"Approaching to selected location." said Spiral, as the Did Ever Plummet Sound neared the approximate area where the loroi/UNSC refugee fleet supposedly waited. "Am seeing nothing strange on sensors."
"As expected." responded Alex. "The coordinates we got only indicated a region of slipspace just outside the system, nothing specific. And we know they tried to back themselves into a local pocket they'd found, to hide from any Soia pursuers. We can pop into the system and hope they left a beacon or something, but that would be a uh, surprising move for guys trying to hide." He craned his neck back. "Unless you've managed to pull any more detail from the Admiral's message, sir?"
Colonel Jardin shook his head, keeping his arms crossed over his chest as he glared out of the cockpit windows. Eyebrows bunched low over sharp eyes, and a deep scowl marred his features.
He wasn't exactly making it hard for Talon to see why among humans, males were accepted as warriors.
Alex turned back to his console, muttering lowly "[Nuts to that, then.]" He highlighted an upcoming slipspace thread and added to Talon "Put us on that course once we reach the optimal transition point. It will take us on a perimeter run around the system, should give the sensors a good eye-full."
"And give to us time to think." filled in Talon. "Can it be hoped that you know what methods a fleet would use to hide in this slipspace?"
"Heh." Alex huffed. "I'm a pilot who's been attached to ONI for most of his career. I know how to hide a ship in a slipspace pocket… but I've got less experience at actually finding one."
Beryl leaned over from where she stood to Alex's side, her back pressed up against the wall in the crowded cockpit. "Perhaps it is best to start then with the methods for hiding a vessel away in slipspace."
As Alex launched into his explanation, Talon detected a flurry of sanzai between Beryl and the mizol parat, distant in the crew compartments of the ship. Leave it to the mizol to immediately want to 'listen in' on this new subterfuge.
"—nd if you pulse your drive core at just the right point mid-way between two filaments with enough separation, you come to a halt without fully transitioning back to realspace; like the ship is uh, resting 'on' the barrier, I guess you could say."
Spiral said "It is maybe like a water submarine, sitting on the seafloor?"
"That's a good analogy." Alex bobbed his head. "And with whatever the Soia's Ring did to the slipspace-realspace barrier, I imagine it's probably easier than ever to get the ship balanced right on the boundary. Doesn't help us find them, though."
{Fascinating.} Beryl sent, her side-channels picturing what Alex described. {What a strange idea, to stop a vessel mid-jump.}
{Stranger still that they can actually do it.} added Spiral. {But I can see how that would make them very hard to find. You would have to know just which two filaments to jump between, and then 'pause' your engine core at the exact same place as the other ships had!}
Talon laughed to herself. {It is certainly strange to think that vessels as large as those dreadstars could be 'hard' to find!}
{Yes…} Beryl agreed, but her side-channels faded off in a blur of distraction.
{?} sent both tenoin.
Instead of answering them directly, Beryl asked aloud "Alex, did a vessel 'sitting' so on the slipspace barrier cause any change in the gravitational plane? It is known at least that large masses in realspace seem to affect jump drive travel; perhaps the reverse also has an effect?"
{Interesting idea.} sent Talon.
"Hmm." Alex paused. "Not that I know of, but it's not exactly my, uh, specialty. How about—?" He turned in his seat, pausing as he saw that Colonel Jardin had left the cockpit at some point while the other occupants were discussing.
"He is speaking with our mizol parat." explained Beryl.
"Ah. Well, I guess a ship would influence the local grav-plane, if it was big enough. And a moon-ship definitely is. But the barrier's taut enough that—" he cut himself off, eyes going wide. "Of course!"
Alex hunched over his controls, tapping away while talking distractedly, as if to himself. "[Greater slack in the barrier, ships kept getting stuck in transition. But with a wider imprint from any mass sources—]"
Beryl spoke in his same language "[—a large vessel may be detected at greater range!]" She beamed as Alex whirled to stare at her.
"You, uh, learn fast."
"[Thank you!]" That phrase of the aliens' language was already known to Talon. {He agrees that a search for gravitational disturbances not generated by observed planets or stars may yet find these missing ships.}
A buzz of mental activity leaked through Spiral's sanzai. {It will be like surveying a new system for a faster-than-light jump, then. I will prepare a searching procedure!} The narrat's excitement matched that of every other person in the cockpit.
Alex turned around to Talon. "Go ahead and put us on— oh." He nodded as he saw that Talon had already jumped the prowler onto the next slipspace thread to take it into the nearby system. "Good initiative. And..." he spun in his seat to address Spiral.
The junior tenoin only smirked back at him, the sensor display above her station already showing the prepared scan parameters.
"Huh. Guess you all learn quickly." the human said with a smile.
Talon boasted "We are warriors of the 51st Strike Group. We are the most skilled of the most skilled of the Loroi Union." The fact that the loroi were obviously the most skilled of the peoples in the Union seemed to be not worth stating aloud. Non-sanzai conversation had its advantages!
Besides, from what Talon had seen of Alex's piloting earlier, he was up to their same standards. As good as any loroi.
Who knew — perhaps that quietly-sent theory that Talon had overheard from the soroin on their earlier trip back from the Ring was correct, and the humans were somehow related to the loroi. It would explain why they were such good warriors, able to stand up to the Soia Empire!
"I can, uh, see why." He held one finger against his headset, using the ship's radio. "[We might have a search solution here, sir. We're going to enter the system and try it out. I'll update you if we find any leads.]"
Some four cycles later, and Talon found herself increasingly thankful that she had been an interceptor pilot for all of her career, and not a ship navigation officer.
{Is it still searching?} she asked.
Beryl remained infuriatingly calm. {Yes. The search parameters had to be defined widely enough to catch a dreadstar-sized mass at an unknown distance, and so will require a great deal of time for the algorithms to analyze all the false positives.}
{There is no way to make it go faster?}
{No.} Beryl's side-channels flared. {But it is indeed remarkable that a ship this small possesses sensors accurate enough to perform such a scan at all! The intensity of this search is similar to that of a vessel attempting to chart a new and untested jump route to a new star, which is normally done by specialized craft.}
{Then we have nothing to do but continue to sit here and wait for the computers to find something.} Talon confirmed. With Alex stepping out of the cockpit a few hundred solon ago, she'd rapidly became bored without his stories of the Wars against the Soia.
{It is not the worst duty that can be imagined.} Spiral sent, her sub-channels blurry as the narrat half-dozed in her padded seat. Bootsteps sounded on the corridor outside the cockpit, and the door opened. {And there are some nice luxuries...}
"And there we go." Alex stepped in, one arm cradling four food packages. "Stuffed, uh, 'pozet' for everyone." He handed out the fist-sized foodstuffs. "Hope they're better than ONI rations." The tall alien folded himself down into his seat, staring down at his own food without much enthusiasm.
{One of these days someone is going to tell him what it normally means for a loroi to bring food for another.} Talon mused.
{I would be surprised if it actually means much different among humans.} Beryl sent. {Almost every known intelligent species — and many non-intelligent animals — uses gifts of food as a way to establish friendship.} Her sub-channels only flickered for a moment as she added {Or as an invitation to mate.}
{Yes,} sent Spiral as she passed the rapidly-warming pozet from one hand to the other, {but it certainly would not feel the same if it was a barsam or nissek being friendly in such a way.}
{Certainly.} Talon quipped. {For one thing, you'd have to make sure just who the nissek was offering as food!}
The three loroi chuckled, causing Alex to start and look around. "Ah. Sharing a— oh, I nearly forgot!" He set down his alien rations to one side and stood, making for the exit. The human ducked out into the corridor and returned a few solons later with two drinking cups. He placed one down on his spot and held the other out to Talon. "You seemed to like the coffee last time, so I got you another."
"That is uncommon kind of you, Alex!" Talon said with a smile, accepting the gift. She glanced at the two other loroi in the compartment. {Do you wish to try it? It does not seem to cause any negative effects.}
{Thank you, but I have sampled some already.} Beryl sent, her sub-channels conveying her lack of desire to repeat the experience.
