Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy Page 16

  Janus cocked his head slightly to the side. “You're too close to it. Perhaps you should concentrate solely on the virus.”

  “No!” Dysig made an overt effort to rein himself in. “No, I'm sorry Prime Orator. I can do both, and both are virtually ready. Put her in the cradle and I will initialize. Your new information will be incorporated on an update.” Janus gave him a long, scrutinizing look, but the man got a hold of himself. “Really, it's Kelvin. Put her in.”

  A sub-whispered command opened the hatch for Leisel.

  “Downtime, Leisel.”

  “Yes, Prime Orator.”

  Even her bubbly obedience was annoying.

  The coffin like cradle stood against the bulkhead. Super cool air condensed into frigid wisps as she lay back in it.

  Dysig's hands darted across controls. “Initializing. It'll take a moment. The AI matrix is complex. Perhaps more so than any ever created for an android.”

  Somehow Janus doubted that. He was no bitsmith, nor a fan of the Sojourners, but even he knew the legendary Taal mystic foundry created things yet to be surpassed. He proceeded to other business while they waited.

  “Have you pulsed the jetty?”

  Dysig snapped out of his tunnel vision. “Yes. It's as vulnerable as we thought. I've made contact with the transceiver you said would be there. I don't need to know how it was installed.”

  “You don't.”

  “Anyway, my virus will work. All my bitsmithing works.”

  Most of Aventicia's galleon fleet sat in the base known as the Jetty. Beached whales, as they used to say, lacking upgrades in both ship and system. His smile was predatory.

  “They're fools. Relying on intimidation and tradition. Cutting corners in all the wrong places.”

  A tone sounded from the cradle. Dysig scanned data scrolling at an inhuman pace. “It's holding together.”

  “You say that like you're surprised.”

  “Of course not. But cutting-edge does incur the occasional experimental misstep.” He made some final adjustments. “Stable and ready. Core persona will activate upon release. After that, it's at your keyword discretion.”

  “That will do. Be ready for the operation. You know they're going to try to stop you.”

  “As if they could,” Dysig scoffed. “By your leave, Prime Orator.”

  With the wave Janus was alone. But was he? The cradle hissed and opened with a rush of air. Leisel opened her eyes and took a step out. Air condensed off her body. Her expression was strange—her face was changing shape. The bubbly roundness was replaced with cheekbones and sharp, delicate features.

  The treaders reshaped from bland to stylized utilitarian. Her leg coverings and bodshirt clung to her body while taking on a dark red hue. The short skirt folded up into a thick, military-esque belt. The subtle sound of smart material reorganizing punctuated her jacket shortening to waist length and thickening. It became dark maroon like her belt.

  Her head tilted back. The tall, platinum blonde roll of hair relaxed from its solid appearance and dropped straight. It changed color from root to tip, becoming shiny auburn. The strands suddenly wrapped into dual braids positioned front and back. Her stature grew. He looked into eyes, changed to a deep red brown. They were only a little below his.

  The transformation startled him, and he had not been startled in a long time. He felt an electricity in his body.

  “Come closer, Sytorra.”

  “Yes, Janus.”

  She stepped up to him, her face almost touching his, and he was not repulsed.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  Patram. He hadn't seen it in some time. It was as unusual as he remembered, and for some reason its aesthetics were more pleasing to his eye.

  The observation deck on the Astral Duchess was a grand place, like everything else on the Crown Nebula starliner. Jordahk had plenty of space to contemplate the view in relative solitude as the ship made a stately entry from hill bottom. Colors bathed the decking through towering crystal bulkheads.

  Striations of copper, sapphire, and grays streaked the surface of rocky Patram. Its atmosphere produced only wispy clouds; white lines accenting the surface with patterns as fine as those from a traditional painter's brush.

  Although unique for many reasons, the most obvious from space manifested along the belt of its circumference. Light glinted off silvery construction reaching up and down into the hemispheres. It grew more sparse as distance from the equator increased. The structures continued into the night side, reflections replaced with internal illumination.

