It's been a long time since I flew interspace in a 'Lancer. Whether it's the fair amount of Xi'An tech or something in MISC's choice of materials, 'Lancers have a unique song while traversing a jump lane. I'm not sure exactly what it reminds me of, but of the unexpected ones there is the sound of a distant banshee wail and on another there are nearby ringings like vigorously shaken hand bells. The lights are of course spectacular, vibrant waves of brilliant energy splashing on the shields as if we were riding in a kaleidoscopic waterfall.
"WOW!" Bashir comments from his seat. I glance his way and he is completely mesmerized. I'm afraid I've ruined being planet bound for him, probably for the rest of his life.
The navicomp shows our progress and much too soon, we are dropping into the binary starred Baker system. We move out of the exit and form up behind the Obijanq.
The general comms crackle, "Argo, this is Sargass. I take it you don't have the our encryption yet."
"Nope, was just about to ask for it."
"Obijanq has the codes and colors."
"Copy."
"We'll get back with you. Sargass out."
"Argo to Obijanq."
"Obijanq copies Argo."
"Yes, sir," I suddenly hope the individual I'm speaking with is male. Oh well; "We need convoy comm sequence."
"Understand, Argo. We transmit codes and colors now."
From behind me, Mai says, "We have received the encryption codes, a color sequence to regulate it, and time sync for the color changes. May I set it up?"
"By all means, please do."
She drags from the holo in front of her to a comms glas to her right. "Comm 2 is encrypted to match the convoy."
As she states this, we are suddenly treated to chatter from the rest of the ships.
I switch the key to comm 2 and key up, "Argo to Obijanq, do you copy?"
"You are come through good, Argo."
"Thank you, Obijanq. Argo out."
"Sargass to Argo. You want on top or on bottom?"
I think about it for a moment, then, "Argo back to Sargass, we'll take bottom. I'll go belly up, wing down from Obijanq if that works for you.
"Yeah, that's real. Just don't pop any of my Avengers, okay?"
"Yeah, got'em. Who is calling for this end?"
"NoqTauk has combat command if we need it, Obijanq is the actual convoy control ship unless we are fighting. If no one else calls targets, I'll tell you what I'm shooting at."
"Copy. Thanks."
"What're you using on that missile boat?"
I look through my weapons acks and reply, "EM and IR mostly, plus a surprise or two for the really pesky types."
He laughs, "Sounds good. Hope we don't need to test them today."
"You and me both."
"Sargass out."
"Argo out."
"That was utterly boring," Bashir mopes.
I look over at the teen and out of the corner of my eye realize that Mai Ee'shu is shaking her head, albeit so slightly that someone not used to Xi'An might miss it.
"It's all part of the dance we do out here to stay alive," I offer, hoping he doesn't make an argument of it.
He doesn't; instead, he announces, "I'm hungry, what's there to eat?"
"We kinda got out before I could stock the pantry, I'm not entirely sure."
"What?" he whines... man, that attitude is going to get old quickly.
I try to respond evenly, "Usually be some FD stuff in a box back by the galley. Maybe some Torreele or something similar back by the pantry itself."
"Eewww. I hate freeze-dried. And what's a Torreele?"
It is at this moment that the Obijanq calls, "All ships clear to engage quantum, estimated time to next jump eleven hours seventeen stamin."
All the other ships reply and I do so last, "Copy, Argo engaging." My words are still micro echos in the ship when I push my throttle up. I also rolling us us, inverting so that we are now upside down to the rest of the convoy, all the while while holding our position a hundred meters behind and a hundred "down" from the Obijanq. Two hundred meters beneath our belly now is the Sargass as it holds the mirror of our position from the big Banu Merchantman.
We approach real speed as the quantum drive functions lock in... and we hurtle forward into the void.
"So what's a Torreele?" Bashir asks again.
"Vacuum packed food. Kinda like they crossed the flavor of cardboard with mushed up carrots and other overcooked, slightly past ripe vegetables. Generally best hot, because if it burns your tongue, then your tastebuds can't tell you just how bad it is."
"GROSS!" he all but screams... yet he also unbuckles and heads back to find whatever we might have.
I turn and smile at Mai as she works through a scan pattern.
"Ha!" Bashir exclaims triumphantly, "I found the milk!" It is only moments, however, before I hear him gag and probably spit a mouthful all over the galley.