{Spiral?} Talon asked, looking over when her diral-sister did not immediately respond.
The narrat's sanzai relayed the sight of Alex smiling warmly at Talon's back as he sat down again. {Sharing food definitely means something similar for humans.}
A burst of satisfaction flared in Talon's core.
Spiral finished with {So I think Alex brought the drink for you specifically.}
Talon let her sub-channels express how she felt about that idea. Aloud, she asked "Are there loroi foods which you can eat and be safe? I think maybe it is unbalanced that it is always you bringing us food." And he didn't even seem to be happy with any of the human food aboard the prowler, strangely.
Alex made a face. "I've, uh, tried loroi foods before. There's not much that can be safely — let alone enjoyably — eaten by both; our biology's just too different. It's pretty much limited to dilute drinks." He hefted his own coffee cup for emphasis.
"Interesting." Talon said. {Perhaps… do we have any noillir in our supplies?}
{Yes.} Beryl replied. {I will prepare an extra amount of it next time, a small amount to be safe.} Her sub-channels flashed teasing amusement. {Unless you would prefer to share a single drink with him?}
That would be rather bold of her. And if it was viewed similarly by humans… {Perhaps I might.} It was also nice to see that the listel seemed to have lost her earlier protective, almost matronizing attitude towards Alex.
Beryl asked "What did the loroi of your era eat?" {It is a question that many have long wondered. We know that the Soia introduced many species of flora and fauna suitable for consumption, but those were planetside.}
"It varied between Legions. And also which ship." Alex responded with a shrug, poking a straw into his own ration pack. "The big moon-ships grew lots of food the old-fashioned way — plenty of room and spare energy on those things — but the smaller in-system boats usually just distilled everything in vats.
"From this one time Tempest walked us through it all — and that was a Thanksgiving to remember, let me tell you — pretty much everything was Soia-engineered." He started ticking off on the fingers of one hand "There was this super-grain, grew like a weed and was good to eat… if you're also Soia-engineered."
"Misesa grain, it seems." Beryl observed. "It grows on each of the Sister Worlds, and has been found on many other planets in the area."
"Hah. Of course that stuff survived the Wars." Alex chuckled. "Probably can grow in a vacuum, for all I know. We constantly had problems with it cropping up on some of our own worlds — God only knows how the first seeds got there — and being impossible to stamp out. Conservation groups were fighting their own little war against it right, uh, until it all became irrelevant."
His face fell. Briefly. Then he took a breath, ticked off a second finger and continued "Anyways, there was also this, uh, spiced meat-thing. Tempest wasn't too sure exactly what animal it came from, but one of her top commanders who always ate with her swore by the stuff so she ordered some."
"Was it perhaps called 'miros?' Beryl asked. "They are a waist-high animal raised for meat."
"Not a word I'd heard." the human shrugged and waved his own ration packet. "But then again, it's not like one can find 'cow' printed anywhere on this thing's ingredient list." In his own language, he muttered "[I'm not sure there's any actual 'beef,' either.]"
One of these days, she would have to ask Beryl to teach her some of the human's language. Assuming that it was something she could learn, without a listel's memory skills. All those strange, alien phonemes…
Spiral interjected "What else foods were eaten?" The narrat's pride in the ancient successes of misesa grain — practically the symbol of her birth-world Maia — colored the curiosity leaking from her mind-signature.
"Well, there was this citrus-like fruit-nut, real hard shell but inside—" Alex began.
A buzzer sounded from the console.
"Never-mind that discussion, then." he finished, sitting up and peering closely at the display. "Looks like the scans have finished, with… eleven mass measurement anomalies that the computer's flagged for our attention."
"That is common for mapping new systems." said Beryl as she leaned over Alex to get a better view of the information. "Can these anomalous readings be compared to the local system map as well as observed vectors and distances to nearby stars?"
"Already on it." replied Alex, tapping commands into his display.
Talon stood from her seat and walked over behind the human. She pointed at a pair of the data tracks, ones that looked recognizable to her. "Two here will be caused by that binary system nearby. Their gravity influence is mirrored."
"And this one seems to be the local system's exoplanet cloud." said Beryl, highlighting a broader data point.
"Uh-huh." Alex acknowledged, removing each reading as it was identified. "And I've seen this type of point-source before, that's a distant pulsar's beam."
Talon felt a burst of frustration from Spiral. {I do not know the spoken-word for it, but those over there are just the signatures of the gas cloud that is present in this region of space.} The narrat's sanzai indicated three of the dwindling number of unexplained readings.
With a smile, Talon relayed "And Spiral recognizes a nebula's influence, here."
"Ooh, good spotting." Alex nodded. "That one had me, for a moment." While Spiral mentally preened herself, he added "That leaves us with four signatures in the right mass range, and each on a very different bearing."
"Then it seems that that will not be too difficult to attempt travel to each." Beryl said.
"Might as well." he replied, typing in commands to the Did Ever Plummet Sound's piloting systems even as he radioed a brief message, presumably to his uncle.
The deck shuddered underfoot in a now-familiar pattern as the prowler cut its way back into slipspace.
A few solon later, Alex removed one of the four targets. "We can cross that one out. Parallax puts it way out past even the nearest system. Must be an exotic superjovian or something. On to the next."
{Impressive work.} came the smooth sanzai of the mizol who led their little expedition. Talon turned as the parat stepped into the crowded cockpit, with Colonel Jardin having to remain standing in the doorway behind her.
{We cannot guarantee success, unfortunately.} sent Beryl. {We are acting on an unproven theory.}
{That is understood. Nevertheless, the fact that the four of you worked together to achieve a testable theory in such little time deserves praise. It demonstrates that no matter what we may or may not find here, humans can learn to work closely with modern loroi. This will be of great use to the Union even if the Ancients' refugee fleet is not found.}
Talon's skin itched at the near-matronizing tone of the parat's sanzai. Of course, what was supposed to be a private thought earned the tenoin a sidelong glance from the red-eyed mizol, and a brief quirk of her lip.
"Two's a bust." Alex called out, as the ship briefly popped out of slipspace. "Just a large exoplanet. On to number three."
"Here's hoping." intoned the Colonel.
The cockpit crackled with energy, as six pairs of eyes locked on the pilot's display in front of Alex's seat. Talon and Beryl leaned in where they stood behind Alex's seat, heads almost touching as they awaited the next arrival.
"Coming up on our jump point." Alex announced. "Drive's set to cut out forty-nine milliseconds after the hop, should put us right on the mass reading. And here we—"
The prowler shuddered twice in quick succession, and a half-solon later the display updated.
But nobody was looking at it.
It had been made redundant by the cockpit windows.
The brief, bright flash of a slipspace transition had illuminated a blue-purple metal hull in front of them, stretching off in all distances out of sight.
Even with the light gone, the afterimage remained.
"—go." Alex finished. "I, uh…" He shook himself, and reached overhead to flip a switch. "Turning on the forward lights."
The sight blinked back into view.
"[My God.]" Colonel Jardin murmured.
"It's… yeah." Alex replied. "Uh, range to target fifteen klicks, horizon curvature puts it at seventy-five klicks across. It's a moon-ship, all right. Getting no carrier signal from her, else I could say which one." The pilot's voice raced, clearly overflowing with emotion. "Pinging all frequencies, see if we get a response."
A solon later, and Alex continued, voice lower and full of wonder. "My God. We… actually found them."
{It is an amazing—} Talon began, before a warm, alien hand wrapped around the side of her face and drew her head downwards. An instant later, and even greater heat bloomed onto the opposite cheek.
She turned in shock just in time to see Alex planting a kiss on Beryl's cheek as well, before turning back to his controls. The human's own face burned bright red, even as the two loroi exchanged a glance over his head.
Talon amended her earlier thought, sub-channels radiating happiness. {It is a very emotional event.}
A brief burst of sanzai had Beryl take a half-step back, making just enough room for Spiral to lean in on Alex's left. "Me also!"
