Read Online A Princess of the Aerie by John Barnes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John Barnes
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the room beeped once for attention, and then said, “CUPVs, be prepared for muster out processing in your quarters
in forty-five minutes.”
As
Up Yours
slipped between the whirling arms of the Aerie, only the minute, ever-changing accelerations from her hundreds of cold jets,
poking through her fuzzy black skin like the spines of a sea urchin, indicated that anything unusual was happening. The crew
were all singing-on where they were supposed to be at every instant,
more
spit-and-polish and by-the-book than ever—the Aerie was every crewie’s favorite port of call. No one wanted to draw one extra
second of on-ship duty during a stopover there.
So wherever you looked, every possible regulation was being conspicuously obeyed, yet the overwhelming feeling was of carnival
just erupting. On the muster deck where the B&Es were doing final check-and-stow, gear whipped from hand to hand and slapped
into place with the speed and precision of an ecstatic tapdancer. Unaccustomed camaraderie swept the engine room as engineers
throttled back the Casimir reactors and walked the synthesizers through cooldown. The chief officers in the worryball were
as singing-on precise as ever about keeping more than four hundred million tons of battlesphere moving at several kilometers
per second from crashing into densely populated human space, during an approach that had to be singing-on to the centimeter
in its last few kilometers, but with a disconcerting sense of fun. Everywhere on board the letter of every rule was respected
reverently, but the rules as a whole were stretched like shrink-wrap, barely containing the roiling spirit of joyful impending
anarchy.
In their passenger suite, a deeply bored ensign, who clearly wanted to be anywhere else, took forever about mustering out
the three CUPVs, making sure everything was done Spatial-style (i.e., officially, punctiliously, and with no sense of proportion).
Yet even Ensign Petrawang was smiling shyly as she checked off information and took voice prints.
Finally she said, “All right, as far as I can tell, I’ve put you through every single procedure I’m supposed to put you through.
You can stay here, or hang out on one of the observation decks, but either way since there’re no windows in the ship, what
you’ll be doing is watching a screen. Most of us crewies on board prefer to use the goggles because you get a holo view and
you can hop from camera to camera to give yourself a real djeste of what’s going on.
“But whichever you do, make sure you make it to Muster Deck A in plenty of time. The Captain always does his farewells in
order of rank, starting from the bottom up, which means you’re first—so it would sure be noticed if you weren’t there or weren’t
ready.” She smiled again. Jak thought that if Petrawang hadn’t been depilated for the Forces, and if she had been wearing
something more flattering than a shapeless coverall, she might have been pretty.
Dujuv smiled back and said, “Thank you for the warning and thank you for reminding us where we stand around here.”
“My lieutenant would have wanged me good if I hadn’t warned you. If you precess the Captain one millisecond before you’re
off his ship, he can brig you till you die of old age. So be on time, and be serious—the Captain’s all right, but he’s still
a captain, and if captains have senses of humor, maybe I’ll see that when I’m a captain, but not much before.
“And as far as where you stand goes, CUPV, that’s singing-on, what I said, you go first because you’re at the bottom, and
that’s what your standing is. If we were also dismissing a toaster, a vacuum cleaner, and the ship’s cat today, you’d still
be first in line. Now enjoy the view, be
where
you’re supposed to
when
you’re supposed to, and remember to be grateful when you’re a civilian again.”
After she left, they pulled on visors to catch the view. By now
Up
in forty-five minutes.”
As
Up Yours
slipped between the whirling arms of the Aerie, only the minute, ever-changing accelerations from her hundreds of cold jets,
poking through her fuzzy black skin like the spines of a sea urchin, indicated that anything unusual was happening. The crew
were all singing-on where they were supposed to be at every instant,
more
spit-and-polish and by-the-book than ever—the Aerie was every crewie’s favorite port of call. No one wanted to draw one extra
second of on-ship duty during a stopover there.
So wherever you looked, every possible regulation was being conspicuously obeyed, yet the overwhelming feeling was of carnival
just erupting. On the muster deck where the B&Es were doing final check-and-stow, gear whipped from hand to hand and slapped
into place with the speed and precision of an ecstatic tapdancer. Unaccustomed camaraderie swept the engine room as engineers
throttled back the Casimir reactors and walked the synthesizers through cooldown. The chief officers in the worryball were
as singing-on precise as ever about keeping more than four hundred million tons of battlesphere moving at several kilometers
per second from crashing into densely populated human space, during an approach that had to be singing-on to the centimeter
in its last few kilometers, but with a disconcerting sense of fun. Everywhere on board the letter of every rule was respected
reverently, but the rules as a whole were stretched like shrink-wrap, barely containing the roiling spirit of joyful impending
anarchy.
In their passenger suite, a deeply bored ensign, who clearly wanted to be anywhere else, took forever about mustering out
the three CUPVs, making sure everything was done Spatial-style (i.e., officially, punctiliously, and with no sense of proportion).
Yet even Ensign Petrawang was smiling shyly as she checked off information and took voice prints.
Finally she said, “All right, as far as I can tell, I’ve put you through every single procedure I’m supposed to put you through.
You can stay here, or hang out on one of the observation decks, but either way since there’re no windows in the ship, what
you’ll be doing is watching a screen. Most of us crewies on board prefer to use the goggles because you get a holo view and
you can hop from camera to camera to give yourself a real djeste of what’s going on.
“But whichever you do, make sure you make it to Muster Deck A in plenty of time. The Captain always does his farewells in
order of rank, starting from the bottom up, which means you’re first—so it would sure be noticed if you weren’t there or weren’t
ready.” She smiled again. Jak thought that if Petrawang hadn’t been depilated for the Forces, and if she had been wearing
something more flattering than a shapeless coverall, she might have been pretty.
Dujuv smiled back and said, “Thank you for the warning and thank you for reminding us where we stand around here.”
“My lieutenant would have wanged me good if I hadn’t warned you. If you precess the Captain one millisecond before you’re
off his ship, he can brig you till you die of old age. So be on time, and be serious—the Captain’s all right, but he’s still
a captain, and if captains have senses of humor, maybe I’ll see that when I’m a captain, but not much before.
“And as far as where you stand goes, CUPV, that’s singing-on, what I said, you go first because you’re at the bottom, and
that’s what your standing is. If we were also dismissing a toaster, a vacuum cleaner, and the ship’s cat today, you’d still
be first in line. Now enjoy the view, be
where
you’re supposed to
when
you’re supposed to, and remember to be grateful when you’re a civilian again.”
After she left, they pulled on visors to catch the view. By now
Up