“I can’t promise weapons,” Ean said, again. “I’ll talk to Abram about it, but that’s all I can do.”
How could he explain to the Eleven where it had to jump? There would be a way to translate human coordinates into something the ship could understand. He just didn’t know what it was yet. It would be like line seven, explaining what it did, but it had taken them months to work out what it meant. He didn’t have months. He had minutes.
“A pity,” Wendell said. “What are the coordinates?”
“I haven’t promised any weapons.”
“I understand that.”
“We have two minutes left in the jump window,” Kari Wang said. She pushed the coordinates through to Wendell herself.
Ean started singing again. “Only the Eleven and the Wendell. The rest of you remain where you are.”
Underneath the song, he heard Wendell’s crisp directions. “Ship, prepare to enter the void.”
He had the usual forever in the void to check the lines. There were only two sets—the Eleven’s and the Wendell’s. That bit worked, at least. Both sets of lines were clean. Both sets anticipating what was to come.
He realized he’d forgotten to clear Wendell’s coming with Abram. He sent a hurried song back. “Wendell’s coming with us.”
Then they were back in normal space, with the chatter of the lines from the various ships in this sector, and Wendell and Kari Wang’s now-familiar relief at the safe passage through the void momentarily swamping the lines.
Kari Wang didn’t give Ean time to relax. “Find me a military ship close by.”
How was he supposed to pick a military ship from a nonmilitary one?
He sang to line five on the Eleven. He’d heard military ships before. They were nearly always busy, with information being passed through. They also contained plenty of weapons.
Kari Wang didn’t wait for an answer. She turned to her own crew. “What have we got?”
Her crew was singing, too, bringing up line-five traffic on each of the nearby ships, singing them down again when Kari Wang shook her head. Kari Wang herself was going through ships on the small human screens set around the captain’s chair.
Through the lines, Ean could hear Wendell’s crew doing the same. He sang the lines open from the Wendell to the Eleven, and vice versa. It was easier to do that than have to explain everything later.
For a while, there was no sound except the two ships’ checking off and discounting possible ships.
There had to be an easier way. Like asking. Ean raised his own voice and directed it out through line five. “Which of you have been in battle?”
He got the instant attention of fifty ships, probably more. He chose the strongest. “That one,” and pointed to it on the screen. He had no idea how far away it was.
Abascal sang the comms open.
The multiple messages going in and out made a jumble of sound. Ean concentrated on new messages, pushing them through.
“This is the GU Packard calling Weapons Supplies.”
“Go ahead, GU Packard.”
“We ordered fifty fusion warheads. You sent us heat-seeking missiles.”
“Get us a jump,” Kari Wang demanded, close to Ean’s ear. He hadn’t realized she’d moved.
He nodded. “Be ready to order a jump. Like you normally do,” and sang to the lines on the GU Packard, “We’re going to borrow your lines for a moment.” It was disorienting that he didn’t get an answer—he was used to the alien ships, which answered back—but the lines waited for him. He opened the lines to the gate station in this sector—all linesmen knew how to do that though he’d never had to request a jump before.
The clerk on duty sounded bored. “This is the Roscracia Sector Gate, what can we do for you?”
“This is the GU Packard.” Kari Wang made it crisp and military. “We require a jump to Aratoga sector 123.2143.23, effective immediately.”
“As you are aware, we are in a war situation here, and there might be a slight delay in obtaining codes. I’ll need to confirm your—”
“Just get me the jump and stop mucking around.”
Ean looked at Kari Wang. She looked back. The clerk put the line on hold—which didn’t stop Ean’s hearing it—and said, “Military. All the same. Must have it now. There’s a war on.” He took the line off hold. “Sending an identity check through now. Please reply with the correct response, or I will be unable to provide the jump.”
Ean sang the check on through the Eleven and back to the GU Packard. “Confirm it. It is correct. Send back the right code.”
For a moment, he didn’t think it would work. He changed his tune to include line eight. “Send the confirmation through.”
Something went back, and Ean held his breath until the clerk said, “Codes confirmed. Please wait while I set a jump for you.” His tone changed, to a monotonous cadence. “Please be aware that requesting an immediate jump incurs a surcharge of 200 percent. You must confirm this and accept the surcharge as part of the jump contract.” He said it like it was something he’d recited hundreds of times before.
“Accepted,” Kari Wang said.
“This acceptance must be confirmed by the officer in charge of your ship, the ship second, or the ship third.”
“I confirm as officer in charge.” Kari Wang wound her finger in front of Ean, as if wanting him to do something.
What did she want?
A signal came through then. “Please use a thumbprint and retina scan and return this as the authorizing officer.”
She held her comms up to scan her eyes, then pressed her thumb against the screen. “Sending confirmation through now.”
She sounded as if she’d done it a thousand times.
Kari Wang circled her finger at Ean again. This time he understood what she wanted. He sang the confirmation through. He didn’t route it via the other ship. All they wanted was confirmation that she was captain and that she was authorized to request this.
“Thank you, Captain. Setting your jump now.”
The clerk whistled tunelessly as he set the codes. Kari Wang twitched as they waited. Wendell paced.
Ean tuned them out. He had lines to thank. “We appreciate you letting us borrow your lines.”
The human ship lines didn’t respond in words, but he thought they were pleased to be talking to other lines.
They were so weak compared to the lines on the Eleven and the Wendell. He could hear Wendell’s boots as the pacing got faster.
Grayson, Wendell’s second-in-command, was at the comms. He moved. Ean wouldn’t have interpreted it as anything, but Wendell did and stopped.
“Enemy ships have noticed us,” he said.
“Coordinates coming through,” the clerk said, seconds later, but it felt like hours. He pushed them down line five. “Thank you, Captain Kari Wang. Have a great trip.”
“Thank you,” Kari Wang said, and clicked off.
Ean kept the line open and sang the clerk’s comms open, so he could hear what came next. Sure enough, “Wasn’t that the GU Packard?” the clerk said. “Shouldn’t that have been Captain Packard?”
He punched in a code to the ship Ean had used. “Captain Packard, confirming the jump you recently requested.”
Kari Wang pushed the codes through to Wendell. “Lambert.”