should sit, and he took his place at the head of the table.

  "Thank you for coming so promptly, se Gyaryu'har," he said to Jackie. "Captain MacEwan, please patch in the other commanders."

  Barbara nodded and touched the comp. The far wall dimmed and became a holo-image of a large conference table; there were a few dozen people sitting there, mostly human, but with two or three zor among them. Jackie recognized several commanders, including Sheng Di of Sheng Long (one privilege of coming from a shipbuilding family, she thought: your name gets into everything); Erich Anderson of Emperor Jan, the ship of class, descendant of the famous Admiral Anderson; and Sean Van Meter, Hsien's senior commodore. Each was sitting in a ready-room similar to the one aboard Duc. Hsien held out his hand in an As you were gesture, as a few of the younger officers made to stand and offer a salute.

  "Captains," Hsien began. "Permit me to introduce the Gyaryu'har of the High Nest to those who do not know her: Ms. Jacqueline Laperriere, Imperial Navy Admiral, Re
tired." He smiled slightly, more wistful than amused. "With permission from the High Nest, she will be traveling with this fleet for the time being.

  "We have received orders from the Admiralty to ascertain and, if possible, counter the enemy's next move. As you can see from the display—"

  Barbara gestured at the comp; a 3-V stellar map appeared at their end of the table. From the expressions of the holo-images, the other captains were examining the same map on their own ships.

  "—the enemy has made several incursions into Imperial space during the past four Standard months, beginning with the first contact at Cicero in October of last year.

  "Intelligence reports detail the outcomes of these attacks: When there have been survivors . . ." He let his voice trail off for a moment and then continued: "When there have been survivors," he repeated, "they have reported devastating Sensitive attacks. In only one case have the enemy vessels been completely destroyed: at Thon's Well, approximately one Standard month ago, when the High Nest's fleet flagship Nest HeYen was also destroyed."

  The zor present placed their wings in a posture of reverence to esLi. A few of the human officers noticed, though they likely didn't understand it. Admiral Hsien may have suspected the meaning of the gesture, however, and he paused for a moment before continuing.

  "We cannot afford to lose battles in the ways we have done, and we cannot afford to win battles the way we did at Thon's Well. First Lord Alvarez wants another solution. We believe that the enemy will strike here at Josephson System, with the intention of using it as a jumping-off point for further invasion of the Solar Empire. If it were taken, Denneva would be vulnerable to attack from short-range jump. We have therefore deployed here, and will remain until intel indicates that the enemy has changed focus . . . or until it attacks here. We have no way of being sure, but comp projections and . . . other indications—"

  Such as the High Lord's dreams, Jackie thought to herself.

  "—assign a high probability to the likelihood of a battle here in Josephson System in the near future. There is no way to know for sure.

  "What we do know, however, is this: At Adrianople, the combined effort of zor and human Sensitives was able to interfere with the enemy's ability to control minds—sufficiently well for my command to escape. We also know from the battle at Thon's Well that modulating the harmonics of starship defensive fields affects them.

  "Accordingly, each of you has had an additional Sensitive assigned to your crew along with an engineer to work on your field projection equipment. I expect that these individuals have been accommodated within each reporting structure in conformance to my orders.

  "If we can rely on some protection from the most dangerous aspects of this enemy strength—and I allow that this is a big 'if'—then we can concentrate on tactical solutions.

  "Captain Vorwoerd," he concluded, "I believe you have prepared a study for us to examine."

  One of the holo-images stood and began to speak. The star map was replaced by a depiction of one of the vuhl hive-ships: huge and irregularly shaped, with numerous glyphs indicating identified weapons systems.

  se Jackie, she heard in her mind, from the gyaryu. It was Sergei's voice. It must have startled her because Captain Vorwoerd hesitated, and Barbara looked at her, surprised. Jackie shrugged. Vorwoerd's report continued.

  You don't usually start conversations, she said silently.

  We only respond to external stimuli. Someone attempted to probe the gyaryu.

  Human or alien? She was suddenly alert, her hand near the hilt of the sword. Even knowing that there might be esGa'uYal hidden in the gyaryu, she had to rely on Sergei and the others to protect her from them.

  Human.

  She looked around the table. The Sensitive, Howe, was studiously looking away and listening to the briefing, but she could feel the slightest bit of tension from him.

  Are you in danger? Is he—

  He is an amateur, Sergei answered. He may sense power from the gyaryu but has no idea what it really is.

  Suggestions?

  Show him.

  How?

  Allow me, said Sergei's voice. She thought a moment and nodded slightly. She felt something from the gyaryu, like a sort of soft, nearly inaudible humming. She heard a faint rustle from Gyes'ru's wings—he'd felt it, too.

  She watched Howe's eyes drift closed. It went unnoticed, or at least unremarked upon. A corner of his mouth twitched once, twice.

  Then his eyes flew wide-open. His nostrils flared. He seemed to look long and hard at his hands, which had clenched tightly before him: When he opened them, it was obvious his nails had dug deeply into his palms, enough to draw blood. He turned his gaze at Jackie, fixing her with a look of . . . fear? anger?

