“Approaching to selected location.” said Spiral, as the
Did Ever Plummet Sound neared the approximate area where the loroi/UNSC refugee fleet supposedly waited. “Am seeing nothing strange on sensors.”
“As expected.” responded Alex. “The coordinates we got only indicated a region of slipspace just outside the system, nothing specific. And we know they tried to back themselves into a local pocket they’d found, to hide from any Soia pursuers. We can pop into the system and hope they left a beacon or something, but that would be a uh, surprising move for guys trying to hide.” He craned his neck back. “Unless you’ve managed to pull any more detail from the Admiral’s message, sir?”
Colonel Jardin shook his head, keeping his arms crossed over his chest as he glared out of the cockpit windows. Eyebrows bunched low over sharp eyes, and a deep scowl marred his features.
He wasn’t exactly making it hard for Talon to see why among humans, males were accepted as warriors.
Alex turned back to his console, muttering lowly “[Nuts to that, then.]” He highlighted an upcoming slipspace thread and added to Talon “Put us on
that course once we reach the optimal transition point. It will take us on a perimeter run around the system, should give the sensors a good eye-full.”
“And give to us time to think.” filled in Talon. “Can it be hoped that you know what methods a fleet would use to hide in this slipspace?”
“Heh.” Alex huffed. “I’m a pilot who’s been attached to ONI for most of his career. I know how to hide a ship in a slipspace pocket… but I’ve got less experience at actually finding one.”
Beryl leaned over from where she stood to Alex’s side, her back pressed up against the wall in the crowded cockpit. “Perhaps it is best to start then with the methods for hiding a vessel away in slipspace.”
As Alex launched into his explanation, Talon detected a flurry of sanzai between Beryl and the mizol parat, distant in the crew compartments of the ship. Leave it to the mizol to immediately want to ‘listen in’ on this new subterfuge.
“—nd if you pulse your drive core at just the right point mid-way between two filaments with enough separation, you come to a halt without fully transitioning back to realspace; like the ship is uh, resting ‘on’ the barrier, I guess you could say.”
Spiral said “It is maybe like a water submarine, sitting on the seafloor?”
“That’s a good analogy.” Alex bobbed his head. “And with whatever the Soia’s Ring did to the slipspace-realspace barrier, I imagine it’s probably easier than ever to get the ship balanced right on the boundary. Doesn’t help us find them, though.”
<Fascinating.> Beryl sent, her side-channels picturing what Alex described. <What a strange idea, to stop a vessel mid-jump.>
<Stranger still that they can actually do it.> added Spiral. <But I can see how that would make them very hard to find. You would have to know just which two filaments to jump between, and then ‘pause’ your engine core at the exact same place as the other ships had!>
Talon laughed to herself. <It is certainly strange to think that vessels as large as those dreadstars could be ‘hard’ to find!>
<Yes…> Beryl agreed, but her side-channels faded off in a blur of distraction.
<?> sent both tenoin.
Instead of answering them directly, Beryl asked aloud “Alex, did a vessel ‘sitting’ so on the slipspace barrier cause any change in the gravitational plane? It is known at least that large masses in realspace seem to affect jump drive travel; perhaps the reverse also has an effect?”
<Interesting idea.> sent Talon.
“Hmm.” Alex paused. “Not that I know of, but it’s not exactly my, uh, specialty. How about—?” He turned in his seat, pausing as he saw that Colonel Jardin had left the cockpit at some point while the other occupants were discussing.
“He is speaking with our mizol parat.” explained Beryl.
“Ah. Well, I guess a ship would influence the local grav-plane, if it was big enough. And a moon-ship definitely is. But the barrier’s taut enough that—” he cut himself off, eyes going wide. “Of course!”
Alex hunched over his controls, tapping away while talking distractedly, as if to himself. “[Greater slack in the barrier, ships kept getting stuck in transition. But with a wider imprint from any mass sources—]”
Beryl spoke in his same language “[—a large vessel may be detected at greater range!]” She beamed as Alex whirled to stare at her.
“You, uh, learn fast.”
“[Thank you!]” That phrase of the aliens’ language was already known to Talon. <He agrees that a search for gravitational disturbances not generated by observed planets or stars may yet find these missing ships.>
A buzz of mental activity leaked through Spiral’s sanzai. <It will be like surveying a new system for a faster-than-light jump, then. I will prepare a searching procedure!> The narrat’s excitement matched that of every other person in the cockpit.
Alex turned around to Talon. “Go ahead and put us on— oh.” He nodded as he saw that Talon had already jumped the prowler onto the next slipspace thread to take it into the nearby system. “Good initiative. And...” he spun in his seat to address Spiral.
The junior tenoin only smirked back at him, the sensor display above her station already showing the prepared scan parameters.
“Huh. Guess you all learn quickly.” the human said with a smile.
Talon boasted “We are warriors of the 51st Strike Group. We are the most skilled
of the most skilled of the Loroi Union.” The fact that the loroi were obviously the most skilled of the peoples in the Union seemed to be not worth stating aloud. Non-sanzai conversation had its advantages!
Besides, from what Talon had seen of Alex’s piloting earlier, he was up to their same standards. As good as any loroi.
Who knew — perhaps that quietly-sent theory that Talon had overheard from the soroin on their earlier trip back from the Ring was correct, and the humans were somehow related to the loroi. It would explain why they were such good warriors, able to stand up to the Soia Empire!
“I can, uh, see why.” He held one finger against his headset, using the ship’s radio. “[We might have a search solution here, sir. We’re going to enter the system and try it out. I’ll update you if we find any leads.]”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Some four cycles later, and Talon found herself increasingly thankful that she had been an interceptor pilot for all of her career, and not a ship navigation officer.
<Is it still searching?> she asked.
