CHAPTER 17
Ronz felt the moment shift. The others in the room were immobile for the space of a long breath. Then Aille moved, his head turning to look up at an angle. His companions echoed him.
Terniary-superior Tura looked rather to Ronz. “Something has changed,” she said. “What, though?”
Ronz tilted his head as his angles moved to perseverance-in-darkness. “Undoubtedly the universe will reveal it to us before long.”
He stopped for a moment to consider. That moment; that jar to the Jao time sense, had flipped a counter in his mind. He considered it for a moment, then shifted his angles to a simple resolution.
“I believe it will be best if Aille leads a task force to join up with Caitlin’s expedition.” He looked directly at the younger Jao. “You have perception that even Wrot lacks. And, if it were to come down to it, you have the authority to supersede Caitlin if you think it proper and necessary. I strongly doubt you will need to do so, though. And it is true that she most likely could benefit from your guidance.”
“And it might give Wrot something new to consider, as well,” Aille mused. Yaut’s ears flicked in humor.
Aille’s eyes flickered green with excitement. Ronz was amused. He knew how much the governor of Earth had hated being left behind when the expedition to Valeron to find the Lleix had been planned, and then again, when Caitlin was sent out to find more sentient allies against the Ekhat. Aille was still young and in his prime. He craved activity, not unlike the humans who assimilated into Terra taif.
And things were fairly quiet here on Earth, Ronz reflected. Aille could be spared for the moment. Reconnaissance patrols had found no evidence of Ekhat in nearby quadrants. The new taif could proceed without him for a while and the experience would temper him, make him an even better leader.
* * *
Lim stepped through the hatch of the gig and into one of the boarding bays of the Ban Chao. Colonel Tully turned from where he was speaking to a large man wearing Jinau blue and beckoned to her. “Lim, this is First Sergeant Adrian Luff.”
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” the large man said in a melodious voice. He nodded at her.
She tilted her head and considered Luff. Taller than Tully, bulkier, shaved head, skin a dark brown. From the lines seaming his face, also older than Tully.
“Where are you from, First Sergeant Luff?” she asked.
“Jamaica, ma’am,” he replied with a large smile that showed many white teeth.
Lim nodded. That explained why his voice and accent sounded different from Tully’s. The sheer variety of local accents just in North America, much less all of Earth, had been confusing to the Lleix when they had first arrived at their sanctuary. Now, those of Terralore elian accepted them as if they were part of the natural order. And on Earth, of course, they were. Another manifestation of ollnat, perhaps.
“I’ve asked Sergeant Luff to show you to your quarters and give you a tour,” Tully said.
Lim inclined her head, and looked toward the sergeant.
“Right this way, ma’am,” he said with another of those shining smiles. He extended his hand toward the nearest hatch.
* * *
Aille, Yaut, and Nath went back to Aille’s office and scanned the ready list of ships available. He decided to take the two newest battleships, and a group of support craft, always necessary. One other ship, a rather special one, made the list. Aille placed a call to Rafe Aguilera.
“Rafe,” Aille said when he contacted Aguilera. “We’ll be taking the Trident with us.” The engineer had already been notified by Yaut of Aille’s mission along with those of Aille’s direct service who were still on Earth.
“Not without me, you don’t!” the engineer said. “She’s my baby!”
This was not meant as a literal statement, of course, though humans often referred to inanimate objects as progeny in an attempt to express their great fondness for them. Jao, though, were not nearly so sentimental about their own children, so statements like that only baffled them until they became familiar with the humans. Then they just ignored them.
The Trident was an experimental craft for which Rafe Aguilera had been part of the design team and the technical manager during its construction project. The Ollnat Works had proposed it after combining some old Jao technology with interesting concepts floated by some naval types who seemed to have the ability to think farther outside the box than most humans.
Of course, all Jao technology was old. Aille was becoming increasingly aware of that fact as the humans of Terra taif obtained more and more access to Jao databanks and used their own systems to perform intensive research queries. “A bad case of cultural paralysis,” he’d heard one human tech mutter to a group of his fellows one day. Aille would, from time to time, marvel that the Jao had managed to survive against the Ekhat when their rate of improvements had been so low. That might be simply because the Ekhat were at least as conservative as the Jao when it came to innovation.
Trident had been designed for one thing, and one thing only: to blockade a star against the entry of hostile ships. Nothing could prevent Ekhat ships from arriving in Terra’s sun, but it would be the mission of Trident and others of her class to see to it that those ships never made it out of the photosphere.
