“I would say thank you, but since I had nothing to do with it…”
“Actually, when I said you, I meant you personally. There are a lot of regional accents and dialects across Alsea, but every time I listened to you on a broadcast, I thought your phrasing and pronunciation should be standardized. And now I do believe I have embarrassed the Lancer of Alsea.”
Putting a hand to her warm cheek, Tal said, “Perhaps a little. But thank you for giving me something to be vain about.”
They shared a smile before Lhyn said, “Anyway, it turns out that while the node’s hardware is capable of handling any number of languages, the average Gaian brain isn’t. Every additional language exponentially increases the complexity of the connections, because it’s not just the knowledge of the language being sent, but also the neural signals for physical speech. After two languages, signals start getting crossed and you end up with errors. And because this isn’t organic knowledge, the person having issues doesn’t even realize it.”
“That makes sense. You referred to a language called Common before. I assume that’s a universal trade language?”
“Exactly. Which means most Gaians speak at least three languages: their native tongue, Common, and a third of their choosing. What Ekatya and Commander Baldassar want to do is pull out their second language chip and replace it with an Alsean chip. I can program the chips, and Ekatya asked her engineers to salvage the equipment from her ship. So once things calm down a little bit, we can show your healers how it all works and they can replace the chips.”
“Remarkable. And quite an advantage for a space-faring species.”
“It’s a huge advantage, though of course I find three languages rather limiting.”
Tal smiled. “I believe you.”
“Speaking of limiting, I haven’t had nearly enough time to ask you questions. Do you mind…?”
“Not at all. Now is a good time, actually. We can’t do anything else until we arrive at Blacksun Base. Ask away.”
“Great.” Lhyn sat upright, drilling Tal with the force of her attention. “First question: what is a front?”
“Ah, yes, you asked this once before. It’s an emotional block. One of the first things a high empath is taught is how to front her emotions from others. The second thing we’re taught is how to break through the fronts of others less strong. So you can imagine that there’s considerable incentive to develop a strong front.”
Lhyn’s eyes were wide. “I certainly can. Do only high empaths have this ability?”
Tal had to think about how to answer this one. “It’s not that we’re the only ones to have the ability. All adult Alseans have a front, but not all of them can attain any real strength with it. I have what we call a perfect front, which means that no one with a lower empathic rating can break it. If I don’t wish others to know what I’m feeling, they won’t. Gehrain also has a perfect front, as do most of my Guards, and since they’re chosen in part for their empathic strength, they’re fairly impervious. And all healers must have perfect fronts.”
“Oh! I hadn’t thought about that. Yes, I can see where that would be necessary. How fascinating.” Lhyn considered for a moment. “I can also see where it could be necessary for certain warriors to have perfect fronts. Anyone working on a covert mission, for instance.” At Tal’s nod, she continued, “And besides the healers, there must be any number of scholar caste professions requiring that ability. Lawyers and adjudicators. Mental healers. Negotiators…so this is why you shunt the high empaths into the warrior and scholar castes.”
“It is. But as you’ve seen, the result is not ideal, despite all of our laws mandating caste equality.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it. But you said adults. Children don’t have fronts?”
Tal shook her head. “That’s one of the things we love about them. There’s a tremendous innocence in being so open with one’s emotions.”
“Do you think of us as children?”
“I…” Tal hesitated, trying to think of a diplomatic way to answer, and was startled at the burst of satisfaction from Lhyn.
“I knew it! This is so intriguing. Of course you would, none of us have any fronts at all. We must seem like a strange mix of children and technologically advanced adults.”
“That’s an excellent description.” Tal gave up on diplomacy; Lhyn didn’t need it.
“Can you stop sensing emotions if you don’t want to? I mean, doesn’t it get overwhelming being around us when we can’t control ourselves?”
Amused, Tal said, “You haven’t felt overwhelming until you’ve been in a Council session. One hundred and eighty Alseans, only a fraction of whom are high empaths, and most of whom get emotional at some point or another. Some of them exceptionally so. Yes, I can block what comes in as well as what goes out.”