Beryl remained infuriatingly calm. <Yes. The search parameters had to be defined widely enough to catch a dreadstar-sized mass at an unknown distance, and so will require a great deal of time for the algorithms to analyze all the false positives.>
<There is no way to make it go faster?>
<No.> Beryl’s side-channels flared. <But it is indeed remarkable that a ship this small possesses sensors accurate enough to perform such a scan at all! The intensity of this search is similar to that of a vessel attempting to chart a new and untested jump route to a new star, which is normally done by specialized craft.>
<Then we have nothing to do but continue to sit here and wait for the computers to find something.> Talon confirmed. With Alex stepping out of the cockpit a few hundred solon ago, she’d rapidly became bored without his stories of the Wars against the Soia.
<It is not the worst duty that can be imagined.> Spiral sent, her sub-channels blurry as the narrat half-dozed in her padded seat. Bootsteps sounded on the corridor outside the cockpit, and the door opened. <And there are some nice luxuries...>
“And there we go.” Alex stepped in, one arm cradling four food packages. “Stuffed, uh, ‘pozet’ for everyone.” He handed out the fist-sized foodstuffs. “Hope they’re better than ONI rations.” The tall alien folded himself down into his seat, staring down at his own food without much enthusiasm.
<One of these days someone is going to tell him what it normally means for a loroi to bring food for another.> Talon mused.
<I would be surprised if it actually means much different among humans.> Beryl sent. <Almost every known intelligent species — and many non-intelligent animals — uses gifts of food as a way to establish friendship.> Her sub-channels only flickered for a moment as she added <Or as an invitation to mate.>
<Yes,> sent Spiral as she passed the rapidly-warming pozet from one hand to the other, <but it certainly would not feel the same if it was a barsam or nissek being friendly in such a way.>
<Certainly.> Talon quipped. <For one thing, you’d have to make sure just
who the nissek was offering as food!>
The three loroi chuckled, causing Alex to start and look around. “Ah. Sharing a— oh, I nearly forgot!” He set down his alien rations to one side and stood, making for the exit. The human ducked out into the corridor and returned a few solons later with two drinking cups. He placed one down on his spot and held the other out to Talon. “You seemed to like the coffee last time, so I got you another.”
“That is
uncommon kind of you, Alex!” Talon said with a smile, accepting the gift. She glanced at the two other loroi in the compartment. <Do you wish to try it? It does not seem to cause any negative effects.>
<Thank you, but I have sampled some already.> Beryl sent, her sub-channels conveying her lack of desire to repeat the experience.
<Spiral?> Talon asked, looking over when her diral-sister did not immediately respond.
The narrat’s sanzai relayed the sight of Alex smiling warmly at Talon’s back as he sat down again. <Sharing food
definitely means something similar for humans.>
A burst of satisfaction flared in Talon’s core.
Spiral finished with <So I think Alex brought the drink for you
specifically.>
Talon let her sub-channels express how she felt about that idea. Aloud, she asked “Are there loroi foods which you can eat and be safe? I think maybe it is unbalanced that it is always you bringing us food.” And he didn’t even seem to be happy with any of the human food aboard the prowler, strangely.
Alex made a face. “I’ve, uh, tried loroi foods before. There’s not much that can be safely — let alone enjoyably — eaten by both; our biology’s just too different. It’s pretty much limited to dilute drinks.” He hefted his own coffee cup for emphasis.
“Interesting.” Talon said. <Perhaps… do we have any noillir in our supplies?>
<Yes.> Beryl replied. <I will prepare an extra amount of it next time, a small amount to be safe.> Her sub-channels flashed teasing amusement. <Unless you would prefer to
share a single drink with him?>
That
would be rather bold of her. And if it was viewed similarly by humans… <Perhaps I might.> It was also nice to see that the listel seemed to have lost her earlier protective, almost matronizing attitude towards Alex.
Beryl asked “What did the loroi of your era eat?” <It is a question that many have long wondered. We know that the Soia introduced many species of flora and fauna suitable for consumption, but those were planetside.>
“It varied between Legions. And also which ship.” Alex responded with a shrug, poking a straw into his own ration pack. “The big moon-ships grew lots of food the old-fashioned way — plenty of room and spare energy on those things — but the smaller in-system boats usually just distilled everything in vats.
“From this one time Tempest walked us through it all — and
that was a Thanksgiving to remember, let me tell you — pretty much everything was Soia-engineered.” He started ticking off on the fingers of one hand “There was this super-grain, grew like a weed and was good to eat… if you’re also Soia-engineered.”
“Misesa grain, it seems.” Beryl observed. “It grows on each of the Sister Worlds, and has been found on many other planets in the area.”
“Hah. Of
course that stuff survived the Wars.” Alex chuckled. “Probably can grow in a vacuum, for all I know. We constantly had problems with it cropping up on some of our own worlds — God only knows how the first seeds got there — and being impossible to stamp out. Conservation groups were fighting their own little war against it right, uh, until it all became irrelevant.”
His face fell. Briefly. Then he took a breath, ticked off a second finger and continued “Anyways, there was also this, uh, spiced meat-thing. Tempest wasn’t too sure exactly what animal it came from, but one of her top commanders who always ate with her swore by the stuff so she ordered some.”
“Was it perhaps called ‘miros?’ Beryl asked. “They are a waist-high animal raised for meat.”
“Not a word I’d heard.” the human shrugged and waved his own ration packet. “But then again, it’s not like one can find ‘cow’ printed anywhere on this thing’s ingredient list.” In his own language, he muttered “[I’m not sure there’s any actual ‘beef,’ either.]”
One of these days, she would have to ask Beryl to teach her some of the human’s language. Assuming that it was something she could learn, without a listel’s memory skills. All those strange, alien phonemes…
Spiral interjected “What else foods were eaten?” The narrat’s pride in the ancient successes of misesa grain — practically the symbol of her birth-world Maia — colored the curiosity leaking from her mind-signature.