"You mess it, you clean it," I call back.
"It was... like... cottage cheese!" he gasps, continuing to gag and retch.
"Told you it wasn't something we put on."
Mai climbs forward into the copilot's seat and says calmly, "He is going to be sick; you should go back and help him, Shawn Ryan. I'll hold our position and call you if needed."
I nod, climb out of my place, and am almost to Bashir when he vomits all kinds of things all over the floor.
…..
I finally climb back into my seat after far more experience that I ever cared to have of both a teenager in a foul mood and a fouled ship reeking of said teenager's abdominal issues. It amazes me that he just opened a milk container and chugged from it so much rank curdled bovine lactation, but I guess it's been a while since I was a teen... I certainly don't remember drinking from a strange container without smelling it first.
But now, Bashir is in his bunk, medicated part way into oblivion, Mai Ee'shu has just stepped back to the head, and there is a moment or two of silence.
I really miss the view of the stars that I get in a smaller craft. All I have here is the window band, it so robs me of the joy of the Great Banner that I realize that I'm rather depressed.
The silence doesn't last long. Chatter over the convoy's comms starts from what I presume are the front units and passes back quickly. It looks like we have dropped in a few hours before the start of one of the Able Baker Challenges, and our "nonstop" appears to be in question.
"Obijanq calls all craft in group. We have many asking us to monitor Able Baker Challenge for gambling purposes. We decide to stop for fuel at Xenia platform to allow interested creatures to observe and wager. We are glad to offer direct booking with competitive odds once we ascertain participants and details."
Several of the responses are elated, I'm only less so since I can restock the fridge and larder while we are on Xenia, the massive Covalex space station and distribution hub. It won't hurt to have the fuel topped off either.
"You will stop for provisions?" Mai seems to be on the same page.
"Yes, Mai Ee'shu. Since I'm taking Bashir along, I should at least provide for him."
"He is military age, is he not?"
"Not quite our military age."
Her expression becomes rather distant, "Hatched are sent to military service at fifteen shaē (Xi'An years; roughly 400 days), perhaps humans should learn from this. Klaahk teaches that immaturity prevails when a nestling does not learn the responsibility and sacrifice of service before they are too old."
I'm about to remind her that Klaahk is also reputed to have taught that Hatched species are superior to all others, or mention the ways that the castes Klaahk helped codify deny most Xi'An even the simplest choices in life... but something in the back of my mind tells me I'm here for a reason bigger than my own and I decide to bite my tongue.
I do think she expected me to reply, but she now resumes, "We have sufficient fuel, rations, and water. We should continue."
"I took the contract to fly with the Banu to Rihlah."
"You did," she acknowledges, though I can't tell from her tone if she now thinks I did poorly.
I finish, "I keep my word."
I believe there is irritation in her expression, but she has closed her face quite a bit and I'm not sure what reasons lay behind. What she does say seems rather incongruous with her tone of voice, "You are the ship's captain. Your decision is final."
…..
Bashir and Mai remain on the Argo, but I quickly find my way to the Xenia's communications center. While I feel a little self conscious about it, I don my flight helmet and activate the glove connection through Ms. Amesly's chip.
The message is simple, "I've been rerouted to Rihlah with Athas Mgren's cargo, feeling a lot like an indigent. Can't give details, but I seem unlikely to be available to run your mission. Please advise if I should proceed. Also, please contact Jurdi Abboud at my plantation and let her know Bashir is safe and will be with me for a few days. Thanks. Ryan out."
…..
I've taken on enough supplies for at least two weeks, including a couple gallons of horribly overpriced milk for Bashir. I also picked up a case of the most popular entrees from MaShē Imperial, the Xi'An's slightly higher end version of Torreele. Judging from her size, Mai Ee'shu can easily eat through a case in that time, if not, well... maybe there is a Xi'An equivalent of a food bank in Rihlah.
I've also picked up two sidearms, a Preacher 3P (officially the Preacher Peacemaker Personal Penetrator) for me, and the Joker 57 Stunzer to give Bashir something if he needs it.