  Barbara MacEwan, sitting to Howe's right, turned away from the holo, alarmed, ready to say something—

  "Mr. Howe," Admiral Hsien said, holding up a hand to stop the briefing. None of the remote attendees had seen anything.

  The Sensitive didn't answer and didn't look away from Jackie.

  "Mr. Howe," Hsien repeated, with far more asperity this time. "Is something wrong?"

  Is Howe an esGa'uYe? Jackie asked the gyaryu.

  Certainly not.

  "Mr. Howe!" Admiral Hsien said yet again, almost shouting. At last, the Sensitive looked away from Jackie to rest his glance on the admiral.

  "Sir."

  "Is something wrong?"

  "No sir," he said, carefully folding his hands in front of him. "No, Admiral. Nothing is wrong." He looked back at Jackie, and then away as she met his glance evenly.

  "Continue, Captain Vorwoerd," the admiral said, annoyance in his voice.

  What did you do? Jackie asked the gyaryu.

  Simply showed him what he would be fighting. He was unconvinced that the enemy was worthy of his attention. He understands now, though he may bear some ill-will toward you. Our apologies, se Jackie.

  I can handle it, she answered.

  At the end of the briefing, the human Sensitive appeared to be interested in making his escape as quickly as possible but was cornered by Admiral Hsien. Jackie would have liked to speak to him directly, but she was intercepted by a staff officer who had entered the ready-room.

  "Admiral Laperriere?" the officer asked, though it must have been obvious. "I'm Laura Ibarra. Lieutenant-Commander Ibarra, Duc's intelligence officer."

  "How can I help you, Commander?"

  "I . . . received a directive from Langley, ma'am. I understand that you have been assigned to the fleet to assist the training of our Sensitives." She cast a disparaging glance toward Howe, who was not having a comfortable time of it with Admiral Hsien.

  "'Training'?"

  "Why, yes. I admit that I do not know the particulars, merely that it has something to do with . . ." She gestured casually toward the gyaryu. "You might be able to provide our special attachés with skills they will need."

  "I am not a teacher," Jackie said carefully. "And the gyaryu is not a teaching tool. It is—"

  "It is a device capable of imparting Sensitive skill to someone who never had it before," Ibarra interrupted. "It also imparts extensive knowledge to anyone who holds it, so I understand. Surely," she added, lowering her voice, "as a loyal subject of the Solar Emperor—"

  "So that's what this is about. Yes, Commander, now I understand where this is going.

  "Please present my compliments to Director M'm'e'e Sha'kan, and tell him I'll have no part of this. The gyaryu belongs to the High Nest, and remains in its scabbard on my belt. Tell him—" She stepped past the intelligence officer, who took a few steps backward. "Tell him that Hesya won't get hold of the Sword of Shr'e'a again."

  "I don't understand," Ibarra said, to Jackie's retreating back.

  "I'm sure M'm'e'e Sha'kan will."

  Ships continued to arrive at Josephson System. On the bridge of the Fair Damsel, the holo display showed them maneuvering toward space-moorings; Jackie sat in one of the engineering stations and watched the col
ored icons dance.

  She was unsettled. It didn't take a Sensitive to notice, and it had become even more pronounced after she returned from the briefing aboard Duc d'Enghien. Most of Damsel's crew seemed to be giving her a wide berth. Naturally, this didn't apply to its captain.

  "Pretty nice," Dan said, gesturing toward the display as he came onto the bridge. "Georg Maartens got this installed for us. State-of-the-art deep-radar, just like on the ships of the line.

  "Too bad they couldn't give us some firepower to go with it." He dropped into the pilot's chair. "On the other hand," he added, leaning his chin on his palm and his elbow on the arm of the chair, "if we had lots of gunnery, they'd put us on the damn front line."

  Jackie didn't answer. Pyotr Ngo, working on an opened command panel on the other side of the bridge, scowled across at Dan, and then returned his attention to his work.

  "What's up, Jay? You haven't said ten words since you came back from the carrier."

  "I don't know. Something's happening but I can't quite figure out what it is. I think we're in the middle of another legend . . . but I don't like how this one comes out, either. What's more, I'm not alone this time: Garrett's wrapped up in this, as well—he's being used just like I am."

  She leaned back in the chair and rubbed her forehead. "I'm also not completely sure I trust this," she added, touching the hilt of the gyaryu.

  "Don't trust it? Isn't it Excalibur or something? How can you not trust it?"

  "It's hard to explain. All along, I feel like I've been pushed from one event to another. There's no control at all: I want to take a stand, make a decision, do something that wasn't ordained by some damn legend written eight thousand years ago.

  "But it's not working out that way. I got led all the way to Center; it cost me one of my best friends. I took on this job"—she patted the hilt of the gyaryu—"and now I learn that the same group that manipulated the war between zor and humans eighty-five years ago is manipulating this war as well. They may have even screwed with the sword itself.