IN N-SPACE, THE view of everything outside the ship was different. Bandicut saw only false-color, synthesized imagery of incomprehensible topologies. At his request, Copernicus replaced it with an image of the visible-light Milky Way disk, slowly drawing closer. That brought an immediate reaction from Ruall. “We have no need of pretty pictures that convey no information!” the commander snapped.
“My apologies,” said Copernicus, and the image blinked away.
“Wait a minute!” Bandicut protested. “It’s useful to us. Or at least to me.”
Bong. “To me, also,” said Li-Jared, jumping up from the bench, where he’d been flipping through some science articles on a small, personal holo.
“Why?” asked Ruall, bending to scoop up the gokat. Bria had been reeling across the floor looking . . . Bandicut thought maybe disoriented, but he didn’t really know. What did it mean when a gokat had its tail fanned straight out behind it and it walked like a drunken sailor? Did gokats get n-space sickness?
He realized Ruall had asked a question. “Huh? Why? Well, I want to see where we are, and where we’re going—”
“But you can’t, because we’re in an n-space channel, and it doesn’t look anything like that picture of the galaxy. Why fill up our display with irrelevant views?”
Li-Jared flicked his fingers in annoyance, scattering tiny holo-images through the air. “Irrelevant? It’s not irrelevant! It gives us a frame of reference.”
“But it’s not real,” Ruall said.
“It’s real enough,” said Li-Jared.
“That view we’re looking at right now isn’t real, either,” Bandicut pointed out. “It might mean something to you, but to us it’s meaningless.”
Ruall was silent a moment. “Very well, if you must. Copernicus, could you please set up rotating views, at three second intervals?” She paused a moment. “Will that be satisfactory?”
The viewspace blinked back to the Milky Way. Three seconds later it blinked back to the abstract display. “Ow!” Bandicut protested, shielding his eyes. “Have pity! At full minute intervals, please, Coppy. All right?”
Jeaves whirred and floated at the edge of the viewspace. “That seems reasonable,” he said, in a tone obviously meant to be calming.
Ruall gave three tinny-sounding clicks. “Very well,” she said at last. Then she floated into the center of the viewspace, contemplating the splayed colors.
Bandicut sighed and cocked his head at Li-Jared. “This is exhausting. I’m going to the commons. Can I buy you a drink?”
***
The commons was smaller than it had been on their last flight—not, Copernicus had said, because of the smaller crew, but because of the ship’s reconfiguration for possible combat. Creature comforts were downgraded to free up space and energy for weapons systems. “I could change it for you,” the robot had said, “but I would have to move the weapons bays around. That’s probably not a good idea in mid-flight.” Bandicut couldn’t disagree with that.
It still bugged him, though—not the changes per se, but the attitude evident in the way this ship and Copernicus had been treated on Shipworld. There was so little respect for the work they had all done. They had only saved the entire Starmaker region from cosmic calamity. To see The Long View demoted to a grain carrier and then casually reconfigured to a . . . warship? How about some recognition? Besides, what did these new changes make him, some kind of space ranger?
He and Li-Jared clinked glasses and swallowed some of their preferred poison—in Li-Jared’s case, Karellian batter-milk. A brew by any other name, Bandicut thought. He was feeling morose, and Li-Jared looked more than willing to join him in the feeling.
“You know, this whole thing wouldn’t be so annoying if only she weren’t so insufferably arrogant,” Bandicut grunted, thumping his glass down hard. There was no need to say who he was talking about.
“I wonder if they selected her for that trait,” Li-Jared muttered, draining his glass and exchanging it for a full one. “Though I suppose it could be good that she pays such attention to detail, especially since we have no idea what details to look for.”
Bandicut snorted and took another long swallow of ale. “Attention to detail doesn’t have to make you a jerk.” He held up the glass and eyed a nearby light source through the amber liquid. “At least, I don’t think it does.”
“Do you suppose all Tintangles are like that?”
“Now, there’s a depressing thought.” Bandicut glanced at Li-Jared, thinking, What a dismal trip this is going to be. No sooner did he have the thought than he felt himself suddenly pulled back from the brink of a potentially really black mood. /Charli, is that you?/
/// It won’t do any good
for both of you to get depressed.
Isn’t there something you can do
to reconcile yourselves to
working with Ruall? ///
Bandicut scratched his head, thinking that the quarx had a point. Finally he said to Li-Jared, “Has Ruall said anything to you about giving us instruction on the weapons systems?”
Li-Jared twitched his shoulders, in what Bandicut took to be a shrug.
“You want to go learn how to fire an n-space disrupter torpedo?”
The Karellian looked at him with vertically slitted eyes that gleamed with alarm. Nevertheless, he thumped his own glass down. “Moon and stars, let’s do it.”
***
Ruall, surprisingly, was willing to start.
