Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy Read online

  “No doubt you could crack the stun floaters.”

  “Of course. If you bridge I can handle them remotely. The bots too, although they are security hardened and linked. It would take time. Of course we could bridge to the shuttle directly, but I am unfamiliar with Shade Momentum's security and cannot tell you how long I would need the connection.”

  “This area is recorded. I would rather keep things low-key than risk triggering the station's security apparatus.” Aristahl rubbed his hands together. “This shuttle line is known for high-speed and discretion. Many run with autonomous robot crews. Perhaps we could just... hire them?”

  “Checking. The shuttle is from out-system. The Aventicia branch has not logged it in inventory.”

  “Forge an arrival communication for it. We need to make it available. Then it will just be a matter of convincing them that a short, lucrative run is in their best interest.”

  “That started something. Dispatch and the shuttle are in a dispute over its availability.”

  The maintenance bot's routine changed. They looked ready to receive new orders.

  “Now send in the highest priority request for this shuttle to leave ASAP.”

  “It is rather expensive,” the AI noted.

  “I know. That is why they will want to fulfill it so badly. Shade Momentum is a commercial endeavor. These very expensive shuttles are practically losing money every minute they sit idle.”

  The bots started launch prep and then stopped.

  “The shuttle insists it is booked for an exclusive charter, although it has no supporting documentation that can be checked locally. This is starting to become less easy than cracking.”

  “Come now, we are so close. Add some flags to our request. High up in the government, diplomatic, emergency related to current military situation, etcetera. Also specify the need is only for a short one way trip, then the shuttle can resume its charter.”

  “I believe humans are involved now,” Barrister said. “They are trying to override the shuttle. I admire its dogmatic resolve. But at last they have reached the top of its priority chain. It will take us if one of its authorized passengers gives in-person permission.”

  The maintenance crew began launch prep again. Aristahl rushed to board. Stun floaters parted and the bots bowed respectfully.

  “We will have more options from within,” Aristahl sub-whispered.

  “And you will get to see the interior,” Barrister link-said.

  “That too.”

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  Cranium's image sat there, dressed in new clothes befitting the environment. He still sported the trendy monochrome, but instead of gradating up from black to gray, it was gray up to white at his shoulders.

  “I haven't seen you since the Egress Incident,” Durn said.

  “The Egress Incident...” the image said. “So that's what they ended up calling it.”

  Durn looked confused. “Ingots, where have you been? The Ajurian Realm? Anyway, I noted your little role in our victory for my postbook. Did you read it?”

  He looked afar off. “I did. Your note is rather nano, don't ya think?”

  “Well I—” Durn sat up straighter. “I don't know what you guys did out there. Some small distraction I suppose. But it worked.”

  Jordahk stared at the image of his old friend. The detail was amazing. His longish pale hair, still streaked with charcoal, was cut akin to Aventicia's trends. He retained the nonathletic, data rider look, along with great subtlety of expression.

  Cranium's image gave him a knowing look. “Congratulations, adam. You did it.”

  The mannerisms and definition were so real. If this was what a creation of the Bitlord could do in conjunction with Jordahk's fledgling ability to create, imagine what might be accomplished by an experienced Sojourner.

  “We did it.” But Cranium never saw it. The image Jordahk wished dispelled forever attacked again. The data rider's last dumbfounded expression, and the explosion of crystallized blood... The reality that his friend's life was snatched as Jordahk watched only meters away, struck anew. He hadn't figured experiencing the simulacrum would be this hard. A sudden emotional storm raged. “...Cranium.”

  Solia looked at him with eyes turning to sadness and concern. See leaned to reach out to him, but dared not pass through the imagery.

  “I'm dead, adam,” the simulcrum link-said. “You receiving? Don't get hung-up on my memory.” It smiled at him. “Cranium wouldn't want that.”

  “My master will be pleased with my power to create,” Wixom link-said.

