Ascending - James Alan Gardner [48]
But I had no intention of speaking to the evil stick-people. “Attention Technocracy navy!” I said. “Especially the foolish Captain Prope. Here we are. Come and get us!”
Silence. Seconds slipped by with no answer. Then Uclod let out his breath in a long sigh. “You think the Shaddill will run away if the human navy shows up?”
“Yes,” I answered, attempting humility despite the brilliance of my idea.
“Toots,” said Uclod, “you got two problems with that. First, the navy ships are way the hell back in the Melaquin system; we’re traveling light-years too fast for them to catch up with us. Until a few minutes ago, I didn’t think any ship could make the speed we’re going…but it seems a sun-charged Zarett can, and a Shaddill ship is even faster. The navy are goddamned snails in comparison. By the time they get here, we’ll be long gone—probably swallowed by the Shaddill ship. And that’s if the navy even heard us. The other problem with your tactic is that half a second into your broadcast, the Shaddill jammed our signal. The most anyone heard was a hiccup.”
“I did not hiccup!”
“Whatever you did, no one heard past the first two syllables. Granted, the navy was probably listening on all bands, hoping we’d break radio silence; good chance they caught the blip. They may even have got a location fix. But they’re just too far away, missy—we’ve been zipping along for hours at a speed they can’t possibly match. They’re out of the picture, and we’re on our own.”
Of course, the navy could speed up their ships…if they ventured into the sun and energized their FTL fields. But the insolent Captain Prope would never be brave enough to attempt such a stratagem—not when she believed going into the sun meant death.
Perhaps one of the other captains would try, but even that seemed unlikely. These fools had possessed starships for centuries, yet none had experimented with venturing into a star. No sense of curiosity…nor any other sense I could discern. Had no rich wastrel ever sent a ship into the sun just to see it burn? Had no crazed person ever tried to commit suicide by solar immolation? Humans had been driving star-ships for four hundred years; Divians had ridden Zaretts for a thousand. In all that time, had no one ever swooped close to a star? How could that possibly be?
But I had no answers; I only had the image of the stick-ship coming slowly toward us, like a tumbleweed blowing in from the horizon. It was still far off, no bigger than a bumblebee against the blackness; yet second by second, it grew perceptibly.
“Maybe I should ask Starbiter for more speed,” Uclod muttered nervously. “But what would be the point? The Shaddill are sure to have the edge on us, no matter how fast we go. If they gave us Zaretts for free, you can be damned sure they kept something better for themselves. Like handing your frumpy old zigrim to your kid brother, after you get a snappy new lentz.”
I did not know what those things were; but I had lived beneath the thumb of an older sister, and I understood the principle quite well. The Shaddill would not give away Zaretts unless they had something at least slightly superior. “Perhaps,” I said, “if we flew into another sun, we could charge Starbiter to even greater speeds.”
“We’re in open space now, toots—nowhere near a sun.” The little man grunted. “Nothing to do but keep going, and hope for a lucky break. Maybe the Shaddill will have a malfunction…or shut off their engines for a holy day of rest.”
“Is that likely?” I asked.
“No. But when my back is to the wall, I always like to pretend there’s a way to dodge the bullet. Maybe the Shad-dill captain will keel over from a heart attack and his crew will run away, thinking we have some fancy cardiac weapon.”
“Maybe,” Lajoolie murmured, “the captain will let us go because he falls in love with Oar.”
“I do not think that is funny,” I said.
Uclod tsked his tongue. “Don’t be such a party-pooper, missy—when you’re well and truly screwed, either you just sit pissing yourself or you invent some reason to hope. Maybe we’ll get sucked into a wormhole