Ean dutifully switched the two ships and breathed deep as he listened to the celebration around him. He should have insisted they trust the lines to jump them safely into Aratogan space. Then the first ship wouldn’t have been sent into the void, and the second wouldn’t have taken that desperate jump.
Now they were stuck in the void forever. Ean had been in it long enough to know how horrible that was, and based on the condition of the original crew of the Eleven — stuck in stasis like the crew of the Balao — the aliens must hate it as much as he did.
“Why did you send them into the void?” He used the sound for line nine because he didn’t know how to differentiate between the line that took them into the void and the void itself.
“Void?” line one on the Eleven replied. “Not the void. We sent them.” What came through was the heavy strength of line six.
“You used the void to flick them into line six?”
“Not line six. This.”
The second time around, Ean heard subtle changes in the sound. It was fainter, deeper, heavier. Stationary. He’d heard the sound on the Eleven back near Haladea III. He’d never been sure what it was.
“Quick. Kind.”
Bose Engines were mostly energy. Was the Eleven telling him it had flicked the first enemy ship into a massive energy source? Like a sun?
Summers was relieved to see the Eleven back. “I wasn’t sure what happened there,” he said.
“Some Gate Union ships tailing us.” Kari Wang glanced over to Ean, looked as if she would say something, then didn’t. “There are another three ships. We might need to jump again to eliminate them.”
Summers nodded. “You will be back in time though?”
“Yes. Currently on track to arrive in ten minutes,” Kari Wang said. “Any changes to our plan?”
He looked bemused at that, as if wondering why she asked. “Negative.”
That plan had been agreed to and valid five minutes ago. In that five minutes, they’d destroyed a ship full of people and lines, and forced another to jump cold.
And no one but them had noticed. Ean shivered. He’d never get warm again.
Kari Wang let her crew celebrate for another five minutes, then called them back to their tasks. She glanced at Ean occasionally but said nothing, although she did look at Bhaksir once, and incline her head toward Ean.
Bhaksir came over and sat beside Ean. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” Ean said. “Missing Radko, actually.”
He didn’t know why he’d said it, but Radko’s absence was an ache that wouldn’t go away. He’d have given anything to have her nearby, even if she was making him do laps on the Lancastrian Princess when his throat was burning, and he couldn’t breathe. His throat was burning now, too, and he hoped Bhaksir wouldn’t ask him any more questions. He wasn’t sure he could answer.
“Me too, Ean. Me too,” Bhaksir said.
Wendell watched the boards carefully. “The third ship’s definitely slowing. So are the ones chasing us.”
Two minutes later, all three jumped out, one after the other, at intervals of half a minute.
“That’s one problem out of the way,” Kari Wang said. “I wish the ships around here would do that.” She looked at Ean. “Do I need to state the obvious? No shield here, or we’ll annihilate ships on our own side.”
She hadn’t needed to state it, but Ean said, “Understood.”
Kari Wang opened her comms to the whole ship. “Positions.”
Line one echoed with the wave of anticipation and nerves.
“Abascal, Dhalmans. Ready on the weapons?”
“Ready, Captain,” from two different parts of the ship.
Ean moved over to Mael. “Which ones are friends; which ones are foe?”
Mael sang the IDs for the enemy first. “Here, here, here, and here. Enemy.”
Ean sang them back to the ship. “Enemy. And the Aratogans?”
Mael sang their IDs.
Ean sang them back to the Eleven as well. “Friends.”
He hoped the lines could distinguish between the terms.
After which, they waited some more. War seemed to be one long wait, with tiny bits of action between.
On the Lancastrian Princess, Abram was making tea for himself and Michelle. Captain Helmo wandered the decks, stopping occasionally to talk to crew. The lines were melancholy. They were melancholy on the Wendell as well. Captain Wendell was sitting—a rare still moment for him—staring at the screens as if he expected the enemy ships to jump out of the void again. Ean didn’t think he thought that at all.
The only ship that had any real life was the Galactic News ship, where the engineer who’d been so animated two nights previously was animated again.
“I tell you, Coop. We’re getting live news again. This time from the Aratogan sector.”
And, of course, from Spacer Tinatin on the Eleven. “… Lady Lyan, and no one is happy about it because it means she’s trying to make Lancia back into the power it used to be back in the Alliance.”
That news was only two hours old. Where was she getting it from?
“Combat ship coming into range,” Kari Wang said, crisp and clear, making Ean jump.
The whole ship seemed to brighten.
“Abascal, Dhalmans. Are you ready?”
“Ready, Captain.”
“We’re ready too,” Tinatin said to Qatar.
“We’re on the wrong side of the ship for fighting.”
“But we’re still ready.”
“Ready,” the ship echoed.
“Fire on my command. Three, two, one, fire.”
Line eight sang. Two twangs, and seconds later—it felt like hours—Abascal said, “Missile gone.” Dhalmans said the same, almost on top of her.
Did the other ship realize they had fired? Ean sang gently to the lines on the other ship to find out.
Yes, and they were firing rockets now, moving away. But the Eleven had fired first.
“They’re taking evasive action,” he said. “And they fired at us.”
“Calliope. Fire jets eighty-seven and eighty-eight. Five seconds on half thrust.”
Calliope sang instructions to the ship, and the ship responded instantly.
The Eleven’s missiles hit the enemy ship then. It bucked against the force.
“Fire again, on my command. Three, two, one, fire.” Two more missiles headed toward the ship. The enemy ship’s own sudden, evasive acceleration turned it into their path. The ship lines jangled and stayed jangling.
Ean clasped his fingers together, saw Kari Wang glance at them, and crossed his arms instead.
“Weapons ready,” Abascal said, and Dhalmans, almost on top of her again. “Ready.”
“Ready,” line eight echoed.
Ready to pound other lines into oblivion. Then, that was what battles were for, and this was a warship.
“Missile will pass fifty meters from port side,” Mael said. “And two vessels have broken away from the main fight, making toward us. Staying within two hundred kilometers of Aratogan ships.”
“Acknowledged,” Kari Wang said.
“Ready,” line eight sang again. A persistent tune under everything that was happening on the bridge.
“Line eight is ready,” Ean said. “Ready to do what?”