“Well, there was this citrus-like fruit-nut, real hard shell but inside—” Alex began.
A buzzer sounded from the console.
“Never-mind that discussion, then.” he finished, sitting up and peering closely at the display. “Looks like the scans have finished, with… eleven mass measurement anomalies that the computer’s flagged for our attention.”
“That is common for mapping new systems.” said Beryl as she leaned over Alex to get a better view of the information. “Can these anomalous readings be compared to the local system map as well as observed vectors and distances to nearby stars?”
“Already on it.” replied Alex, tapping commands into his display.
Talon stood from her seat and walked over behind the human. She pointed at a pair of the data tracks, ones that looked recognizable to her. “Two here will be caused by that binary system nearby. Their gravity influence is mirrored.”
“And this one seems to be the local system’s exoplanet cloud.” said Beryl, highlighting a broader data point.
“Uh-huh.” Alex acknowledged, removing each reading as it was identified. “And I’ve seen this type of point-source before, that’s a distant pulsar’s beam.”
Talon felt a burst of frustration from Spiral. <I do not know the spoken-word for it, but those over
there are just the signatures of the gas cloud that is present in this region of space.> The narrat’s sanzai indicated three of the dwindling number of unexplained readings.
With a smile, Talon relayed “And Spiral recognizes a nebula’s influence, here.”
“Ooh, good spotting.” Alex nodded. “That one had me, for a moment.” While Spiral mentally preened herself, he added “That leaves us with four signatures in the right mass range, and each on a very different bearing.”
“Then it seems that that will not be too difficult to attempt travel to each.” Beryl said.
“Might as well.” he replied, typing in commands to the
Did Ever Plummet Sound’s piloting systems even as he radioed a brief message, presumably to his uncle.
The deck shuddered underfoot in a now-familiar pattern as the prowler cut its way back into slipspace.
A few solon later, Alex removed one of the four targets. “We can cross that one out. Parallax puts it way out past even the nearest system. Must be an exotic superjovian or something. On to the next.”
<Impressive work.> came the smooth sanzai of the mizol who led their little expedition. Talon turned as the parat stepped into the crowded cockpit, with Colonel Jardin having to remain standing in the doorway behind her.
<We cannot guarantee success, unfortunately.> sent Beryl. <We are acting on an unproven theory.>
<That is understood. Nevertheless, the fact that the four of you worked together to achieve a testable theory in such little time deserves praise. It demonstrates that no matter what we may or may not find here, humans can learn to work closely with modern loroi. This will be of great use to the Union even if the Ancients’ refugee fleet is not found.>
Talon’s skin itched at the near-matronizing tone of the parat’s sanzai. Of course, what was supposed to be a private thought earned the tenoin a sidelong glance from the red-eyed mizol, and a brief quirk of her lip.
“Two’s a bust.” Alex called out, as the ship briefly popped out of slipspace. “Just a large exoplanet. On to number three.”
“Here’s hoping.” intoned the Colonel.
The cockpit crackled with energy, as six pairs of eyes locked on the pilot’s display in front of Alex’s seat. Talon and Beryl leaned in where they stood behind Alex's seat, heads almost touching as they awaited the next arrival.
“Coming up on our jump point.” Alex announced. “Drive’s set to cut out forty-nine milliseconds after the hop, should put us right on the mass reading. And here we—”
The prowler shuddered twice in quick succession, and a half-solon later the display updated.
But nobody was looking at it.
It had been made redundant by the cockpit windows.
The brief, bright flash of a slipspace transition had illuminated a blue-purple metal hull in front of them, stretching off in all distances out of sight.
Even with the light gone, the afterimage remained.
“—go.” Alex finished. “I, uh…” He shook himself, and reached overhead to flip a switch. “Turning on the forward lights.”
The sight blinked back into view.
“[My God.]” Colonel Jardin murmured.
“It’s… yeah.” Alex replied. “Uh, range to target fifteen klicks, horizon curvature puts it at seventy-five klicks across. It’s a moon-ship, all right. Getting no carrier signal from her, else I could say which one.” The pilot’s voice raced, clearly overflowing with emotion. “Pinging all frequencies, see if we get a response.”
A solon later, and Alex continued, voice lower and full of wonder. “My God. We… actually
found them.”
<It is an amazing—> Talon began, before a warm, alien hand wrapped around the side of her face and drew her head downwards. An instant later, and even greater heat bloomed onto the opposite cheek.
She turned in shock just in time to see Alex planting a kiss on Beryl’s cheek as well, before turning back to his controls. The human’s own face burned bright red, even as the two loroi exchanged a glance over his head.
Talon amended her earlier thought, sub-channels radiating happiness. <It
is a very emotional event.>
A brief burst of sanzai had Beryl take a half-step back, making just enough room for Spiral to lean in on Alex’s left. “Me also!”
The human pilot’s face had turned so red that Talon could feel the radiant heat. No wonder the humans ate so much food, if their body temperatures could run
that hot!
But after less than a beat of hesitation, Alex leaned over and planted a kiss on Spiral’s cheek as well. As he turned away, Talon could see a broad smile fighting its way onto his face.
The narrat’s sub-channels gave only a momentary warning, flaring with mischievous delight even as Spiral chased his head back.
Planting her own kiss on their human’s cheek in turn, Spiral purred in his ear “Thanks ever so…
Alex.” She straightened up with a wink at Talon, before slinking back to her station.
A strangled half-noise escaped from Alex’s throat, just as his uncle let out a laugh.
And from the mizol parat in the center of all this… <The joys of youth.> her sanzai came through with its sub-channels clear, Tempo’s genuine amusement shining brightly in unusual honesty for one of her caste.
