Alliance, page 19
part #2 of Linesman Series
Because they could, she supposed. So here she was, five months after such an accident with legs where the only thing wrong was lack of muscle tissue.
And a slight height difference, as she tripped over her own toes and nearly fell.
Or maybe it was a problem with nerve endings. Who said they had retained all the nerve endings she’d had before? Or even put them in the right place?
Grieve looked meaningfully at the chair he wheeled around like some sort of prop. She pretended not to see.
She also pretended not to notice as Grieve deftly separated her from Jon and Fitch at the meeting-room door. “Doctors, why don’t I show you the fleet hospital while the captain is speaking with the admirals.”
She rapped on the door and went in.
* * *
AS well as the four admirals, there were two captains.
One of them was immaculately dressed in Lancian gray and black. Captain Helmo from the Lancastrian Princess, Lady Lyan’s personal ship.
The other was tall and skinny, with white skin and dyed maroon hair. His uniform barely made regulation. Captain Wendell, from the Wendell. Kari Wang’s mouth curved into a smile. “Piers.”
Wendell looked thinner than ever, and there were black rings under his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. He smiled for her, though. “Selma.”
She looked at his uniform. He wore the green of Wallacia, which wasn’t one of the seventy worlds that made up the New Alliance. She didn’t ask. She’d ask later.
Admiral Orsaya said, “Don’t be fooled by the uniform, Captain. Wendell and his crew are dual citizens of Yaolin and Lancia, and part of the New Alliance fleet. They will wear the same uniform as your crew. If the uniform committee ever gets around to agreeing on a design.”
“Let’s hope they don’t choose that dreadful orange thing they were so set on,” Katida said.
Everyone shuddered.
“I’ve asked Ean to join us,” Galenos said. “He had some line business to attend to, but he’ll try to come by.”
Galenos brought up a list of names on the tabletop screen. “Your crew,” he said. “Two from each world, as agreed by the council. They’re still undergoing security tests.”
He split the names into two groups. “We asked for one linesman, one failed linesman from each.” He tapped the left list. “The linesmen. Mostly sixes, with two exceptions. Balian sent us a seven.”
Everyone looked at Katida.
“That’s your second seven?” Orsaya said, and it was a pointed question. “Didn’t you also provide a seven for line training?”
Katida skirted the question by explaining to Kari Wang. “There are two groups of linesmen. Ean is already training the first group. They will go back to their own worlds when they’re done. The second group is your crew.”
“We noticed you avoided answering that question,” Orsaya said.
“So I did.” Katida tapped the table. “The other exception?”
Galenos might have hidden a smile. “Haladea III sent us a one.”
“An insult?”
“Do you think they have anything better?” Helmo asked.
“No, I don’t.”
They all looked at the list for a moment. Galenos broke the silence. “The single linesmen.” He tapped it. It was shorter than the other one. Kari Wang did a quick count. Around fifty names.
“We have the military of every New Alliance world scouring their databases for failed linesmen. Unfortunately, most of them don’t consider military careers.”
“Nyan has five of them,” Orsaya said. “There’s little else to do on Nyan except join the military. There’s no other job for a failed linesman if he or she goes home.”
“Most of them don’t go home. That’s the problem.”
“Who would?” asked Wendell. “They’ve seen what life can be for linesmen. I wouldn’t want to go back to my old life. Especially not as a failure. I’d go as far away as possible.”
Early in her career, Kari Wang had worked with someone who had undergone line training, then failed certification. The girl had been unprepared for the military and totally unsuited. She’d left two months after graduating. “Why do we want failed linesmen?” It was the craziest thing she’d heard so far, and after watching Lambert sing to the lines earlier, she hadn’t thought anything could be crazier than that.
“Because they’re linesmen,” Galenos said. “They’ll work as well on your ship as certified linesmen.” He steepled his fingers. “Current line testing is flawed. There’s an assumption that linesmanship starts at one and goes up. The tests start at line one. If you recognize line one, you go on to be tested for line two. If you recognize line two, you go on to be tested for line three, and so on. Maybe you stop at six, because you don’t recognize line seven. You’re certified. You become a linesman level six.”
Few linesmen made level ten, the highest level. Highest certified level, Kari Wang corrected herself, for hadn’t Radko claimed Lambert was a twelve. Could they even test for that? Or was he simply an exceptional ten and the New Alliance didn’t have the experience to know any better?
If Kari Wang had been certified a linesman, she’d want to be a six. The cartels didn’t want you. The sevens and above stayed in the cartel houses and were contracted out on repair jobs. The sixes could choose any job they wanted because everyone needed lower-level linesmen and line six controlled the Bose engines that powered spaceships. The military or the big manufacturing companies snapped you up so fast, you didn’t even have time to say good-bye to your fellow linesmen after the certification ceremony.
There had been two sixes on the Kari Wang, plus a three. All of them engineers.
She considered what Galenos hadn’t said. “You’re saying that even those who failed certification are still linesmen.”
“Some of them are, at least. The ones we know about have a single line. One thing we do know is that all of those we have tested can hear and see the lines on the alien ships.”