“Are you blocking us now?”
“There’s no need. You’re not feeling anything I would want to block. And it does take effort, so I’d rather not if I don’t have to.”
“Have you ever blocked us?”
“Yes.”
Lhyn waited impatiently.
“Well?” she asked, as Tal remained silent. “When?”
“When Captain Serrado learned you’d been found alive.”
Lhyn’s posture changed along with her emotions, but all she said was, “Ouch. I walked right into that one.”
Tal inclined her head, giving the Gaian time to recover.
“I just realized something,” Lhyn said. “We’ve known you for less than one day, and yet you know us better than almost anyone else in our lives. In the important ways, I mean. And in some ways I think you might understand Ekatya better than I do.”
“There is a great deal of truth in emotions. Why do you think high empaths spend so much time learning to front them?” Tal asked wryly. “Those who can hide the truth often have an advantage over those who cannot. But at the other end of the scale, the trust involved in openly sharing emotions is a gift that separates true friends from false, family from strangers, and bondmates from lovers. That you and Captain Serrado share so freely with me…” She paused, trying to find the right words. “Even though you’re not choosing to do it, I can’t help but receive it as a gift. It implies a trust that I’m compelled to return. I listened to Captain Serrado’s emotions last night because it was tactically sound. I stopped when it became an invasion of her privacy.”
“Shek,” Lhyn said. “We need those language chips. Ekatya should be part of this conversation.”
“I look forward to that.”
“So does she. I’m quite shocked that she’s allowing your healers to do the procedure. That says a lot about how much she wants to communicate with you directly. Of course,” she added with a smile, “it may also have something to do with the fact that my physical science and engineering knowledge is a tiny bit behind my cultural understanding.”
“With fifty-three languages packed in there, I hardly see how you have room for anything else.” Tal enjoyed Lhyn’s amusement, then realized they had arrived at the outskirts of Blacksun. She held up her hand, stopping Lhyn just as she was opening her mouth, and said, “We’re halfway to the base. It’s my turn.”
“But…” Lhyn’s posture slumped. “I suppose that’s fair.”
“How would your ship produce enough glass to repair every window in this city?”
“Now you really need Ekatya. I’m sorry, Lancer Tal, I don’t know how it works. I just tell it what I want and wait for it to appear.”
“Appear?”
“We call them matter printers. They convert matter from one form to another, and then print it in whatever pattern we ask for. Within the limitations of what’s programmed into the system, that is.”
“Where does your source matter come from?”
“Er…it has something to do with our sewage and recycling? Really, you’re out of my range here. You’ll have to ask Ekatya. I wish I could be more helpful.”
“That’s all right, you’ve already
confirmed my theory. It’s a fascinating technology.”
“I guess it is.” She shrugged. “It’s such a normal part of my life that I don’t really think about it.”
Tal could only imagine what other miraculous technologies were merely a normal part of her life. Speaking of which…
“How do you travel faster than light?” she asked. “According to our scholars, that’s an absolute speed limit.”
“Okay, that’s it.” Lhyn got up from her seat and pointed at it. “You sit here.”
Tal stared at her, and a moment later Lhyn’s cheeks reddened.
“Right. Let’s pretend I didn’t just say that. Lancer Tal, if you wouldn’t mind taking my seat, I’ll act as a bridge between you and Ekatya, and you can ask her these questions.” She stepped into the aisle and crouched down, holding an armrest for stability, and looked over at Tal expectantly.
Hiding her smile, Tal switched seats. “Does Captain Serrado know that she’s about to be bombarded with questions?”
“Not yet.” Lhyn held a quick conversation with the captain, who appeared happy to oblige. She leaned toward the aisle, an expectant look in her dark blue eyes, and said something to Tal.