The Ollnat Works and their naval advisors had taken a page from human history and another from the concept behind the design of Ban Chao. Trident was a ram ship, pure and simple. Her main weapon was her hull. More than one human had laughed at the thought of a naval concept that had been old with the Roman Empire becoming the latest innovation in interstellar navies.
The nose of the Trident was a mass of asteroidal iron that had been refined outside the orbit of Mars with solar-pumped lasers, then moved to the orbit of Terra where it was mated with a hull that was loosely based on Ban Chao’s design but with some significant differences. It had been massively strengthened, with longitudinal support beams running the length of the hull to the ring of steel that circled the aft hull just before the mouths of the engine nozzles.
And what engines Trident had been given! They were the latest design from the engineering groups, larger and significantly more powerful than the engines powering Ban Chao, much less those driving the Lexington-class ships. They occupied not only what would have been the engine room of a Ban Chao assault-class ship, but a goodly portion of what would have been the large spaces allocated to the assault troops the assault ship would have carried. The engines not only powered the ship for ramming operations, but they also powered the heaviest radiation screens yet developed for Jao/human ships. Those, combined with the massive heat sinks that occupied the rest of the troop space, meant that a Trident-class ship would be able to remain on station within a star for a long time.
Of course, humans being humans, they were arguing about what to call the ship. Not the name of the ship itself—almost everyone was happy to use Trident for both the ship and class names, particularly since it carried happy resonances for a very successful ship type of the United States of America, Terra’s dominant political unit prior to the Jao conquest. No, what they were arguing about, of all things, was how to describe the classification of the ship. Rafe Aguilera was partial to calling it a “subchromine.” Others were using “solar submarine.” Aille himself saw nothing wrong with calling it a ram ship; that was its designed function, after all. And a few of the humans were beginning to follow that logic. It was a matter of ollnat, he supposed, that after having designed and built what promised to be a breathtaking warcraft, they were wasting time and energy arguing about what to call it.
Aille felt he was beginning to understand Wrot’s penchant for human gestures and proverbs. Sometimes shaking his head seemed to be the only appropriate reaction to the Terran natives.
“All right,” he said, knowing that he startled Aguilera with his easy acquiescence. In truth, he’d planned all along to use Aguilera’s talents and experience. Aguilera could be a bit crusty, but he knew what he was doing.
“Do what you need to get Trident ready,” Aille said.
“When do we leave?” Rafe asked on the way out the door.
“Soon. When time is right.”
Rafe stuck his head back around the doorframe. “That—doesn’t seem like enough time.” His tone was doubtful.
“It will be just enough time and no longer,” Aille said. The rightness of it pulsed through him. Jao always knew how long something would take. He knew Rafe understood that too. He’d worked with the Jao long enough at this point not to question their time sense.
“Then we’ll be ready,” Aguilera said.
Aille knew they would.
* * *
Yaut found that he had little to do in preparation for the expedition except arrange for others to take over their responsibilities on Terra while they were gone.
In terms of the taif, that was not difficult. Nath krinnu ava Terra, formerly Nath krinnu Tashnat vau Nimmat, but now first kochan parent of Terra taif along with Aille, would remain behind. Given how gravid she was at the moment, that bordered on an absolute necessity. She would be supported by Hami krinnu ava Terra, last of the three Terra taif elders. With Wrot already away with the exploration flotilla and Yaut about to leave with Aille, there was no question that Hami also had to remain behind. Yaut considered her a canny old female. Her birth kochan of Nullu, subordinate of Dree kochan, had lost a real asset when she chose to leave and join Terra taif.
In terms of local government, there were always questions. Humans were prickly if you misunderstood their rank. Often, they misunderstood it themselves, thinking they were more important than they really were. Or sometimes they engaged in outright lying about their status, something a Jao really couldn’t do. Body-speech always betrayed the truthfulness, or lack of it, at any particular moment. Even Oppuk the unsane had never been able to disguise his feelings for long. Only senior Bond officers and members of the kochan elite like Aille or Fleet Commander Dannet could even hold the angles of a simple neutral for very long.
It was fortunate that Caitlin’s father was still serving as President of North America, Yaut mused. Of all the human leaders in place worldwide, he had the best understanding of the Jao. He also had the most stature among the human leaders, so that he exerted more leadership and control over them than anyone else could muster. Not that that meant they bowed to his every wish. Yaut had, more than once, heard him muttering phrases about herding cats. But despite their bickering, they trusted him and would follow his lead on important things.