The hovercart with our supplies is awaiting me as I stride to the Argo's back ramp. Bashir eyes me groggily and, as I suspected, Mai is out of sight. I walk up to the lad and offer him one of my favorite treats, a small bag of pecans imported from some province called "Georgia" on Earth... let's forget for the moment that I dropped a small fortune on them.
He looks down at the gift and announces, "I don't like pecans. Got some chocolate?"
I so want to slap the boy, but somehow, what comes out is, "Yeah, I have some Hersico blocks in there somewhere."
"Where?"
"You can find it as we unpack."
"You don't have a list of where things are?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well?"
"I think I already said that you can find it as we unpack."
His eyes roll like they are marbles in a shoot. Turning, he strides angrily away while exhaling this disgusted sound, "Sheesh!"
If I were one to believe there was someone to ask for strength, now would be the time. I might even start believing if I could get real help dealing with this kid without wanting to space him every five minutes or so. How could Jurdi have had a son like this?
…..
Boredom is my bane, made all the more difficult to survive with a sullen teenager's rants about how things should be. I really don't know what I was thinking when I invited Bashir to come up to the Embassy, but whatever it was was a serious mistake. We've been sitting on our pad, not wanting to leave Xenia until the Merchantmen are done with the gambling they are trying to capitalize on. At least here, if Jurdi's son pushes my buttons too much, I can walk to the diner.
My bunk is softer than the one on the 350, but in space I much prefer to sleep grav off so softness is normally irrelevant. Again I try to close my eyes, and again, Bashir's whining from the galley dispensers seems to hit all the frequencies guaranteed to raise my blood pressure and chase sleep from my vicinity.
"I want real food, not this stuff. I want to go home. Why did you make me come along on this?" The only thing he hasn't said is "I hate you," but I'm sure it isn't very far away.
Under my breath, I mutter, "Bite me."
"Shawn! Where's the chocolate?"
His disrespect is really getting hard to take. I wonder if I could really get Derek abu Faruq to imprison... er... take care of Bashir while I run into Xi'An space.
"SHAWN! Where did you put the rest of the CHOCOLATE?!"
Again, I whisper to myself, "Somewhere safe."
It seems that Mai Ee'shu has reached some threshold, "YOU! NESTLING! SILENCE! NOW!"
Bashir doesn't know when to quit, "You're not my boss, I'm not..."
The Xi'An physically interrupts him, having crossed the space between her perch forward and his position with the speed and grace of a trained hunter pouncing on hapless prey. I feign sleep and listen as he gasps in terror.
Her tone is even, but I imagine she is so close to him that her great size alone is enough to make him fear her words: "Shawn Ryan has granted you much and yet you disrespect him. That is his problem. I am eldest of the seventh nesting of Emperor Kray and I am a guest on your ship. I WILL be treated with the respect my station grants me. Is that clear?"
There is silence, I hope Bashir is nodding or otherwise not allowing any thought of argument to rise. Unfortunately, he seems to have the wrong kind of courage right now, "You don't..."
Something like a growl escapes the Imperial and with an uncharacteristic snarl she commands, "YOU. WILL. BE. SILENT. Do you understand me?"
This time he must respond correctly. However, there can be no pretense that I'm still asleep; I roll out of my bunk and just loudly enough ask, "Is there a problem here?"
The big Xi'An female turns towards me, "Establish discipline on this ship or I will."
I speak evenly, but there is a clear edge as I use her name out of order, "Mai Ee'shu, I believe we are forcing you to endure too much. I shall return this ship to the Terra III Embassy and save you the misery you are enduring."
She looks at me like food and the wall rises. Her words, however, show how far from under control she really is, "You pretend to sleep and let me deal with this creature: you are nameless coward." The insult is a capital one for the Hatched and she knows that I know.
"Bashir," I say past her, "Take your seat, and start the power up checklist."
"Where are..."
"Do it NOW," I order and he shoves past me heading towards the cockpit.
The Xi'An is easily twenty centimeters taller than I am, but eye contact doesn't fail as I address her, "You may choose a jumpseat or take a bunk. Your insulting behavior will not be tolerated on my bridge. Have I made myself clear?"
"Quite," she says icily with something of a hiss.
I turn and stalk to the captain's chair.
"Bashir, helmet on, please."
He looks my way, but decides not to argue or even huff; the helmet slides on and I see him lock it. I pull mine from the shoulder bag and as it comes over my ears I hear, "Captain?" from the Adviser.