  The hamlets of Patram.

  The planet's unusual formation created caverns, hundreds of meters high, honeycombing the crust, supporting the thin surface. Considering Patram's particulars, they were ideal for settlement. Nearly all the grottoes along the circumference were filled with towns the locals called hamlets. Many housed small cities. Five or six beams shot off the planet like spokes around its center.

  “How's their water, Max?”

  The active crystal bulkheads through which Jordahk peered came alive with graphics. Highlighting circles shrank upon a string of objects he would not have noticed without highlighting. They each left a tail, forming an indistinct broken line from out-system.

  “The water train continues,” Max said. “Patram is the wettest dry world in the Asterfraeo.”

  A traditional gas giant's icy moon had been providing water for decades. Processed into icy mountains, it was accelerated for its years-long journey. Their destination was rising over Patram's horizon.

  Patram Minor was half the size of Patram, and referred to as “Minor” almost exclusively, excepting tourism writers. Its dense toxic atmosphere formed mesmeric swirls of teal and white. It was pleasing to behold and no doubt magnificent from the hamlets below.

  Jordahk squinted at Minor. “Is it true they have enough stored up to last a century?

  More graphics appeared in orbit above the rising teal world.

  “I see more storage facilities than our last visit,” Max answered. He provided schematics of giant orbiting behemoths. “Haulers transport it from Minor orbit down the beams.”

  Patram functioned now as if never challenged. Its pulverized rock made excellent soil, once you added water. Although its atmosphere wasn't breathable, it wasn't toxic either. You could walk on Patram's surface with only a breather. And its caverns, after being filled with heavier breathable air, didn't even need to be covered to retain it. Many were covered now for protection and stability, but not necessity.

  “They'll be exporting soon. I'm sure there's a market somewhere for superhaulers of cheap, fresh water.”

  Jordahk sat back, enjoying the accomplishments of his mother's people. His eyes drifted into space where the giant Blood Nebula shone brightly, mixing its light with the teal of Minor, leaving Patram illuminated in crisp near-white. Something attracted his attention in orbit. It wasn't yet visible to the naked eye, yet he knew it was there. His father's zoomies would have been handy, instead of just color-covering display rets.

  His changing eyesight was becoming sharper. An object was there... vaguely familiar somehow. It was like experiencing extended déjà vu as his mind was drawn toward it. He wanted to discern more for himself before asking Max. His vision tunneled towards it as he raised his hand almost involuntarily.

  Max said something but Jordahk's attention was moving away.

  “Avere, young Wilkrest.”

  Jordahk jumped, making an abrupt mental withdrawal from the zooming sensation. He was so rarely surprised like that these days.

  A man was right next to him. His hair was white, although he wasn't in sempai. His eyes were keenly observing, their brown so light that it was barely darker than his loose-fitting cream colored clothing.

  Jordahk regained his composure.

  “I tried to tell you someone was coming,” Max link-said.

  “Avere, Zepherean D.” Jordahk greeted the representative from Demeter formally. They had met at Castellum, in the impressiv
e High Castle station, where his parents kicked the butts of some construction goons. “Did you just board?”

  “Yes, when the fast transport linked at hill bottom.”

  High-speed couriers could take a client all the way down the beam if they chose. The service was enjoyed by VIPs who prefered saving time over the methodical approach to a planet.

  “Ah, my parents will be joining me shortly.”

  “Perhaps you have noticed Sojourner's Rock.”

  The man wasn't much for casual banter. He nodded toward the area of space that had caught Jordahk's attention.

  “Sojourner's Rock…?” Jordahk mused, staring across space.

  “A local legend. Apparently the asteroid arrived after the war,” Zephyrean D paused, adding weight to his low-emotion delivery, “under veiled circumstances.”

  “Let's see it, Max.” Schematics and visuals appeared on the crystal. Some from the Astral Duchess's feeds and others so crisp they must be in orbit. The rocky body looked clumpy, as if squeezed together by a giant hand reaching into an asteroid belt. A number of ships rode orbit with it. “A destroyer and two frigates? For a rock?”