Soon enough it became clear that to actually fire a ship-to-ship weapon required action on the part of Copernicus, regardless of who was theoretically controlling the action. Copernicus had caused a small control pedestal to be extruded up from the deck. Initially it contained plotting and situation displays, but no firing button. The reason, the robot explained, was that only timing and aiming by computer would be accurate enough for their needs.
“Okay, but that’s still no good,” Bandicut said. “What if you’re incapacitated? It’s happened before. We need to be able to fire independently.”
“In that case, I would fire the weapon,” Ruall said—a bit icily, Bandicut thought.
He shook his head. “And what if you’re temporarily indisposed in another dimension or something? No, we need the capability ourselves.” He made a button-pressing gesture with his right thumb.
Ruall made a ringing sound of irritation. “Very well. But the firing button must be disabled unless Copernicus or I approve.”
/// Ai caramba! ///
Charli muttered.
“What I said before,” Bandicut said, with growing exasperation. “If you two are unavailable . . .”
They settled on firing being disabled until aiming and course plot was logged in by Copernicus. That would minimize the likelihood of their shooting off their own feet, they agreed.
Eventually they turned their attention to the question of when and under what circumstances they would use the weapons. Preferably, never. Things got pretty hypothetical and abstract, but it did drive home to Bandicut how alone they were on this mission, possibly facing hostile action from several quarters.
Jeaves tried to be reassuring by pointing out that several new warships would be coming to join them soon.
“Great!” Li-Jared growled. “More ships to intimidate, or blow up, my homeworld! Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Jeaves whirred and floated closer to him. “Li-Jared, I have seen nothing to suggest that any action is contemplated against Karellia.”
Bong! “No, just the defenses that are keeping it safe!”
Even Bandicut backed off a little at that. “Li-Jared,” he said gently, “I don’t think anyone wants to do that. The warships are coming to help handle the Mindaru—if any of them actually turn up.”
Ruall said, with a clang, “Correct. Our mission is about being ready for them.”
Li-Jared turned on the Tintangle. “But a few minutes ago, when we discussed criteria for using the weapons, I didn’t hear you ruling out use against Karellian defensive systems. That’s because you would use them, if you thought you had to.”
“A highly remote possibility,” said Ruall, spinning twice.
“Gah!” Kr-dangg! “You see why I do not trust what you say—”
“But really,” Ruall continued, “the far greater likelihood is that the Mindaru will do the attacking, and it will be up to us to stop them—before they destroy your planet.”
Li-Jared darted frustrated glances at everyone—even Bria, who was standing in the middle of the bridge deck, cocking her head back and forth in apparent perplexity. “That sounds good. I just wish I could believe you!” He waved his hands and snapped his fingers in the air. “Why do I feel as though I was brought along for show, not to talk to the leaders of Karellia?”
“Well-l,” said Ruall with a lingering reverberation, “I did not ask you to come.”
Charli groaned softly, inside Bandicut’s head.
/// Not a good answer. ///
/No,/ Bandicut sighed, and then said aloud, “Ruall, really—that’s not helpful.”
“Not helpful?” Li-Jared roared. “Are you serious? This—this—” he struggled for a word “—this floating gong says she doesn’t want me here? And she thinks somehow that she’s in charge? And that’s ‘not helpful’?” His hands were trembling as he pointed from one person to another. “Why would I trust her—or any of the rest of you—?” His breath wheezed out as words failed him.
Bandicut stood up. “Li-Jared—”
But before he could say more, Li-Jared turned, directed an angry swat at the weapons pedestal, and stormed off the bridge.
/// Not a good answer at all, ///
Charli concluded glumly.
***
Bandicut went to his quarters to lie down. Too much, too much. What had happened to the days when he was part of a company that thought and worked together? What had happened to his family?
Later, when he went to the commons, he found Li-Jared fuming into a glass of white, frothy liquid.
“Hey,” Bandicut offered, tapping the console for a cup of coffee.
Li-Jared shook his head, swallowed a third of his drink in one gulp.
“I understand why you’re mad,” Bandicut said, sliding into a seat where he could face his friend. “I’m not sure Ruall has even the slightest clue how offensive she’s being.”
Li-Jared snorted. “I’m not sure she has a clue about anything.” He rocked back and leveled a sharp gaze at Bandicut. “I’m also not sure why we’re putting all this attention into stopping my people when your people are just as responsible for the problem.”
Bandicut coughed on a mouthful of coffee.
Li-Jared jabbed a finger across the table. “What Karellia’s doing wouldn’t make the slightest difference, if it weren’t for the starstream. Tell me that’s not true.”
Pressing his hands to the table, Bandicut finished clearing his throat.
/// He does have a point. ///
/Yes, but damn it, we’ve been over this—/
“Well?” Li-Jared demanded.