Turning, I see the emotionless face of a Xi'An with a great wall erected. Her words reflect something different, "You are an Imperial Contractor. Does that mean anything to you?"
I try to keep an even tone, "It means that I've been tortured, had friends murdered, and in spite of trying to do the right thing by my best friend, the now dead 'nameless' Deputy Diplomat Kree'Gna, I have been called dirt by one of the Imperial Nestline. If this is how Klaahk taught the highest of the Hatched act, then the highest of the Hatched have disrespected my service and voided the contract. I don't have to serve any of you anymore."
I see surprise for a moment that I know enough to make this argument. From behind the wall she says emotionlessly, "You have made a fair case. Will you disrespect Athas Mgren's desire that you deliver the tea to Rihlah?"
I decide to continue stabbing at her soft spot, "I have not confirmed with Athas Mgren that she even wants me to take the tea to Rihlah. She has only ever behaved with courtesy dealing with me, I have to wonder if there is not some mistake in this situation."
"I told you she wants to have..."
I interrupt, completing the insult, "Mai Ee'shu, I have only your word that she wants this."
Her eyes redden, her breath shallows... she is close to rage. "I have not been called a liar by any honest Xi'An."
Letting my own anger rise enough to flush my own face and make my hands tremble just a little, I coldly respond, "Well, now your behavior forces an honest human to recognize the possibility."
Sometimes fate intervenes when we are set to do something... take now, for instance: my comms blink, signaling that I have an incoming encrypted message.
Great, who is this from? I try the main but nothing seems to want to decode it... I wonder... I try dragging it to my mobiglove and it does seem able to decode it but it refuses to. What the heck? Oh... I had stopped putting my helmet on when I was fighting with Mai Ee'shu, maybe that's what I need. I slip it on, lock it into place, and try the decode function again; this time, the decryption works and Janice Amesly's face comes up for my personal viewing.
"Mr. Ryan, You are on the mission we meant you to take. For security reasons, mainly that Ksan Ko'Kree was to be going with you down to the plantation, we did not give you this information in advance. Special Assistant Mai Ee'shu was selected as your liaison, please treat her with the utmost courtesy."
That's just great, I don't even think groveling would help now.
Ms. Amesly isn't done, she continues, "You will find a chip holder attached to the underside of the pilot's comm panel, just below the main manual frequency control. This chip has a message recorded by Imperator Costigan. At your earliest convenience, take that chip and secure it on your person, preferably NOT in your mobi until you are asked to deliver the message. It will not work without my decoding chip, but if things go unexpectedly, you may need to have NOT seen the message."
I'm feeling under the control as she says these things and I do indeed find the chip case; I'm not going to move it with an angry Xi'An probably still standing over my shoulder, but I guess I should move it soon.
Janice concludes, "I will notify Ms. Abboud of Bashir's status once you are clear of UEE territory. Finally, please be careful. You may have compromised yourself and anyone on the Argo by sending your message, though the Xenia comm stamp may help a little if you move quickly."
As if on cue, our group comms blare, "Obijanq calls to our group, winnings are distributed appropriately, our congratulations to winners. We prepare to return to previous route. We depart Xenia in 20 stamin."
I glance at the comm glas and back towards Mai Ee'shu, my eyes resting a moment in passing on the confused face of my young copilot.
The Xi'An's face is completely locked down, we are at enmity. She is waiting, saying nothing. I may be angry, but I've got no choice; not only does the Imperator want me to go on, but I also gave the Banu my word... and they tend to remember when a human fails to complete a contract commitment.
The comms fill with chatter as each of the other ships calls their acknowledgments. I turn and face the controls.
"Obijanq to Argo, are you aware of departure broadcast?"
I guess we're the only one that hasn't responded yet. Keying up, I reply, "Argo to Obijanq, yes, we are making preparations to depart and will be in space within five stamin. We will assume our position as agreed."
…..
The tension aboard is thick enough that it could be cut up and sold as a plutonium replacement, the mood as depressing as being pinned under a crashed ship stranded on an out-of-the-way asteroid with no view even of the stars.
