Abram’s press release was a brief, recorded vid pushed out to all media outlets.
“The New Alliance confirms that initial tests of the new intersector-communications device have been successful. You might experience small pockets of extended communication over the next few days as we continue these experiments. If you require further information, please contact Spacer Grieve at the Department of Alien Affairs.”
As press releases went, it was almost a nonevent. Definitely not worth half an hour’s delay in testing. Although… they had put Grieve onto answering any questions, and Grieve wasn’t someone you wasted on simple inquiries. Ean would have liked to talk it over with Radko, but Radko wasn’t here.
When Sale and her team arrived back from the Confluence that evening, they sat down to a shared meal. Rossi joined them, and Ean got the feeling he was glad of the company.
Group Leader Sale was Bhaksir’s boss. Bhaksir’s whole team—Radko was part of Bhaksir’s team—were assigned to mind Ean, while Sale, and Sale’s other team, led by Team Leader Craik, spent most of its time working on the Confluence, the other eleven ship. They knew more about the ship now than Ean did.
“We found the hospital today,” Sale said. “At least, it’s similar to the area on the Eleven that Captain Kari Wang thinks is the hospital. Except that it’s ten times the size.”
The Confluence was four times the size of the Eleven. It had a fleet of 128 ships in tow and was the size of a small city.
Craik slid in beside Sale. “Not that we planned on going into that section at all. We were supposed to finish mapping sector three first. This is two floors down and a quarter of the ship across.”
“So how did you find it, then?” Ean asked. These were trained soldiers. If they were supposed to map sector three, that’s what they would do.
“We got a wild-card day.”
“Wild-card day?” Bhaksir asked. Ean was glad she was as mystified as he was.
Sale said, “People get bored doing the same thing day after day. So we decided to do a random exploration.”
“She decided,” came unbidden into Ean’s mind, the thought tinged with satisfaction. “Showing, showing.” The Confluence.
“What made you choose that particular corridor, Sale? Out of all of them?”
She shrugged.
“We showed.”
“Nice work,” Ean said, but he didn’t push Sale. She could deny it as much as she liked, but he’d ask again later, when there were fewer people around. Had the ship just shown a nonlinesman where to go? If so, how had the lines known she wanted the hospital?
Sale scowled. “We’ve already got what feels like a hundred scientists and medical experts wanting access to it.” She scowled again. “I don’t know how they find out so fast. This is supposed to be a top secret mission. Thank the lines Galenos insists we leave as much as we can on the Confluence untouched, that any experiments we do come from the Eleven. Kari Wang can deal with the requests.”
Selma Kari Wang, the captain of the other eleven-line ship, didn’t suffer fools. When Sale had a ship of her own—and Ean was sure that one day she would, for she would make a good ship captain—she would be a lot like Kari Wang.
“Do you want me to—” Not that he was sure what he could do, short of asking Abram to say something, and Sale would be horrified if he did that.
“Thanks, Ean, but no. I’m just sounding off. Admiral Galenos keeps them off our back.” She scooped up grains and beans from her plate, paused. “Speaking of experiments, after the press release, we all took half an hour to call up family.”
Bhaksir had let her team do the same.
“It was instantaneous. Like they were right next door. And clear as clear. If I didn’t know, and you’d just told me we were in another sector, I wouldn’t have believed you.” Sale spooned the beans into her mouth and choked. “What is this stuff?”
The kitchen staff on the Lancastrian Princess cooked for royalty and her guests. Even Ean had to admit that Ru Li and Hana, who’d been on mess duty, were not in their class.
“Borrow one of the chefs from Lady Lyan’s ship.” Rossi glanced Ean’s way. “After all, we do have a level-twelve linesman on board.”
Ru Li filled Rossi’s wineglass. “Another glass of this will make the food taste better.”
They had Lancian wine. An entire pallet of it. Ean had seen it delivered. He’d wondered at the time how much wine Helmo thought he and Rossi would drink. Ean looked at his own glass, shook his head when Ru Li offered to refill it for him.
Sale leaned back. “So, how do we think this instantaneous communication works?”
“I would have thought it obvious,” Rossi said. “Lines do communicate instantly within a sector, after all. If line seven links the lines through the void, then there is effectively no void for those ships.”
“So what makes a sector, then?” Sale asked. “And how can linked ships communicate through them?”
Back when humans had first left Earth, they had divided space into radial sections, 360 of them, one degree each, radiating out from a nominated central position on Old Earth. But after they’d discovered the lines, the old measurements had been replaced by sectors, which was an area of space in which line ships had instant communication.
The sectors were constant, but different sizes. There was no known mathematical theorem that could calculate why each sector was the size it was. The smallest was the Grent Anomaly, less than a light-year in area. One of the largest was the Lancian sector, which was how—back when the New Alliance had been the Alliance—Lancia had gained so much power.
Rossi said, “Sweetheart, if we knew how linked ships communicated through sectors, human ships would have been doing it years ago.” He paused. “One might surmise that the fleet model—multiple ships common to a line eleven, with the sevens keeping individual ships linked—was the default model for alien ship movement.”
Say what you might about Jordan Rossi, he was a linesman at heart, and he was serious about line business.
Some of that respect must have leaked through the lines, for Rossi lost track of what he was saying momentarily and looked at Ean strangely, before continuing, “Especially given the way the Eleven is so ready to integrate any and every full set of lines it can. One might say that the only line that doesn’t provide added value to standard ship travel is line twelve.”
Ean ignored that.
Rossi looked around. “Where is Radko again?”
Ean ignored that, too. As did everyone else.
“Imagine,” Sale said. “Instant communication everywhere in the galaxy. What a shake-up that would be.”
“Especially for Gate Union,” Rossi said. “If you had instant communication, you could automate the jump process.”
Gate Union’s main advantage in the war at present was that they controlled the jumps. Would that mean the end of war?
Except the New Alliance only had two elevens, and Ean, to link the ships together.
Sale’s and Bhaksir’s comms sounded then, along with that of the senior of Rossi’s two bodyguards.
“Heart attack.” Bhaksir looked at her comms as if she didn’t believe it. She looked at Rossi, then Ean. “But there’s been no—”
No strong line-eleven activity, she meant. Ean might not have reacted, but Rossi would, for he was easily overcome when line eleven was strong.