Grail - Elizabeth Bear [25]
Perceval stood, her tall, lean body enveloped in a casual shift, her brown hair gathered loosely at her nape. “Ariane and Gerald think they have a lot of useful advice. I really should get around to integrating the subordinate personalities one of these days, but I find I kind of like having them all in one place, where I can see them.”
Ariane hadn’t been too much trouble since Perceval had proved that she could master her and, if need be, destroy her utterly. But she was Ariane, and what wasn’t much trouble for her was armed rebellion from another.
“Understandable,” Nova said. “However, the time is due. You must decide how we’re approaching Grail, Captain. Or if we are, in fact, continuing to approach Grail, now that we know it is inhabited.”
Further examination had revealed satellites around the blue-and-violet world, and even a few orbiting the secondary—some xenosynchronous, and some moving at a fair clip relative to the surface. Every sign, in other words, of a thriving spacefaring culture—except for any place for them to live. There was no evidence of cities, of structures, of geoengineering projects—hydroelectrics, canals—or of roadways or air travel.
Perceval pressed her palms together, and the blade-edge of her hands against her chin and lower lip.
“They’ve exhibited no signs of hostility,” she said. “Which is good, because I am not sure how much of a fight we can make of it, if it becomes necessary. The Jacob’s Ladder is an unarmed vessel.”
“No vessel at the top of a gravity well is unarmed,” Nova said. “And there are the symbionts to consider.”
“And the ramjet.” Perceval crossed the Bridge, flowers poking between her toes, and leaned against the screens on the wall, her hands spread as if to embrace the sun and the solar system they descended into. “The whole world is a weapon.”
The humans found it strange to have a down again. Nova adapted more easily—but she found it strange to have a down at all. Parts of her recollected the waystars, but she’d never before experienced it with her whole self. She felt it tugging her in, the world sliding down the gravity well, and she had to make adjustments to her program in order to accept the acceleration.
Perceval said, “I’m not suggesting we can’t fight if we have to. I’m suggesting that they are unlikely to view us—limping in, held together with epoxy and string—as much of a threat, and I’d like to encourage that view.”
It was much the comment Nova had expected. Not that her Captain couldn’t still surprise her, but it was not so common an occurrence as it had once been. “If that is your objective, it is my opinion that we should hail them. Have you thought about what you’d like to say?”
Perceval’s smile was patently cosmetic. “I have some ideas. Where are my officers?”
Nova knew without checking. The location of her crew was never far from her awareness. Because her officers were also Conns, they grieved for their sister and plotted vengeance. Also because they were Conns, they spent that grief in work until they could find revenge.
“Tristen is with Mallory.” A frequent occurrence since they had traveled together to bring down Arianrhod, and an association Nova thought generally beneficial to them both. Tristen had been alone so long that the affectionate proximity of another organic chipped at his rough edges, like wear smoothing a rusted bearing, and what was left functioned better than the grief-etched surfaces of before.
“They’re organizing an inventory of potential trade goods and knowledge.”
Nova hesitated—not because she needed to but because it would cue Perceval to brace herself. “They are also generating a list for your consideration.”
“A new Chief Engineer.”
“Yes.”
Perceval sighed, grimacing, but nodded. “That will be useful.”
“Cynric and Benedick are together. They are reviewing data in order to present you with a suite of options if hostilities do commence. Shall I send for any of them?”
“Tristen,” Perceval said, stepping back from the wall. “He must be my hound once more. He and Mallory.”
Nova reached out to her First Mate