Mai Ee'shu has indeed taken to a bunk and seems strapped in but there are none of the sounds Xi'An normally make as they sleep. Once again, my temper has made a bad situation worse, and I have to wonder what I could have done better. Well, aside from deliberately insulting one of the Emperor's daughters; I think that would have qualified for stupid in anyone's book... I was REALLY not thinking that one through, now was I?
I've had Bashir working on the combat sim most of the time since we left Xenia, but for the last hour or so he's had a pretty nasty headache and I've let him just sit and watch the time go by. Judging by his expression, he is as uncomfortable as I am.
I close up my helmet and make a direct link, "Bashir, can you hear me?"
His head doesn't move, but he answers quietly, "Yes, sir."
"Close your face-shield please, I want to talk with you privately."
His hand reaches up and he does as asked.
"Thank you," I say. "Look, I just want to say that I'm really sorry I dragged you along on this. I didn't mean to subject you to all the trouble I've put you through."
His head finally turns my way and he answers, "You mean you aren't mad?"
"About what?"
"Me."
I chuckle just a little as I reply, "Bashir, you're out of your element. I'm the one who hasn't set a very good example."
"She was trying to piss you off."
"Yes, but in life that happens a lot. I was wrong to let her inspire so much anger in me. Very wrong."
"You going to tell her that?"
"Probably."
Plaintively, he says, "I didn't mean to throw up the milk. I..."
"Don't sweat it. I guess I've forgotten what it was like to be your age."
"You're old, aren't you?"
Ouch. "Yeah, I guess I am."
"It's not your fault that you forget, old people do that all the time."
Okay, now he's goading me... I think. "You aren't helping."
"Oh." Just a hint of the more typical tone enters as he mumbles, "Sorry."
"Look, Bashir, when we get back from this, I'll try to make it up to you."
Now he sounds interested, "How?"
I think for a moment. "Maybe I'll teach you to fly my 315p."
"Really?! Jix!"
"Yeah," I say, hoping I'm not making another mistake.
His voice bubbles with enthusiasm, "COOL!"
…..
The jump is before us. On the other side is potentially contested space. The group's Redeemer and Bulldogs are all lined up to hit the jump point at eight second intervals with the same momentum, the gunship leading. The Merchantmen are staggered with the Avengers, then finally the Sargass and our Argo go through last.
A UEE Naval patrol sits five klicks out, monitoring the jump and the trade lane leading to it. The four fighters seem content to stay closer to their Pegasus than anything else, but I bet they are watching for inbound traffic... they are probably our first responders if we go to war with the Xi'An.
The Redeemer disappears. Eight heartbeats later, so does the first Bulldog. Is there anything to worry about? The second LR fighter crosses into the jape. They will all arrive before the first Avenger here leads the first Merchantman through. The final Bulldog is gone.
We wait. Transit time on this jump is four minutes. If all is well, the Redeemer will ping the comm relay and that signal will be the unlock for the rest of the convoy to proceed. In the interim, I turn us around to allow us full coverage of any threat that might approach from the rear.
"Bashir, please scan wide for incoming traffic."
"How do I do that?"
"Hmmm, well, let me do the scans and you keep yourself ready in case I need you to do any shooting."
In a voice that is far less sure of himself than normal, the teen asks, "Do you think we will have to shoot at anyone?"
The comms interrupt, "Obijanq to group, we are clear to proceed."
I turn us back around and answer the lad, "I hope not, Bashir." Taking a deep breath as I see the lead Avenger light her fires and plunge into interspace, I repeat myself as much to certain my unease as his, "I certainly hope not."
…..
The jumplane counter from the navi-computer is down to thirty seconds. I seem ill at ease, there's nothing that feels right about the miserable howling this craft makes and I can't see enough of the interspace light show to overcome the sense that I'm missing something grand.
10 Seconds.
My hands tighten on the control surfaces.
Deep breath.
Two.
One.
Whooosh! We flood out of the anomaly as if our speed had never changed. The group is starting to sort itself out. The trade route through the system to the next jump sinks below the ecliptic to bypass an asteroid ring, and the group is orienting for an underpass to keep our strongest sensors facing that threat.
The voice of the Obijanq calls out on the group sequence, "All ships clear to engage quantum, estimated time to next jump sixteen hours and four stamin."
Quickly, the first ships start accelerating; everything it looks clear as far as out sensors can...
My sensor aft has a fast moving blip, I touch the glas and it expands... a Torpedo!