  Cranium's library, his logs, his life... boiled into a simulcrum. It seemed at first blush a travesty. But the Octal turned data rider chose to share what was of great value to him, his information. Was it selfish to make a shadow of something gone because need demanded it? Perhaps it was better framed as a way to keep the good memories alive. He banished again the images of Cranium's death, hopefully for the last time.

  “Hey,” the simulcrum said, “we decided to call me CraArch, remember?”

  “Some sort of Octal name?” Durn asked. “Like archangel?”

  “No like Cranium Archimedes you flux-bot. I noticed you changed your name.”

  “The price of fame I suppose.”

  “Yeah, sure,” CraArch said. “Well I have a new moniker for, shall we say, a new me.”

  Max could program a passable independent simulcrum for basics. But the more advanced the behavior, the more it became like making an AI. Specialty stuff. What had he helped unleash?

  “I've triple checked the code,” Max link-said, sensing trepidation. “It's a wonder of complexity, as you might expect from him, but not dangerous as far as I can tell.”

  “I'm not above occasionally indulging your emotionalism,” Wixom link-said, “especially if it involves a challenge.”

  Out in the club the ever darkening environment was cloying. Zoraida had made two clone images of herself to either side. One dark and one light. Until her cracking finished, she was stretching the performance. Its hypnotic sway continued developing, and enveloping the unprepared. He hadn't yet fully embraced belief like his mother, but the vision of darkness Zoraida was weaving made him want to retreat into the light Vittora knew. New resolve blossomed from that thought. It was time to get his head back in the game, literally.

  Zoraida would reap what she sowed sooner or later, but not here.

  CraArch rubbed his hands together. “Max tells me you're having trouble with a faux or two.”

  “The line is narrow,” Jordahk said.

  “And Zoraida isn't helping either,” the simulcrum link-said. “She hasn't hulled down. Her firewalls are brittle because of the data transfer.”

  Jordahk put his hands back on the controls. “Okay, Max. I've got it.”

  CraArch turned to Solia. “You won't mind if I help him out, will you?” Solia shook her head and he appeared to grab the weapons controls.

  Durn looked across the club. “Is this really the time for gaming?”

  “You know Octals,” Jordahk said with a shrug.

  His focus returned to the track just in time to see the Olivia's second firewall, the stone bulwark, shatter into pebbles. Beyond stood Zoraida's final territory, the mansion. He wasn't surprised to see it have the form of an obsidian pyramid surrounded by four obelisks.

  She's really a piece of work.

  The pipes above still managed little more than a trickle of glowing information transfer.

  “I'm not surprised,” CraArch commented on it. “We combatants are taking up all the bandwidth.”

  The simulcrum was picking up on Jordahk's thinking through Max and the amino network grown throughout his brain. CraArch must know Jordahk's desperate assessment of the situation. The heavy vehicle, guarded from behind by the racer and the medium, was moving through the first turn, no doubt preparing another static torpedo.

  CraArch took sudden aim and fired their entire salvo of pulses at the other vehicles. The result was only near mis
ses and minor skims.

  “Hey, those take time to calc!” Jordahk said.

  “Don't melt,” CraArch said. “We need the space for a hot block. Now get in front of the racer.”

  Catching up to the convoy was easy. Dodging the pulses from the rearguard would be more challenging. A hot block in a regular thresh was a good temporary barrier. But in this situation it wouldn't stop a vehicle. The heavy would bust through it hardly noticing. The racer might get damaged, but for the block to be that strong it would have to be concentrated and small. Easily driven around.

  “It's going to take time to calc,” Max said.

  “Be ready Max. Our Octal has an idea.”

  “And store up as many probes as you can, too,” CraArch added.

  Jordahk could only shake his head. “Just do it, Max.”

  They all knew probes were useless in the information wind. Jordahk plowed through it, dodging salvos of pulses, and got in front of the racer during the far turn.

  “Release,” CraArch ordered. The probes flew backwards like pulper shreds out of a speeding lightwheel. They did no damage, but likely annoyed and no doubt obscured the vision of the driver. “Full stop! Angle us toward the inner wall.”

