merge in the plain beyond. He had the sensation of skating over a
huge sea, and remembered the time he had spent in a place like this—the interior digital world of the Mantis, a great gray
ocean of the mind.
“What now?” she prompted.
“We zag against their zig.”
He turned when he sensed the room become still. Lieutenants Cermo and Jocelyn had ranked and ordered the Family into lines
precise and attentive.
This was the atmosphere he wanted, had carefully programmed. Here, he reflected, was all of humanity he would probably ever
know again. The nearest brothers were back at Snowglade, an unfathomable distance behind. For all he knew, this small band
might well be the only shred of their race that yet lived.
“Dad? Uh, Cap’n?”
He turned, startled, to find Toby at his elbow. “You’re out of ranks, midshipman,” he said severely.
“Yeah, but I gotta carry this damn thing, and it’s ’cause a
you
.” Toby twisted his neck uncomfortably at the cowling that wrapped around his shoulders, snug against his helmet ring.
“You’ll carry your designated ’quipment into battle,” Killeen said stiffly.
“This’ll just slow me down!”
“It will give us a good view of all the action around and in front of you. Someone has to carry the area-survey eye.” Killeen
used the connective words
of
and
to
, which were absent in ordinary Family speech, to lend distance and Cap’nly reserve.
It failed to work with Toby. “
You
got me saddled with this, right?”
“Lieutenant Cermo chooses gear.”
Toby sneered. “He knew just what you wanted.”
“Cermo assigns jobs, picks the most able,” Killeen said tightly. “I’m proud that he deemed my son capable of such an important
job.”
“Dad, I’ll be a slow target with this rig on, crawlin’ ’round down there. I’ll get pushed back to the second skirmish line.”
“Damn right. I’ll want views from the second line, not the first.”
“That’s not fair! I want—”
“You’ll get back in rank or else you won’t set boot outside,” Killeen said sharply.
Toby opened his mouth to protest and the Cap’n spat back, “
Now!
”
Toby shrugged elaborately and marched stiffly back to his position in the third left-flank squad. He stood beside Besen, the
dark-eyed young woman; Killeen often saw them together these days. True, they served in the same squad, but that probably
concealed more than it explained.
Killeen hoped the Family had not overheard them andthought they were just bantering casually. Somehow, given his inability to conceal his emotions where his son was concerned,
he doubted that. As if to confirm this, Besen cocked an eyebrow at Toby. Killeen realized that he and Toby must have been
quite obvious to everyone in the large room.
He suppressed an irritated grimace and nodded curtly to Cermo. The inspection began. Killeen walked down the ranks, Lieutenants
Cermo, Jocelyn, and Shibo at one pace behind. He scanned each crewmember closely. Faces well remembered, faces which had grown
healthier with rest and better food. But also faces that had time to see that the old ways of Family fidelity and organization
did not suit well the running of a true starship. Faces that doubtless hatched half-thought-through plans to better themselves
by bending Family and crew discipline.
With the press of deadly necessity gone, the sprouts of individual ambition grew in fertile soil. Would they fare well in
battle after such indolence? A host of tiny impressions collected in Killeen’s mind. He would digest them later, during his
solitary walks on the hull, to form the raw and instinctive material for furthering the efficiency of the ship—if they ever
again flew the
Argo
. Yet the ritual was worthy in and of itself.
The Family had added thirty-two newborn on the voyage. Mothers tended the young at the rear of the domed assembly room. Killeen
wondered if those children would ever stride the soil of the world
huge sea, and remembered the time he had spent in a place like this—the interior digital world of the Mantis, a great gray
ocean of the mind.
“What now?” she prompted.
“We zag against their zig.”
He turned when he sensed the room become still. Lieutenants Cermo and Jocelyn had ranked and ordered the Family into lines
precise and attentive.
This was the atmosphere he wanted, had carefully programmed. Here, he reflected, was all of humanity he would probably ever
know again. The nearest brothers were back at Snowglade, an unfathomable distance behind. For all he knew, this small band
might well be the only shred of their race that yet lived.
“Dad? Uh, Cap’n?”
He turned, startled, to find Toby at his elbow. “You’re out of ranks, midshipman,” he said severely.
“Yeah, but I gotta carry this damn thing, and it’s ’cause a
you
.” Toby twisted his neck uncomfortably at the cowling that wrapped around his shoulders, snug against his helmet ring.
“You’ll carry your designated ’quipment into battle,” Killeen said stiffly.
“This’ll just slow me down!”
“It will give us a good view of all the action around and in front of you. Someone has to carry the area-survey eye.” Killeen
used the connective words
of
and
to
, which were absent in ordinary Family speech, to lend distance and Cap’nly reserve.
It failed to work with Toby. “
You
got me saddled with this, right?”
“Lieutenant Cermo chooses gear.”
Toby sneered. “He knew just what you wanted.”
“Cermo assigns jobs, picks the most able,” Killeen said tightly. “I’m proud that he deemed my son capable of such an important
job.”
“Dad, I’ll be a slow target with this rig on, crawlin’ ’round down there. I’ll get pushed back to the second skirmish line.”
“Damn right. I’ll want views from the second line, not the first.”
“That’s not fair! I want—”
“You’ll get back in rank or else you won’t set boot outside,” Killeen said sharply.
Toby opened his mouth to protest and the Cap’n spat back, “
Now!
”
Toby shrugged elaborately and marched stiffly back to his position in the third left-flank squad. He stood beside Besen, the
dark-eyed young woman; Killeen often saw them together these days. True, they served in the same squad, but that probably
concealed more than it explained.
Killeen hoped the Family had not overheard them andthought they were just bantering casually. Somehow, given his inability to conceal his emotions where his son was concerned,
he doubted that. As if to confirm this, Besen cocked an eyebrow at Toby. Killeen realized that he and Toby must have been
quite obvious to everyone in the large room.
He suppressed an irritated grimace and nodded curtly to Cermo. The inspection began. Killeen walked down the ranks, Lieutenants
Cermo, Jocelyn, and Shibo at one pace behind. He scanned each crewmember closely. Faces well remembered, faces which had grown
healthier with rest and better food. But also faces that had time to see that the old ways of Family fidelity and organization
did not suit well the running of a true starship. Faces that doubtless hatched half-thought-through plans to better themselves
by bending Family and crew discipline.
With the press of deadly necessity gone, the sprouts of individual ambition grew in fertile soil. Would they fare well in
battle after such indolence? A host of tiny impressions collected in Killeen’s mind. He would digest them later, during his
solitary walks on the hull, to form the raw and instinctive material for furthering the efficiency of the ship—if they ever
again flew the
Argo
. Yet the ritual was worthy in and of itself.
The Family had added thirty-two newborn on the voyage. Mothers tended the young at the rear of the domed assembly room. Killeen
wondered if those children would ever stride the soil of the world
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