The human pilot's face had turned so red that Talon could feel the radiant heat. No wonder the humans ate so much food, if their body temperatures could run that hot!
But after less than a beat of hesitation, Alex leaned over and planted a kiss on Spiral's cheek as well. As he turned away, Talon could see a broad smile fighting its way onto his face.
The narrat's sub-channels gave only a momentary warning, flaring with mischievous delight even as Spiral chased his head back.
Planting her own kiss on their human's cheek in turn, Spiral purred in his ear "Thanks ever so… Alex." She straightened up with a wink at Talon, before slinking back to her station.
A strangled half-noise escaped from Alex's throat, just as his uncle let out a laugh.
And from the mizol parat in the center of all this… {The joys of youth.} her sanzai came through with its sub-channels clear, Tempo's genuine amusement shining brightly in unusual honesty for one of her caste.
From the display, a brief chime sounded.
"We're, uh," Alex began in a strained voice. He coughed once and continued "we're getting a signal response. IFF check."
Whatever an 'IFF' was.
{They are letters.} Beryl helpfully supplied, the happy glow of her sub-channels matched by the fascination clear in her main channel. {It must be one of the humans' 'acronyms.'}
Talon tried to follow the concept as the listel briefly described it. Tried. {They put spoken-word puzzles into regular usage of their language?}
{Yes!} replied Beryl. {It is similar to a data-compression algorithm, but whose use seems to date to well before the humans used computers!}
{They are crazy, these humans.}
Spiral interjected {Crazy but fun!}
"Exchange established. Code sent." Alex announced. "And… huh. System's not liking it. Getting an audio channel back."
A voice spoke in Trade, regimented and clearly artificial. "Unknown vessel tracked at nineteen-thousand mannal. Transponder not recognized. Report identity and intent."
A chill ran down Talon's spine, at the same moment as Beryl's mind-signature burst with excitement. An ancient Soia — no, Loroi — artificial intelligence!
"This is the Winter-class light prowler UNSC Did Ever Plummet Sound. PRO-five-two-nothing-four-one-two." Alex replied.
"Identification does not match known status for that vessel. Prowler Did Ever Plummet Sound listed as missing seven-seven-seven-seven-seven-seven-seven year-fractions previously."
Not a very good artificial intelligence, evidently. Then again, perhaps the original programmers could not be much faulted for not having designed the system to cope with such ludicrous timespans. It was impressive enough that it still worked, really.
The Colonel called from the back of the cockpit. "AI, this is Colonel Pierre Jardin. Match my voice-print. Identify your vessel and prepare a docking bay."
Several solon passed.
Talon returned to her seat in the co-pilot's position. It seemed that she might be needed to help from there.
And then "Voice-print recognized, Colonel. You have two messages waiting. Access to docking bay three-seven-four will be opened in sixty-one beats. Alert: Praefect Crimson has advised that all vessels are to exercise special care when docking. Voice message attached."
"Huh." the older human said. "AI, play message."
A loroi voice sounded. Oddly, it spoke in the humans' English. "[Jeff, I swear by all that you hold holy, if you put another dent in my docking bay, the next thing to try translating back to realspace will be you. Alone in a lifepod.]"
Alex chuckled. When Talon looked over with one eyebrow raised, he murmured "Sounds like one of Second Legion's hangar officers has been arguing with a UNSC pilot." Louder, he added "We've been fed a route to bay three-seven-four, sir."
"Bring us in." Colonel Jardin ordered. He snorted. "And, ah, don't 'dent' the bay."
"Wouldn't dream of it." Alex responded as he entered commands into the controls.
Did Ever Plummet Sound nosed forwards and down, diving slowly towards the alien — to modern loroi — vessel.
{Amazing.} sent Beryl, eyes wide and gaze fixed out of the cockpit windows. {A Loroi Dreadstar. One that is active, yet has waited here for...} her sanzai trailed off, as the greater details now coming into view distracted the listel.
{Perhaps since before any of our ancestors set foot on Perrein.} finished Tempo, the parat's sanzai oddly… subdued. Apparently even the mysterious and aloof mizol was not immune to the sheer awe of the occasion. {Or Deinar, or Taben.}
The prowler's forward lights played across the glimmering purple-blue hull — when the Soia picked a color theme, evidently they really stuck to it — as the two ships neared each other. Well, if calling the colossal Dreadstar a 'ship' was really appropriate.
First, the eye could make out tiny shadows. Blades of darkness cast over the hull. Only after many more solon of closing could Talon recognize them as massive cylinders jutting upwards from raised bumps in the hull.
Turrets. And weapons barrels.
The Plummet drifted down past them, into what could only be described as a canyon of sorts, a deep recession in the hull. Without any way for the eye to judge scale, Talon had to bring up the sensor controls on her station.
{Two-thousand, five-hundred mannal wide, this canyon.} She sent. {And those turrets...} To Alex, she asked "What are those? The weapon emplacements?"
"Hmm?" He responded, eyes fixed on the view ahead. Right, probably busy. "Uh, probably hellbores, this close to the hangar trench. There to keep enemy ships from running in while the bay doors are open."
In only a few beats, the tiny dot of light ahead of them exploded in size into an open hangar bay. Colossal shapes cast shadows, knife-sharp in the airless void.
Other craft docked in the bay.
Shadows reaching their claws out towards the approaching prowler.
Did Ever Plummet Sound slowed as it entered the hangar, and Talon stared up wide-eyed at the ships looming over them. "Are those—"
"Infinity-class transports, yes." Alex answered, a solon before the prowler thumped down gently onto the decking. "Looks like they've got the lights and gravity on for us. Uh, no atmosphere in the hangar, though."
{It would be best for us to don our armor, in any case.} sent Tempo. {If we are to meet our… ancestors.}
The mizol's sending finally made it truly feel real to Talon. {Are we all to leave this ship?}
{It seems unlikely that we would need to leave rapidly, unlike the previous Dreadstar that we boarded.} replied the parat. And wasn't that a phrase which no loroi — no modern loroi — thought would ever come up.
Slightly faint from distance, sanzai came in from the lead teidar {We are prepared back here. The human soldiers are also donning their own armor.}
Talon scrambled off of her chair, bending down and taking her armor from where she had stacked it on the floor. The two tenoin helped each other into their suits, as Alex shut down the ship.
Her heart thundered in her chest as they finally assembled at the top of the prowler's boarding ramp.
Here goes history.
Fireblade strode down the ramp, precisely in-step with Tempo. The two of them set foot on the ancient Dreadstar's hangar plating simultaneously.
{Satisfied, mizol?} she asked Tempo with a mental smile.
{The symbolism is established.} Tempo sent. {The military and diplomatic sides of the Union proceed side-by-side towards this meeting.}
{Which means little, if they're not observing us.} Fireblade replied. {The pilots report only having talked to a rather simple artificial intelligence, rather than any living crew.}
{But Beryl is watching, and the loroi who crew this vessel are not the only ones whose opinions matter. Such an image of unity may be of great use within the Union.}
The two Jardins left the ramp right behind them.
"Over to the main doorway, right there." Colonel Jardin said, pointing past them to the inner wall of the hangar bay. "We get to use the front entrance this time, not the maintenance tunnels."
It… was almost hard to believe that this hangar bay was on a similar scale to the one they had boarded shortly after leaving the Ring system. It felt so much more crowded with the colossal human transport ships looming overhead. Especially as with only those light arrays directly over the prowler lit, the massive ships stretched far into the shadows and out of sight.
The sixteen-strong procession winding their way through the hangar were like a tiny swarm of fish, swimming through Toridas harbor beneath the gigantic maritime cargo vessels. The sort of craft that had looked so small from her favorite perch atop the ancient citadel walls, but when one was down at the waterfront looking up at them…
She shook herself, quickly checking that her thoughts had not leaked into her sanzai. She knew that her body language had not betrayed any of her nervousness — that was trained out of any and all who graduated from the academy — but a mistake in the much more complex arena of one's mind-signature was another thing. And a teidar was duty-bound to lead her warrior sisters of the other castes, which meant that she must set the example.
