Tethered Worlds: Blue Star Setting Read online

  "I'm going to cut you up, and no one's going to care," the goon said.

  Jordahk stayed calm despite the man's provocation, but he really wanted to sock him in the mouth. When the goon slashed again, Jordahk spun in behind it, exposing his back. He knew the coat would protect him. At spin's end he was positioned to wrestle for the sword. They struggled briefly before Jordahk lifted the man off the ground in the half-gravity and ran him full speed into the wall. He clubbed the goon's mouth with a forearm strike to boot. The man slumped to the ground, and Jordahk retained the blade.

  Khai's opponent was getting frustrated, not landing a single blow while she peppered him with numerous weaker strikes. Finally, he bull-rushed her, knowing he would take a hit. His nose exploded in blood, but he slammed her hard, knocking her back through the air. She recovered as if the backwards plunge was her idea, doing a back walkover into a back somersault to end up facing her opponent again.

  The goon wiped his face and drew his pocket pistol.

  Jordahk didn't have a clear line to him but remembered one of her skills from the bay.

  "Khai!" he yelled.

  She looked as he threw the blade at her. She snatched the handle out of the air like it was magnetized to her hand, twirled her body to preserve its momentum, and hurled the blade at her armed opponent. It pierced clothing and shoulder up to the hilt, flinging the man backwards with the force of the impact.

  Khai kicked the pistol away while Jordahk went to Gaspar. The old man had blood in his mouth, but a smile on his face.

  "So, my benefactors show their faces," he said. He coughed blood. "I've wanted to do that for many years."

  "Lay back. We're getting you out of here."

  The stretcher fans activated, and the legs folded up. Wixom activated its VAD projectors, putting some official-looking medical warnings up in case people got nosy. As they passed the goon with the blade stuck in his shoulder, Jordahk pulled it out.

  Before he was done examining it, his AIs hacked its pea brain. The blood flaked off. With an easy mental command, it folded, and Jordahk added it to his stor-all collection.

  "Are you crazy?" Nuria said. "Why did you bring him here?"

  An unexpected firmness rose up within Jordahk. "I won't leave a good man to die if I can do something about it!" Nuria flinched, and then shriveled. "Max got us around the chekas, and Wixom's still baffling face rec."

  "For about another twenty hours," Max said.

  Torious was up in a flash, arms unfolding, instruments whirring, lights blinking.

  "I knew it was just a matter of time," the nurse said. The cynical words were a contrast to its quick response. "I see when you can't be bothered to be injured yourself, you find others upon which I can ply my trade."

  "This is serious, Torious," Jordahk said.

  "Isn't it always? Place him down over here, quickly." The robot was already peeling away layers of clothing and beginning incisions on Gaspar's abdomen.

  Jordahk looked away, not because it was too hard to watch, although he preferred not to, but because those were big medical guns. If Torious was breaking out such invasive techniques right away, it didn't bode well for Gaspar.

  "Isn't Sosimo back?" Jordahk asked.

  Nuria looked more desperate and hopeless by the moment. "No, and he's late. They're never late."

  "Any word from Humberto or my grandfather?"

  Nuria shook her head and retreated into the laver, the only remaining place for privacy. She drifted to the back, neither closing the door nor turning on the light.

  "Khai dear, I need some water to run through the sterilizer," Torious said. "There are compounds to create."

  She took it in stride, showing little emotion as she aided the nurse.

  "Max, is it safe to contact Pops by secure comm?"

  "We only get back an acknowledging ping. Barrister's running in silent mode."

  Gaspar groaned amidst suction sounds and flashes of light. A faint medical smell could be detected.

  "Oh," Khai said. She held the old man's hand.

  Jordahk heard murmuring from the laver. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the darkness of the chamber was only grays to him, and when he focused on the sound it blossomed into clarity. Nuria was... praying? Yes, for Sosimo and Humberto. For the safety of her husband and that her son wouldn't be corrupted. He moved closer.

  "The Creator?" Jordahk asked, quietly.

  Nuria looked up. Fear left her, and she just looked resigned. She nodded. "Do you know Him?"

