“I was only going to ask, what did happen to your father that last flight? Lady Mac got back here with a lot of fuselage heat damage and two jump nodes fused. That couldn’t be pirates, or a secret mission for the Emperor of Oshanko, or rescuing a lost ship from the Meridian fleet that was caught in a neutron star’s gravity well, or any of the other explanations you’ve come up with over the years.”
“Ye of little faith.”
She rolled onto her side, and propped her head on one hand. “So what was it?”
“Okay, if you must know. Dad found a xenoc shipwreck with technology inside that was worth a fortune; they had gravity generators, a direct mass energy converter, industrial scale molecular synthesis extruders. Amazing stuff, centuries in advance of Confederation science. He was rich, Ione. He and the crew could have altered the entire Confederation economy with those gadgets.”
“Why didn’t they?”
“The people who’d hired Lady Mac to prospect for gold asteroids turned out to be terrorists, and he had to escape down a timewarp in the centre of the xenoc wreck.”
Ione stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing. Her hand slapped his shoulder. “God, you’re impossible.”
Joshua shifted round to give her a hurt look. “What?”
She put her arms round him and moulded her body contentedly to his, closing her eyes. “Don’t forget to tell that one to the children.”
Tranquillity observed Joshua’s expression sink to mild exasperation. Elaborate thought routines operating within the vast neural strata briefly examined the possibility that he was telling the truth, but in the end decided against.
Harkey’s Bar was having a modest resurgence in fortune. Relative to the absolute downtime endured during the quarantine when its space industry clientele were careful with their money, this was a positive boom. Not back up to precrisis levels yet; but the ships were returning to Tranquillity’s giant counter-rotating spaceport. Admittedly they were mundane inter-orbit vessels rather than starships, but nonetheless they brought new cargoes, and crews with heavy credit disks, and paid the service companies for maintenance and support. The masters of commerce and finance living in the starscraper penthouses were already making deals with the awesome Edenist industrial establishment in whose midst they had so fortuitously materialized. It wouldn’t be long before all the dormitoried starships were powered up and started travelling to Earth, and Saturn, and Mars, and the asteroid settlements. Best of all, the buzz was back among the tables and booths, industry gossip was hot and hectic. Such confidence did wonders for liberating anticipation and credit disks.
Sarha, Ashly, Dahybi, and Beaulieu had claimed their usual booth, as requested by Joshua who’d told them he wanted a meeting. They didn’t have any trouble, at quarter to nine in the morning there were only a dozen other people in the place. Dahybi sniffed at his coffee after the waitress had departed. Even their skirts were longer at this time of day. “It’s not natural, drinking coffee in here.”
“This time isn’t natural,” Ashly complained. He poured some milk into his cup, and added the tea. Sarha tsked at him; she always mixed it the other way round.
“Are we flying?” Dahybi asked.
“Looks like it,” Beaulieu said. “The captain authorized the service engineering crew to remove the hull plates over Lady Mac ’s damaged node. The only reason to do that is to replace it.”
“Not cheap,” Ashly muttered. He stirred his tea thoughtfully.
Joshua pulled the spare seat out and sat down. “Who’s not cheap?” he asked briskly.
“Replacement nodes,” Sarha said.
“Oh, them.” Joshua stuck up a finger, and a waitress popped up at his side. “Tea, croissants, and orange juice,” he ordered. She gave him a friendly smile, and hurried off. Dahybi frowned. Her skirt was short.
“I’m flying Lady Mac tomorrow,” Joshua told them. “Just as soon as the Oenone returns from the O’Neill Halo with my new nodes.”
“Does the First Admiral know?” Sarha inquired lightly.
“No, but Consensus does. This is not a cargo flight, we’ll be leaving with Admiral Saldana’s squadron.”
“We?”
“Yes. That’s why you’re here. I’m not going to press gang you this time. You get consulted. I can promise a long and very interesting trip. Which means I need a good crew.”
