The Crucible of Empire: Chapter Six

    The next morning, Caitlin moved into her quarters on the Lexington. Ed was morose when he dropped her off, kissing her right there on the tarmac in front of Jao and human alike with a passion that curled her toes. She felt her cheeks heat.

    “Damn Jao,” he muttered against her neck as supply trucks rumbled past just a few feet away. His warm breath tickled all the way down to her knees. “Spiriting a guy’s wife off to the far reaches of the galaxy on a whim just when he’s gotten used to having her around!”

    She laughed, though her heart was racing. Facing east, the morning sun was in her eyes and made it difficult to focus on his face. “Maybe you’re just a little too used to having me around.” She pressed her cheek to the broad expanse of his chest and drank in the sense of calm strength he always exuded. He smelled of after shave, as usual, laundry detergent, and, for some reason, orange juice. Must have spilled some on his jacket that morning. She sighed and clung to him, her fingers smoothing a wrinkle in his shirt over and over. “Maybe you’ll appreciate me even more when I come back.”

    If I come back, she thought, and knew that he was thinking the same thing. They’d both traveled to that Ekhat ship two years ago, had stood together in that terrible ear-splitting place and heard the insanity of what the aliens had to say — right before the pair had ripped themselves to shreds for having been defiled by non-Ekhat contact. There had been at least one Ekhat ship in the nebula where the Lexington was headed. The Krant ships had destroyed it, but there could be more.

    Ed’s arms tightened until she couldn’t breathe, but then he released her and stepped back, his shoulders resigned. Above all, he was a soldier, she thought. He knew where a soldier’s duty lay, both his and hers. She was just as much a warrior as he was these days, only her weapons were papers and words.

    His gray eyes narrowed. “Just see that you do come back,” he said in his officer’s voice.

    Caitlin smiled tremulously, her toes still curled from that kiss. “Like anyone could keep me from it!” She hoisted her travel bag’s strap onto her shoulder, then watched him climb into their black car and drive away without looking back. As one of the top commanders of the jinau, he had meetings in New Chicago over the next three days. The Lexington was scheduled to lift before he could return.

    At least, humans had calculated that was when it would leave. The Jao, who disliked the notion of chopping time into discrete bits and then fussily counting them, were talking about “flow being very close to completion.” Somewhere in the middle of the two widely disparate attitudes about time lay the truth. The Lexington would take off when all supplies were loaded and personnel were in place, in other words, when the vast ship was ready, and not a single second before.

    Caitlin passed through Security to enter the refit facility, then again at the ship herself. Such a grand lady, Caitlin thought, as she walked up the ramp, the Lexington’s massive gray ribbed hull obscuring the sky. So many hopes were riding with her. Earth had been lucky last time in the battle with the Ekhat, cobbling together a ramshackle defense that proved mostly effective, but the Chinese people had paid the price. And luck could only take them so far before it gave out. Preparation was a much better ally.

    At the top of the ramp, she encountered the ship’s captain, Dannet krinnu ava Terra, a middle-aged Jao female with a great deal of Ekhat combat under her belt.

    “Mrs. Kralik,” Dannet said. Her stance declared this meeting an irritated-distraction to the human’s experienced eyes. “I felt you would come soon.”

    Dannet was handsome by Jao standards with a powerful frame as well as a strongly marked vai camiti that boldly stated her origin, despite her adoption of her new taif’s designation. The three broad stripes slanted across her nose and eyes at that precise angle indicated “Narvo,” to anyone with much knowledge of Jao culture.

    Narvo had also been the kochan of Oppuk, the late and unlamented Governor of Earth, who had abandoned Earth to the Ekhat when the attack came. Years before, he had murdered Caitlin’s brother in a fit of pique because his Jao accent had been lacking, then later broken her arm as casually as one snaps a twig. He was dead now, but his kochan was very highly ranked. Members of it worked at various positions all over Earth. She often wondered how much they blamed her for Oppuk’s disgrace and death.

    To deepen the fragile new association between Pluthrak and Narvo, the current governor, Aille, a former Pluthrak, had applied to Narvo for an experienced captain, once the Lexington was under construction, with the understanding that he or she must join Earth’s new taif. Dannet had come, apparently willing, but seeing that vai camiti was always chilling. It was like looking back through time into Oppuk’s unsane face. Though she had no idea how closely the two were related, Caitlin avoided the Narvo female whenever possible.

    “Call me Caitlin,” Caitlin said, summoning her diplomatic skills. She let her angles assume wishing-to-be-of-use. “We are crewmates now. Formality will not be necessary.”

    “Formality has its uses,” Dannet said, regarding her with an indecipherable expression. Her body had now gone classically neutral. “Do you know the way to your quarters?”

