The Well of Stars Read Online Free PDF Page B

work.”
    At the height of the war, after the shields and lasers had abruptly failed, a fat comet had collided with the
ship, and at one-third lightspeed, ice and tar and frigid stone had turned into a bubble of white-hot plasma, those wild energies absorbed by the hull until the hyperfiber had no choice but to melt, forming a temporary lake that splashed outward in a kilometer-high wave.
    “We’ve got a genuine mess,” Conrad declared. “The comet struck on top of an old scar. Our biggest scar, as it happens. Where some moon-sized something hit, maybe five billion years ago. Although you know how tough it is to measure anything about hyperfiber. Its age, or when it was damaged. Anyway, my ancestors patched that old crater as fast as humanly possible, with the best grades of hyperfiber available … and because of our lousy luck, this new blast seems to have made the old damage worse …”
    “Are we risking a breach?” the Master inquired.
    “If a Kuiper-class body hit at a greater velocity, at the very worst angle, yes. There’s a small but ugly possibility of a hole punched clear through the hull.”
    But it was a minuscule risk. Through his nexuses, Conrad fed his full report to the others, and for a few moments, he allowed them to ponder his rough estimates and his hand-drawn, surprisingly lovely maps. The new crater was a tiny ring compared to its ancient predecessor, but it overlapped the central blast zone, fractures reaching deep inside the hull, compounding a host of subtle weaknesses made in some ancient, faraway place.
    “Of course work could be done faster,” Conrad promised. “But Remoras don’t have the hands anymore.” The war had decimated their ranks, and if anyone had managed to forget, he reminded them now. “It’s going to take thousands of years and a lot of babies before we match our old demographics. And maybe a million years before we forget these last few days.”
    The Master remained silent, angered by his tone but forbidden to say so.
    Washen turned to another of the new Submasters.
“Aasleen,” she said. “Perhaps you have something to offer here.”
    Aasleen had been placed in charge of the entire engineer corps. She was one of the captains who had gone to Marrow, and unlike some, she had remained loyal to the ship. Rising to her feet, she showed the humans a warm smile, gave the harum-scarums a well-received glare, and spoke for a little while about the sorry state of certain engines and the various reactors that supplied power to billions of passengers and crew. Then with a genuine affection, she reminded them, “We are, however, sitting inside a marvel, an ingenious mix of design and craftsmanship. Whoever the Builders were, they created a machine that seems meant to be repaired, refurbished, and when necessary, remodeled. I can have every reactor in full service inside eight months and the engines within eighteen. Then my engineers can start helping the Remoras.”
    As a rule, Remoras accepted no aid from outsiders. The hull was their realm and their responsibility, and their only home, which was why it was a surprise to hear Conrad mutter, “Any good hand would be a blessing.”
    Just how badly damaged was the hull?
    Silently, with a renewed paranoia, the other Submasters began reexamining the report. And lifting her tail, the little fef happily said, “My species will help. Many hands at the ready!”
    The single eye closed, and opened.
    “Of course,” said the Remora. “And thank you.”
    Days ago, Washen had met alone with her chief engineer, Conrad, and the fef. This little moment was the outcome of reason and blunt commands delivered during that earlier meeting. The hull was weakened slightly and would remain vulnerable for decades, regardless what was decided today. But the hull was not the point. Washen wanted to build cooperation among these diverse souls and establish what would serve as her personal authority,
and she had to achieve both goals while honoring