Brave, fearless, and doubtless.
Maintaining that image did come easier when one could bend a cargo pallet inside-out with only a passing thought.
Tempo asked aloud "Is the corridor beyond this door serving as an airlock?"
"No." Colonel Jardin answered, a smile in his voice. "The door itself is."
{?} came from all the loroi nearby, even as the door in question slid open.
"[They're really rolling out the red carpet, aren't they?]" said Alexander Jardin.
No detectable rumble came through the decking underneath them as the slabs of metal — which had to be many mannal across! — floated aside. Beyond, pale-white walls stretched upwards, engaged structural columns trimmed in gold disappearing off into the distance on either side of the reflective black tiling of the floor.
No visible barrier took the place of the opened doors.
{I will go first.} Fireblade stepped forwards.
The briefest, most fleeting tingle flashed over her skin.
The teidar's eyes widened as she saw the new readout on her helmet's interior display. {There is… atmosphere. On this side of where the door was.}
{Amazing!} came the predictable — and endearing — outburst from Beryl as the rest of the group followed Fireblade through. {It can only be some form of energy field, capable of separating vacuum from atmosphere without a physical barrier!}
"Fancy, isn't it?" asked the younger Jardin.
"It is the most fancy!" agreed one of the tenoin.
Meanwhile, Colonel Jardin turned to stalk off towards a holographic display — perhaps a console interface — on one side of the spacious corridor. "Wait here. I'll go have a look to see where they want us."
Fireblade, of course, followed him.
The display pulsed once as the human stepped up to it. The same computerized voice from earlier spoke from it "Greetings Colonel Pierre Jardin. Note: Ship personnel will be available to meet with you in— alert!" The artificial intelligence cut itself off. "Unidentified personnel detected."
"They're with me." he immediately said.
"Scan complete. Unidentified personnel identified as loroi. No recognized Legion tag signatures. Alert: Ship security personnel have been informed. Please remain at your current location. A security team will arrive shortly to take custody of your prisoners."
Fireblade bristled, even as the Colonel blurted out "They're not—" he let out a sigh and muttered in his alien language "[Oh, for fuck's sake...]" Then back to Trade "AI, flag unidentified personnel as friendly. Repeat friendly."
"Requested redesignation is not possible without valid Legion command tag."
"Of course." Colonel Jardin reached up and took his helmet off, holding it tucked under one arm while the other hand rose to rub at his temple.
In the silence of the corridor, even the rest of the group a dozen paces away would have heard the whole exchange. Still, {It seems that there may be some complications.} Fireblade sent.
{To be expected, although it is unfortunate that they arose so quickly.} replied Tempo. {Remain at ready, but take no combative actions unless provoked. There should be no need to fight our… 'cousins.'}
"AI," the Colonel continued to ask "How long until this security team arrives?"
"Personnel are being made available, Colonel Pierre Jardin. It is expected that they will—"
A stern voice sounded from down the corridor — but not far down. "We have seen enough."
Fireblade — and everyone else in their group, loroi and human alike — whirled towards the sound.
Just in time to see three loroi simply appear out of thin air, blinking into view in quick succession without a sound.
One stood ahead of the others, arms crossed behind her back. The other two held strange energy weapons — different from the ones the human warriors bore — held at the ready, barrels only barely low enough not to bear on any of Fireblade's party.
The foremost of the three snapped her sharp gaze across the group, coming to rest on Colonel Jardin. Her polished-gold armor had no faceplate for her ornate helmet — although the energy-field over the door earlier showed that perhaps she didn't need one — and so her stony expression could be easily read.
Colonel Jardin spoke quietly "[That makes things faster.]" He stepped forwards and in a louder voice spoke "I am—"
"I know who you are." The lead ancient-loroi said. Fireblade finally put her finger on what was so unnerving about the three of them — her tone was so level that no emotion could be read into it, and her mind-signature was hidden underneath a near-perfect lotai! It was all that Fireblade could manage to even detect that there was a mind there, and then only when she concentrated on the ancient being. "I am more interested in where you found these."
Tempo stepped up. "We are an exploration and diplomatic team from the Loroi Union. Until we found and allied with Colonel Jardin" she stressed the important words "we had no remaining knowledge of the 'circumstances' surrounding the collapse of the Soia Empire."
"I see. The honesty of that claim will have to be verified." Not even the faintest trace of a sanzai probe accompanied her statement.
{They are entirely mind-blind!} sent Fireblade. Of course the humans had told her that the 'original' loroi did not possess sanzai abilities, but it was still a shock to actually feel it firsthand. It made the three loroi in front of her seem almost more alien than the humans.
For his part, Colonel Jardin's voice quite clearly conveyed his frustration. "It's been three-hundred-thousand years, Tribune. They didn't even know what the Soia were, not really. They thought the Soia were their direct ancestors, or something similar."
"That is precisely the thought which concerns me."
"Colonel Jardin has informed us as to the true nature of the Soia Empire. And what they did to our actual ancestors." said Tempo.
"Not yours." the 'tribune' corrected, eyes narrowing. It was not a word that Tempo recognized, but it was apparently a rank or such descriptor. "Your ancestors were the slaves who remained 'loyal' to their masters."
"That realization had occurred to us." Tempo conceded, doing an admirable job of keeping both her voice and her sanzai level. "We do not consider the actions or beliefs of such distant ancestors to represent us, or to dictate our actions today. There seems to be no reason to think otherwise, Tribune…?"
The ancient leader did not supply her own name, only staring flatly at Tempo for several solon.
The Colonel finally answered "Tribune Hammerstave, it is thanks to the aid of these loroi that we even found this ship, this fleet. And it is thanks to them that we can navigate the changed slipspace boundary."
That got her attention. For the first time, actual emotion flitted across the tribune's face. A brief flicker of hope, mixed with surprise. Then she returned to her neutral expression.
The two-pronged ornate headpiece that she wore bobbed slightly. "As evidenced by your arrival here." Unless Fireblade was mistaken, the tribune's voice was slightly less sharp than it had been. Perhaps they were making progress? It was so strange to be in conversation with a loroi whose mind was so utterly unreadable. "Nevertheless, your… 'associates' will remain here until sufficient security personnel have arrived to keep them under watch."
Fireblade eyed the two warriors flanking the tribune. Their steel-gray armor was much less ornate than that worn by their leader, but the long-barreled energy weapons held with great familiarity in their arms gave no doubt as to their status as experienced warriors. Especially given how the three of them had simply appeared right next to the human & loroi group.
Warriors that were invisible both to sight and mental senses. And Fireblade had been observing them long enough now that she was increasingly certain that they weren't truly 'choosing' to speak aloud rather than use sanzai; rather, these loroi did not have sanzai. Not so much as a trace of mental signature leaked through, even when their tribune's control over her facial expression flickered.
{These three loroi seem to be old enough to predate the Soia Civil War.} Tempo sent, reaching the same conclusion.
{Indeed.} Fireblade recalled the half-humorous warning of one of her instructors at the Teidar Academy, a withered old rozerrei stooped over with age who had nonetheless repeatedly demonstrated that the staff she carried for walking remained a dangerous weapon in her gnarled hands. 'Always beware an old woman in a caste where most die young.'
{Wise words.} sent the mizol, apparently having read the phrase out of Fireblade's mind. A helpful hint that she'd need to find time for some more mental-defense exercises. Surely not all of these ancient loroi would be mind-blind, and it would not do to meet them with one's defenses inadequate. {Doubly so, if these are loroi who had then survived the fifty years of war that followed the split.}
Colonel Jardin said levelly "Then we will all wait here until they arrive." He leaned against the corridor bulkhead, and crossed his arms. "How long until Airburn is available?"