From the display, a brief chime sounded.
“We’re, uh,” Alex began in a strained voice. He coughed once and continued “we’re getting a signal response. IFF check.”
Whatever an ‘IFF’ was.
<They are letters.> Beryl helpfully supplied, the happy glow of her sub-channels matched by the fascination clear in her main channel. <It must be one of the humans’ ‘acronyms.’>
Talon tried to follow the concept as the listel briefly described it.
Tried. <They put spoken-word
puzzles into regular usage of their language?>
<Yes!> replied Beryl. <It is similar to a data-compression algorithm, but whose use seems to date to well before the humans used computers!>
<They are crazy, these humans.>
Spiral interjected <Crazy but
fun!>
“Exchange established. Code sent.” Alex announced. “And… huh. System’s not liking it. Getting an audio channel back.”
A voice spoke in Trade, regimented and clearly artificial. “Unknown vessel tracked at nineteen-thousand mannal. Transponder not recognized. Report identity and intent.”
A chill ran down Talon’s spine, at the same moment as Beryl’s mind-signature burst with excitement. An ancient Soia — no,
Loroi — artificial intelligence!
“This is the
Winter-class light prowler UNSC
Did Ever Plummet Sound. PRO-five-two-nothing-four-one-two.” Alex replied.
“Identification does not match known status for that vessel. Prowler
Did Ever Plummet Sound listed as missing seven-seven-seven-seven-seven-seven-seven year-fractions previously.”
Not a very
good artificial intelligence, evidently. Then again, perhaps the original programmers could not be much faulted for not having designed the system to cope with such ludicrous timespans. It was impressive enough that it still worked, really.
The Colonel called from the back of the cockpit. “AI, this is Colonel Pierre Jardin. Match my voice-print. Identify your vessel and prepare a docking bay.”
Several solon passed.
Talon returned to her seat in the co-pilot’s position. It seemed that she might be needed to help from there.
And then “Voice-print recognized, Colonel. You have two messages waiting. Access to docking bay three-seven-four will be opened in sixty-one beats. Alert: Praefect Crimson has advised that all vessels are to exercise special care when docking. Voice message attached.”
“Huh.” the older human said. “AI, play message.”
A loroi voice sounded. Oddly, it spoke in the humans’ English. “[Jeff, I swear by all that you hold holy, if you put another dent in my docking bay, the next thing to try translating back to realspace will be
you. Alone in a
lifepod.]”
Alex chuckled. When Talon looked over with one eyebrow raised, he murmured “Sounds like one of Second Legion’s hangar officers has been arguing with a UNSC pilot.” Louder, he added “We’ve been fed a route to bay three-seven-four, sir.”
“Bring us in.” Colonel Jardin ordered. He snorted. “And, ah, don’t ‘dent’ the bay.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Alex responded as he entered commands into the controls.
Did Ever Plummet Sound nosed forwards and down, diving slowly towards the alien — to modern loroi — vessel.
<Amazing.> sent Beryl, eyes wide and gaze fixed out of the cockpit windows. <A Loroi Dreadstar. One that is active, yet has waited here for...> her sanzai trailed off, as the greater details now coming into view distracted the listel.
<Perhaps since before any of our ancestors set foot on Perrein.> finished Tempo, the parat’s sanzai oddly… subdued. Apparently even the mysterious and aloof mizol was not immune to the sheer awe of the occasion. <Or Deinar, or Taben.>
The prowler’s forward lights played across the glimmering purple-blue hull — when the Soia picked a color theme, evidently they really stuck to it — as the two ships neared each other. Well, if calling the colossal Dreadstar a ‘ship’ was really appropriate.
First, the eye could make out tiny shadows. Blades of darkness cast over the hull. Only after many more solon of closing could Talon recognize them as massive cylinders jutting upwards from raised bumps in the hull.
Turrets. And weapons barrels.
The Plummet drifted down past them, into what could only be described as a canyon of sorts, a deep recession in the hull. Without any way for the eye to judge scale, Talon had to bring up the sensor controls on her station.
<Two-thousand, five-hundred mannal wide, this canyon.> She sent. <And those turrets...> To Alex, she asked “What are those? The weapon emplacements?”
“Hmm?” He responded, eyes fixed on the view ahead. Right, probably busy. “Uh, probably hellbores, this close to the hangar trench. There to keep enemy ships from running in while the bay doors are open.”
In only a few beats, the tiny dot of light ahead of them exploded in size into an open hangar bay. Colossal shapes cast shadows, knife-sharp in the airless void.
Other craft docked in the bay.
Shadows reaching their claws out towards the approaching prowler.
Did Ever Plummet Sound slowed as it entered the hangar, and Talon stared up wide-eyed at the ships looming over them. “Are those—“
“
Infinity-class transports, yes.” Alex answered, a solon before the prowler thumped down gently onto the decking. “Looks like they’ve got the lights and gravity on for us. Uh, no atmosphere in the hangar, though.”
<It would be best for us to don our armor, in any case.> sent Tempo. <If we are to meet our… ancestors.>
The mizol’s sending finally made it truly feel
real to Talon. <Are we all to leave this ship?>
<It seems unlikely that we would need to leave rapidly, unlike the previous Dreadstar that we boarded.> replied the parat. And wasn’t
that a phrase which no loroi — no modern loroi — thought would ever come up.
Slightly faint from distance, sanzai came in from the lead teidar <We are prepared back here. The human soldiers are also donning their own armor.>
Talon scrambled off of her chair, bending down and taking her armor from where she had stacked it on the floor. The two tenoin helped each other into their suits, as Alex shut down the ship.
Her heart thundered in her chest as they finally assembled at the top of the prowler’s boarding ramp.