    Thank the gods, she did, having inspected them several days before. “Yes.”

    “Then I will leave you,” Dannet said. “I have much to oversee.” She continued on down the ramp, her stride businesslike, resplendent in Terra-blue trousers and gleaming blue harness.

    “Gives you the willies, don’t she?” a voice said out of the shadows just beyond the great hatch. A hand extended.

    “Rob!” Caitlin took the proffered hand. “I didn’t know you’d come aboard.”

    The dark face of Rob Wiley, former Resistance leader, grinned back at her, sporting a gold front tooth. Good dental work was nonexistent back in the mountains and he’d been taking advantage of its availability since accepting the position of one of the two subcommanders heading Lexington’s ground force complement. “Boarded most of my troops this morning.”

    “How’s that going?” she asked as the hatch closed behind them.

    “Damned weird,” Wiley said, slinging Caitlin’s bag over his own shoulder and then falling into step beside her. “If anyone had told me two years ago that I would share command of anything with a freaking Jao, I’d have sliced their liver out and served it to them for breakfast.”

    “Is Brel making it difficult?” Their footsteps echoed across a patch of bare deck plating. Busy crew members, human and Jao, bustled past in both directions, paying them no attention. He directed her to the nearest lift station and punched for the car.

    “Not on purpose, but I never know what that rascal is thinking,” Wiley said as they waited. “He says almost nothing, and I can’t figure out what all that stupid dancing around means. I’ve tried to learn a few of the basics, but I think you have to be born to it.”

    Or at least exposed at a very early age, Caitlin thought. She’d acquired a Jao guard when she was three, not a positive experience, since it meant she’d been a virtual political prisoner a good deal of her life. But it had left her the Earth’s most fluent human in Jao bodyspeak.

    “I can tutor you,” she said. “We’re bound to have some downtime on our hands during the voyage. From what I hear, it takes a few days on the trip out to set up frame travel and then jump.”

    The door opened and they stepped into the blue-lighted space. It was much larger than the standard human elevator, probably one of the heavy duty lifts for handling combat equipment and troops, spare parts and supplies. The doors whooshed shut.

    “Deck Forty-Six,” she said. Her stomach lurched as they shot upwards, faster than humans liked, just one of the many Jao influences in this huge ship. Why set the lift to half-speed just to make humans a tiny bit more comfortable?

    She wondered how long it would take her to get used to it, or if indeed she ever would.

 

---

 

---

 

    Mallu was feeling somewhat improved, but the human medician wouldn’t discharge him from her care.

    “I want to swim,” he said, restless in the hard human-style bed, rather than curled up in a proper soft pile of dehabia. The medical bay was never quiet, with beeps and hisses and attendants fussing about him all the time. He longed for solitude. His chest ached, though he was trying to disregard it.

    The female regarded him with an indecipherable expression. “You need to stay here for –” She broke off and muttered a few words to herself in her own language as though peeved. “– for some time longer.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I will let you know when that particular flow is complete.”

    A Jao stuck his head into the room and glanced over at Mallu. “He looks better, Doctor Ames.”

    “No thanks to our Krant-Captain,” she said with a flick of her head that was almost meaningful. “He wants to be out and about, in fact, insists upon it.”

    “We Jao are tough,” the newcomer said. “Perhaps he is ready.”

    Mallu realized he recognized him from that meeting with Preceptor Ronz and Earth’s young governor, Aille krinnu ava Terra. He lay back against the pillow and chased the name around his foggy brain. They had not been introduced, but he’d picked up the name from the others’ comments. Wram? Wral? No, Wrot krinnu ava Terra. That was it. A scarred old veteran of the original battle to take this planet, and now a member of its nascent taif.

    “Not that tough,” the medician said. “The original injury he suffered in the battle with the Ekhat was never adequately treated. It was just a matter of time until he collapsed. The Krant-Captain needs a bit longer to heal.”

    Wrot crossed the room to stand by the human-style bed. Mallu got a good look at the numerous bars of service incised on his cheek. Impressive. He sat up, though the motion wrung a sharp jolt from his healing ribs.

    “Two days, then?” Wrot asked.

    “I cannot answer that with any certainty,” she said. Her alien face contorted into a startling display of naked teeth. “I am good at this, but not that good.” She twitched the thin white cloth back over Mallu’s legs. “Just not yet.”

    “Flow feels almost complete,” Mallu said, lying back again to ease the stabbing pain in his chest. Urgency teased at him. The situation was about to complete itself. “This ship will lift soon. I can feel it. We must get our crewmates aboard and situated.”