  "My mother does. I... I've seen His workings."

  "I'm picking up local Polis chatter from Wixom's taps," Max said. "Someone's getting close."

  Jordahk pulled out the etch and concentrated. The faceted blue crystal appeared to flatten out, and suddenly he was looking beyond the walls and scanning the hall. He concentrated harder, squinting, and a farther corridor appeared. A group approached, ghostly and speckled with bright points of energy from equipment. He recognized the silhouettes and the weaponry.

  "Polis. Max, can you put this up for everyone to see? I have to keep concentrating."

  Distance was the key. Jordahk focused on that, and the group clarified. The faint blue outline of a cheka was followed by three orange Polis proctors, a child, two more Polis, and a trailing cheka.

  Nuria's eyes darted across the VAD. "Sosimo..."

  Jordahk glanced at Torious, literally deep in his work. He was doing an amazing job suppressing Gaspar's pain, since he obviously thought it best to keep him conscious.

  The old man stared glassy-eyed at the VAD. "Amazing. I'm sorry to have caused my benefactors trouble..."

  There was no need for Torious to say the old man wouldn't survive a run for it. Their weapons were back on the ship. Jordahk didn't know how they were going to get out of this one. He reached for his scavenged weapons but stopped at a familiar sensation. Turning the etch and stopping by instinct, he focused closer until the orange silhouettes of two men became clear.

  The erect posture of the man in the lead was more recognizable than his own. One of his arms glowed blue, and there were other differences mostly in his skull and abdomen. Jordahk felt like he was eavesdropping, seeing private things not meant for him.

  The two men were also heading for the apartment, and an encounter with the Polis. Without moving, Jordahk found the long blade handle and tossed it to Khai. He gripped the incapacitator. It would be useless against their bracers, but maybe he could press it against skin, or Wixom could do his thing again.

  "No, Sosimo will be hurt! They will hurt him," Nuria said. The woman was torn.

  Jordahk pulled the view back until the hallway in front of the apartment was visible. The two parties entered from either side. Khai continued to hold Gaspar's hand, with the sword unfolded in the other. The old man seemed oblivious to the work being done and looked on with wonder.

  Suddenly, Aristahl's cranium glowed, leaving orange behind to become white. Then his whole body glowed white, except for his arm. The brightness washed out the entire image. Jordahk squinted, and the etch followed his unspoken request. The entire image stepped down, as if a filter was lowered.

  From Aristahl's white silhouette, a construct of glowing purple extended across the hall and enveloped the cheka.

  "A bridge?" Jordahk murmured.

  He sensed strongly the mystic throb in that part of his brain. The bridge pulsed with information and energy. The cheka went from dim to bright blue-white. The group stopped. Although no sound could be heard, it was obvious they thought something was wrong. The bright cheka pulsed, and another bridge built from it to the trailing cheka. It responded the same as the first. A commotion broke out among the Polis, and their bracers all flicked on, putting an eerie blue glow around their orange bodies.

  Aristahl reached out his hand, and the bridge between him and the chekas grew even stronger. The throb in Jordahk's brain intensified. Tendrils grew out of the co-opted chekas, reaching every bracer. The forearm devices flashed bright blue and a
bolt of current leaped from them to the chekas. The hovering machines only glowed brighter, but the devices on the men's forearms were dead.

  They were just lifting their sub-rifles when the two chekas burst like mini novas. A pair of thuds pounded through the rock of the apartment. Lightning rained down from where the chekas were upon the group. They writhed under a storm of current.

  Jordahk reached for his forehead, grunting as a spike of pain burned into his brain.

  "Sosimo!"Nuria shouted.

  She ran for the door, but Khai was there in a flash, holding her back with one strong arm and retaining the short sword.

  The chaotically bright image had to be stepped down again to be seen with clarity. The men were shaking like rag dolls, but a spot in the middle wasn't covered in white arcs. A small ball of orange could still be seen. It was Sosimo, curled up, covering his head.

  Humberto's silhouette covered his eyes until Aristahl finally pulled his hand back. There was nothing left of the chekas, and all the Polis crumpled to the ground. The curled up orange form stood and looked around. Humberto ran to him, and the hatch opened.

