“The last time we did this together, you were still using headsets,” Ekatya commented.

  “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

  “Too long. Why haven’t we flown again until now?”

  “Because we’re both so tied to our duties that we forget our duty to ourselves.”

  “That sounds like Salomen.”

  “True words. I’ve absorbed some of her wisdom in spite of myself.” Tal tried to keep a straight face, but when Ekatya snorted a laugh, she followed suit. “I know. It’s fighting into the sun, but she keeps trying.”

  “We’d call that an uphill battle.”

  “Even more visual than ours! I may have to start using that.”

  She watched the wrinkled landscape passing below. From this height, even the most forbidding mountain ranges seemed easily manageable. It was difficult to imagine a time when Blacksun was impervious to attack because no army could pass through the mountains without being decimated by defenders.

  “Speaking of duties,” Ekatya said, “let’s get this part over with. Remember when I told the war council about my call with Sholokhov?”

  “Yes?”

  “I didn’t tell them the other half of it. It turns out that he’s the one who tipped the vote to keep me in my command.”

  “That’s a surprise. Perhaps he respects you more than you thought.”

  “Ha. No, he thought I could convince you to give him twenty high empaths in exchange for . . . something. He didn’t specify, just said he’d listen to any reasonable proposal.”

  “So he finally made a move. I’ve been wondering how long he’d wait.”

  Ekatya’s head whipped around. “You knew he’d ask?”

  “Didn’t you? Why else would he have put a kill order on Rahel?”

  “To test empaths for future deployment, sure, but he hasn’t authorized any new placements. I never thought—why didn’t you say something?”

  “You have enough to worry about without taking on issues that aren’t part of your command. We prepared for this.”

  “We?”

  “Me, the Prime Scholar and Warrior, the heads of the AIF and ADF, and Lanaril and the Prime Producer as our ethics checks.”

  “You mean you’re considering it?” Her voice rose, shock slamming into Tal’s senses. “I told him you’d never give him what he wanted. Andira, he thinks of them as weapons. You can’t let him have them!”

  “He’ll get them eventually. Once we’ve completed our orbital infrastructure, we expect some recruitment. The Alseans who sign those contracts won’t necessarily be the ones you’d like Sholokhov or other state actors to have. If we negotiate with him now, we can restrict him to high empaths with unquestionable honor.”

  “Fucking Hades.” The shock had dimmed to dismay. “I should have known you’d have this gamed out.”

  “I’m surprised it took him this long. We thought he’d act earlier, given the limited window of time.”

  Ekatya scowled, focusing fiercely on her controls. “Because they’re a scarce resource now? Right, he wants them before anyone else can get them. He said they were a more potent weapon if no one knew he had them.”

  “And if he’s the only one who has them. I’m afraid the Protectorate hasn’t made the best of impressions even with the treaty. No one who lived through the Battle of Alsea will ever forget that we were abandoned to the Voloth. The way both you and Lhyn were treated hardened opinions. We’ll have plenty of Alseans wanting to work on the space elevator station, and eventually the space dock and our own ships. But on ships with Protectorate crews? Or worlds where they’re the only Alseans around? I think it will be a generation before we start seeing much of that beyond the few truly restless souls.”

  “And you think Sholokhov has come to the same conclusion?”

  “I know Ambassador Solvassen has.”

  “Which means that’s what Sholokhov is working with. That’s why he waited until now. He took the time to put a system in place for managing them. By the time anyone else has empaths, he’ll already have the best of the best. Agh!” She raised a fist, her jaw clenching, then slowly opened her hand. “Do you have to give him what he wants? I hate the thought of it.”

  “Oh, no. Not at all.” Tal watched her press the now-flat hand on her thigh, fascinated by the way she was physically controlling her frustration. “Nor will we, unless he makes an offer we cannot refuse.”

  “Such as?”