“Hear?” It sounded ominous given that Linesman Lambert had introduced her to the ship in song.
“Line testing is flawed,” Galenos said again.
Kari Wang didn’t know much about line training, but the higher-level linesmen were famous. “And a level-ten linesman I’ve never heard of is telling you this. Are you sure he knows what he’s saying?”
If there’d been any physicality to the way her words changed the atmosphere around the table, her hair would have been standing straight out with the static.
Wendell broke the mood by laughing. “Be careful whom you insult,” he said. “Lambert is the most protected civilian in the galaxy right now.” He indicated the admirals with a wave of his hand. “Not to mention their pet project.” Then he added, “For what it’s worth, I don’t doubt Lambert myself. He’s the best linesman I know.”
“And I,” Helmo added.
Interesting. “Understood,” Kari Wang said, before the silence got too awkward. She wasn’t sure she did understand. But she would.
“He does clean lines,” Wendell said.
How much of Wendell’s approval was tied up in how well Lambert fixed the lines? But then, she’d always liked a good line repair herself.
“We’ve learned a lot about the lines recently,” Galenos said. “We’re at the start of a giant leap forward in line knowledge.”
Katida and Orsaya nodded. MacClennan didn’t. Nor did Helmo or Wendell, but she could see the two captains agreed with Galenos. MacClennan must have known something, though, for he had implied by omission that the New Alliance had no problems getting ships fixed. Because if you could find single-level nines and tens, you no longer had to rely on Gate Union to fix your ships for you.
“There’s another advantage with the single-level linesmen,” Galenos said. “Line eleven can be . . . strong.”
“Debilitating,” Katida muttered.
Orsaya’s eyes gleamed. “Are you saying, Katida—”
“The stronger the linesman,” Katida said, over the top of her. “The worse line eleven affects them. You’ve heard about the confluence?”
The Kari Wang’s annual service had been pushed back three months because the nines and tens were out at the confluence. It had still been waiting for that service, in fact, when it had been destroyed.
“That effectively took all the nines and tens out of service for six months. Most of them aren’t fully back yet.”
Kari Wang nodded.
“Single linesmen don’t have that problem,” Katida said. “Because they’re blind to eleven.”
“Don’t you mean deaf, Katida?” Captain Helmo asked.
“Deaf, blind, drugged out of their brain.” Katida waved a dismissive hand. “Nonfunctioning.”
Kari Wang looked at the shorter list of names on the tabletop screen. “You think all these people are single-level linesmen?”
“Yes, we do,” Galenos said. “The Eleven is a ship you can’t run without linesmen.”
She wasn’t a linesman.
Galenos touched the longer list. “Your other crew will be overcome by the Eleven when it’s strong.”
So she was to crew a ship she couldn’t read the panels on, with half a crew that needed oxygen on a regular basis, and the other half with who knew what skills.
Wonderful.
NINETEEN
EAN LAMBERT
“WHAT DO YOU think?” Ean asked, after he, Radko, and Craik had seen their visitors off.
“I think that not wearing a suit on a ship like this is asking for trouble,” Radko said.
Craik shivered. “Grieve said it was close to a full-blown panic attack.”
“More fodder for Speaker Rhodes.” Ean turned away. He hoped she’d work out. He walked back to the bridge, singing to the lines as he did so. Their mood was hopeful. They wanted this to work out as much as he did.
* * *
ONCE Ean had thought that the lines on the Lancastrian Princess reflected Michelle’s feelings because the ship picked up Michelle’s thoughts. And it did, but it was more complex than that. He was coming to realize that the ship reflected Michelle because to everyone else, from Captain Helmo down, Michelle was the most important thing on ship.
He would have liked to discuss it with Abram, but Abram was on Haladea III now. He missed Abram.
So did Michelle, and Ean was never, ever going to tell her how clearly that came through the lines. Sometimes, especially late at night, the lines keened with loneliness. One night it was so bad it woke Ean. By the time he realized what it was, Helmo was tapping on Michelle’s door with an apologetic, “Sorry to wake you so late, ma’am, especially when you don’t get much time to sleep, but—” The pause was imperceptible in real time but was a big green snap through the lines, and Ean still didn’t know if his own lines listening in had guided Helmo’s next words. “I would like some guidance on what to do with Lambert.”
Michelle swung out of bed as if she were glad to leave it. She didn’t seem to find it strange that Helmo would come and wake her in the middle of the night to talk about Ean, of all people. If Helmo was discomforted to see his boss dressed in only a short silken shift, he didn’t show it. Ean, sitting on his own bed, arms around his knees, was more so.
Michelle indicated a corner nook with two chairs and a small table. “Please, sit down. A drink?”
“Thank you.” Helmo sat. “Not just Lambert. Burns as well.” He studied the drink Michelle had poured. The smell that came through the lines was smooth and mellow. Ean couldn’t always differentiate what was in his own immediate vicinity and what was on other parts of the ship. Helmo sipped with obvious pleasure, then sat back. “Lambert.”
