“No,” both Nelly and the chief reported at the same time.
“Thank a merciful Allah for a small favor,” Sulwan whispered. Hers was very likely only one of many prayers whispered around the ship. Kris even offered up a thanks To-Whom-It-May-Concern.
Then they got down to the real work at hand.
Decelerating at 3.2 gees put everyone in high-gee stations for the duration of that burn. The engineers monitored the consumption of reaction mass and advised Captain Drago that they would need to tap into the ship's water supply.
“Any trashy novels, worn clothes, anything you've been thinking of getting rid of, now would be the time to dump them,” was passed through the boat.
“Princess, would you mind touching base with your Iteeche associate and letting me know how close this system is to a main shipping lane?” Captain Drago asked. “Also, let's get the word out to all hands that once we park this wreck in orbit, I want us to go back to being a hole in space. If something drops through one of those jump points, I don't want them spotting us before we spot them.”
“Aye, aye, Skipper,” Chief Beni said, and started checking his board for any noisemakers on the ship. He hadn't had an active sensor going since they ditched their pursuers.
Kris decided now would be a good time to pay a visit to Ron, and got her high-gee station rolling toward Iteeche country. That was no mean feat.
The
Wasp
was in desperate need of a yard period, and steering a motorized lounge chair through the ship was not the breeze it had been in days gone by. Kris, however, did manage to arrive at her goal with only a few new scrapes on her paint job.
There was still a Marine guard outside the hatch at the entry to the Iteeche quarters.
He called inside and got immediate permission to enter. That was nice, but maneuvering Kris's high-gee station over the knee knockers was slow going. However, with her bum knee, Kris was not about to try walking around at over triple her weight.
Inside, it turned out the Iteeche were not taking chances either. All three of them were floating in tubs of water.
“How long will we be stuck in here?” came from the translation computer that Kris had given Ron. Who complained was hard to say. Floating naked in supportive water, the three of them didn't look all that different.
No, Kris could tell them apart. Ron was clearly the younger, lacking many of the wrinkles that covered the others. His coloring was also healthier, although Kris would be hard put to explain that conclusion.
Of the two older Iteeche, one had tossed Kris a casual salute, a touch of one of his four arms to his forehead. She'd bet money the respectful one was Ted, the Navy officer. That left only the Army officer to be the one complaining.
“We expect to make orbit around the closest gas giant in less than twenty-four hours,” Kris said.
“Will we have to go through another one of those smashups?” the grumpy one demanded.
“He means the shake, rattle, and roll when you refueled the ship,” Ted corrected from his Navy experience.
“We're going to try to avoid that this time,” Kris said.
“Then how are you going to capture the reaction mass?” Ron asked.
“It's going to be interesting, but we hope to fly the balloot through the upper atmosphere using three of the ship's launches.”
“That is not possible,” Ted said. “You cannot fly anything through those clouds in any kind of formation, and tying them together is just inviting disaster.”
The coloring around Ron's neck showed serious concern.
“That's what everyone tells me. But the alternative is to risk the
Wasp
in another session of cloud dancing, and none of us wants to do that.”
“Who will be flying the balloot?” Ron asked.
“Only volunteers. And crazy ones at that,” Kris assured him.
“So it is you and two others,” he said.
“Yep,” Kris agreed.
“It might not be the impossibility for them that this would be for us,” Ted said.
“You know something I don't?” Kris asked.
“I doubt it. However, this thing you call wise metal, this programmable matter, it could make a difference if you used it right.”
“You're not supposed to know about that,” Kris said, trying to keep her voice matter-of-fact. And here she'd thought that was one of two secrets they could keep from the Iteeche.
“We did not find out about this magical metal during our sojourn with you,” Ron quickly pointed out. “It was clear from our last meeting that my chooser had sent me out with a certain dearth of information about what we knew about you and how we came to know it. Upon our return, I was quite insistent that those deficiencies in my briefing be corrected.”
“Very demanding,” Ted put in. “One does not show anger toward one's chooser, but the words you used, my young Imperial Representative, told one and all that you had spent far too much time among the disrespectful humans.”
“Or at least one,” Kris offered.
“In the end, my honored chooser did agree that I needed much more information about you humans,” Ron said. “I spent over a month catching up, as did my honorable Navy officer here, and we were much better prepared when the call came to accompany you on this amazing voyage.”
“If we are to finish this voyage,” Kris said, “we may need all the help you can give us. As of right now, we are in an empty system pretty much in the middle of the Empire.”
“We are?” came from all three Iteeche in a three-part harmony that almost destroyed the translator.
“Where?” Ron asked.
The room that held the Iteeche had paintings of the Imperial palace and its surroundings on three of the four walls. Nelly turned the fourth one into a view screen showing the system.
“I do not recognize this arrangement. Can you show me more of the surrounding area?”
“Kris,” Nelly said plaintively.
“Uh, Ron, you remember how my great-grandfather Ray said that there should be no recordings of our meeting with you.”
“Yes. I understand that the reason we had all those other ships on this voyage was that his chief of security was neither secure nor obedient and made a recording.”
“Yes, there was that, but his wasn't the only recording.”
“Kris, did you disobey your chooser?” Ron asked
“Kinda, yes,” Kris said, trying to look bashful and ashamed; but being the rogue she was, she pulled off neither.
“I will pay you the bet,” Ted said. “In defense of my ability to read the enemy, I will point out that I did not bet much.”
“He only bet because you wanted someone to bet with,” the Army officer said.
“But I won. I do know this human.”
“She is a Longknife. Who would trust her?” Ted pointed out.
“He does have a point,” Kris said, “but your map of human and Iteeche space was just too good to pass up. I can't tell you how helpful it has been when we were tracking pirates.”