  “We won’t have the Caphenon ready for service for another cycle or two, depending on the success of our other projects. Even when we raise it, the new hull will limit its capability. It would be nice to have our own warship in the meantime. One that can go into base space.”

  Ekatya inhaled sharply. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m perfectly serious.”

  “Ha! You’ve got horns.”

  “They’re a prerequisite for the title.”

  “No, I mean it.” She checked her controls, all traces of anger erased by sparkling mirth and the heat of admiration. “You’ll drive a bargain so hard that Sholokhov either gives up or gives you a Pulsar-class concession. Either way, you win. He’ll birth a brick when I pass that on.”

  “Don’t pass it on.” Tal tried not to look as ridiculously pleased as she felt. “I don’t want him to have time to strategize before we speak. Tell him I’m amenable to negotiations and that he needs to call my office directly. Are we done with your duty?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. May I fly it now?”

  “Well, Lancer Tal, I’m not sure,” she said with exaggerated care. “Are you current on your certifications?”

  “Signed and stamped.” Tal pointed toward Candini’s fighter. “Does she know I can fly this?”

  “Not unless Gehrain or Vellmar told her. I don’t think Rahel knows.”

  “Perfect. Let’s scare her hair into a few more spikes.”

  Ekatya grinned. “I’m in! Finally, I get to be the one who plays instead of the one being played. Same thing you did to me?”

  “Why not? It worked so well.”

  “Take over.”

  Tal grasped the control stick and tested the feel in all directions. The fighter responded with a wing waggle, a brief climb, and an equally brief drop.

  The quantum com blinked on, showing the other two crews on a split screen. “Is anything wrong, Captain?” Candini asked.

  “Not a thing. My new pilot was just testing the controls. Look.” She held up her hands.

  “What are—you’re letting her fly?”

  Tal didn’t need her empathic senses to hear the horror in her voice. “Have a little faith, First Pilot. I’ve done this before.”

  Ekatya somehow managed to keep a straight face despite the glee fizzing around her. “She had a hantick with a trainer as a gift.”

  “A hantick?” Candini’s voice was nearly a screech. “We’re at top speed! If she makes even a small error, you’re one-dimensional!”

  “I’m in an Alsean fighter and you think I’m supposed to say no to the Lancer?” Ekatya asked reasonably.

  “You’re the senior pilot. You outrank her as long as she’s in that fighter. Lancer Tal, this is not a good idea. A Serrado fighter is not a transport—”

  The com went dark, cutting her off in mid-sentence, and Ekatya looked over with a wicked sparkle in her eyes. “Oops. Must have hit the wrong button.”

  “To think I called Salomen devious this morning.”

  “I guess you’re attracted to devious women.”

  “A specific subset of devious women, as Lhyn would say.” Tal slowed their groundspeed until she felt safe enough to flip the fighter ninety degrees, then ninety more. With the sky at her feet and the mountainous terrain overhead, she let the fighter go into a lazy dive. “Put a solo call through to Gehrain. Tell him we’re about to prank Candini.”

  Gehrain chuckled as he listened to the news. “I hope Rahel knows basic medic skills for Gaians.”

  “Poor Rahel,” Vellmar said. “She has no idea you’re capable of this.”

  “It’s about time she learned, don’t you think?” Tal bottomed out her dive and began a gut-crushing climb that grew closer and closer to vertical.

  The screen split again, showing Candini’s worried face. “Captain,” she said in a too-calm voice. “That’s too steep an angle of attack.”

  “I agree. Andira, let me take over.”

  “No, I know what I’m doing.”

  “This is not the time for warrior pride.” Ekatya made a grab for her control stick. “Shek! What did you do? I’m locked out!”

  Tal thought Ekatya deserved an award for her acting as Candini began to fray at the edges. She kept the pressure on, pushing the fighter to a point where its wings were rocking, the airspeed no longer sufficient for lift.

  “Shipper shit!” Candini shouted. “Lancer Tal, push it forward!”