  Aristahl entered, stepping through Jordahk's projected VAD. He looked drawn, with a sheen of perspiration covering his face.

  "So you saw that?" he said. "Drag the proctors in. Quickly."

  Humberto placed crying Sosimo into Nuria's arms before helping.

  "The Creator's granted my final request," Gaspar said. His voice was weak and reedy. "I've lived to fulfill my mission and seen the Sojourners return."

  "Please refrain from talking," Torious said. There was a softer tinge to his usual malfunctioning, mechanical voice.

  A charred smell from the unconscious proctors, burnt down to their undergarments, filled the apartment. The filters kicked in.

  "Apparently, we have to advance our timetable," Aristahl said. "Jordahk, can you compromise the lead proctor's compy?"

  "I've already got something better."

  Jordahk laid out his encounter briefly. Aristahl and Gaspar listened with equal interest.

  "That was unfortunate but understandable." Aristahl said. It was a statement of fact, not criticism. "Judicum has no love for those who abuse mystic, be they Archivers or whoever else."

  Aristahl's subtle doubt resonated with Jordahk. "There was something strange about Vanquo. He seemed more Consortium than military."

  "A long line of bosses preceded Vanquo," Gaspar said. "They each stayed for a couple decades before new ones came. I've outwitted them all. Until now." He coughed. "But what I keep will soon be exposed, and my options are few." His words ended in another cough.

  Torious continued to work, holding his instruments steady during the cough with machine accuracy. "How old are you, if I may ask?"

  "Heh." Gaspar smiled, blood between his teeth. "I got a mystic ravelen before the war. Traveled to Numen to get it. My contemporaries thought I was nuts. They're gone." He offered his hand to Aristahl who took it.

  "You also have a mystic link," Aristahl said.

  "Ah, you're truly the real thing." He coughed again. "And just in time. I can no longer submit false reports in the khromathyst mine, and they're beginning to open tunnels I collapsed long ago."

  Aristahl looked from the man's injuries to Torious. The robot shook with discretion what passed for its head.

  Khai knelt by the man, putting a hand to his forehead. "He would not yield."

  "Sojourner, you're finally here," Gaspar said. "To retrieve property, no doubt, but also to set Beuker free?"

  Aristahl cleared his rets, his irises revealed as platinum filled with diamonds of ochre iridium and purple numenium. Though Humberto and Nuria had already witnessed the impossible, the confirmation struck them, and they stepped back.

  "Not this time. But someday," Aristahl said. He did not give false platitudes, but there was strength and hope in his voice.

  "I was here when the Centurions fought alongside us," Gaspar said. His eyes looked afar off. "Mighty ships, and indomitable spirit."

  "Yes. Indeed so." Aristahl's words and firm grip seemed to bring Gaspar comfort, and he lay back.

  "Now to complete the mission, while there's still time. Isn't that right, nurse?"

  Aristahl nodded.

  "You've lived a long life with a quality ravelen," Torious said. "Your body was ready to pass peacefully. I'm sorry that brute brought it about this way. Your organs are cascade failing. It is time."

  "Thanks for playing it straight, Sojourner. Now listen well." Gaspar took a deep breath, and it rattled. "The red Star of Beuker shone upon colony new, but Perigeum might from the Six Sisters flew."

  Gaspar went on, citing the story of the fall and anticipated emancipation of Beuker in ancient style. It was beautiful, sad, and poetic. They listened to the tale with increasing intensity as Gaspar's voice weakened.

  "Son of the Khromas with power did he smite, the Perigeum was routed in a maelstrom of light. Retreated he did to repair a wound so deep, his Hesperus Aurora laid nearby to sleep. So I stand a vigil until Sojourner return, when our powers combined Beuker's freedom shall earn."

  Gaspar rested his head back, keeping his eyes open with the last of his strength. Aristahl's irises flashed, and Gaspar's eyes widened in surprise. He nodded subtly.

  "So," Gaspar whispered, "not just a Sojourner. I'm honored." His smile did not fade as his eyes closed. A body pushed long and hard, rested for the final time.