"Obijanq! Torpedo Aft!" I call, taking us off the plane of attack while turning to find our attacker. My mind does something and before I consciously recognize it, I've got Bashir's helmet control up: I set tDCS to "On" and weapons to "Live Fire".
Above me, Sargass is also turning, trying to find a target.
"Bashir, shoot that torpedo!" I command. He doesn't question me... and suddenly there are streams of power draining from the engines and ribbons of particles slicing through the void. I reroute power to weapons and shields, then glance the teen's way. He isn't at all unsettled, it's like he knows what to do when I sure wouldn't.
One of our barrage of streaks intersects the speeding torpedo! The explosion is large and satisfying, but it was too close and the momentum of the shrapnel carries large chunks of it into the Obijanq's shields and trough to impact the ship itself. Madly I scan for targets, moving us within an unpredictable sphere to avoid being an easy mark.
The comms go hot, "Obijanq to Group! Under Attack! Help Us!" A quick glance at our aft sensor shows that we have the three avengers and two of the Merchantmen, the others may take minutes to turn around and engage.
"Bashir, our targets must be stealthed, radar locks won't hold. Don't fire missiles unless you can paint it all the way in."
"Yes, sir," he says with enough disappointment to make me doubt I should have said anything.
From behind me, an unexpected voice says, "You have four moderate targets and a corvette or frigate behind them." It's Mai Ee'shu at the sensor console, intently focused on ferreting out the enemy. "Painting your targets now."
"Excellent work, please patch them through to the group."
"Already done, Captain." There is ice in her tone, but right now we are warrior allies and I won't complain.
"Out of my range," Bashir calmly states.
"Another torpedo," the Xi'An says, marking it on her console so we see it a moment later, "Here."
"Got it," Bashir replies.
"Use a missile this time, okay?"
"Sure."
I watch as a miniature of his hud view zooms in on the incoming device's signature, see the indicators show the lock and hear him state, "Missile away."
From our starboard, the streak of missile exhaust lances away into the dark. We continue to move and for a long count of five nothing happens, then another flash lights the night as our harpoon devastates theirs.
"Obijanq is very happy with our contract with Argo!" the comms squeal.
"Good shooting, Bashir."
"Thanks." His voice changes and I hear an honest question, "Why don't they come closer?"
Before I can speak, our Xi'An guest responds, "They were expecting to easily cripple the Obijanq, your skill killing their weapons was unexpected. There is a 71% probability that they did not have a second plan and are only now deciding how to proceed in the new situation."
Our sensors show that the second Merchantman has now moved to bring it's weapons to bear and that the remaining five ships are almost back to assist.
"Well?" Bashir asks quietly.
"I don't..." I start.
Mai Ee'shu cuts me off, "They are breaking off."
"That was easy," Bashir opines.
"They sure didn't expect that kind of shooting... and to be honest, neither did I."
"It was like that sim, only easier."
"Well, I did have the training stuff turned on."
"What training stuff?"
"That helmet has a tDCS system for combat training. I'd say it worked pretty..."
"NO!" Bashir shouts. "I'm not a oxy-capper!" Oxy-cappers are the stereotypical tDCS freaks; not only do they spend long hours under training "caps" but they breathe pure oxygen while doing so.
"Well, you didn't have the oxy part, but that helmet sure is a cap, I've tried it out myself."
"No!" he almost cries.
"You just did what I couldn't have, and did it well. The system works."
"I wanted it to be skill and skill alone."
"No one else did that, Bashir."
"It's not the same," he moans, almost in despair.
I look back at the blank face of our Xi'An companion and decide I should at least try. The wording will have to be cumbersome, but I rise, face her, and bow, "Mai Ee'shu, I formally apologize for responding badly to your provocation against my authority. I accept that our relationship is scarred and will allow you the proper grievance before your superiors. In the mean time, you have served this ship very well and I thank you for that service."
She exhibits no expression change, answering as if from stone, "Your apology is noted. Grievance will be filed. My service is to the Emperor and not this ship." She has not used my name; so be it.
I nod, replying, "Recognized and understood." I turn and resume the controls... I also have not used her name nor given any further orders.
"Obijanq records one missile fired by Argo. Replacement payment will be added to contract." They go on for a minute or two in Banglish addressing others in the group, but it's nothing of real value or interest to us.