  “The Patram Guard take their traditions seriously.”

  “Legends with variations are associated with it,” Max said. “Most relate something about the rock helping in a time of need.”

  “I favor the variant that says, 'One will come to reclaim the rock in a time of need.'”

  The bigness of space suddenly struck Jordahk. He had an impression of just how far apart inhabitable worlds were. A zoomed VAD showed a starfighter squadron moving past the rock in respectful parade formation.

  “Starfighters?” Jordahk asked. “Patram's using starfighters?”

  “They maintain squadrons for training,” Max answered. “I don't believe they go with the fleet, unless Patram has recently added carriers or deploy cruisers.”

  “Protecting the solitude of the rock is a posting of honor amongst the guard,” Zephyrean D said. His attention returned from the rock and back onto careful regard.

  “Are you going to this reception?”

  “Yes.” Zephyrean D's answer was terse, and perhaps all that was going to be offered. Then the man chose to continue. “My compatriot, a trebuchet commander, speaks highly of your contributions during the Incursion at Windermere.”

  A reflexive secretiveness, inculcated by his father and grandfather, sprang to the surface. His parents had spent time with this man, but Jordahk didn't really know him.

  “It was Demeter's contingent that made a contribution far beyond their tonnage.”

  The man stared at him. “All the power of our ships was not going to change the course of that battle.” Jordahk didn't know what to say. He was unsure of how much the man knew. Zephyrean D glanced at the sling bag. “I'm told you and your family put on quite the shooting display earlier.”

  It was an abrupt subject change that perhaps wasn't a subject change at all. He tried to keep his response light. “Well, that's our business after all.”

  “May I see your autobuss?”

  Never give your weapon to a stranger. It was a foundational rule from his father. But Kord trusted this man, and Jordahk was curious as to what he might discern. The slingbag opened to Jordahk's draw. When contact was made Max snugged down all three interlocks. It wouldn't fire without willful unlocking.

  The pearlescent white pistol gleamed under the varied hues of the Patram system as he handed it over. The red of the Blood Nebula seemed to swirl down into its subtle patterns of reflective surfacing. Those commenting on its appearance down at the range thought it a coating, but Jordahk knew it went to the core.

  It was the second autobuss he'd somehow changed. His first was altered at the Egress Incident when he'd pushed one of Ek-Hein Wahb's resonance legacy shells beyond its capacity. The pistol had manifested striations of neumenium purple at Jordahk's last glimpse of it. This one became entirely pearlescent after using the unfathomable technology of the Khromas known as the Spirit.

  Zephyrean D seemed lost in thought. The surface of the autobuss radiated patterns where the man's fingers made contact. Jordahk should be concerned, but wasn't... much.

  “What is old may not be lost forever,” the man said cryptically. “It comes back in curious ways.” His attention moved to the hatch a second before it opened revealing Kord, Vittora, and Solia. He handed the autobuss back. “There are yet things of great interest to come, wouldn't you agree young Wilkrest?”

  Jordahk was ready to make the man an honorary graduate of the Aristahl school of information delivery. But he kept that wry thought to himself and accepted the autobuss without comment.

  “Talking about shooting?” Kord asked.

  “I don't think so,” Jordahk said.

  Vittora eyed Zephyrean D skeptically, but without alarm. It put Jordahk at ease, and he released tension he didn't know had built up.

  As they closed the distance to Patram they passed numerous fleet contingents from other worlds. Highearn took to marking them on the crystal, adding tactical information, typifying his usual focus.

  “There are a lot of warships here,” Solia said. “Is this normal?”

  “It does seem a little much,” Jordahk said. “Why are these others here? I thought the Banking Confederation already negotiated the composition of Confidence Fleet.”

  The Adams Rush contingent had more ships than were going on that mission. Highlight circles shrank upon another group.

  “Better change the color of those, Highearn,” Max said.