  "Thank you," Aristahl said. He stood, and his eyes were brown once again, but they retained fire. "Gaspar has offered us a gift. I shall see it used. Prepare yourselves. We leave for the mine in five minutes."

  "That was the key," Max link-said. "He lived to pass it on to us. A long, poetic cypher. Wixom's assembling the data."

  Torious methodically closed Gaspar's incisions and covered his abdomen. It was stranger when the old scientum nurse wasn't making his odd humor attempts. He turned as Jordahk walked up to him.

  "Even my miracles have limits," Torious said.

  "We just passed into the Asterfraeo territories, commodore," Auscultare said.

  "What the hell difference does it make?"

  Commodore Inspector Rewe Frixion got a hold of himself, but it took great effort. The trip was long, and not even half complete. If he didn't reconcile with himself, the mental state of the man returning to the Perigeum might be ruined.

  Auscultare wisely chose not to respond. The mystic AI was learning when it was better to shut up.

  "Commodore inspector," Rewe grumbled under his breath.

  The AI chose not to respond to that either.

  Such an impressive sounding rank, such a low level mission. Adding to the indignity, beyond his public rank, was his role as the fifth arkhon among the secret Archiver ruling class of seven. He used to take his direction from the fourth, whose avatar was a mountain. The higher ranked only spoke to the lower through an avatar. Rewe had no idea who arkhons one through four might be in real life. He may have walked past them in The Repository at Numen unaware.

  The only contact he had now was with the newly ascended second, the Dragon. Even the obsequious sixth was beyond Rewe's touch. The second had loosened Auscultare's restrictions. The pleasure of jolting the AI's quadnapse core for minutes on end was history. Now using the control spikes in the AI lasted 30 seconds, tops, and there was little leeway adjusting what it remembered.

  He had gone from ship captain to captive on a prison barge without ever changing location. Few options and little relief were available to him on the long, delivery-jerk mission. There were mystic juvi chambers aboard Auscultare. They offered invigoration and life extension for those with the mystic talent to use them for longer periods up to the full 40-day term.

  For whatever reason, and likely there were many, he couldn't get the chambers to work that long. They didn't agree with his over-modified physiology. Ten days was as long as he could stay under, which meant 10 days wandering around pointlessly before he could try again.

  All t
he while, silently taunting him on his very ship, was a mystic artifact of tremendous power. Incredibly advanced modifications had been made to it. He had no doubt that tracing the pathways of those modifications would further his own mystic mastery. But the device, crated and locked away in storage, was off-limits.

  "Any sign of pursuit or detection?"

  "None, Commodore."

  Space was big, and no one owned it. Civilized worlds claimed sovereignty over space out to their planetary hilltop. Most of the time they had a fleet to enforce claim over the entire solar system, although in some colonies that was disputed. But as for outer space, traders, scouts, freighters, and outgoing colony ships all went where they pleased. Smaller ships, even in handfuls, were difficult to detect.

  Heavy tonnage war fleets, on the other hand, lit up detensors from a great distance, especially if traveling together in downhill. But even those signatures faded over the vast distances of space. If one remained far from an occupied world, and off the established space lanes, no one knew, and no one cared.

  "Any sign of anything?"

  "I assume you're asking if there's been any signs of civilization whatsoever," Auscultare said. "As you know, this route is quite remote, and there are none."

  Did he really screw up so badly? The Legate had certainly thought so, complaining bitterly about being forced to grovel at the negotiation table to get back the Legion centuria stranded on Adams Rush. It was the meddling Starmada Field Commander who deserved that blame, and received most of it. But Pheron was guilty by association and location.

  After his last 10 days in the juvi chamber, when he awoke to 10 more days of pointlessness, something within him snapped. He could suffer it no longer. He would become the master of his mystic destiny... or die.

  He began an elaborate scheme, like a prisoner plotting an escape. First spending time in an owl parked in the bay. It was the only place where his overrides were still sufficient to block out Auscultare. He secured equipment, forged blocking codes, and planned scenarios.

  Now the time had come. Vast knowledge awaited. Greatness was for those willing to seize it.