“She says ‘missiles away.’ Which means—”
“I think I’ve got that one by inference,” said Tal. “And I’m asking her the same question I just asked you.”
“Oh. Sorry, hold on.” Lhyn spoke a single question in her language, and the captain looked thoughtful. Behind her, Commander Baldassar said something. His face was carefully blank, but Tal could sense his disapproval. She guessed that FTL technology came under the category of things not to be discussed with backwards aliens.
The captain responded without looking at him, and his disapproval deepened. Tal kept her own expression blank, but she was enjoying the byplay. Then Captain Serrado gave quite a long answer, which made Lhyn’s forehead crease.
“I’ll start with the caveat that you’re going to want to repeat this conversation once Ek—Captain Serrado has her Alsean chip in,” she said with a quick glance at Baldassar. “Or with Commander Kameha; he’s her chief engineer. But she says to tell you there are actually two methods of FTL travel. The first is what we call surfing. We have a drive that compresses the fabric of spacetime in front of the ship, while expanding it behind the ship. The ship rides the differential between the compressed and expanded parts of spacetime, like a surfer rides a breaking wave.”
“But how do you avoid the consequences of breaking the speed limit?” Tal asked. “It shouldn’t be possible.”
“I hadn’t gotten to that yet. The trick is that the ship itself stays in normal spacetime. It’s protected by a bubble that keeps the altered spacetime outside. So even though the bubble is traveling faster than light, the ship and the people in it are not. Did that make sense to you? Because it didn’t to me.”
Tal chuckled. “It did, actually. How is the bubble produced?”
“Lancer Tal, there are limitations to my translation abilities, and that question goes right past them. You really have to wait until you can speak to the captain directly. But she did say that the shape of the bubble affects how much energy it takes to create it, and that’s one of the reasons our ships are shaped the way they are.”
“One of the reasons?”
“Right. The other reason has to do with the second method of FTL travel, which isn’t really FTL travel.” She saw the expression on Tal’s face and grinned. “This is what you get for asking an anthropologist about propulsion theory. I did warn you.”
“Yes, you did. But I’m impatient.”
“Let me just make sure I have this right.” Lhyn held another conversation with the captain, and Tal was interested to see Commander Baldassar drawn into it despite himself. He may have disapproved of sharing FTL tech with Alseans, but apparently he couldn’t stand the idea of inaccuracy in the data being passed on.
Lhyn shook her head as she turned back. “At this rate I’m going to need a headache med. There are different layers of space, and what you see when you look up is just the top layer. That’s the part we need FTL propulsion for, because the distances are so vast. But if you can get below that into the base layer, you don’t need—”
Tal’s wristcom vibrated, and she held up a finger to stop Lhyn. There was only one person who should be on this frequency right now, and she didn’t think Tesseron would be calling with good news.
“Lancer Tal, we’ve got a problem.”
Switching the sound output to her wristcom, she held it near Lhyn and asked, “What kind of problem?”
“Lieutenant Candini is losing flight controls. She doesn’t know why and says they should be in perfect condition, because she tested them during her preflight check. But they’re not responding properly.”
And at four times the speed of sound, any play at all in the flight controls could mean one of the fastest deaths in Alsean history. She watched Lhyn translate to Captain Serrado and asked, “Is it a speed issue?”
“She doesn’t think so. We’ve already slowed to the speed of sound and the situation is not improving. In fact, it seems to be getting worse. We’re going to have to land.”
“Where?”
“I think we can make Port Calerna.”
The southern edge of Argolis, then. That left a wide swath of ocean and half of Pallea between the weapons on that fighter and the ground pounder. “Hold,” she said, and turned to Captain Serrado. “I don’t suppose your weaponry can be easily removed from the fighter?”
Lhyn translated, and the captain shook her head as she answered.
“No, it’s too integrated. Wait, Commander Baldassar is offering to fly another fighter out.”