  The markers became purple. VADs zoomed on the four largest ships. Two of them Jordahk recognized as Demeter trebuchets. Two more were the size of cruisers, and each had a large ring extended from their hull. It was a design philosophy made famous by the Neumanus ArgoNav.

  “Purple? Mystic ships?” Jordahk turned to the group. “I doubt Demeter's sending more than a ship or two out for the Confidence Fleet.”

  Kord and Vittora exchanged glances and Zephyrean D raised a single eyebrow.

  “There's other business going on here that must stay on the down-low for now,” Kord said.

  “So that's why the reception tonight is invitation only,” Jordahk mused.

  He looked at the markers with new eyes. A couple small contingents were from Far Worlds planets he'd barely heard of. The mid-Asterfraeo seemed well represented. What about…

  “Max,” Jordahk sub-whispered, “how many Palisades worlds are represented here.”

  Max picked up on Jordahk's desire for privacy and put only a single group marker on his rets. “These guys are the closest match.” Jordahk spied the ships of Utica Cyr. They weren't even real Palisades, being inward off the line and retaining fierce independence.

  He spun around with questions in his eyes.

  “One mission at a time, Jordahk,” Kord said. “First, we have a Banking Confederation to secure.”

  The hatch opened for Sloan. Apparently their display back in the range had made shooting outfits all the rage. His once-girlfriend further modified hers, making it hug her curves even tighter. She also opened laced slits along the outside of the legs and exposed her shoulders.

  “How about I join you at this formal reception. It sounds my speed,” she said without preamble.

  “It's invite only,” Jordahk said. “I'm not even sure why I'm going.”

  “And then you're heading out on this confidential fleet?”

  “Confidence Fleet. Yes.”

  “I've found it, sir,” Highearn said.

  A new marker, a civilian one, highlighted a massive ship. Not that it wasn't armed. Numerous antiship emplacements were designated by Highearn.

  “Excellent,” Kord said. “I'd heard a large military surplus dealer was going to be here.”

  Vittora looked at her husband with a faint grin. “Another fanicle?”

  “Is it my fault the Hex has made it their sole mission to destroy each and every fanicle we own?”

  “I don't think it
's your fault, necessarily. But do we need to give them another target to test the theory?”

  “I second that,” Solia said.

  “Where's your sense of adventure?” Kord bantered.

  Jordahk considered replying that it got blown up along with that Hektor, but thought better of it with Zephyrean D and Sloan there.

  “So, this is goodbye until the next orbit?” Sloan asked.

  “Naw, it's not that long,” Jordahk said. “Besides, you're still on the Astral Duchess for a month or two. Maybe you'll surprise me with honed shooting skills.” He smiled.

  She reached up and kissed his cheek longer than casual friends might, and in a rare show of concern hugged him tightly before turning away.

  She looked Solia up-and-down. “Enjoy the party.”

  Solia glanced at Jordahk. “I'm not invited either.”

  “Veritas?” Sloan seemed genuinely surprised.

  Solia's reply was flat. “Bye Sloan.”

  Jordahk wondered why it was so strange between those two of late.

  Sloan waved at the hatch, glanced back once at Jordahk, and was gone.

  In the quiet that followed, he looked back out, sending his focus into space. Something new reached his awareness. Something that felt a little like Sojourner's Rock. He tried to locate it, and managed a general direction.

  “Highearn, is a new group coming into view over there?”

  “There is. I believe you're familiar with the design.”

  The AI highlighted two warships. Destroyer sized, but dedicated to rocks instead of t-beams.

  “Javelins.” Jordahk examined details as Highearn filled them in. “Grehjot javelins?”

  “Yes, that's the flag.”

  A few smaller ships were with them. A frigate and a couple corvettes. Something drew his attention.

  “You'll want to see this,” Max said.

  An unmistakable ship was highlighted among the Grehjot contingent. Once a police vessel, now patched, re-patched, and somehow stronger than it ever was. Jordahk felt a sudden pit in his stomach.

  “The Monte Crest?” Solia read.

  Jordahk blinked. “Glick.”