The tribune's eyes flashed. "Starwind Legate Airburn—" she emphasized what must be a clan name and rank title: it fit the form of the names that loroi from each of the Sister Worlds had used before the Imperial period. "—has been notified of this… development."
Her eyes snapped to Fireblade, narrowing. "Once I am satisfied that a meeting would be safe, I may allow such an event." She turned her head back to the Colonel. "You… 'trust' this Guard?"
Fireblade raised one eyebrow, staring back at the ancient loroi. To Tempo, she sent {It seems that they are especially wary of me in particular.}
{Strange, given that you have not used any psychokinetic power since arriving on this vessel.} Tempo responded.
{Agreed.} And Fireblade's helmet had its amplifier built into the frame, not easily visible externally. So how did they recognize her as a Teidar?
Beryl added {It is possible that they have some mechanism or ability to detect latent psychokinetic ability. The Soia were known to possess much greater knowledge about the mind than we have managed to uncover.}
"Yes." Colonel Jardin spoke aloud. "Several weeks ago and shortly after these Union loroi found us, we boarded a fragment of Grand Unity." Hammerstave's eyebrows shot upwards at that name. In the meantime, the human jerked his head towards Fireblade. "During that boarding action, Teidar Pallan Fireblade engaged and disabled an actual Guard overseer. She displayed no sign of hesitation during that combat, nor has she expressed any sympathy for the Soia since."
Not that the human could have received any sendings from her. It was an odd feeling, to hear an alien so deceive a loroi... and herself feeling thankful for it.
He continued, voice hardening. "Not that any of that comes as a surprise, given that again, three-hundred-thousand years have passed since the collapse of the Empire. There is nothing of the Soia's influence left out there."
"None of which requires any changes to our security procedures." Hammerstave snapped back. She drew in a breath and spoke haltingly, as if forcing the words from her mouth. "But if you, Colonel, personally vouch for her reliability then I will... conditionally accept her into the presence of my Clan Leader."
Fireblade sent privately to Tempo {If necessary, I am willing to return to wait aboard the human prowler.} She certainly wanted to see more of the inside of the vessel — although nobody's excitement came close to the sheer anticipation vibrating off of the listel behind her — but if it was the only way to proceed…
Jardin slowly swung his head around to fix Fireblade with an exasperated look. "Promise to play nice?"
Fireblade blinked at the strange wording, before nodding once.
The human turned back. "There you have it."
Hammerstave stared back at him for several solon, jaw visibly working. Then, "Very well." She gestured with one hand.
A warm, yellow glow surrounded each member of the group, intensifying rapidly. It quickly blocked out all sight; all that Fireblade could see was the blinding light.
Sanzai cries of surprise rebounded between the loroi.
"[Oh, not thi—]" Alexander Jardin could be heard grumbling, before the glow engulfed everything.
And then it was gone.
She stood in the exact same position… but now in a cavernous, circular room perhaps two hundred mannal wide. The same off-white ceiling domed overhead, and the solid-black reflective tiles underfoot gave the impression of standing on a thin layer of water. Soft lighting suffused the room, with no point-source lights visible.
Several thuds sounded from behind her, as some of the human warriors dropped to one knee. Alexander Jardin had one hand grasping at the front of his neck, a grimace on his face as he swallowed repeatedly. "[I'd hoped those damned things might have stopped working after all these years.]"
"[No such luck, kid.]" grumbled one of the ODSTs said as they stood up.
{Teleportation!?} sent Beryl. {It is amazing!}
{And it appears to have a similar effect on non-Soia-engineered peoples as does a starship's jump drive.} noted Fireblade. There hadn't been any such flash of yellow light when the tribune and her two guards had first appeared to confront the party — a different form of teleportation, or had Fireblade's first guess at an equally-advanced optical cloaking system been correct?
Tempo pinged all of them with her sanzai, indicating the figure standing alone in the center of the room. With her jet-black, all-covering armor, she almost blended into the floor. A cloth hood hung low over her face, leaving only a flash of blue visible. {I believe that will be this vessel's commander.}
The mizol paused. {And yet...} a faint curl of unclear memory leaked out of her sanzai. {There is something about this room. Its shape is...} her sending trailed off.
Hammerstave stepped off to one side, saying "Colonel Jardin, you may approach. And one representative of these… 'new' loroi."
Tempo and the Colonel walked towards the distant figure. They were only halfway there when Tempo agitatedly sent to Fireblade {I recognize it now! This room is an ampli—}
{Greetings} came a forceful sending from the ancient loroi in the center of the room.
The visiting loroi each flinched at the sheer pressure of the sanzai.
Fireblade grimaced, forcing herself to stand straight even as the powerful voice reverberated through her mind. It reminded her of— {A farseer.} she sent to Tempo.
{Correct.} the voice intoned, apparently intercepting the focused sanzai. {And… intriguing that your people have that concept.} For all that here was finally an ancient loroi who could send properly using sanzai rather than lowering herself to vocal speech, her sending lacked the sub- or side-channels of a normal loroi.
A mark of distrust, or was that somehow normal for the loroi of her era?
Tempo sent {The abilities of farseers have been cultivated since before the loroi — our loroi — achieved interstellar travel.} Her own sanzai was level and polite, an impressive achievement when she was so close to the forceful sending of the Ancient. {Although they are often kept sequestered from society, both to better hone their talents and to keep their own… intensity of sanzai from intruding upon others.}
Fireblade quirked a corner of her lip in a faint smile. That was unusually 'direct'… for a mizol like Tempo. Perhaps she wasn't as unaffected by the Farseer's painfully-strong sanzai as Fireblade had thought her to be.
{I see.} Came the response. {Then I will try...this.} The farseer reached up with both hands and lifted her gold-trimmed hood.
As if an unnoticed spotlight trained on her had been suddenly switched off, a… 'pressure' ceased to press in upon Fireblade's skin.
No, upon her mind.
Only noticeable now by its rapid absence; how long had it been present?
Off to one side, Hammerstave's head snapped around to stare at her commander. "Legate, you—?"
"The Legion will manage without my oversight for the length of one conversation, tribune." Her voice came coolly. {I assume that this unamplified level is more comfortable for you?}
After only a moment, Tempo responded {Yes, it is. Your politeness is appreciated.}
Interesting. Hammerstave, for all her apparent inability to send or receive sanzai, seemed to have perceived the change in her superior's ambient power. Perhaps her lotai was not as absolute as Fireblade had assumed.
A distant echo of that earlier pressure returned, as the Farseer turned her head slightly.
To stare straight at Fireblade.
{Your Guard is observant.} For the first time, a recognizable sub-channel accompanied the Ancient's sanzai, surprise and sudden wariness mixing together.
Well, if the Legate was so direct as to read the conscious thoughts right out of her mind, then Fireblade would be equally direct.
{I am a Teidar.} Fireblade emphasized, even before Tempo granted her permission to send. As Fireblade had known she would. {I have heard of these 'Guards' only recently, and have already fought one in combat. They are nothing like my caste-sisters.} She pressed into her side-channels all of the contempt she felt for the Guards and their slavish loyalty to their abusive Soia masters.
For over a solon, there was nothing. No spoken speech, no sanzai.
Then {You are an intriguing mystery, young warrior. Step forwards — I would see you properly with my own eyes.}
Tempo sent a sub-verbal agreement for Fireblade to walk up to her and the Colonel, closer to the Farseer.
At Fireblade's first footstep, Tribune Hammerstave now spun to her. "You—!"
Once more, her spoken — therefore slow — sentence was interrupted by Legate Airburn. "Let her approach."
Grinding her teeth, Hammerstave did nothing but glare as the teidar stepped past. Fireblade would have felt more than a twinge of sympathy for her, if the ancient loroi hadn't been brusque and suspicious enough to make Stillstorm look friendly by comparison.
Well, almost.
She drew even with Tempo and the colonel, the human waiting silently with one eyebrow raised as he looked between the teidar and the legate. The three of them walked side-by-side closer to Airburn, stopping perhaps five mannal distant.