Bashir rises out of his funk. "They're just adding the cost of a missile?!" he grouses. "I oughtta get a bonus."
I just chuckle and shake my head.
Finally, however, they get back to business and order the group forward but in a triangle formation instead of the old convoy organization. A Connie MAX and her escorts jump in right behind us and before I've finished scanning them, Obijanq hails them, offers them work, and adds them to the formation. Oddly, we are no longer the caboose, we have the center-point of the triangle, though a bit below the plane. We are reserves and I'm rather glad to know it, since Bashir now refuses to put his helmet on.
"You either need to put that on or trade with me," I say quietly as we run to frame max and engage the quantum overdrive. He stares out the window as we blaze along at .2c, then without looking hands the helmet across the space between us.
"You sure?" I ask and the look as he glances my way is pure unadulterated disdain. I take it from him, unlock my own, and pass it back. I decide to give him an option for avoid my sweat, "There's an alcohol wipe in my bag if you need it."
He pulls a t-shirt from his bag and wipes out the inside with that, then hoists it over his head. As the combat helmet comes down over my ears, I note that my glove flickers, showing the change in helmets. The latch is almost an after thought.
…..
We've had no more excitement since we fought off the unknown assailants after our jump from Baker. We're now in the interspace the leads to Rihlah.
Bashir look rested, I finally got him to bunk down and he slept almost nine hours without a sound. He seems to spend most of his time studying something on his mobi, only occasionally looking out at the jump lane's firehose of light and movement.
Mai Ee'shu is as impenetrable as possible, having said nothing since her comment about serving the Emperor. It is also clearly not worth her time to make even eye contact. I'm not sure exactly how this is going to impact our mission, but I suspect I won't like it.
The lane ends abruptly and I move us out of the way for the big Merchantman following to have space to maneuver.
Obijanq hails us, "Argo is to power shields down and insure weapons are offline. Group is holding five yaag..." someone interrupts off mic and the voice corrects, "five kilometers out from exit. Xi'An arrival patrol is scan all ships once entire group arrives."
I key up, "Argo copies," and follow the other arrivals to stand for inspection.
…..
A thick Xi'An accent calls, "Argo, identify cargo and target."
"A tea shipment from Athas Mgren, my orders are to take it to Rihlah for transshipment to Emperor Kray's..."
Mia Ee'shu breaks her silence; interrupting with fluent Xi'An, she converses with the inspection patrol. I might catch one word in ten, but that is far too little to even guess what they are talking about. Our sensors light up as the powerful scanner sweeps our hull. More fast fluid Xi'An and I simply give up on trying to follow it.
Finally, the voice on the comms calls, "Argo captain, Shawn Ryan, you are to proceed with your ship to the customs house, Xi, Corilla and await further individual inspection."
That's odd, but I don't argue; I would have thought we would drop onto Shorvu with the rest of our group to unload. Once again, I glance back at Mai Ee'shu but her expression is still that emotionless steel mask.
…..
Xi, the massive fifth planet in Rihlah, is overlaid with so much habitation that to refer to any one center as a megalopolis would be to diminish it. Our approach is from the dark side, but it glitters with enough lights to make half of Earth perpetually lit. Still, there are dark areas and as the sunrise speeds across its horizon, we see those dark areas turn verdant green.
Bashir is finally interested, "Where is that?"
"Rihlah V, it's called 'Xi'. We're..."
"Can I go exploring?" he asks excitedly.
"Humans may not venture outside of Corilla, and you are both restricted to the customs house," Mai Ee'shu intones, showing hardly more interest than the average waiterbot.
"I'll need to get some fuel," I comment, "Before I turn back for Terra."
What she is thinking doesn't escape her face and I return my focus to the approach vectors the Xi'An are sending me.
…..
"Mr. Ryan?" Bashir looks confused, maybe alarmed.
"What's up?"
"I feel funny, like I'm getting sick or something."
"Gravity is much greater here, Bashir, so you'll feel heavier. Do you feel sluggish?"
"Yeah, that must be it," he says.
We are getting lower and lower, skimming a jagged mountain range, then dropping into a growing hole in a dense jungle rainforest... that gap grows to reveal the smallish settlement of Corilla.