    “I will handle that,” Wrot said. “Is there anything else?”

    “Check on Senior-Tech Kaln and Terniary-Commander Jalta,” he said. “I have not seen them since –” He broke off, then gestured at his chest. “– since this happened. The loss of our ships and then the summons that diverted us to this world rather than returning home has affected them both. Kaln suffered a head injury in the battle which seems to have impacted her judgment. I fear she needs close supervision.”

    “They accompanied you here when you were brought in,” the medician said. “Both seemed agitated so I sent them off to swim.”

    And they had no doubt been wandering the vast ship on their own ever since, Mallu realized. Not good. Kaln was so moody since the battle with the Ekhat, she might do or say almost anything. If another human offended her or even just got in her way, there might be dire consequences. What if she killed one? Even though they were a conquered race, the local authorities seemed to set great store by these spindly creatures. There would be repercussions and even more shame. Without conscious volition, his body assumed the lines of distress.

    “I saw them a short time ago,” Wrot said. “I assigned Major Tully as their escort soon after this happened so they have not been unsupervised.”

    “Is this Tully a human?” Mallu asked.

    Wrot’s body signaled affirmation.

    “Then it may be dead,” Mallu said.

    “Oh,” Wrot said, “you do not know Tully, possibly one of the most stubborn humans alive, and that is saying a great deal. They are a marvelously recalcitrant species.” He pulled out his pocketcom. “They have to do everything their own way, and I am quite certain Tully would never be so obliging as to allow your tech to kill him.”

 

---

 

    Goddamn Jao. Tully doggedly followed as the pair entered the engine room, exclaiming to one another over the technology in words far beyond his everyday Jao vocabulary. After eating yesterday in one of the Jao food halls, some nauseating concoction involving raw fish that probably tasted even worse than it smelled, not that anyone could have persuaded him to try it, they’d prowled the ship for endless hours.

    He’d located the Krants’ quarters early on, but except for a brief nap, during which he’d stationed himself outside their door, they’d refused to stay there, exploring the Lexington with a relentless tenacity that spoke to him more of avoidance than real interest. It was plain that the female, Kaln, feared the Krant-Captain would die and was trying with all her might to think about anything but that.

    For now, he’d been letting them run, just as one let a frightened horse gallop out its fear before gathering the reins and turning its head back to the stable. His patience was about at an end, though. He had a lot of last minute details to oversee for Baker Company’s deployment to the Lexington, and he needed some real sleep, more than a ten minute catnap.

    Kaln knelt on the deck and peered under a bank of controls. She rapped so hard with her knuckles that read-outs flickered. Two startled human techs headed over to intervene. Tully’s pocketcom buzzed and he fished for the black plastic device as he went to join the fray. “Yes?”

    “I assume you still have our Krant friends in sight,” Wrot’s voice said in English.

    “Affirmative,” he said, “though I’m getting mighty tired of their faces.”

    “Conduct them back to the medical bay,” Wrot said. “Their captain wishes to assure himself of their good behavior.”

    “They haven’t killed anyone yet, if that’s what you mean,” Tully said. “I’ve been running interference for them all over the ship, keeping the crew away from them, them away from the crew as best I could.”

    One of the human techs was bent over, arguing with Kaln who had pulled off the back of the console and was peering into a maze of colored wires. Eyes flashing green, she looked up at the man and flattened her good ear.

    Tully sighed.

    “Wise,” Wrot said. “Bring them up.” The com clicked off.

    Yeah, Tully thought, just like that. He inserted himself into Kaln’s line of sight. “We have to go back to the medical bay,” he said. “Your captain –”

    “He is not dead!” the big female said. Her body stiffened.

    Tully waved a hand. “No –”

    “It was that human’s fault!” she cried, shoulders rising. “The creature was too insolent to be borne!”

    The other Jao, Jalta, was just watching, his spine at a peculiar angle, signifying something, no doubt, though Tully hadn’t a clue. He was suddenly very sick of these two Jao and this half-assed baby-sitting assignment.

    “Stand down!” he barked in Jao, schooling his tone to imitate Yaut. Gods knew he’d heard him often enough over the last few years. He caught and held Kaln’s flickering green and black gaze. “You will not further shame your kochan with such wanton behavior!”

 

---

 

    Jalta backed away, while Kaln froze, one dark-napped hand still on the wires.

    The human tech, a youngster no more than twenty with fair skin that had gone even paler, was sweating. He clenched a wrench in one hand as though he wanted to give her a solid whack on the head. “Sir, I don’t know exactly what’s going on here, but if they pull those dynamo wires, we’ll be hours getting them reseated and tested.” He glared over his shoulder at Jalta as well. “It could mean we won’t lift on time!”