Here goes history.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Fireblade strode down the ramp, precisely in-step with Tempo. The two of them set foot on the ancient Dreadstar’s hangar plating simultaneously.
<Satisfied, mizol?> she asked Tempo with a mental smile.
<The symbolism is established.> Tempo sent. <The military and diplomatic sides of the Union proceed side-by-side towards this meeting.>
<Which means little, if they’re not observing us.> Fireblade replied. <The pilots report only having talked to a rather simple artificial intelligence, rather than any living crew.>
<But Beryl is watching, and the loroi who crew this vessel are not the only ones whose opinions matter. Such an image of unity may be of great use
within the Union.>
The two Jardins left the ramp right behind them.
“Over to the main doorway, right there.” Colonel Jardin said, pointing past them to the inner wall of the hangar bay. “We get to use the front entrance this time, not the maintenance tunnels.”
It… was almost hard to believe that this hangar bay was on a similar scale to the one they had boarded shortly after leaving the Ring system. It felt so much more crowded with the colossal human transport ships looming overhead. Especially as with only those light arrays directly over the prowler lit, the massive ships stretched far into the shadows and out of sight.
The sixteen-strong procession winding their way through the hangar were like a tiny swarm of fish, swimming through Toridas harbor beneath the gigantic maritime cargo vessels. The sort of craft that had looked so small from her favorite perch atop the ancient citadel walls, but when one was down at the waterfront looking up at them…
She shook herself, quickly checking that her thoughts had not leaked into her sanzai. She knew that her body language had not betrayed any of her nervousness — that was trained out of any and all who graduated from the academy — but a mistake in the much more complex arena of one’s mind-signature was another thing. And a teidar was duty-bound to lead her warrior sisters of the other castes, which meant that she must set the example.
Brave, fearless, and doubtless.
Maintaining that image
did come easier when one could bend a cargo pallet inside-out with only a passing thought.
Tempo asked aloud “Is the corridor beyond this door serving as an airlock?”
“No.” Colonel Jardin answered, a smile in his voice. “The door itself is.”
<?> came from all the loroi nearby, even as the door in question slid open.
“[They’re really rolling out the red carpet, aren’t they?]” said Alexander Jardin.
No detectable rumble came through the decking underneath them as the slabs of metal — which had to be many mannal across! — floated aside. Beyond, pale-white walls stretched upwards, engaged structural columns trimmed in gold disappearing off into the distance on either side of the reflective black tiling of the floor.
No visible barrier took the place of the opened doors.
<I will go first.> Fireblade stepped forwards.
The briefest, most fleeting tingle flashed over her skin.
The teidar’s eyes widened as she saw the new readout on her helmet’s interior display. <There is… atmosphere. On this side of where the door
was.>
<Amazing!> came the predictable — and endearing — outburst from Beryl as the rest of the group followed Fireblade through. <It can only be some form of energy field, capable of separating vacuum from atmosphere without a physical barrier!>
“Fancy, isn’t it?” asked the younger Jardin.
“It is the
most fancy!” agreed one of the tenoin.
Meanwhile, Colonel Jardin turned to stalk off towards a holographic display — perhaps a console interface — on one side of the spacious corridor. “Wait here. I’ll go have a look to see where they want us.”
Fireblade, of course, followed him.
The display pulsed once as the human stepped up to it. The same computerized voice from earlier spoke from it “Greetings Colonel Pierre Jardin. Note: Ship personnel will be available to meet with you in—
alert!” The artificial intelligence cut itself off. “Unidentified personnel detected.”
“They’re with me.” he immediately said.
“Scan complete. Unidentified personnel identified as loroi. No recognized Legion tag signatures. Alert: Ship security personnel have been informed. Please remain at your current location. A security team will arrive shortly to take custody of your prisoners.”
Fireblade bristled, even as the Colonel blurted out “They’re not—” he let out a sigh and muttered in his alien language “[Oh, for
fuck’s sake...]” Then back to Trade “AI, flag unidentified personnel as friendly. Repeat
friendly.”
“Requested redesignation is not possible without valid Legion command tag.”
“Of
course.” Colonel Jardin reached up and took his helmet off, holding it tucked under one arm while the other hand rose to rub at his temple.
In the silence of the corridor, even the rest of the group a dozen paces away would have heard the whole exchange. Still, <It seems that there may be some complications.> Fireblade sent.
<To be expected, although it is unfortunate that they arose so quickly.> replied Tempo. <Remain at ready, but take no combative actions unless provoked. There should be no need to fight our… ‘cousins.’>
“AI,” the Colonel continued to ask “How long until this security team arrives?”
“Personnel are being made available, Colonel Pierre Jardin. It is expected that they will—”
A stern voice sounded from down the corridor — but not far down. “We have seen enough.”
Fireblade — and everyone else in their group, loroi and human alike — whirled towards the sound.
Just in time to see three loroi simply appear out of thin air, blinking into view in quick succession without a sound.
One stood ahead of the others, arms crossed behind her back. The other two held strange energy weapons — different from the ones the human warriors bore — held at the ready, barrels only barely low enough not to bear on any of Fireblade’s party.
The foremost of the three snapped her sharp gaze across the group, coming to rest on Colonel Jardin. Her polished-gold armor had no faceplate for her ornate helmet — although the energy-field over the door earlier showed that perhaps she didn’t need one — and so her stony expression could be easily read.
Colonel Jardin spoke quietly “[That makes things faster.]” He stepped forwards and in a louder voice spoke “I am—”
“I know who you are.” The lead ancient-loroi said. Fireblade finally put her finger on what was so unnerving about the three of them — her tone was so level that no emotion could be read into it, and her mind-signature was hidden underneath a near-perfect lotai! It was all that Fireblade could manage to even detect that there
was a mind there, and then only when she concentrated on the ancient being. “I am more interested in where you found
these.”