“We don’t have time. We’ve already lost seventy ticks.” And it would be at least another forty or fifty ticks before they could get back to the Caphenon, send Baldassar up the ladder, and launch another fighter. No, they would have to use the assets they had on site.
“She says the same thing. Lancer Tal, what do we do now?”
I have no idea, was Tal’s first thought. And though she knew the question had been Lhyn’s, it was the captain she faced as she straightened her spine and said, “Now we come up with another plan.”
Chapter 24
Battle strategy
At any other time, Ekatya would have enjoyed a tour of this base. It was magnificent from the air, with a huge dome at its center and paths radiating out to smaller domes, an airfield and hangars, exercise fields, a shooting range, and other areas she didn’t know the purpose of. Several paths led straight to the forest surrounding the base, where they vanished under the trees.
But a tour was the furthest thing from anyone’s mind right now. Candini had managed to land safely at Port Calerna, which was about the only good thing Ekatya could say for the whole evening. While her pilot was out of danger, two hundred and fifty Alsean warriors were now in dire straits, almost certain to be wiped out unless somebody could come up with a miracle. And once they were off the board, there was nothing standing between that ground pounder and the nearest city.
On top of that, her ship had unexplained damage to the hullskin and Candini’s fighter had unexplained damage to its flight controls. The fighter had operated perfectly on its last flight, and Candini would surely have noticed anything amiss in her preflight check. But the fighter bay had been breached during the battle, and Ekatya had a bad feeling about what that added up to.
They’d landed in a bricked spot removed from the airfield and close to the main dome. The Guards had spread out toward the smaller domes, which Ekatya assumed were the barracks, but she’d had no time to ask. Colonel Micah had taken over her chair and was pushing it at a great clip toward the main dome, while Lhyn jogged beside her. Lancer Tal was leading the way effortlessly despite her shorter legs, and next to her was Commander Baldassar.
They entered the dome through an arch topped by a stylized pair of crossed swords, passed briefly along a high-ceilinged, curving
corridor with artwork in recessed alcoves, then turned down a short side corridor which ended at a lift. Lancer Tal pressed her palm to the biometric lock and stepped inside the moment the doors opened. Colonel Micah pushed Ekatya in, and Lhyn and Baldassar filed in last.
As the doors closed, Lancer Tal spoke to Lhyn.
“She said she’s sorry for the rush. This is her second home, and she wishes you could see it properly, rather than going straight to the deepest, darkest corner of it.”
It did seem as if they were going to a bunker.
“Her second home?” Ekatya asked. “Where’s the first?”
The lift arrived at its destination, opening onto another corridor with much lower ceilings. They started down it as Lhyn conferred with the Lancer.
“She really is part politician and part warrior. Half the time she lives at the State House, which would be our equivalent of a presidential palace, and the other half she lives here. Besides governing Alsea, she’s the commander of this base.”
“How on Gaia does she find the time?” Ekatya muttered. “Don’t translate that.”
“I thought Colonel Northcliff was in charge of this base,” Baldassar said. “Isn’t that who assigned the copilot for Lieutenant Candini?”
“I’d guess Northcliff is your counterpart—in charge of the base when the Lancer isn’t here, and taking care of most of the day-to-day work even when she is.”
“That make sense,” he agreed. “If this is the base that houses the world leader, then there’s a lot of prestige associated with being second-in-command. Probably more than being full commander of a smaller base.”
“Am I supposed to be asking the Lancer about this?” Lhyn asked.
“No, don’t bother.” They’d arrived at another set of doors, watched over by two well-armed Guards, and Ekatya guessed they were about to see a war room.
Lancer Tal pressed her hand to the lock and stepped through. As Colonel Micah pushed Ekatya in, she saw three Alseans standing up from their chairs on the far side of a long, curved table. The two women wore uniforms matching that of Colonel Debrett, while the man was in a rather showy outfit of tight pants and an embroidered shirt. All of them offered the two-fists-to-the-chest salute, though Ekatya noticed that the man’s salute seemed slightly less respectful.