  Jordahk wrenched the controls. The second their fanicle roared to a stop CraArch ordered the hot block in. True to his lightwheel choice, the racer tried to accelerate out of the probes, only to slam into the vehicle-sized hot block laid along the fanicle.

  The fanicle was bashed down the track as the hot block shattered from impact. The racer careened off it, caught air, and arced into the laser death wall. The explosion was more spectacular than expected from the little lightwheel.

  “Nice!” Solia said.

  CraArch put on the old, smarmy grin. “Racers. Always trying to solve everything with speed.” He turned to Jordahk. “In the end, these guys are amateurs. I'm a pro.”

  Jordahk couldn't help but laugh. He eased the battered fanicle back into the race. The crazy Octal style was unlocking tactical thoughts he never should've dismissed. The remaining two opponents continued down the racetrack in tandem. But it wasn't really a race, was it?

  He slammed on the brakes and turned the fanicle around into the wind. The resistance against the flow was severe, which is why everyone had been taking the least resistant path of information transfer.

  “Drop everything and load up on pulses.”

  “Now you're transmitting,” CraArch said. “Pulses calcing up.”

  A new confidence filled Jordahk. He plowed backwards through the first turn heading back onto the homestretch. On its other end their opponents entered. Soon their paths were aiming toward a head-on collision.

  “This isn't some sort of game of chicken, is it?” Max asked.

  Jordahk eased off-center, and from behind the heavy the medium peeked out on the left. Then did so again.

  “It won't come to that,” he answered as the distance closed. “CraArch, start a string of pulses down the left.”

  “Heh,” the simulcrum chuckled. “Betting he won't be able to resist, aren't you?”

  “Like you said, they're amateurs.”

  “But the pulses won't be enough to stop him,” Solia said.

  The pulses flew forward, blazing through the wind. As the vehicles neared the point where someone would have to swerve or collide, the medium peeked out again.

  “I'm counting on more,” Jordahk said.

  The medium and the fanicle had each other centered in their sights. The medium fired what he had ready. Unfortunately for him it was a static torpedo which immediately came into contact with Jordahk's pulses. The explosion was violent. Jordahk was already turning away. The medium had no chance and crumpled into the blast wave before adding to the explosion. The heavy was blown off its lightwheels. One entire side was stripped to the frame, but it landed and somehow kept going, though severely damaged.

  The torpedo's sphere of destruction ripped at the rear of the fanicle before subsiding, stripping it to bare functionality, and little more speed than the limping heavy. Although slow, their opponent reached the firewall funnel and let loose a hoarded static torpedo.

  The obsidian stones of the mansion burst into chunks. The energetic structure revealed underneath was... unexpected.

  “I don't think we're dealing with a stock Olivia,” CraArch said. “Even a near future release.”

  The revealed core sector of Zoraida's Olivia was infused with dark energy resonating at a frequency he'd seen before. It glowed a deep blue-violet that to Jordahk was more scary than the obsidian.

  “Osmium. Max, is she running some sort of hybrid compy?” Jordahk had not heard of such a thing.

  “Not as far as I can tell. But she could have mystic or hybrid cylinders installed.”

  Cylinders were add-on components for extra functionality. Jordahk used to have a couple in Max before his “rebirth.” The mystery of Zoraida wasn't being revealed over time, it was only becoming deeper.

  “The heavy is hobbling around for a final pass,” Max said. “The Olivia's dangerously vulnerable.”

  A grin crept onto Jordahk's countenance. “Calc up a static torpedo.”

  “I'm receiving, adam.” CraArch smirked wide.

  “Won't it still be difficult to hit a vehicle with one?” Solia asked.

  “This is what we call the endgame,” the simulacrum said to her.

  Jordahk turned the sluggish fanicle back with the flow. Its functionality was failing. Parts dropped off.

  Just like the real thing in the good old days.

  “Max, CraArch, work some magic,” Jordahk said. “This thing's fading fast and I need some speed.”