The window on Yaut’s com pad cleared to reveal the face of President Stockwell staring at him. “Vaish,” the president began, the I-see-you Jao greeting of a subordinate to a superior. Strictly speaking, the president did not report to Yaut. But as Aille’s fraghta, Yaut was the fourth most important person on the planet right now, which effectively made him even higher in practical rank than the President of North America. Hence, President Stockwell being politic.
“Vaist,” Yaut replied, the usual Jao you-see-me response to Stockwell’s greeting.
“What can I do for you?” the president asked.
Yaut appreciated that the president didn’t waste any time on “chit-chat” or “pleasantries.” He had an almost Jao directness about him. Of course, between his surviving many years directly under the claws of Oppuk and his daughter Caitlin’s subsequent proximity to Aille as one of his service, he had probably as much practical understanding of the Jao as anyone except his daughter and Professor Jonathan Kinsey, the most public human expert on Jao, who also happened to be one of Stockwell’s chief advisors.
“Aille will be off-planet for some time.” Yaut came directly to the point. “I will be with him. If you require support or direction, contact Nath.”
Stockwell nodded. “When will you leave?”
“Soon,” Yaut responded.
The president’s mouth twisted. “A day? A month? Give me something a human can understand.”
Yaut shrugged. The human expression had become ubiquitous among the Terra taif Jao. “More than a day, less than a week. I think.”
Stockwell nodded. “How long will you be gone?”
Yaut just looked at him.
Stockwell grimaced again. “Right. As long as you must. Do you have a guess?”
“No.”
“Short or long?”
Yaut considered. The flow changed from moment to moment, but right now it was saying, “Long.”
It was obvious that Stockwell was not pleased at that news. “Okay, while Aille is out puttering around the planets and asteroids, we’ll keep things flowing here on Earth.”
Yaut’s head tilted to one side as he took the angles of correcting-inadvertent-error. “You misunderstand, President Stockwell. We will not be in Terra system at all.”
Stockwell’s eyes widened. “Aille’s going to Ares Base?” That, of course, was the most logical destination for Terra taif’s most prominent member.
“To begin with,” Yaut said.
“And?”
“He intends to take reinforcements out and join your daughter in her search.”
“Oh.” Yaut could see understanding unfold in the human’s mind by watching his face and posture. Stockwell sat back in his chair and ran one hand through his hair. “So he really will be gone a long time.”
“I believe I said that.”
“And if I have things that I really need Aille’s input on…”
“Don’t wait to call him.”
“Right.” Stockwell sat forward again. “Do you need anything else from me, Yaut?”
“No. This call was for your benefit.”
“Right.” Even Yaut could hear the tone of Stockwell’s voice reflecting his tension over receiving this information. “I believe I’ll wait until after he’s left to announce this trip.”
Yaut shrugged. “As you will, but everyone around Aille either knows now or will know by tomorrow.”
Stockwell shook his head.
* * *
The permissions and orders advanced to Third-Mordent from Ninth-Minor-Sustained brought her ship directly to the harmony master’s docking stage. She left her ship in the care of the younger Ekhat and entered into the station. Of all the tones she heard when she passed through the entryway, one immediately locked into her mind and drew her forward. She didn’t know the path she followed, but several lengths of hall and several corner turns later she stood before two Ekhat on the edge of entering predator mode, crouched, heads beginning to lower, red-rimmed eyes focused on her as she approached. She came to a stop before them, restraining her own predator instincts with moderate difficulty.
“You are Third-Mordent,” one of them sang in jagged tones.
She said nothing; just let her forehand blades ease out enough to show their gleaming white edges. After a moment, the other sang, “Enter.”
The doors opened before Third-Mordent. She passed between the two guards and entered the great hall, where she was greeted by a towering wave of sound. Choirs of many different types of servients, many of which had been uplifted by the Complete Harmony, were clustered around the periphery of the room, each cluster producing different leitmotivs and harmonies. Any combination of clusters would seem dissonant, yet the complexity of the whole was an aural structure that was nothing less than a buttress of harmony for the Melody. The staccato chants, the screams, the yammers, the soaring glissandos into aria figures; Third-Mordent would have called it all divine if she had had a concept of God.