“I am glad the Iteeche Empire could be of service,” Ron said with an attempt at a human bow that his hips and back were never meant for.
“Enough of this,” the Army officer grumbled. “Where are we?”
Nelly expanded the view. Then, when no one said anything, she expanded it again.
“Oh, I know this area very well,” Ted said. “You have nothing to fear. It is very unlikely that an Imperial warship will enter this system. We do not use these two jumps for our transports.”
Ron did not look comfortable. “A satrap commander might send one of his ships out to assure that nothing illegal is going on here.”
“They do not do that nearly as often as they claim they do,” Ted said. “Trust me. The, I think the humans would call them police, talk a good story about their vigilance, but they are much more needed in the space around a living planet. They have little time for checking empty nooks and crannies.”
“How did we get this far into the Empire?” the Army officer asked.
“We did some five thousand light-years in our last jump,” Kris said.
Nelly expanded the star map to show their course for the last couple of jumps.
“We've been taking each jump at close to five hundred thousand kilometers an hour,” Kris went on.
“And the evil gods of the deep have not demanded a sacrifice,” Ron said. The translation device picked up strong hints of his surprise and shock.
“They have been nibbling at our toes,” Kris admitted. “The last two systems we jumped into didn't have any gas planets for us to refuel at. Boy, were we glad to see this system.”
“You risked becoming a real Pal'ron'Tong Who Never Returned!” said the Army officer.
“Now you owe me,” Ted said to his Army compatriot.
“These humans are insane,” sputtered the Army officer. “Why did I ever let you talk me into this mad voyage?”
“Because you were as curious as I was about our vanishing ships. Now we know. When we return, our words may not be welcome, but they are words that need to be spoken in the highest court.”
“Ron, Captain Drago intends to put the
Wasp
on maximum emissions lockdown just as soon as we make orbit. Hopefully, any ship that wanders by will not notice a black cat in a coal bin at midnight.”
“I would not bet money on that,” the Iteeche Navy officer said.
“I won't bet money on it either. Ron, could you have someone on duty at all times, so that if an Iteeche ship does drop in the system, an Iteeche can respond to its contact?”
“Or contact it before it responds to a human ship in system,” Ron said. “Yes, one of us will be treading water at any hour. How do you intend to get out of here? If you keep making jumps in Iteeche space, sooner or later you are bound to find yourself in an occupied system. That will not be good.”
“We intend to get the
Wasp
up to fifty or sixty thousand klicks an hour for the next jump. With any luck, we should be six or seven hundred light-years from here. That might put us back in human space.”
All three Iteeche were shaking their heads.
“May all the blessing gods of sky and land hold you close,” Ron said.
Kris turned her high-gee cart around and headed back out, leaving the Iteeche soaking in their water tubs and talking rapidly among themselves. The telltale vestigial gill slits at their necks went through colors like kaleidoscopes as their emotions ranged from hopeful to desperate. From confident to despondent.
Once again, Kris was grateful that what she felt was not broadcast for everyone around her to see.
Outside the hatch to Iteeche country, she quickly left the Marine guard behind. Only then did Kris whisper, “Okay, Nelly, how come that Iteeche ship captain knew more about flying a balloot than I do? Is there a way for us to get the reaction mass we have to have that doesn't involve me splattering myself and a couple of launches all over that ice giant up ahead?”
“I've been meaning to talk to you about that, Kris.”
“Let's talk.”
54
Kris waited until she was back in the privacy of her own cabin before she demanded Nelly launch into that little talk that she'd failed to schedule sooner.
“Talk to me,” Kris said, as the door clicked shut.
“Good, we have a screen I can use. It is so often easier to show you humans something than it is to explain it. Don't you find words so limiting?”
“It's show-and-tell time, Nelly. What are the beans that you are working so hard on not spilling.”
“I am not avoiding this topic, Kris. I just didn't think we should be discussing it on the bridge.”
Clearly, Nelly was not going to let Kris have the last word on this. Kris kept her mouth shut and, for good measure, blanked all thought from her mind.
Denied more argument, Nelly brought the screen in Kris's room to life.
“We used the cloud-dancing run that the
Wasp
made as a model for a simulation of your three launches making a run. Clearly, no two runs will ever be identical, but we do have all the vectors that were applied to the
Wasp
, and we then applied them to your proposed flight. You crashed forty-seven times in the first twenty minutes of the flight.”
On the screen, the three launches spread out in a rough triangle with the balloot in the middle. They were pulled apart. They crashed into each other. They wrapped the cable around themselves and were cut in half. Kris had never thought you could die in so many different ways in such a small amount of time.
“So, Nelly, how else could we fly that refueling run?”
“We tried using longer cables or shorter cables.”
“How'd that work?”
The screen showed more simulations of crashes or launches coming apart. “All of those were worse. We'd guessed right the first time on what would be the best array. Problem was, there wasn't any survivable array. Kris, individual craft are not meant to fly that close together. Not in lousy air like this. Not tethered together. Yes, I know aerial demonstration teams do some really nifty stuff, but they are not tied together, and they never fly in bad weather.”
“Nelly, I've got Jack to tell me what I can't do. You're job is to tell me how I can get away with what I want to do. Bad computer. No donut.”
“We did come up with something,” Nelly started.
Kris cut her off. “Who is this âwe' you keep talking about?”
“Well, those boffins Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee, who came up with the idea of how to use Smart Metal
TM
to peer through jump points, are still on the
Wasp
. They really got intrigued by the complexities of programming Smart Metal
TM
. We worked with them and the three programmers they found. They were still on the
Wasp
, too.”