  CraArch brought up a control VAD and made adjustments. “Max, see if you can push these through. Should free up enough space.”

  The fanicle jerked sporadically, but trended faster. They caught up with the last opponent on the far turn, heading into the homestretch. It began evasive maneuvers, well, as evasive as a damaged heavy could pull off. Jordahk swerved too, just in case. But everyone knew what it had come down to.

  When the fanicle pulled past the heavy, Jordahk turned sharp into its broken side. Right before contact he gave the final order.

  “Fire.”

  CraArch let go their static torpedo at point blank range. It hit the heavy and exploded as the fanicle also slammed into it. A huge hemisphere of energy blossomed sending a shock wave across the track. In its wake the laser lines of color flashed green.

  Looking up in the game environment, the information pipes flooded with glowing bits. Then the transfer was done, and the entire course broke into lines of light and disbursed. Out in the club Zoraida hit a dramatic ending note. A sweep of energy traveled though her virtual landscape, transforming it into fading squares of light.

  The room burst into clamor. The involved parties, including Zoraida, were lost in the crowd.

  Durn shook his head. “Weird ending.”

  Good feelings came rushing back. Jordahk remembered how Cranium had come to trust him, and even team up on their desperate quest.

  Thanks Cranium.

  “Is this really the time for maudlin sentimentalism?” Max asked through his link.

  “Says the guy who brought our venerable family fanicle back to life,” Jordahk sub-whispered.

  “Touche.”

  CraArch read the sentiment. He nodded in acknowledgment and stood, motioning Solia to let him out for the sake of the fiction.

  “It was good working with you... again,” the simulacrum said. Jordahk went to say something, but had no words. “I'll be around, adam...” CraArch slipped into the crowd and disappeared. “When there's need...”

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  A generous section of the Verdant's main viewport was dedicated to the probe feed. Sent behind Granamar in the wake of the newly arrived Archiver ships, it found...

  “Nothing,” Arceneaux said. “Thank God. Nothing.” He didn't bother hiding his relief.

  The captain finally st
opped pacing the bridge. Kord sat in the flag chair, unmoved. True, something large and energetic would have shown up already, but his suspicions were too strong to be easily assuaged.

  “Find the staryards.”

  “Already isolating them.” Vittora, at a nearby station, worked the feeds for him.

  The first appeared. It housed a superhauler with its engine section in a state of disassembly. Pieces floated next to the hull like an engineering diagram. The feed panned and zoomed. The second staryard came into focus. Its state was one of disarray. Equipment strewn about was being wrangled by numerous work pods. Parked next to it were two civilian shuttles.

  Kord's stomach sank. The sentiment reached his face and Arceneaux saw it.

  “It's empty, right?” Arceneaux sounded like a man trying to convince himself. “Where are the three Archiver ships?”

  “Already around the back of Granamar, sir,” the data rider offered.

  “Any feeds?”

  “Our probe is chasing. We'll get something from the emerging side first.”

  “I want visuals on those three ships ASAP.”

  Kord exchanged glances with Vittora. “I don't think it's going to be just three.”

  Alarms echoed across the bridge.

  “Silence that clamor,” Arceneaux barked.

  “Detensor picking up incoming ships in manifold space.” The tactical officer shook his head. “They're close!”

  “What? How close?”

  “Two hours from Granamar's hill bottom.”

  “Two hours?”

  Everyone knew that ships didn't just pop up on a detensor two hours away. They could often be seen approaching faintly for days.

  “They must have been hiding nearby in low power mode,” Vittora said.

  Kord's eyes narrowed. “And so the final piece arrives.”

  “How many ships?” Arceneaux ordered.

  “It's hard to tell, sir,” the data rider answered. “They're traveling in a peleton. Possibly a squadron judging from signal strength.”

  The realization of ships moving in a tightly packed string was dawning on Arceneaux.

  “They're trying to hide their numbers...”

  “I think it's time for battle stations, captain,” Kord said.