Free Exultant by Stephen Baxter Page A

plated-over moon. The corvette had nuzzled against a dock on this metallic worldlet, and to left and right they could see more ports, receding beyond the metal world’s tight horizon, complex puckers within which more ships rested.
    There was no sign of the corvette’s crew. But Commissary Nilis stood here, gazing out. He hadn’t noticed the ensigns. He had his hands behind his back, and he seemed to be
humming.
    Torec and Pirius glanced at each other. Pirius stood to attention and plucked up his courage. “Sir.”
    Nilis was startled, but he smiled. “Ah, my two ensigns! And how are you enjoying the trip? Well, we’ve barely started. If there’s anything you need, just ask.” He turned back to the window. “Look over there—remarkable—I think that’s a Spline ship.” So it was, Pirius saw. The great living vessel nestled in its dock; it looked like a bulging eyeball.
    Torec nudged Pirius, who asked, “Sir—Commissary—can you tell us where we are?”
    “Well, this is Base 528, I believe,” Nilis said. “We’re here for our first provisioning stop.” He glanced at them. “And what does that number tell you?”
    Pirius was confused, but Torec said: “Sir, that it’s an old base. Arches is 2594. The older the base, the lower the number.”
    “Quite so. Good. Now, come,
see.
” He walked past them to the other wall.
    Pirius saw ships: many ships, of all shapes and sizes, crisscrossing before his vision. The nearer ships shuttled into docks, or left them. Beyond there were many more, just sparks too remote to make out any detail, a shifting crowd that sorted itself into streams that swept away. The ships were beyond counting, he thought, stunned, and this vast streaming must continue day and night, all from this one base.
    But Torec was looking beyond the ships to the stars. “Pirius. The sky is
dark.
”
    The sky was dense with stars, many of them hot and blue. But in every direction he looked, between the stars the sky was black, black as velvet. “We aren’t in the Galaxy center anymore,” he said.
    “Quite right,” Nilis said. “We are actually in a spiral arm—called the Three-Kiloparsec Arm, the innermost arm of the Galaxy’s main disc.”
    “Three-Kilo,” said Torec, wondering. “I heard of that.”
    “Many famous battles were fought here,” Nilis said. “But long ago. Once this base was on the front line. Now it is a resupply depot. The Front has since been pushed deeper into the heart of the Galaxy, deeper toward the Prime Radiant itself. In this part of the Galaxy there are ports, dry docks, graving yards, weapons ships: it is a belt of factory worlds that encloses the inner center, a hinterland that spans hundreds of light-years.” He sighed. “I’ve traveled here a dozen times, but the scale of it still bewilders me. But then, a war spread across a hundred thousand light-years, and spanning tens of millennia, simply cannot be grasped during a human life spanning mere decades. Perhaps it isn’t surprising that the idea of
winning
this war is beyond the imagination of even our most senior commanders.”
    Torec said hesitantly, “Commissary?”
    “Yes, child?”
    “Please—what do you want us to
do
?”
    Nilis laughed. “Why, nothing. You must relax—treat this as a holiday, for believe me, we will have plenty to do once we get to Earth.” He slapped them on their shoulders. “For now, just enjoy the ride!” And he disappeared into his cabin.
    Pirius and Torec shared a bewildered glance. For Navy brats, leisure was an alien concept. They stared out at the streaming ships.
             
    The next leg of the journey would be the longest, a straight-line cut through the spiral arms of the Galaxy spanning six days and no less than fifteen thousand light-years, before they reached a resupply depot at the Orion Line.
    In the humming womb of the corvette, Pirius and Torec still had nothing to do.
    By the end of the second day the rich food began to make them feel