    “You are upsetting our techs,” Tully said, “for no reason beyond idle curiosity, which will stop now.”

    Kaln’s hand dropped. She handed the protective cover to the young human tech, who clutched it to his chest as though it were his firstborn and backed away. Her whiskers bristled as she came upright. “You will not speak to me or any other Jao in such a disrespectful manner!”

    “It has been given to me to instruct you on how to conduct yourselves in this mixed crew,” Tully said carefully, the blood pounding in his ears. Jeeze, negotiating with rebels had been a hundred times easier than this. It would have been less of a challenge to talk a clam out of its damned shell. He cursed Wrot’s ornery hide for putting him in this position. “That is one of the ways, as a member of the governor’s service, that I make myself of use.” Without knowing exactly what the posture meant, he let his body assume his best Yaut-imitation of a Jao instructing someone very dim. “You will listen and do as I say!”

    Jalta dropped his gaze, his stance gone to what seemed to be neutrality. Kaln loomed over Tully, her functional ear pitched at an unsettling angle, not pride exactly. He’d seen that often enough to know. Not anger or rage. Something else.

    If it came down to hand-to-hand, he thought, holding his ground as she advanced upon him, he was confident he could take her. Jao were strong, but not as agile or fast as a human in good physical condition. They tended to underestimate humans in general — and Tully’s military assignment meant that he’d trained extensively against Jao soldiers. As long he didn’t let her get a good grip –

    With heart-stopping abruptness, she turned away. “Lead us back to the medical bay, smooth-face. We would see our captain for ourselves.”

    By leading, of course, he would be assuming an inferior position. Jao deemed it an honor to go last and, of course, “smooth-face” was a sly insult, pointing out that he had no incised bars of service as would a Jao of similar rank. “My full name,” he said with a sudden flash of inspiration, knowing that to force the knowledge upon her was a form of power, “is Major Gabriel Dorran Tully.”

    Her eyes flashed green as some restless alien sea, then she fell in behind him.

 

---

 

    Wrot suddenly felt it, the pull of events, an alteration in his timesense. Somewhere, faraway, factors had shifted. Something important had changed, something that had to do with this impending exploration. It was time to act.

    If what the Preceptor suspected was true, then the Lleix had survived, but as the sudden need for haste pressed in upon him, he knew that, for whatever reason, they might not have much longer. The Ekhat had been in that nebula. Krant’s ships had destroyed the vessel they encountered, but there could easily be more investigating its disappearance. Many more.

    He slipped out of the medical bay into the hallway, then used his pocketcom to contact the Lexington’s new captain, Dannet krinnu ava Terra.

    “Terra-Captain,” he said, when her gravelly voice answered, “there has been a change. Do you feel it too?”

    “I felt a slight increase in urgency,” she said.

    Several crewmen hurried past, Jao and human, lost in discussion. “Because the Preceptor has shared more of his concerns with me,” Wrot said, “it is possible I feel the change more strongly.”

    “You could tell me what you know,” she said testily, “then I would no doubt experience it in equal measure.”

    “The circumstances are not mine to share,” Wrot said. A pallet of supplies was being towed by a sturdy human female jinau to a nearby storeroom. He edged out of the way. “Only the Preceptor can authorize their dissemination.”

    “Would your answer be the same, had I not been born of Narvo?” she asked.

    “You are Terra now,” he said stiffly and set off for the nearest lift. The strange urgency tugged at him, making his nap itch, his whiskers unsettled. Some unfortunate flow was trying to complete itself. They must leave now, or as close to now as could be managed. “That is all that matters.”

    “So I was told,” Dannet said, “though, thus far, I have not always found it to be true.”

    “Some maintain long memories concerning Oppuk’s misdeeds, but you have been given command of this great ship,” Wrot said as he jogged down the corridor, weaving around more crewmen, “the largest vessel ever built by Jao. Why should you not feel trusted?”

    “I make myself of use,” she said, then fell silent, obviously waiting for him to lead the conversation in a more productive direction.

    “How soon can we lift?” he asked, turning at an intersection and dodging a pair of humans towing crates stacked on wheeled platforms.

    “The last of the supplies are being loaded now,” Dannet said. “I will recall all personnel not currently on board. We can lift as soon as everyone has reported.”

    At her words, he could feel things shifting into place, conditions being satisfied, edges coming into alignment. They would leave shortly, though he had no way to tell at this juncture if it were soon enough. “I will fetch the rest of the Krant crew,” he said, “then return myself.”

    “Will that be sufficient?” she asked, acknowledging his superior perception of the situation’s flow.

    “It will have to be,” he said.