wrapped the illusion of the Solar Union Space Fleet's mess dress around his body. Knowing what a glare he would get from Natalya, he had resisted the temptation to award himself a few of the medals that any fair-minded person would surely agree he deserved after this . . . this . . . the centuries-old expression "charlie foxtrot" came to mind.
Of course, I'm not in too much pain right now, he admitted, twirling his oddly shaped wineglass and glancing around.
Three walls of the base's social hall were flat-screen holo projectors, and the room seemed a roofed terrace jutting out over water beneath Raehan's two moons. Across the water, Brobdignagian towers blocked off half the night sky like a shimmering wall of faceted light, as their reflections seemed to fill half the wide bay. Beyond them, inconceivable cityscape climbed up a low range of hills. Overhead, unending swarms of brightly lit grav craft drifted by to the intricate music that he could barely hear over the jubilant hubbub.
Loruin hle'Saelarn, the base's CO, was addressing Murchison. "Has there been any word on that Torafv -class frigate that was listed as missing?"
"No," Murchison admitted. "All our other ship losses have been accounted for, but that one hasn't turned up. We'll find some wreckage eventually—probably in the course of hunting down the Korvaash survivors."
"Survivors?" Loruin looked worried. He was pudgy for a Raehaniv, and stretched his survey uniform—an altogether unlikely figure in a paramilitary service.
"Oh, yes. A couple of ships, including one big one. They may be hiding in the outer system, maybe among the gas-giant moons. But they can't threaten us here. And they can't hope to escape via the displacement point that connects with Korvaash space." Murchison smiled unpleasantly. "That one is very heavily guarded. Any ships that enter this system through it are going to be turned into rarefied gas before they can even think about going back to report anything amiss here."
"I'll bet!" Frank's enthusiasm was as unfeigned as his delight in the bionic left hand that only a medical sensor could have recognized as such. He had followed the battle in space raptly, growing more openmouthed with each offhand mention of rapid-repeating plasma guns, grav deflectors, tractor beams, X-ray lasers that didn't require the detonation of a nuclear bomb, and all the rest.
Natalya read his thoughts—as she did more and more of late. "And yet, as impressive as your weaponry is, the truly decisive innovation is your continuous-displacement drive. It changes the entire strategic picture. In fact, it abolishes the strategic picture, in the traditional sense!"
"Not quite," Murchison smiled. "Remember, paired displacement points tend to be very far apart in realspace, typically hundreds of light-years. So the Solar Union and the Realm of Tarzhgul—and the Raehaniv Federation—extend over enormous reaches of space, within which they've only visited a tiny percentage of the stars. For really long-distance movement within a reasonable length of time, we still need to make use of the displacement network. The Raehaniv Federation resembles a series of bubbles in space, connected by displacement lines. We emerge from a new displacement point, stop to determine where we are in realspace—we've learned that lesson—and then probe outward on continuous-displacement drive. Sometimes two of the bubbles grow into each other. Remind me to show you a holoprojection of it." He snagged a fresh wineglass from one of the serving robots that floated about on the silent Raehaniv grav repulsion, from which all the annoying side effects had been banished. "Of course, the biggest of the bubbles is the one centered on Raehan itself. That one includes Terranova, which used to have a displacement point, but no longer does."
"Every Terranovan I've ever known takes a perverse pride in their isolation," Loruin put in. "They claim it builds character!"
Everyone laughed, but
Of course, I'm not in too much pain right now, he admitted, twirling his oddly shaped wineglass and glancing around.
Three walls of the base's social hall were flat-screen holo projectors, and the room seemed a roofed terrace jutting out over water beneath Raehan's two moons. Across the water, Brobdignagian towers blocked off half the night sky like a shimmering wall of faceted light, as their reflections seemed to fill half the wide bay. Beyond them, inconceivable cityscape climbed up a low range of hills. Overhead, unending swarms of brightly lit grav craft drifted by to the intricate music that he could barely hear over the jubilant hubbub.
Loruin hle'Saelarn, the base's CO, was addressing Murchison. "Has there been any word on that Torafv -class frigate that was listed as missing?"
"No," Murchison admitted. "All our other ship losses have been accounted for, but that one hasn't turned up. We'll find some wreckage eventually—probably in the course of hunting down the Korvaash survivors."
"Survivors?" Loruin looked worried. He was pudgy for a Raehaniv, and stretched his survey uniform—an altogether unlikely figure in a paramilitary service.
"Oh, yes. A couple of ships, including one big one. They may be hiding in the outer system, maybe among the gas-giant moons. But they can't threaten us here. And they can't hope to escape via the displacement point that connects with Korvaash space." Murchison smiled unpleasantly. "That one is very heavily guarded. Any ships that enter this system through it are going to be turned into rarefied gas before they can even think about going back to report anything amiss here."
"I'll bet!" Frank's enthusiasm was as unfeigned as his delight in the bionic left hand that only a medical sensor could have recognized as such. He had followed the battle in space raptly, growing more openmouthed with each offhand mention of rapid-repeating plasma guns, grav deflectors, tractor beams, X-ray lasers that didn't require the detonation of a nuclear bomb, and all the rest.
Natalya read his thoughts—as she did more and more of late. "And yet, as impressive as your weaponry is, the truly decisive innovation is your continuous-displacement drive. It changes the entire strategic picture. In fact, it abolishes the strategic picture, in the traditional sense!"
"Not quite," Murchison smiled. "Remember, paired displacement points tend to be very far apart in realspace, typically hundreds of light-years. So the Solar Union and the Realm of Tarzhgul—and the Raehaniv Federation—extend over enormous reaches of space, within which they've only visited a tiny percentage of the stars. For really long-distance movement within a reasonable length of time, we still need to make use of the displacement network. The Raehaniv Federation resembles a series of bubbles in space, connected by displacement lines. We emerge from a new displacement point, stop to determine where we are in realspace—we've learned that lesson—and then probe outward on continuous-displacement drive. Sometimes two of the bubbles grow into each other. Remind me to show you a holoprojection of it." He snagged a fresh wineglass from one of the serving robots that floated about on the silent Raehaniv grav repulsion, from which all the annoying side effects had been banished. "Of course, the biggest of the bubbles is the one centered on Raehan itself. That one includes Terranova, which used to have a displacement point, but no longer does."
"Every Terranovan I've ever known takes a perverse pride in their isolation," Loruin put in. "They claim it builds character!"
Everyone laughed, but
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