In the center of the great room, turning slowly from left to right, stood Ninth-Minor-Sustained. For the barest moment, Third-Mordent considered her. The harmony master had wide repute among the Complete Harmony faction; among all Ekhat of any knowledge, for that matter. And she was old; with her own eyes, Third-Mordent saw that the harmony master’s tegument was even darker than it had appeared in the hologram projector of her ship, having moved from white past old ivory and approaching weathered bone. That and the harmony master’s size made her easily the oldest Ekhat Third-Mordent had ever seen.
Third-Mordent remained still as the doors closed behind her. She saw the harmony master’s head tilt suddenly. In the next moment, Ninth-Minor-Sustained had spun and was suddenly confronting her, head looming high. Third-Mordent remained still, every muscle tense under her tegument, the barest edge of forehand blades showing.
They made a tableau filled with menace as the music sounded all around them. Third-Mordent could sense predator aggression tensioned in the great legs of Ninth-Minor-Sustained, could see the left forehand blade start to ease out of its sheath. For her part, the full edge of both forehand blades was exposed, and she could feel her vision beginning to narrow to the form of the harmony master.
Third-Mordent had no idea why she was here. Ninth-Minor-Sustained had ordered her presence without explanation. She had no illusions that she could defeat Ninth-Minor-Sustained if the harmony master’s purpose was to exact a price for being the messenger of dissonant disaster. Ninth-Minor-Sustained was renowned for being a formidable fighter, and her scars and her survival to reach her current size proved that beyond a doubt.
Only the slim thought that there might be another reason for her own presence kept Third-Mordent from springing into an all-out assault on the harmony master, suicidal though it would have been. But she was poised for it, muscles tensed, leaning forward slightly, when suddenly Ninth-Minor-Sustained stepped back once, twice, and again.
Third-Mordent almost fell over as the object of her focus removed herself. Disoriented for a moment, she heard Ninth-Minor-Sustained sing for her ears alone, “So you are not a fool to waste yourself to no purpose. Well.”
The harmony master turned a quarter-turn and passed a manipulator in a motion to draw focus to the choir clusters. “What would you add to this?”
Third-Mordent forced her muscles to relax, and stood straight. Her forehand blades folded away; her manipulators were carried high, poised to be of use. She turned her mind to the music again, this time listening to it with all of her attention.
Ninth-Minor-Sustained did not rush Third-Mordent. She was allowed to listen to a lengthy portion of the performance.
It dawned on Third-Mordent that the music was a great canon when she finally heard one of the clusters return to themes they had uttered when she entered the room. She looked around, counting the clusters. If they each had their own theme, this was the largest canon she had ever heard of.
There! Another cluster began its theme again. So many themes; none were familiar. She listened again for a full iteration of the canon, auditory sensors at their most sensitive, hearing as each cluster sooner or later restarted its theme.
Ninth-Minor-Sustained remained silent.
Now Third-Mordent had the whole form in her mind. She saw the structure as she heard it, and there were moments…there!
Third-Mordent had an inspiration for a theme—a motif, really—and the moment for it to begin was fast approaching. She gathered herself as tensely as if she were going into predator mode, focused on one thing alone. She even felt her vision beginning to narrow down.
The moment came. Tone erupted from Third-Mordent; high and piercing, it keened and wailed, soaring above the other themes, held by her breath support until it descended in fractal tones to a quavering that morphed into a hard pulse. She broke the pulse at just the right moment, then launched again into her motif. This time it was harder, sharper, containing an edge of rage that she could not suppress, still touched as she was by the disaster she had seen the wreckage of in Descant-at-the-Fourth’s system.
When Third-Mordent broke after the pulse the second time, Ninth-Minor-Sustained raised a manipulator to prevent her launching a third iteration of the motif.
“Interesting,” the harmony master said for Third-Mordent’s hearing only. “It has the virtue of simplicity, but it carries all before it. A worthy addition, I think it.”
Third-Mordent watched, almost appalled, as Ninth-Minor-Sustained stalked over to the largest cluster and divided it in two. At a sign, one continued with its original theme. The other waited until the harmony master, judging the passage of the work, cued them. The new cluster reproduced Third-Mordent’s motif. To perfection, she noted in the haze of surprise that was in her mind.
It came to Third-Mordent that the performance was of Ninth-Minor-Sustained’s work, and that the harmony master had considered her improvisation of sufficient merit to be included in the structure of the canon. Shock followed upon shock.
Ninth-Minor-Sustained turned to Third-Mordent. “Come.” Nothing more than that, but the younger Ekhat followed the harmony master as if she were being towed by a cable.