Now that she was closer to the center of the room, Fireblade could see that Airburn stood atop a slight rise. Just enough that the teidar now looked up at the farseer, sharp-green eyes meeting deep-blue.
Airburn herself looked different than Fireblade had expected. Without much to judge by thanks to her trimmed and formal sanzai, one was left to judge age by the Ancient's facial features. No visible wrinkles, short ears but a tall nose… if Fireblade had to guess, she would have said that this loroi was perhaps of an equal age with Stillstorm.
Ignoring the hundreds of thousands of years of suspended animation, naturally.
The Legate mused, {You are indeed no Guard. Not only Sanzai, but also Psychokinetic power, all free of the Soia's control and reproducing naturally.} A bemused smile tugged at one corner of her lip. {How the Soia would have howled, to see such a danger running loose!}
Fireblade bristled, but Tempo beat her to a response. {The Teidar are loyal to the Union, and are a 'danger' only to our enemies.}
{You truly trust them so—?} Airburn began, before her sanzai jumped onto a new sentence {Of course! You each can speak to each other's mind and read thoughts. Such obligatory honesty between equals. Yes, I can see how that would… change things.}
Her eyes snapped back and forth between Fireblade and Tempo, also jumping up to stare presumably at Beryl before returning to rest on Fireblade. {And different… 'castes,' you called them. Specialization, perhaps overly so… yes, that would serve.}
Fireblade was still composing her response to such a statement when Colonel Jardin coughed at Tempo's other side. "I trust that the introductions are over, and that we may now compare our situations and plan our next moves."
Taking a half-step back, Fireblade let the mizol handle the talks. "That seems wise. You know the 'Legate,' then?"
"You can say that." the human responded, as he turned to face Airburn. "And I may as well get the bad news out of the way first. Tempest is dead." He delivered the line flatly, without feeling. But Fireblade caught the slight tensing of his shoulder and facial muscles, could feel the suppressed emotions.
Airburn closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath.
Held it.
Then released a sigh. "As we expected. You would not have returned without her, otherwise." Airburn opened her eyes, turning her gaze on Jardin. "She died well?"
"The last of the Soia perished along with her, by her hand. As did Grand Unity." the human glanced aside at Tempo and Fireblade. "The Empire is gone, and so thoroughly that even their own scattered descendants remember them in only the vaguest legends."
"So I have heard." the Legate followed his eyes, and nodded to Tempo. "I also see that you have found some way of overcoming whatever it is that the Soia did to the slipspace barrier."
"We have." Jardin explained. "It was a joint discovery, to give credit where it is due." He turned around, gesturing to the mixed crowd of human and Union warriors waiting at one side of the chamber. "The white-haired one and the two in orange armor worked alongside my nephew to find a route through. You will have to ask them for the details."
"Ah, young Alexander. It is good to hear that our people can still work together, no matter whose exact descendants they are."
{'Alexander.'} Tempo sent. {The use of an isolated first name is a mark of familiarity among humans, I believe. You know these humans personally?}
{Of course.} the Legate replied immediately. {They are my grandfather-in-law and adopted cousin-in-law, effectively.}
Fireblade frowned, eyes darting aside to Tempo as the mizol put the teidar's thoughts more politely. {We do not recognize this terminology, 'in law.'}
{A human phrase, meaning one's relatives by marriage.}
{I… see. They merge clans by way of pair bonding?} Tempo sent.
Fireblade had heard of some of the few remaining native clans on Deinar having vaguely similar practices — a male of one clan gifted to another clan as a way to cement an alliance — but for such traditions to survive even as a species advanced to starflight?
{Indeed they do.} Airburn sent.
{But with pair-bonding being common among their species, would that not mean that a great percentage of clans are so merged, with an endless series of links between parents, siblings, and these 'marriages'?} Tempo asked.
Airburn sent back a burst of weary indifference. {It works for them... usually. The humans seem to like their social systems complicated.}
{And how did—} Tempo cut herself off. {We are straying from the point of this conversation.} Aloud, she said "Our people have been impressed with Colonel Jardin and his warriors. We look forward to continuing to work together with humanity."
"An opportunity which I do not doubt that you will have." the Legate replied. "Once we have put together a technical team for your experts to explain this slipspace discovery to."
"And how long will that take?" the Colonel cut in.
"I have begun to awaken the UNSC leadership in stasis aboard this vessel and alerted the Eleventh Legion." She said to the human, before turning back to Tempo. "They will need some time to process this new information and determine whom they wish to send to speak with you. This should take no more than ten-thousand beats."
Unexpectedly, Airburn then stepped towards them, down off of the raised dais on which she had stood. "We will await them in the nearest habitation section." As she passed the group, the Legate clapped one hand onto Colonel Jardin's shoulder, pulling him along with her. "And you will tell me everything of grandmother's final mission. She will be remembered properly."
"I'll tell what I can," the human said, as Tempo and Fireblade followed the two back towards the rest of the group. "but… I wasn't there for her last fight." His voice was grim.
"She ordered you away." It was not a question.
While the two continued their conversation, Tempo sent a tightly-focused message to Fireblade {Their leader seems to be very friendly compared to the tribune. It is difficult to tell how much of that is honest.}
Taking a few solon to carefully shield her own thoughts from the tribune in front of her, Fireblade responded {It may be useful to get a sense of how distant we are from the docking bay with our prowler in it, and the route from here to there.} She noted only after sending that the Did Ever Plummet Sound was now in her mind as 'their' ship, rather than solely the 'human' vessel. When had that changed?
She continued {We should ask to send a few warriors back to the ship, on some pretense.} It would be Tempo's job to come up with said pretense, of course. {Without the use of their teleportation.}
{A very good point. It will also be interesting to see if the humans' Colonel will seek the same.} Quickening her step slightly, the mizol drew even with Legate Airburn and spoke "If we are to recount our pilots' exact methods for adapting the humans' slipspace navigation, it seems best for some of our personnel to retrieve recordings and other data from our ship and present that at the later meeting."
Tempo eyed Colonel Jardin. "It seems likely that your pilot may wish to do the same."
The human leader nodded in agreement. "Good idea. And… I think it'd be appreciated if we all could skip the teleport. We've got the time to spare, after all."
Airburn strode towards the curved wall of the compartment, where the floor continued to rise into a smooth meeting with the descending ceiling. The waiting human and loroi warriors split ahead of her like the sea before a ship. "That can be arranged."
She gestured with one hand, and the wall split open along an invisible horizontal seam around head-height, the floor flattening down as the ceiling rose out of the way.
Outside was a corridor just as over-sized as the one they had seen earlier in the ship. It led off into the distance, no side-branches that Fireblade could see closer than several hundred mannal. Not so surprising for a Farseer's amplifier chamber to be isolated, but the sheer scale of this vessel…
Two platforms waited for them, floating half a mannal above the floor. Their coal-black horizontal surface was ringed by thin, golden railings which slid aside as the group approached.
Airburn gestured to one of the things. "This freight transporter will take your chosen personnel back to your vessel. All others will be taken by the other to the park where we will await the representatives of the UNSC and the Eleventh Legion."
'Freight transporter'? The small craft was far more finely-decorated than that title would imply, for all that it did not shift at all as Alexander Jardin stepped onto the first one. The human waved one hand over a section of the railing, and a holographic screen burst into being. Evidently he was familiar enough with the vehicle.
{Who shall accomp—} Fireblade began to send, but Tempo beat her to it.
{Arrir Talon, Teidar Mothwing and Tozet Beryl.} The former already had her hands on the railing ready to haul herself up onto the transporter even as Tempo sent her list.
Not that Fireblade disagreed with her choices. The teidar added {Mothwing, Beryl, ensure that you note the path this vehicle takes between here and the hangar bay, as well as the route back to our eventual meeting point.} That would give one listel who would never forget the route, and one teidar who would know what to look for in terms of how easy it would be to travel there in case of any… 'sudden necessity.'