Tempo stepped up. “We are an exploration and diplomatic team from the Loroi Union. Until we found and
allied with Colonel Jardin” she stressed the important words “we had no remaining knowledge of the ‘circumstances’ surrounding the collapse of the Soia Empire.”
“I see. The honesty of that claim will have to be verified.” Not even the faintest trace of a sanzai probe accompanied her statement.
<They are entirely mind-blind!> sent Fireblade. Of course the humans had
told her that the ‘original’ loroi did not possess sanzai abilities, but it was still a shock to actually
feel it firsthand. It made the three loroi in front of her seem almost more alien than the humans.
For his part, Colonel Jardin’s voice quite clearly conveyed his frustration. “It’s been
three-hundred-thousand years, Tribune. They didn’t even know what the Soia were, not really. They thought the Soia were their direct ancestors, or something similar.”
“That is precisely the thought which concerns me.”
“Colonel Jardin has informed us as to the true nature of the Soia Empire. And what they did to our
actual ancestors.” said Tempo.
“Not yours.” the ‘tribune’ corrected, eyes narrowing. It was not a word that Tempo recognized, but it was apparently a rank or such descriptor. “
Your ancestors were the slaves who remained ‘loyal’ to their masters.”
“That realization had occurred to us.” Tempo conceded, doing an admirable job of keeping both her voice and her sanzai level. “We do not consider the actions or beliefs of such distant ancestors to represent us, or to dictate our actions today. There seems to be no reason to think otherwise, Tribune…?”
The ancient leader did not supply her own name, only staring flatly at Tempo for several solon.
The Colonel finally answered “Tribune Hammerstave, it is
thanks to the aid of these loroi that we even found this ship, this fleet. And it is
thanks to them that we can navigate the changed slipspace boundary.”
That got her attention. For the first time, actual emotion flitted across the tribune’s face. A brief flicker of hope, mixed with surprise. Then she returned to her neutral expression.
The two-pronged ornate headpiece that she wore bobbed slightly. “As evidenced by your arrival here.” Unless Fireblade was mistaken, the tribune’s voice was slightly less sharp than it had been. Perhaps they were making progress? It was so strange to be in conversation with a loroi whose mind was so utterly unreadable. “Nevertheless, your… 'associates' will remain here until sufficient security personnel have arrived to keep them under watch.”
Fireblade eyed the two warriors flanking the tribune. Their steel-gray armor was much less ornate than that worn by their leader, but the long-barreled energy weapons held with great familiarity in their arms gave no doubt as to their status as experienced warriors. Especially given how the three of them had simply appeared right next to the human & loroi group.
Warriors that were invisible both to sight and mental senses. And Fireblade had been observing them long enough now that she was increasingly certain that they weren’t truly ‘choosing’ to speak aloud rather than use sanzai; rather, these loroi did not have sanzai. Not so much as a trace of mental signature leaked through, even when their tribune’s control over her facial expression flickered.
<These three loroi seem to be old enough to predate the Soia Civil War.> Tempo sent, reaching the same conclusion.
<Indeed.> Fireblade recalled the half-humorous warning of one of her instructors at the Teidar Academy, a withered old rozerrei stooped over with age who had nonetheless repeatedly demonstrated that the staff she carried for walking remained a dangerous weapon in her gnarled hands. ‘Always beware an old woman in a caste where most die young.’
<Wise words.> sent the mizol, apparently having read the phrase out of Fireblade’s mind. A helpful hint that she’d need to find time for some more mental-defense exercises. Surely not all of these ancient loroi would be mind-blind, and it would not do to meet them with one’s defenses inadequate. <Doubly so, if these are loroi who had then survived the fifty years of war that followed the split.>
Colonel Jardin said levelly “Then we will all wait here until they arrive.” He leaned against the corridor bulkhead, and crossed his arms. “How long until Airburn is available?”
The tribune’s eyes flashed. “
Starwind Legate Airburn—” she emphasized what must be a clan name and rank title: it fit the form of the names that loroi from each of the Sister Worlds had used before the Imperial period. “—has been notified of this… development.”
Her eyes snapped to Fireblade, narrowing. “Once I am satisfied that a meeting would be safe, I may allow such an event.” She turned her head back to the Colonel. “You… ‘trust’ this Guard?”
Fireblade raised one eyebrow, staring back at the ancient loroi. To Tempo, she sent <It seems that they are especially wary of me in particular.>
<Strange, given that you have not used any psychokinetic power since arriving on this vessel.> Tempo responded.
<Agreed.> And Fireblade’s helmet had its amplifier built into the frame, not easily visible externally. So how did they recognize her as a Teidar?
Beryl added <It is possible that they have some mechanism or ability to detect latent psychokinetic ability. The Soia were known to possess much greater knowledge about the mind than we have managed to uncover.>
“Yes.” Colonel Jardin spoke aloud. “Several weeks ago and shortly after these Union loroi found us, we boarded a fragment of
Grand Unity.” Hammerstave’s eyebrows shot upwards at that name. In the meantime, the human jerked his head towards Fireblade. “During that boarding action, Teidar Pallan Fireblade engaged and disabled an
actual Guard overseer. She displayed no sign of hesitation during that combat, nor has she expressed any sympathy for the Soia since.”
Not that the human could have received any sendings from her. It was an odd feeling, to hear an alien so deceive a loroi... and herself feeling
thankful for it.
He continued, voice hardening. “Not that any of that comes as a surprise, given that again,
three-hundred-thousand years have passed since the collapse of the Empire. There is
nothing of the Soia’s influence left out there.”
“None of which requires any changes to our security procedures.” Hammerstave snapped back. She drew in a breath and spoke haltingly, as if forcing the words from her mouth. “But if you, Colonel,
personally vouch for her reliability then I will...
conditionally accept her into the presence of my Clan Leader.”