  Tal did, but with a slight shift that had the fighter falling onto its left wing. They plummeted toward the mountains in what appeared to be a catastrophic stall.

  “My control stick is still dead!” Ekatya sounded properly alarmed. “Andira, you have to level it out!”

  “She can’t! Eject the cockpit pod! You still have time, eject!”

  Tal let the fighter fall for a further count of four before smoothly leveling out and beginning a slow climb back to their prior altitude. “Relax, Candini,” she said. “I have a little more than one hantick of training.”

  “What—” Candini stopped, her jaw loose as Ekatya burst into laughter, echoed by Gehrain and Vellmar. “I don’t believe it,” she muttered, then said something under her breath that sounded like assheads.

  “First Guard Sayana,” Tal said. “I apologize for giving you a dose of pure Gaian panic. I hope you don’t have a headache after that.”

  Rahel looked flummoxed. “Even if I did, it would be worth it. I never imagined . . .” She hesitated.

  “That I’m a normal Alsean capable of pranks? I’m bonded with Salomen, if you recall. Do you think I could survive her if I didn’t have a sense of humor?”

  Her expression smoothed into a smile. “I should have realized.”

  “Hoi, Rahel. Remember when we were discussing our service history?” Vellmar asked. “And you said you’d never been in the kind of unit where Guards pranked each other?”

  “Yes?”

  “You are now.”

  “Um. I don’t really think of Lancer Tal as a Guard.”

  “I used to be,” Tal said. “Vellmar is right. Consider yourself properly inducted into the Bondlancer’s Guards.”

  Rahel’s delighted grin earned her a punch in the shoulder from Candini.

  “Stop being so happy about it, you grainbird. They nailed our asses to the wall! We’ll never get back at them for that.”

  “I wouldn’t try if I were you.” Ekatya clasped her hands behind her head and affected a pose of studied ease. “I’m going to take a nap. Let me know when we’re over the ocean.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Candini grumbled.

  22

  Falling water

  Tal had been keeping a steady eye on the navigation screen. When they passed over the coastline of Argolis, she thought they might begin arcing westward toward Whitemoon. Instead, Ekatya held her heading, continuing south.

  They weren’t landing anywhere on the Pallea continent, then. Were they going to the port platform anchoring the space elevator? It was a spectacular sight, if not particularly romantic.

  No, that didn’t feel right. Mahaite Island made more sense. Ekatya had loved her time there, becoming a whole new person as she let go of her tension and fears for Lhyn. But would she choose the location of Tal’s bonding break with Salomen for a date?

  It seemed she had. Though a solid layer of clouds concealed the ocean below, the nav screen showed the hidden terrain to the west. Ekatya was descending, and there was no other place to land.

  They broke through the cloud ceiling at two thousand strides above sea level. The ocean was not the brilliant, sparkling blue she remembered but a dark green, crisscrossed with dashes of white. Turbulence buffeted the fighter.

  “Lots of storms over the past few ninedays,” Ekatya said. “Another just yesterday. We’re lucky, though. No rain predicted today. Have you figured out where we’re going?”

  Tal squinted out her window. Mahaite Island was the obvious answer, but if Ekatya was asking . . .

  The pressure seat flowed up around her head as Ekatya banked steeply to the east. Straight ahead, Pica Mahal’s massive bulk reared from the water, its flanks carpeted with tropical forest and its top hidden in the clouds.

  “Oh,” Tal breathed. “No, I didn’t guess it. Oh! The storms!”

  A wave of delighted satisfaction filled the fighter. “The storms. We never had a chance to see the waterfalls.”

  They had come here during the bonding break, on that memorable morning when Tal surprised Ekatya with one of the first Serrado fighters. It had been perfect weather, excellent for flying and views, but with no possibility of seeing the caldera’s famous ephemeral waterfalls.

  Tal let out a startled laugh as she put it together. “You told me where we were going! On the way to the landing pad, when you reminded me of that morning. Great Mother, you’re more devious than I gave you credit for.”