Not that Fireblade expected any such unpleasantness to arise, but it was a teidar's duty to be prepared.
Tempo finished {Arrir Talon, you and Beryl are to work with Alexander Jardin to have all the records of our flights in that vessel made ready, as well as your observations and commentary on them.}
Fireblade knew from experience that that would take the hard-working listel only a few thousand solon. They would return well before the other representatives would arrive at the Legate's meeting.
Which made it all the more surprising when Tempo sent {Take what time you need to pursue other objectives before returning. You will not be needed here within two cycles from now. We will have a message sent to you if that changes. If it helps, you may consider yourself off-duty until then.}
It took Fireblade a moment to recall what the mizol was thinking about. Of course, the flare of excitement from the tenoin arrir did help jog her memory. {'Other objectives'?} Fireblade mirrored Tempo's phrasing, sending privately to her mizol friend. {Is that truly still worth pursuing?}
{It remains as important as ever.}
{Even now that we have already found this refugee fleet? And with surviving human leadership, surely Colonel Jardin will return to his people. And his nephew will follow.} For all that Fireblade was certainly glad that the 'task' had fallen to the tenoin and not her, she did recognize that the peculiar human warrior-males were warriors. Alexander Jardin would not be distracted from his duties to his people, even when pursued by two eager tenoin.
Tempo indicated Tribune Hammerstave, standing rigidly off to one side of the group. {It is evident that not all of these ancient loroi trust us. But they do trust the humans… or at least are more receptive to their opinions. It is therefore still important that we publicly demonstrate a certain 'friendliness' to the aliens.}
The mizol had laid out her thoughts dispassionately, but a hint of amusement worked its way into her sub-channels with her final note {Besides, the tenoin and Beryl have achieved a great deal with their piloting work, and it seems appropriate to grant each of them the reward that is so clearly on their minds.}
{Certainly, and—} Fireblade's thoughts stumbled to a halt. {Beryl!?}
Now there was definitely mirth in Tempo's sanzai as she responded {Her boundless curiosity is well-known to all of Stillstorm's crew. Especially when it comes to alien cultures.}
That was certainly the listel that Fireblade had come to call her friend, but still…
Tempo added ruefully, her sanzai going faint {And she is young...}
Which, for all its truth, was something that Beryl did not like being reminded of.
{She is wise enough, for her years.} Fireblade sent.
Which admittedly meant that she would not appreciate Fireblade second-guessing her decisions. The teidar looked on as Beryl stood at Alexander Jardin's shoulder, the light from the holographic controls reflecting brightly in her eyes.
{And you can relax, Fireblade.} Tempo sent, with a burst of wry humor. None of which reached her face, as the mizol kept her expression carefully neutral while she watched Colonel Jardin giving some final instructions to his nephew. {She won't be able to do anything today — the moment that the three of them have the data prepared, that tenoin arrir is going to monopolize him.} Her side-channels conveyed some of the thoughts which Tempo had gleaned from the arrir's mind.
Thoughts which Fireblade chose to not examine too closely. {I see that Arrir Talon's mental defenses are far from being as strong as she thinks them to be.} She closed her eyes for a solon, suppressing a smirk. {Pilots.}Without a sound, the cargo transport departed, gliding smoothly away. Legate Airburn watched it go. "Ah, to be young again." She then turned back to the group, her voice dropping to a more serious tone as she gestured to the remaining transport. "Now, on to the meeting."
Once all were aboard, the black-and-gold vehicle departed. Fireblade quickly adjusted her footing, as the expected sense of acceleration failed to materialize.
Inertial dampeners? On a tiny craft no more than fifteen mannal long?
{I am glad to see that there are still some things which we can teach you younger civilizations.} sent Airburn. Fireblade thought she was being humorous, but with her clipped sanzai devoid of sub-channels it was near-impossible to tell.
By contrast, Tempo's sanzai retained its full spectrum, although Fireblade noted where the mizol was evidently carefully phrasing her thoughts. {There seems to be much that the Union would be interested to learn from your 'era.' It is to be expected that technology is among that category.}
{Several of our technical experts are being awoken now and will attend the meeting. They may even be ready before the representatives from the Eleventh Legion or the UNSC arrive. It will be discussed at the meeting just how much we will open talks and trade with your people.}
Fireblade's gaze darted aside to catch the tail-end of Beryl's own transport as it rounded a curve off down its own corridor. Beryl would definitely wish to be present when those topics came up.
In the meantime, Tempo kept any concern out of her sanzai as she nonchalantly sent {It seems understandable that your people may not feel immediate fellowship with ours, but know that we hold only honest curiosity towards yours.}
The fact that the mizol chose to list her emotions so bluntly in her sending indicated that she thought that Airburn genuinely was stunted in her own ability to receive the full spectrum of sanzai.
Instead of answering directly, the Legate then spoke aloud in the humans' language "[Colonel, what is your impression of these loroi? Of their Union? Are they trustworthy?]"
The senior human responded immediately "[I've only spoken with these few here with me, their junior flag-rank leader, and her superior officer. They've been perfectly honest — a bit bluntly so, if anything — in every dealing I've had with them. Can't speak to their society as a whole, though; you and I know well enough how little a government may resemble the troops at the front lines.]"
"[I see. How much have you told them?]"
"[Enough to get us here. A few things that weren't classified… or didn't need to be anymore.]"
"[That open, really?]" Fireblade couldn't understand the words, but the playful bite in Airburn's speech crossed the language barrier. "[I see it only took three-hundred-thousand years to melt a bit of that old ONI secrecy, then. I should be jealous of them.]"
"[They haven't shot at me.]"
"[I did miss, you remember. And once they get to know you I'm sure—]"
The Legate shared a brief laugh with Colonel Jardin.
{Interesting.} sent Tempo in a tightly-focused message. Hopefully private, then. Yet her compressed side-channels showed that her focus was not on the two senior aliens — and these Legion loroi were at least part 'alien' from Fireblade's perspective — but on the face of Tribune Hammerstave, standing off to one side of the moving platform and watching the conversation impassively. {Either Hammerstave is very well schooled at controlling her features, or she truly does not understand the human language any more than we do.}
Fireblade glanced over at the Tribune, whose own eyes immediately snapped over to meet hers. And tightened, as a scowl pulled at the corners of her mouth.
{It seems that we can assume the latter.} Fireblade sent back to Tempo, careful to keep her sanzai private.
The trick for reading a person's feelings by gauging only their facial and body language was one of the aspects of training common to both mizol and teidar. Admittedly, Fireblade's own instructors had not taught their pupils much beyond how to gauge a warrior's hostility by how she carried herself — or to see an impending strike coming even before the opponent began to move.
But the uncanny degree of accuracy that an experienced mizol like Tempo could reach in her visual readings still sometimes unnerved Fireblade.
The transport whirled around a corner, the corridor ahead decorated the same way as the rest of the dreadstar's interior that Fireblade had seen — and built on just the same colossal scale.
As the vehicle settled onto its new trajectory, Airburn turned to look at Tempo over her shoulder. {I have noted with some surprise that there is no loroi among your group who can far-speak. Is this… normal in your time?} There came a pause. {Or was this talent not given commonly to your ancestors? It is known that the Soia granted many powers to those loroi that stayed loyal to them, but their full extent is not known to us.}
{'Far-speak.'} Tempo echoed the thought back, examining it in her side-channels. {It seems that this is what is practiced by those we call 'Farseers.' The ability to sense minds at a great distance, yes?}
{So you do know of it.}
From experience, Fireblade could tell that Tempo was carefully formulating her thoughts before sending them. {Farseers form an important part of the Union's capabilities, although they rarely seek leadership positions. It seems that this is not the case for your Legions?}
Given that Farseers were a civilian caste, 'rarely seek leadership positions' was a serious twist on the thought. One that was obvious by Tempo's clipped side-channels, but these Legion loroi didn't seem to sense anything via sanzai other than one's main thoughts…
{Truly? How do your leaders then coordinate their forces on campaign?}
{That seems to be the duty of fleet and force commanders. The ability to Farsense is rare enough that those with the talent are not to be risked near the front lines.}
Fireblade noted that Tempo had not said anything about the farseers deployed aboard strike-group flagships such as Tempest.