“No—no, you’re right.”
Bwang. “Hah!”
Bandicut sighed. There was no use denying it. “But—” he raised his hands, palms up “—the thing is, we can do something about what your people are doing. We’re a couple of hundred years too late to stop my people from building the starstream.” And that, he realized, was in fact the truth.
Li-Jared stared at him for a long time. “Moon and stars,” he sighed. “I miss Ik.”
Bandicut let his own breath out. “Yah. Me, too. I wonder, if they were here, what they’d—”
“Hell with it. I’m going to sleep it off,” Li-Jard said abruptly. He drained the rest of his Karellian malt, rose, walked unsteadily out of the commons, and disappeared into his cabin.
And as he sat there, gazing after Li-Jared, Bandicut suddenly missed Antares more than at any time since she’d left in search of Ik. And Napoleon; he missed the robot, too.
Where are you guys? he wondered. Where did we send you? Are you okay? And do you miss me as much as I miss you?
***
During the days that followed, The Long View passed well into the body of the galaxy, and even relatively close—galactically speaking—to the Starmaker Nebula and the Betelgeuse black hole, the outer end-point of the starstream. They would gradually be angling closer to the starstream in the coming days.
Despite the physical progress, tempers remained brittle. Ruall took to summoning them to the bridge at odd times. Testing their readiness, was how she put it. Which might have been all right, except that she mostly seemed to want to test their willingness to come when called. One time, she was waiting to say, “We’ve changed the design of the weapons console. How do you like it now?” Another time, it was: “Copernicus needs to test your reflexes, so it can make proper allowances for reaction time.” A third time: “Copernicus has expressed a need for something called ‘romance novels,’ to help it manage the passage of time. Can you assist with that?”
Romance novels! Again?
This time, Bandicut snapped, “Why can’t you just wait until we’re on the bridge to ask us these stupid things? Copernicus, I don’t have any romance novels. If they’re not still in the ship’s library, you’re out of luck. Anyway, those damn things make you crazy!” During the Starmaker mission, Copernicus and Napoleon had together gone through a phase of reading old romances, professing that it was helpful to them in understanding human psychology. As far as Bandicut was concerned, all it had done was give them irritating mannerisms. He had been deeply grateful when the phase had run its course. He wondered now if the robot was getting as annoyed with Ruall as he and Li-Jared were, and this was his way of looking for an outlet.
Without thinking about it, he was walking in the direction of Copernicus. Bria picked that moment to rise suddenly out of the floor like a ghost, half a step in front of him. Bandicut stopped short and stumbled, with the creature between his feet. “Dammit, Bria,” he barked indignantly, “can’t you—?” Then he caught himself and swung to complain to Ruall instead. “Can’t you keep your cat out from underfoot?”
Couldn’t you have brought a dog instead?
Ruall rang with a snap at the end. “Gokat,” she corrected. “And she is perfectly aware of your location and movements, and able to remain clear on her own.”
“Is that why I just tripped over her?”
“I don’t know why you tripped over her,” Ruall said mildly. “Maybe she wanted to test your reflexes. Did you pass the test?”
“Gah.” Bandicut threw up his hands and turned away. He waved Copernicus over for a private conversation. “Listen, Coppy, about the romance novels—it’s not that I don’t want you learning about our literature. But—”
“Yes, milord—” Copernicus dipped his forward-looking eyes in exaggerated deference.
Bandicut’s hands went up again. “See? That! That’s why I don’t want you reading that stuff!”
The robot clicked once, twice. “Whatever you say, milord.”
Bandicut felt his eyes pop wide. “Are you mocking me? Or are you just being a dunderhead?”
A little cluster of lights blinked on the robot’s side. “Just having a little fun with you, Cap’n. Just having a little fun.”
Bandicut’s breath hissed out in exasperation.
“Actually, I found some old Earth war novels in the archives,” Copernicus said. “I think I might read some of those now. I like the looks of the ones about—what did they call them? World War Two fighter jocks. Time I learned about those, I think.”
“Ahh—” Bandicut opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Right. Maybe it’s time you did that, Coppy. Maybe it’s time you did.”
God help us.
***
Later that day, a call came to them in the commons, from Ruall. “To the bridge! At once, please!”
Bandicut cast a glance at Li-Jared, who looked bored. “How soon do you actually need us?” he called to the comm unit.
“At once! Immediately!” Ruall shrieked.
Bandicut winced and pressed a hand to his forehead. He reached to pull a fresh cup of coffee from the food maker. “All right, all right. We’ll be there in a minute.”
“I require you here now!”
“Why?”
“Something has appeared in our path. A black cloud of some kind.”
Black cloud?
“It’s Dark!” Li-Jared shouted.
Bandicut dropped his cup of coffee and ran for the bridge.