Fireblade sent privately to Tempo <If necessary, I am willing to return to wait aboard the human prowler.> She certainly wanted to see more of the inside of the vessel — although nobody’s excitement came close to the sheer anticipation vibrating off of the listel behind her — but if it was the only way to proceed…
Jardin slowly swung his head around to fix Fireblade with an exasperated look. “Promise to play nice?”
Fireblade blinked at the strange wording, before nodding once.
The human turned back. “There you have it.”
Hammerstave stared back at him for several solon, jaw visibly working. Then, “Very well.” She gestured with one hand.
A warm, yellow glow surrounded each member of the group, intensifying rapidly. It quickly blocked out all sight; all that Fireblade could see was the blinding light.
Sanzai cries of surprise rebounded between the loroi.
“[Oh, not
thi—]” Alexander Jardin could be heard grumbling, before the glow engulfed everything.
And then it was gone.
She stood in the exact same position… but now in a cavernous, circular room perhaps two hundred mannal wide. The same off-white ceiling domed overhead, and the solid-black reflective tiles underfoot gave the impression of standing on a thin layer of water. Soft lighting suffused the room, with no point-source lights visible.
Several thuds sounded from behind her, as some of the human warriors dropped to one knee. Alexander Jardin had one hand grasping at the front of his neck, a grimace on his face as he swallowed repeatedly. “[I’d hoped
those damned things might have stopped working after all these years.]”
“[No such luck, kid.]” grumbled one of the ODSTs said as they stood up.
<Teleportation!?> sent Beryl. <It is amazing!>
<And it appears to have a similar effect on non-Soia-engineered peoples as does a starship’s jump drive.> noted Fireblade. There hadn’t been any such flash of yellow light when the tribune and her two guards had first appeared to confront the party — a different form of teleportation, or had Fireblade’s first guess at an equally-advanced optical cloaking system been correct?
Tempo pinged all of them with her sanzai, indicating the figure standing alone in the center of the room. With her jet-black, all-covering armor, she almost blended into the floor. A cloth hood hung low over her face, leaving only a flash of blue visible. <I believe
that will be this vessel’s commander.>
The mizol paused. <And yet...> a faint curl of unclear memory leaked out of her sanzai. <There is something about this room. Its shape is...> her sending trailed off.
Hammerstave stepped off to one side, saying “Colonel Jardin, you may approach. And one representative of these… ‘new’ loroi.”
Tempo and the Colonel walked towards the distant figure. They were only halfway there when Tempo agitatedly sent to Fireblade <I recognize it now! This room is an ampli—>
<
Greetings> came a forceful sending from the ancient loroi in the center of the room.
The visiting loroi each flinched at the sheer pressure of the sanzai.
Fireblade grimaced, forcing herself to stand straight even as the powerful voice reverberated through her mind. It reminded her of— <A farseer.> she sent to Tempo.
<
Correct.> the voice intoned, apparently intercepting the focused sanzai. <
And… intriguing that your people have that concept.> For all that here was finally an ancient loroi who could send properly using sanzai rather than lowering herself to vocal speech, her sending lacked the sub- or side-channels of a normal loroi.
A mark of distrust, or was that somehow normal for the loroi of her era?
Tempo sent <The abilities of farseers have been cultivated since before the loroi —
our loroi — achieved interstellar travel.> Her own sanzai was level and polite, an impressive achievement when she was so close to the forceful sending of the Ancient. <Although they are often kept sequestered from society, both to better hone their talents and to keep their own…
intensity of sanzai from intruding upon others.>
Fireblade quirked a corner of her lip in a faint smile. That was unusually ‘direct’… for a mizol like Tempo. Perhaps she wasn’t as unaffected by the Farseer’s painfully-strong sanzai as Fireblade had thought her to be.
<
I see.> Came the response. <
Then I will try...this.> The farseer reached up with both hands and lifted her gold-trimmed hood.
As if an unnoticed spotlight trained on her had been suddenly switched off, a… ‘pressure’ ceased to press in upon Fireblade’s skin.
No, upon her
mind.
Only noticeable now by its rapid absence; how long had it been present?
Off to one side, Hammerstave’s head snapped around to stare at her commander. “Legate, you—?”
“The Legion will manage without my oversight for the length of one conversation, tribune.” Her voice came coolly. <I assume that this unamplified level is more comfortable for you?>
After only a moment, Tempo responded <Yes, it is. Your politeness is appreciated.>
Interesting. Hammerstave, for all her apparent inability to send or receive sanzai, seemed to have perceived the change in her superior’s ambient power. Perhaps her lotai was not as absolute as Fireblade had assumed.
A distant echo of that earlier pressure returned, as the Farseer turned her head slightly.
To stare straight at Fireblade.
<Your Guard is observant.> For the first time, a recognizable sub-channel accompanied the Ancient’s sanzai, surprise and sudden wariness mixing together.
Well, if the Legate was so direct as to read the conscious thoughts right out of her mind, then Fireblade would be equally direct.
<I am a
Teidar.> Fireblade emphasized, even before Tempo granted her permission to send. As Fireblade had known she would. <I have heard of these ‘Guards’ only recently, and have already fought one in combat. They are
nothing like my caste-sisters.> She pressed into her side-channels all of the contempt she felt for the Guards and their slavish loyalty to their abusive Soia masters.
For over a solon, there was nothing. No spoken speech, no sanzai.
Then <You are an
intriguing mystery, young warrior. Step forwards — I would see you properly with my own eyes.>
Tempo sent a sub-verbal agreement for Fireblade to walk up to her and the Colonel, closer to the Farseer.
At Fireblade’s first footstep, Tribune Hammerstave now spun to her. “You—!”
Once more, her spoken — therefore slow — sentence was interrupted by Legate Airburn. “Let her approach.”