{I see that there are certainly many difference between our peoples, cousin.} the Legate sent. {But surely they would not be in— ah, of course!} Airburn's sanzai halted and stumbled over itself in a mimicry of verbal speech, a very peculiar thing to receive. Were her thoughts truly that disorganized, or was she having difficulty sending them? Then again, if the humans' story was correct, the Legate would have been from one of the earliest loroi generations to even have sanzai… a thought which still made Fireblade's ears itch at its strangeness.
The ancient loroi in question continued {Severed as you were from the Empire, you would not have your own dreadstars. Your people, then, must live aboard what smaller ships they can construct.} Airburn smiled broadly at both Tempo and Fireblade. {It must be a reassuring feeling to be aboard a proper starship, now.}
Tempo took a few solon to answer. {It is indeed a great honor to stand here.} She paused in her sending. {But while our own myths of the Soia only mention the dreadstars, were they truly the only starships which the Empire used?}
Fireblade's mind went to the massive hangar that they'd landed in earlier. It was full now of human transport ships, but presumably it had been designed for other craft...
{Of course not — that's why they made us! The finest starship crews that the Empire's science could produce.} Airburn boasted. {Not that they ever trusted us to command them independently, of course.} It was hard to follow the precise implications in her sanzai without any sub-channels, but it did not take a mizol to recognize the resentment in that last phrase.
The transport vehicle took another corner at speed, and by now Fireblade was accustomed enough to the tiny craft and its inertial dampeners that she resisted the urge to lean into the turn.
{It is mentioned in our legends that the Soia kept tight control over their subject people's travel between star systems.} Tempo sent. Unlike the ancient loroi, her sub-channels were clear enough to read. {Did they truly apply this even to loroi?}
{Of course the paranoid bitches kept a watch on every last ship that moved within the Empire!} Airburn grimaced. {They couldn't run the risk of somebody doing anything the Council didn't expect and plan for, now could they?}
Tempo turned her head slightly, exchanging a surprised glance with Fireblade. A rapid blur of sub-verbal sanzai between the two of them, and then Fireblade sent to Airburn {That seems like a poor pool to pick military leaders from.}
{You can say that again.} the Legate replied.
Fireblade frowned, and then shrugged to herself. If honoring that strange request was what it took to be 'polite'… {That seems like a poor—}
Airburn waved one hand, as if to brush away the sanzai. {Human metaphor, nevermind. But if your memories of your foremothers' Soia masters are incomplete, let it suffice to say only that they were absolutely dedicated to controlling all that they could. All interplanetary traffic was tracked and inspected, and all interstellar vessels had to be under the direct command of a Soia.}
The legate grimaced, but then her expression softened. {You should count yourselves fortunate to have been born in your time, and not have to answer to a class of civilian overseers breathing down your neck at all times. Double-guessing your every decision, questioning your communications...} her sanzai trailed off without a proper ending.
Fireblade glanced aside at Tempo, carefully trimming back her side-channels.
By the raised eyebrow she got in return from the mizol, Tempo understood her thoughts all the same. And by the barely-perceptible upward quirk of one corner of her lip, Tempo also saw the humor in it.
Tempo turned back to Airburn and sent {The Union does not place its warriors under civilian oversight.}
After all, mizol were warriors. Even if some grumblers might occasionally say otherwise.
{That is reassuring to hear. How is your empire organized?} the legate asked.
{I am… uncertain how much I may completely reveal without the permission of my superiors.} Tempo sent. Apparently even senior mizol couldn't make such calls on their own — unless Tempo was priming that as an excuse to be more reticent on future answers? Trying to wrap her mind around all the thoughts & subterfuge made Fireblade's head hurt… and also made her glad to be teidar and not mizol.
Tempo continued {But it would be certainly acceptable to explain that the Union is lead by our Emperor Greywind, fourth to hold that title. She is appointed by the Diadem Council, which is made up of the senior commanders of the Union's military forces.}
That covered all the information given to children in their first year at a creche, at least.
{That is as I would expect of our people.} Airburn sent after a solon or two. {But truly none of these leaders are 'farseers'?}
{None.} Tempo confirmed. {A farseer's duties are… strenuous, and therefore those who reach the age expected of senior combat leaders no longer possess the stamina required for that role.}
That matched what Fireblade had been told about that caste. Working within an amplifier mechanism so large that it encompassed an entire compartment, hurling one's senses outwards over the vast gulfs between the stars…
Her head throbbed, right where her amplifier terminals burrowed down through the skin behind her ears. To imagine having to strain one's powers for long bursts at a time, knowing that the entire strike group's fortunes depended on your doing so?
Civilian caste or no, the farseers were as determined and brave as any loroi could hope to be. They were fellow warriors, in her eyes.
Although even then, the fact that farseers were civilians was the main reason that they were never found in warrior's roles, certainly never in command positions.
Fireblade began to organize her thoughts into sanzai to point this out, when she caught herself.
Perhaps she had spent too many years working alongside Tempo, listening to the mizol as she spoke with neridi, barsam, historians, all the lesser races of the Union. Perhaps some of the manipulative mizol's perspective on conversation and negotiation had slipped through to stain Fireblade's own mind… but she thought she understood why Tempo had held her thoughts.
After all, Airburn would probably not appreciate learning just now that her Union counterparts weren't considered to be true warriors.
As if she had detected the faint beginnings of Fireblade's cut-off sanzai, the ancient loroi snapped her gaze over to the teidar. {I see.}
Fireblade held her breath, clamping down hard on her sanzai channels to hold in her thoughts.
Airburn continued, without breaking eye contact {And I can well imagine the… stresses of using one's powers. My own have certainly aged me well beyond my years.}
Now Fireblade blinked in confusion. Airburn already looked younger than she would have expected for the commander of a dreadstar, appearing to be just short of her first century judging by her ears and nose. Younger-looking than Stillstorm, certainly, and now she said that she was not even of that age?
{How old are you?} The thought fought its way loose from her mind before she could suppress it.
To her surprise, Airburn quirked a thin smile. {If your people are thinking of working with the humans in the future, you would do well to learn to avoid such a question. 'Never ask a lady her age.'}
A strange custom — how else would you judge a warrior's experience in her role than by her age?
The legate continued {But all jesting aside, I have—} she paused. {You would not know the length of an Empire's Year. I shall say thirty-seven human years, then.}
Fireblade glanced aside at Tempo, whose own sanzai filled in {Thirty-seven Deinar years.}
Airburn let out a single bark of laughter. {The very same? An amusing coincidence.}
{It does seem unlikely, yes.} sent Tempo. {But is such… 'youth' common among leaders of your Legions?}
{It shouldn't be.} the ancient loroi's mood darkened rapidly, settling like a chill over the conversation. {But the Second Legion has fought through the harshest of the fighting, all the way to the end of the War. The Legion has survived, but many of our sisters did not.}
A pang of understanding echoed from all four of the Union loroi standing in the vehicle.
Tempo was the first to ask {Even here on your dreadstar?}
Airburn glanced between Tempo and Fireblade. {When one fought against the Soia, none who extended her mind's senses beyond her own body was safe. My predecessor had her mind burned away half of a year before our attempted departure at the end of the War.}
Colonel Jardin turned to look at Airburn, likely in response to her earlier laugh. "How long until we're ready to begin the talks?"
The vehicle sped towards a looming doorway, a vast circular portal which slid aside as they approached.
Airburn answered "I have received notice that the representatives from Eleventh Legion and the UNSC have arrived at our docks. They will join us within minutes."
Whatever a 'minute' was.
Fireblade looked to Tempo. All would be up to the mizol, now.