“I’m in, Captain,” Beaulieu said quickly.
Dahybi sipped some coffee and grinned. “Yes.”
Joshua looked at Sarha and Ashly. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“To the Tyrathca Sleeping God, so we can ask it how to solve the possession crisis. Ione and the Consensus believe it’s on the other side of the Orion nebula.”
Sarha deliberately looked away, studying Ashly’s face. The pilot was lost in stupefaction. Joshua’s simple words were the perfect bewitchment for a man who’d given up normal life to witness as much of eternity as he could. And Joshua knew that, Sarha thought. “Monkey and a banana,” she muttered. “All right, Joshua, of course we’re with you.” Ashly nodded dumbly.
“Thanks,” Joshua told them all. “I appreciate it.”
“Who’s handling fusion?” Dahybi asked.
“Ah,” Joshua produced an uncomfortable expression. “The not-so-good news is that our friend Dr Alkad Mzu is coming with us.” They started to protest. “Among others,” he said loudly. “We’re carrying quite a few specialists with us this trip. She’s the official exotic physics expert.”
“Exotic physics?” Sarha sounded amused.
“Nobody knows what this God thing actually is, so we’re covering all the disciplines. It won’t be like the Alchemist mission. We’re not on our own this time.”
“Okay, but who do you want as fusion officer?” Dahybi repeated.
“Well . . . Mzu’s specialist field at the Laymil project was fusion systems. I could ask her. I didn’t know how you’d all feel about that.”
“Badly,” Beaulieu said. Joshua blinked. He’d never heard the cosmonik express a definite opinion before, not about people.
“Joshua,” Sarha said firmly. “Just go and ask Liol, all right? If he says no, fine, we’ll get someone else. If he says yes, it’ll be with the understanding that you’re the captain. And you know he’s up to the job. He deserves the chance, and I don’t just mean to crew.”
Joshua looked round the other three, receiving their encouragement. “Suppose there’s no harm in asking,” he admitted.
The crews were starting to refer to themselves as the Deathkiss squadron. On several occasions the phrase had almost slipped from Rear-Admiral Meredith Saldana’s own mouth as well. Discipline had kept it from being spoken, rather than neural nanonic prohibitions, but he sympathised with his personnel.
The sol-system news companies were hailing Tranquillity’s appearance in Jupiter orbit as a huge victory over the possessed, and Capone in particular. Meredith didn’t see it quite that way. It was the second time the squadron had gone up against the possessed, and the second time they’d been forced to retreat. This time they owed their lives entirely to luck . . . and his own rebel ancestor’s foresight. He wasn’t entirely sure if the universe was being ironic or contemptuous towards him. The only certainty in his life these days was the squadron’s morale, which was close to nonexistent. His day cabin’s processor datavised an admission request, which he granted. Commander Kroeber and Lieutenant Rhoecus air swam through the open hatch. They secured their feet on a stikpad and saluted.
“At ease,” Meredith told them. “What have you got for me?”
“Our assignment orders, sir,” Rhoecus said. “They’re from the Jovian Consensus.”
Meredith gave Commander Kroeber a brief glance. They’d been waiting for new orders from the 2nd Fleet headquarters in the O’Neill Halo. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”
“Sir, it’s a secure operation. CNIS has located an antimatter production station, they asked Jupiter to eliminate it.”
“Could have been worse,” Meredith said. For all it was rare, an assault on an antimatter station was a standard procedure. A straightforward mission like this was just what the crews needed to restore confidence in themselves. Then he noticed the reservation in Rhoecus’s expression. “Continue.”
“A supplementary order has been added by the Jovian Security sub-Consensus. The station is to be captured intact.”
Meredith hardened his expression, knowing Consensus would be observing his disapproval through Rhoecus’s eyes. “I really do hope that you’re not going to suggest we start arming ourselves with that abomination. ”
If anything, Rhoecus seemed rather relieved. “No, sir, absolutely not.”