Grinding her teeth, Hammerstave did nothing but glare as the teidar stepped past. Fireblade would have felt more than a twinge of sympathy for her, if the ancient loroi hadn’t been brusque and suspicious enough to make Stillstorm look friendly by comparison.
Well, almost.
She drew even with Tempo and the colonel, the human waiting silently with one eyebrow raised as he looked between the teidar and the legate. The three of them walked side-by-side closer to Airburn, stopping perhaps five mannal distant.
Now that she was closer to the center of the room, Fireblade could see that Airburn stood atop a slight rise. Just enough that the teidar now looked up at the farseer, sharp-green eyes meeting deep-blue.
Airburn herself looked different than Fireblade had expected. Without much to judge by thanks to her trimmed and formal sanzai, one was left to judge age by the Ancient’s facial features. No visible wrinkles, short ears but a tall nose… if Fireblade had to guess, she would have said that this loroi was perhaps of an equal age with Stillstorm.
Ignoring the hundreds of thousands of years of suspended animation, naturally.
The Legate mused, <You are indeed no Guard. Not only Sanzai, but also Psychokinetic power, all free of the Soia’s control and reproducing naturally.> A bemused smile tugged at one corner of her lip. <How the Soia would have
howled, to see such a danger running loose!>
Fireblade bristled, but Tempo beat her to a response. <The Teidar are loyal to the Union, and are a 'danger' only to our enemies.>
<You truly trust them so—?> Airburn began, before her sanzai jumped onto a new sentence <Of
course! You each can speak to each other’s mind and read thoughts. Such obligatory honesty between equals. Yes, I can see how that would…
change things.>
Her eyes snapped back and forth between Fireblade and Tempo, also jumping up to stare presumably at Beryl before returning to rest on Fireblade. <And different… ‘castes,’ you called them. Specialization, perhaps overly so… yes, that would serve.>
Fireblade was still composing her response to such a statement when Colonel Jardin coughed at Tempo’s other side. “I trust that the introductions are over, and that we may now compare our situations and plan our next moves.”
Taking a half-step back, Fireblade let the mizol handle the talks. “That seems wise. You know the ‘Legate,’ then?”
“You can say that.” the human responded, as he turned to face Airburn. “And I may as well get the bad news out of the way first. Tempest is dead.” He delivered the line flatly, without feeling. But Fireblade caught the slight tensing of his shoulder and facial muscles, could feel the suppressed emotions.
Airburn closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath.
Held it.
Then released a sigh. “As we expected. You would not have returned without her, otherwise.” Airburn opened her eyes, turning her gaze on Jardin. “She died well?”
“The last of the Soia perished along with her, by her hand. As did
Grand Unity.” the human glanced aside at Tempo and Fireblade. “The Empire is gone, and so thoroughly that even their own scattered descendants remember them in only the vaguest legends.”
“So I have heard.” the Legate followed his eyes, and nodded to Tempo. “I also see that you have found some way of overcoming whatever it is that the Soia did to the slipspace barrier.”
“We have.” Jardin explained. “It was a
joint discovery, to give credit where it is due.” He turned around, gesturing to the mixed crowd of human and Union warriors waiting at one side of the chamber. “The white-haired one and the two in orange armor worked alongside my nephew to find a route through. You will have to ask them for the details.”
“Ah, young Alexander. It is good to hear that our people can still work together, no matter whose exact descendants they are.”
<’Alexander.’> Tempo sent. <The use of an isolated first name is a mark of familiarity among humans, I believe. You know these humans personally?>
<Of course.> the Legate replied immediately. <They are my grandfather-in-law and adopted cousin-in-law, effectively.>
Fireblade frowned, eyes darting aside to Tempo as the mizol put the teidar’s thoughts more politely. <We do not recognize this terminology, ‘in law.’>
<A human phrase, meaning one’s relatives by marriage.>
<I… see. They merge clans by way of pair bonding?> Tempo sent.
Fireblade had heard of some of the few remaining native clans on Deinar having vaguely similar practices — a male of one clan gifted to another clan as a way to cement an alliance — but for such traditions to survive even as a species advanced to starflight?
<Indeed they do.> Airburn sent.
<But with pair-bonding being common among their species, would that not mean that a great percentage of clans are so merged, with an endless series of links between parents, siblings, and these ‘marriages’?> Tempo asked.
Airburn sent back a burst of weary indifference. <It works for them... usually. The humans seem to like their social systems complicated.>
<And how did—> Tempo cut herself off. <We are straying from the point of this conversation.> Aloud, she said “Our people have been impressed with Colonel Jardin and his warriors. We look forward to continuing to work together with humanity.”
“An opportunity which I do not doubt that you will have.” the Legate replied. “Once we have put together a technical team for your experts to explain this slipspace discovery to.”
“And how long will that take?” the Colonel cut in.
“I have begun to awaken the UNSC leadership in stasis aboard this vessel and alerted the Eleventh Legion.” She said to the human, before turning back to Tempo. “They will need some time to process this new information and determine whom they wish to send to speak with you. This should take no more than ten-thousand beats.”
Unexpectedly, Airburn then stepped towards them, down off of the raised dais on which she had stood. “We will await them in the nearest habitation section.” As she passed the group, the Legate clapped one hand onto Colonel Jardin’s shoulder, pulling him along with her. “And you will tell me
everything of grandmother’s final mission. She
will be remembered properly.”
“I’ll tell what I can,” the human said, as Tempo and Fireblade followed the two back towards the rest of the group. “but… I wasn’t there for her last fight.” His voice was grim.
“She ordered you away.” It was not a question.
Talon and Spiral are honestly my favorite characters to write in Outsider; they're just the two young gits out to have fun (while being professional enough that they're not going to *really* cause trouble). 
