“Now that was unexpected,” Jesup said.

Petr nodded. His own feelings exactly.

“I have rarely seen such honorable actions outside the warrior caste. To so freely take on his burdens—would we all have such grace when our time comes, quiaff?”

“Aff,” Petr responded, though he couldn’t decide if Jesup meant his comment as a general statement, or a pointed remark directed his way. He stood and launched himself away from his chair, content to accept his aide’s words at face value.

Clan Sea Fox CargoShip Voidswimmer

Nadir Jump Point, Savannah System

Prefecture VII, The Republic

7 July 3134

“I do not understand why we do not attempt to go downside.” Jesup’s voice, though powerful, almost failed against the hum and babble of Beta Community.

Petr looked at his aide as they both made their way through Market Square Beta. Of course, it was not square (or round or any other recognizable shape beyond an amorphous line stretching and snaking around to mark an open region), but the human mind, even one as adapted as the Sea Fox mind to the rigors of long-term space travel, latched on to traditions as old as human society.

Jostled, Petr turned to find a kind-faced woman with a thick swatch of dark, almost black hair pulled back in a severe braid. Her uniform bore the double stripes of the laborer caste, and the hurried look on her face made him think the woman late for her duty assignment. When she realized who she had run into, she swallowed convulsively and bowed deeply, the hurried look replaced with one of shame.

“ovKhan,” she began in a stammer, “I apologize. This unworthy one did not see you.”

Though a warrior born and bred, with centuries of Clan tradition supporting the superiority of the warrior caste (with the possible exception, in Clan Sea Fox, of the merchant caste), he knew the duty of an ovKhan to his Aimag to show respect when necessary. Reaching out, he raised up the woman’s head.

“Woman, there is no need to bow to me.” He smiled, though the expression did not quite reach his frosty green eyes. “You obviously were intent on reaching your duty assignment on time. What greater honor can you do me and our Aimag than to attend to your duty with such dedication?”

Though a certain wariness remained, she blushed, babbled thanks and nodded once more before vanishing into the throng of several hundred people.

“Ah, such fidelity is so admirable,” Jesup said.

“Do you mock?” Petr continued on, weaving between people moving with great purpose; he couldn’t completely conceal the distaste in his voice for his aide’s words.

“Of course I do not mock, ovKhan. Your humble servant only observes the devotion of your Aimag.”

As usual, only silence could answer such a comment. Petr felt the casual conversation almost inappropriate in the communal spaces, the cathedral Sea Fox had built to their new society.

A glance up revealed a massive, bowl-shaped open-air region—with the “market square” at its base—that flared out at the bottom and rose to a dome some one hundred fifty meters above his head. Stair-stepped around the base of the bowl and then climbing one another, like ivy run riot in an ecstasy of verdant growth, square habitats filled his vision.

Perhaps hanging nests for human occupants better described them. In addition to those using magnetic slips who moved around him, the region above held hundreds of individuals casually traversing the open air. Each landed lightly on a heavily padded wall of a given habitat and, grasping a strap, pulled him– or herself to a metal strip that allowed his or her slips to lock on, and began walking the short distance to their destination. Others launched themselves back into the open, creating an immensely complex choreographed dance accomplished without a single mishap. At any given moment, a sea of humanity met his gaze, all standing at innumerable angles, while others darted like fish in heavy currents.

The decades saw the slow transformation of one of the first Behemoth–class DropShips to be permanently sealed parallel to the Voidswimmer from an interplanetary vessel to the hollowed-out shell of Beta Community: home to more than twelve thousand.

One of four such vessels on his ship, and still small compared with Alpha Community.

Look what we have accomplished, all for the glory of my Clan! The thought resonated within him like a struck bell.

Jesup did not suffer silence well. “You did not answer my question, ovKhan.”

“No, I did not.” Without a backward glance, he began to make his way toward one of the original loading bays, which under heavy modification became the entryway leading directly into one of the primary corridors of the Voidswimmer, with enough room for several abreast.

He’d finished his quarterly review of Beta Community.

“Petr, why will you not answer my question?”

“Because it is not a question worthy of answer.” He stopped in midstream of humanity, uncaring of the disruption this created, and focused the full intensity of his emerald eyes on his aide. The moment stretched as Jesup attempted to hold his gaze, his growing agitation plain. He finally lowered his eyes.

A soft murmur of voices reached him, and Petr did not realize that all nonwarriors who came within sight of their ovKhan immediately fell silent, conversation stopping as though shut off like a water spigot; even their careful zero-g walking became more so.

“Why do we not go downside?” Petr repeated the question with an edge to his voice, causing those nearest him to shy away even farther; Petr remained blithely unaware. He had great respect for his aide (why else had he not pulled the man into a Circle of Equals for his arrogance?), but there were times when he simply could not tolerate the man’s inability to grasp the obvious. Jesup wished to seize command of a vessel at some point and begin to earn credibility by sealing his own deals. He’d never succeed in this goal if he did not think more quickly on his feet.

“That is what I am asking.” The frustration was plain on Jesup’s face. “I did not question when we simply passed through Augustine—seven days when we might have made planetfall and begun bringing enlightenment to these darkened worlds. And no, the failed test of the JumpShip did not count as any sort of activity for either of us and you know it. Then another eight in Miaplacidus, once more, inactive.”

He has been storing this up, waiting to expel it when the opportunity presented itself. Petr withheld his response, to see where this might lead.

“Now half a week has passed, and though the Trial of Grievance against scientist Kif was a diversion, once more we sit, wasting time.” He began to pace and the flow of humanity smoothly bowed around his tight path of agitated walking—a stone the water gave no heed to beyond making room for its presence.

“ovKhan Petr, I do not mean to second-guess your decision, but why else did saKhan Sennet send us here? Are we not tasked with contacting these worlds? They have been in the dark for almost two years. They will be desperate, hungry for outside contact. Their economies will have suffered and we will be their salvation: merchant gods to rain gold upon their heads and bring them news from afar. The potential is enormous. And—yet—we—sit!” Stopping, facing Petr, Jesup held his head up and met his ovKhan’s gaze unflinchingly, knowing Petr might challenge him on the spot for such insolence. The man was no coward. If a fight were to come, so be it.

Petr could not help but admire his aide; he knew how upset he must be to have gone through so many words without a single sarcastic comment. He took pity on him. “Think, Jesup. I know my directive. I know the other Aimags are already gathering, like shivers of sharks hunting for the choicest feeding grounds. Why would I pass three worlds, any of which could be the beginning of more glory?”