  That brilliant grin was one she had not seen for moons, nor had she sensed this easy, joyous confidence. It made Ekatya more beautiful, striking in a way Tal thought she should always be.

  She settled back, enjoying the ride as they flew a rapid circuit of the volcano. Ekatya climbed back into the cloud layer, navigating by instrument until they passed over the rim of the caldera and hovered near its center. Their escorts were barely visible in the gray mist.

  Ekatya activated the com. “Ready to drop in?”

  “To think I’m being paid for this,” Gehrain said.

  “No kidding.” Candini was glowing. “I even forgive you for that nasty trick earlier. I want to fly laps around this volcano.”

  “You haven’t seen the best yet. Here we go.” She initiated a gradual vertical descent.

  Tal stared out the front, waiting for the view to clear. They marked off two hundred strides of altitude before the mist began to thin. In another thirty strides, it abruptly vanished, revealing a spectacular scene hidden to all the world but the six of them.

  The walls were carpeted with lush vegetation, hundreds of different species crowding together except in the dark band that ran a circuit around the caldera. Only a few plants found footholds in that layer of denser rock, which acted as a barrier to the rain water seeping through the porous substrate above.

  The last time she and Ekatya had been here, that trapped water emerged in a single waterfall, the only permanent one in the caldera. But recent storms had dumped great volumes of rain on the volcano, all filtering down to collect above the band and search for the nearest egress.

  There were waterfalls everywhere Tal looked. Roaring torrents jetting out to drop straight down, lacy networks many strides wide, smaller trickles going this way and that as they followed the topography—it was a banquet of beauty, so glorious that she felt a sting behind her eyes.

  “Incredible,” Ekatya murmured. “The vids didn’t do it justice.” She made an adjustment to the controls, putting the fighter into a slow horizontal rotation as it hovered.

  “No, they didn’t.” Tal watched avidly as the caldera walls slid past, every moment revealing new splendor.

  “How many are there?” Candini wanted to know.

  “Thirty-two. Enjoy the view, we’re headed down.”

  “We’ll be here until you power down.” Gehrain was all business. “I contacted the resort on our way in. They’re ready for us to take up some space on their landing pad.”

  “Did you ask if they had some of that special fruit juice?”

  A smile cracked his serious demeanor. “No, but now that you mention it, I’d love a glass of that.”

  “Me too,” Vellmar agreed. “While we’re laboring at our duties, sitting around in a tropical paradise.”

  “See you on the bottom.” Ekatya tapped off the com and resumed their descent.

  The caldera was immense at the top, fully six lengths in diameter, but the walls angled inward, reaching a relatively narrow space at the bottom. Pools of water near the walls restricted that space further, as did the hills of boulders piled up from innumerable small landslides. Still, the available level ground was enough to accommodate a whole squadron of fighters.

  “How did you talk Micah into letting us have this to ourselves?” Tal asked.

  “I appealed to his sense of practicality. Other than the people involved in planning this trip, no one knows you’re here. No other permits were issued today. Orbital trackers will flag any craft approaching without one, so Gehrain and Candini will have plenty of warning if someone tries.”

  “And that was enough?” Micah wasn’t normally so flexible when it came to her security, especially this far from assistance.

  “I also pointed out that you’ve been working too hard and needed a quality rest from your duties. He’s been worried about that.”

  “I’m surprised he’d worry.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Never mind.” She was already regretting her slip.

  “No, that’s not how this works. What—wait, hold that thought.” Ekatya settled the fighter on its landing gear, waited for the legs to adjust to the variation in terrain, then powered down the engines and activated the com. “We’re secure. Go get that fruit juice.”

  “Lancer Tal?” Gehrain would not leave until he had her affirmation.

  “All safe. Thank you for the escort.”

  “Very well. Enjoy your time, Lancer. Captain,” he added in a respectful tone before closing the frequency. Overhead, the two hovering fighters ascended, rapidly vanishing into the mist.