The Parafaith War by Modesitt Jr. L. E

Author:Modesitt Jr., L. E. [Modesitt Jr., L. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Speculative Fiction
ISBN: 9780812538946
Publisher: Tor
Published: 1996-02-01T07:00:00+00:00

36

“Tradition. It’s important.” The captain set his empty cup on the narrow mess table.

“Yes.” Trystin tried not to yawn as he stretched and got up to pour another cup of tea from the samovar. “Pour me some, would you?”

Trystin picked up James’s cup and refilled it, setting it in front of the captain. In the corner, Albertini, the junior tech, sipped instant cafe. Trystin wrinkled his nose at the raw odor. He’d never liked cafe. After refilling his own mug with the strong green tea, he sat down across from the captain.

The Willis was cinched up to the ready lock, on standby in case any revvie scouts or ships should appear. For the last two weeks, after leaving Mara, the Willis had been rotated through standby duty on Parvati station, but the system had been quiet. Standby meant the crew could be anywhere aboard, so long as the captain and the second were on the link.

“Tradition,” repeated the major. “Even words have a tradition.” He paused. “Have you ever heard Moritaki?” “No. ” Trystin took a long sip of the plain green tea, not nearly so good as what his father brewed, but better than Sustain or cafe. Cling!

Trystin jolted alert in his seat. So did James. Albertini, not direct-linked, saw the reaction and mumbled, “Oh, frig … trouble …”

“Iron Mace two, badboy at your zero two zero, elevation amber, eighty light-mins. Incoming at plus four.” The direct-feed comm shivered through both pilots.

“Control, Iron Mace two. Powering up this time,” announced James.

Trystin emptied his cup and racked it, then scurried forward and mentally called up the checklist.

“Prepare for separation. Prepare for separation.” James’s voice blared through the speakers.

They both strapped into their couches, and Trystin continued running through the short checklist while James linked the data from control into the ship’s data banks. “We’re ready for changeover,” Trystin reported. “Stand by for power changeover.” “Standing by,” Trystin affirmed. “Ready for changeover,” acknowledged Keiko from the duty tech station behind Trystin.

The lights flickered; the ventilators’ hum stopped, then resumed; and the gravity dropped to point five, ship standard. Trystin’s stomach twisted, and he proceeded through the rest of the checklist, using the mental screens, occasionally crosschecking the manual screens before him.

He could still remember the first time he had sensed the full pilot data load, and how it had threatened to drown him. His lips curled momentarily. “Ready to separate, ser,” he reported. James nodded, his eyes half-glazed with his concentration on the data and nav plots.

“Outer Control, demagnetizing this time.” After the acknowledgment from James, Trystin sent the report.

“Iron Mace two, understand demagnetizing. Cleared for separation this time. Maintain low thrust for three.” “Stet, Control. Will maintain low thrust for three.”

Trystin relayed the instructions to James, trying to ignore the sweat heading up on the major’s forehead. “Iron Mace two, separating this time …” On the representational screen the amber point that was the Willis began to move away from the red square that represented the outer orbit station. “You have the con.

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