Stephen Baxter - Exultant

Whatever. Seath wasn’t a woman you discussed emotions with.

He studied the corvette. It was a Navy ship, and it bore the tetrahedral sigil of free mankind, the most ancient symbol of the Expansion. He said, “Sir — a Navy ship? But I’m in the charge of Commissary Nilis now.”

She laughed humorlessly. “The Commission doesn’t run starships, Ensign. You think the Navy is about to give its most ancient foe access to FTL technology?”

“The Xeelee are the foe.”

“Oh, the Navy and Commission were at war long before anybody heard of the Xeelee.” It was disturbing to hear a straight-up-and-down officer like Seath talk like this.

There was a reluctant footstep behind them. To Pirius’s surprise, here came Torec. She was as empty- handed as Pirius was but, like him, she wore a smart new uniform. A complex expression closed up her face, and her full lips were pushed forward into a pout that looked childish, Pirius thought.

“You’re late,” Seath snapped.

“Sorry, sir.”

Pirius said, “Come to say good-bye?” He felt touched but he wasn’t about to show it.

“No.”

“Pirius, she’s going with you,” Seath said.

“What?”

Torec spat, “Not my idea, dork-face.”

Commissary Nilis came bustling along the corridor. Unlike the two ensigns he did bring some luggage, a couple of trunks and two antique-looking bots which floated after him. “Late, late; here I am about to cross the Galaxy and I’m late for the very first step…” He slowed, panting. “Captain Seath. Thank you for hosting me, thank you for everything.” He beamed at Pirius. “Ready for your new adventure, Ensign?” Then Nilis noticed Torec. “Who’s this? A friend to wave you off?”

“Not exactly,” Seath said. “This is Ensign Torec. Same cadre as Pirius, same generation. Not as bright, though.”

Torec raised her eyebrows, and Pirius looked away.

“And why is she here?”

“Commissary, I’ve assigned her to you.”

Nilis blustered, “Why, I’ve no desire to take another of your child soldiers. The corvette isn’t provisioned for an extra mouth—”

“I’ve seen to that.”

“Captain, I’ve no use for this girl.”

“She’s not for you. She’s for Pirius.”

“Pirius?”

Seath’s face was hard, disrespectful. “Commissary, take my advice. You’re taking this ensign out of here, away from everything he knows, dragging him across the Galaxy to a place he can’t possibly even imagine.” She spoke as if Pirius wasn’t there.

Nilis’s mouth assumed a round O of shock, an expression that was becoming familiar to Pirius. “I see what you mean. But this base is so” — he gestured — “inhuman. Cold. Lifeless. The only green to be seen anywhere is the paintwork of warships!”

“And so you imagined our soldiers to be inhuman, too.”

“Perhaps I did.”

Seath said, “We’re fighting a war; we can’t afford comfort. But these children need warmth, humanity. And they turn to each other to find it.”

Pirius’s cheeks were burning. “So you knew about me and Torec the whole time, sir.”

Seath didn’t respond; she kept her eyes on the Commissary.

Nilis seemed embarrassed too. “I bow to your wisdom, Captain.” He turned his avuncular gaze on Torec. “A friend of Pirius is a friend of mine. And I’m sure we’ll find you something gainful to do.”

Torec stared back at him. For the ensigns, this was an utterly alien way to be spoken to. Torec turned to Seath. “Captain—”

“I know,” Seath said. “You spent your whole life trying to get to officer training. You made it, and now this. Well, the Commissary here assures me that by going with him, Pirius will fulfill his duty in a manner that might even change the course of the war. Though I can’t imagine how,” she added coldly. “But if that’s true, your duty is clear, Ensign Torec.”

“Sir?”

“To keep Pirius sane. No discussion,” Seath added with soft menace.

“Yes, sir.”

Nilis bustled forward, hands fluttering. “Well, if that’s settled — come, come, we must get on.” He led the way through the open port into the ship.

Captain Seath stared at the ensigns for one last second, then turned away.

Pirius and Torec followed Nilis aboard the corvette. Sullenly, they avoided each other’s eyes.

They had both been aboard Navy vessels before, of course — transports, ships of the line — for training purposes. But they had never been aboard a ship as plush as this before. And it was clean. It even smelled clean.

In the corridor that ran along the ship’s elegant spine, there was carpet on the floor. A two-person crew worked in the tip of the needle hull, beyond a closed bulkhead. In the central habitable section, the outer hull was transparent, and if you looked into the sections beyond the rear bulkhead you could see the misty shapes of engines. But two compartments were enclosed by opaque walls.

Nilis ushered his hovering cases into one of these cabins. He looked uncertainly at the ensigns, then opened the door of the other opaqued compartment. “This cabin was for you, Pirius. I suppose it will have to do for the two of you.” There was only one bed. “Well,” he said gruffly. “I’ll leave you to sort it out.” And, absurdly embarrassed, he bustled into his own cabin and shut the door.

In the cabin there was more carpet on the floor. The room was dominated by the bed, at least twice as wide as the bunks they had been used to. Pirius glimpsed uniforms in a wardrobe, and bowls of some kind of food, brightly colored, sat on a small table.

They faced each other.

“I didn’t ask to be here,” said Torec. She sounded furious.

“I didn’t ask for you.”

“I’ve better things to do than to be your squeeze.”

Pirius snapped, “I’d rather squeeze that fat old Commissary.”

“Maybe that’s what he wants.”

They held each other’s gazes for a second. Then, together, they burst out laughing.

Torec crammed a handful of the food into her mouth. “Mm-m. These are sweet.”

“I bet the bed’s soft.”

Still laughing, they ran at each other and began to tear off their clothes. Their new uniforms were not like the rough coveralls they had been used to on Arches; officer-class, the uniforms crawled off the floor where they had been carelessly dropped, slithered into the wardrobe, and began a silent process of self-cleaning and repair.

The room had everything they needed: food, water, clean-cloths, even a lavatory artfully concealed behind paneling. “Evidently officers and Commissaries don’t like to admit they shit,” Torec said dryly when they discovered this.

For hours they just stayed in the room, under the covers or on top of them, eating and drinking as much as they could. They knew they had to make the most of this. Soon enough, somebody would come for them and take all this stuff away; somebody always did.

But nobody did come.

“How long do you think it will take to get there?”

Pirius was cradling her head on his arm, and eating tiny purple sweets from her bare belly. “Where?”

“Earth.”

He thought about that. Even now, more than twenty millennia since humanity’s first interstellar jaunt, a trip across the face of the Galaxy was not a trivial undertaking. “Earth is twenty-eight thousand light-years from the center.” Everybody knew that. “FTL can hit two hundred light-years an hour. So…”

Torec had always been fast at arithmetic. “About six days?”

“But we can’t get so far without resupply, not a ship this size. Double the time for stops?”

She stroked the center line of his chest. “What do you think it will be like?”