There wasn’t any more of the green snap with the words. He’d made that one decision earlier to use Ean as the excuse to come in and talk; now he was following through on it. “I suspect Vega will try to move him off ship, claiming he’s a security risk. Burns, too.”
Ean knew, as clearly as if Helmo had said it aloud, that the real reason Helmo was there was because the ship had registered Michelle’s discomfort. Had the captain recognized it specifically as loneliness, or just as something not right with the lines? It wasn’t something he could ever ask.
He couldn’t tell what Michelle thought. He could see her, though. Her and Helmo, both with a full spectrum of visible colors and beyond. He could smell the clean fizz that he associated with Michelle, and the sharp, metallic overtones of Helmo.
“I want Ean on ship.” It was quick and instinctive.
Helmo nodded. “She’ll want to move him off this floor.”
“Because he’s a threat.” Michelle sounded bitter. “She has no idea what’s a threat and what’s not.”
“She has a big reputation to live up to.”
“Maybe if she stopped trying so hard she’d—” Michelle took a deep breath. “Sorry.”
“We’ve all got some adjusting to do.” Helmo stared at his glass. “Sometimes I wish we hadn’t been so successful.” He looked at Michelle. “Maybe we were getting too comfortable. I don’t know.”
“Comfortable. Is that what you call it?”
Ean would have called it happy, and he really shouldn’t be snooping through the lines like this, but it wasn’t something you could turn off.
Helmo dragged the conversation back. “So. Does Lambert stay on this floor, or do I move him off when Vega asks?”
He said when, not if, Ean noticed.
“He stays,” Michelle said.
“And Burns?”
“Can’t he stay in the VIP quarters? He’s Ean’s assistant.”
“He’ll be the only person there.”
They spent the next fifteen minutes discussing where to house Fergus, something both of them would normally have decided with a five-second snap decision.
He couldn’t stay in crew quarters. Vega didn’t like civilians in with the crew. There wasn’t any room in the space set aside for Michelle’s personal staff, and Helmo wanted to close down most of the modules that had housed the VIPs to save on air and heating.
Ean, sitting up in bed, could feel the tension in the lines easing.
“Leave one of the VIP modules open,” Michelle said finally. “I think it will be the best solution.”
“That will work.” Helmo stood up. “I’d best let you get back to sleep, ma’am. Thank you for your time.”
Absolutely nothing had changed with regard to living quarters for the linesmen.
After Helmo left, Michelle went back to bed, where she fell asleep almost instantly. Helmo walked the corridors of the ship first, then went to bed himself and to sleep almost as quickly.
Ean had lain awake for the rest of the night.
* * *
HE didn’t see Michelle before she left the next day for the sitting of parliament, but as they came back into range after line training, he could tell from the lines that she was back on board. The first thing he was going to do was find her and talk to her.
His comms chimed as he stepped out onto the shuttle deck proper. It was Vega. “Meet me in my office.” The anger she was hiding was sour and blue.
Ean checked on Michelle. She was in the workroom, immersed in whatever was on her screen. The lines were quiet. She was okay for the moment. “I’ll be down,” he told Vega.
Vega met him with, “This is not a public meeting place, linesman. And we’re not all here for your convenience.”
“Maybe if you explain what the problem is,” Ean said. He was tired of Vega’s superrighteousness. Or maybe he was simply tired. He had been awake most of the night. “I’m not a mind reader.”
She was only doing her job, and he should remember that. All he could think of was Michelle’s loneliness of the previous night. Why couldn’t Abram have stayed?
He wasn’t sure if he was angry at Vega or Abram.
Vega looked at him, and for a moment, he wondered if she was a mind reader. He watched the muscles in her throat tighten and saw the effort it took to relax them. Her voice was civil when she eventually said, “Grand Master Rickenback requests permission to come aboard the Lancastrian Princess to visit with Linesman Ean Lambert,” but there was a tic at the left of her mouth that she couldn’t quite stop.
The Grand Master had every right to request to see a linesman, especially if said linesman had asked for an audience. That was part of the Grand Master’s job. To assist linesmen in disputes with cartel houses.
If Paretsky had been Grand Master, would he have come so readily?
“I’ll meet him off ship,” Ean said. Maybe he could use the Night Owl again.
“You’ll choose. You’ll decide.”
The sour blue behind the words was so strong, Ean stepped backward. The top of Vega’s head came to his chin, but Ean had no doubt that if she attacked him—and he wondered for a moment if she was going to—then she would beat him to a pulp. “Vega, I am trying to help.”
“As Grand Master Rickenback pointed out, he has a legal right to see you at your place of work.”
What, technically, was his place of work? “You want him to come to the Eleven?” He wasn’t going to ask for clearance for that. Even Vega knew he wouldn’t get it.
The tic grew stronger. “Rickenback will be here at 16:00 hours. I have made meeting room two available.” She paused. “I have also explained to him that he is on a secure ship. He will be searched.”
“I am sure he understands.”
Vega made a dismissive motion with her hand. As Ean turned to go, “Lambert.”
He looked back over his shoulder.
“This is not a social visit.”
“Understood,” Ean said. Did that mean he couldn’t even offer Rickenback a drink? He’d have to ask Radko.
