Tethered Worlds: Unwelcome Star Page 40

  "Yes, sir." Jordahk knew it sounded a little preposterous. A fusion bomb exploding next to an egress would do little more than nudge it out of position.

  The Iron Commander continued to stare with an air of expectation. Did he want to see one of the legacy shells? Jordahk fidgeted as silence stretched. Finally he reached for his bag.

  Uncomfortable with the attention, he placed the octagonal shell on the table and slid it across. A new murmur rippled through the crowd.

  "It's, ah, mystic."

  The Iron Commander scooped up the shell and eyed its subtly changing surface with curiosity rather than suspicion. He gripped it tightly as if trying to sense what was inside.

  "I'm no imprimatur," Ferric said, "but I do have a mystic link." The murmurs died down. "And this feels a little dead to me. You think you can make it work?"

  Jordahk didn't know if he was being tested. His grandfather and the Iron Commander had worked together in the past. Did Ferric know Aristahl was a Sojourner? Jordahk was raised to keep his imprimatur line undisclosed.

  "I think I can," Jordahk said. He had no idea whether he could. But what choice did they have?

  The old man's eyes narrowed, and Jordahk felt careful scrutiny. What did the Iron Commander know? He slid the shell back.

  Ferric glanced up at the plan again. The second half said little. "Even if you do get it to work, you'll still have to target inaccessible systems."

  "That's where I come in," Cranium said, his old swagger coming out.

  "And you are?" the Iron Commander said, unimpressed.

  "I'm the guy who can crack anything." Cranium had little respect for authority.

  The room erupted in consternation. Even the Iron Commander, whom Jordahk actually believed wanted to help, was skeptical. The crowded chamber quieted just as quickly when Cranium lit his tats. The word "octal" was chain-whispered. The intimidating tats glowed in patterns across Cranium's skin. Octals may be maligned, but only fools took their skills lightly.

  Ferric didn't exactly roll his eyes, but something in his expression said, "Is this what our fate has come to?"

  Jordahk felt a reassuring presence. Glick moved close as the rest of the crowd backed away.

  The old man smiled, curious as to her role in the far-fetched scheme. "And why are you going along, young lady?"

  "Me?" Glick assumed mock sheepishness. "My job's keeping these two idiots alive."

  The ceiling boiled away above Kord. Wood slurry was tough. It could stop grister fire, but not seeker drones. Nor would it hold up against long arms.

  He ducked behind the ultra hard surface of the vault's second ring. His scientum "sparmor" configured in a flash to battle mode. It was customized light military "spring armor," named for its incorporated striders.

  He entered the cabin in bulky clothes, heavy cap, and light pack. Within seconds, the material transformed to hard shell. Joints were enhanced and protected from hyperextension. His cap expanded, mirroring a raised shoulder collar. Air hardened between them, protecting his head, and the explosions' cacophony reduced.

  "Kord!" Vittora's voice came over his link. Good. She was still using the chain.

  "I'm okay. Keep using line of sight." She needed to stay undiscovered, at least a little longer. "Highearn, let me hear what's happening. Limiters on." He heard the sounds of falling debris and burning. His newly created view of the sunset sky and its newest star was unobstructed. "What are we dealing with?"

  "I hear two mechanicals closing," Highearn said. "It's hard to tell more without going active transmission. Patterns similar to what we encountered last time."

  Vittora let out a sigh. "That guy really has it out for you."

  "There's an owl nearby," Highearn said.

  "He won't atomize the cabin," Kord said. "He wants our secrets, whatever they are."

  He rubbed an armored hand across the moving mystic runes. The vault could withstand a direct hit from a destroyer, but given enough time, the Archivers would crack it. He only had to trigger a couple more runes, or seal it back up and escape into the underground with Vittora. He toyed with that idea for a long second, but it rapidly soured. This was about more than them. It was about his father and their son. It was about lineage and future.

  "Highearn, go active. I want to know everything you can tell me." He stood and brushed debris off his powering-up sheller. "Vee, stay hidden and make that first shot count. After, it'll be crazy."

  "I've got your six, gefera."

  "They've seen my pulses and de-stealthed. Two in a scout role closing fast," Highearn said. He was back in his military element. "Follow-up group of three. ETA two minutes. Will the first two wait?"

  "No, they're coming in hot. They don't want me getting away with the goodies. Time?"

  "Twenty seconds."

  Kord peeked around the granix cylinder that had grown from his cabin floor. Through a break in the wall, he saw the stream. Nothing yet. He knelt by the runes. Was there enough time to get away with the contents? Or would opening it just make it easier for that radiated Archiver?

  "They're here." Vittora's synthesized voice was a whisper in his link. "See if you can get one to slow down."

  Two slags burst into the clearing faster than a human could move. They slowed into a zigzag pattern, approaching the cabin in programmed caution. Highearn amplified distant grister fire. Both slags faced downstream.

  "An espy found me," Vittora said.

  Few options remained. He needed to divide the slags' attention without delay. Kord launched two seeker drones off his pack. They blasted out the open ceiling, reorienting crazily toward the lead slag. It kept its head trained on Vittora's position as it moved evasively and fired its rifle at the incoming drones. It aimed through the second slag's targeting systems. Both seeker drones were torn apart as the bots fired in deadly concert.

  But it was movement just predictable enough for Vittora. A thin line of flaming air stretched across the stream, penetrated the second slag's head, and continued into the woods. Its brain and everything else vital exploded into metallic sparks. The unit's body continued to stride in a straight line until it hit a tree and fell over.

  The lead slag calculated the exact position from the fading streak and opened fire on the sniper gun. Super-velocity shots tore through foliage. It determined the sniper gun the greatest threat. From off its back, four seeker drones flared skyward then streaked down over the stream.

  Kord didn't hesitate, already moving toward the break in the cabin wall. "Move, Vee! There's too many."

  When his sheller had line of sight, he cut loose. He leaned forward as recoil stressed assisted joints. The bot's reflexes were machine quick. It raised its scutum arm, air hardening. But the shells arrived too quickly, although the first missed. Shellers were too powerful and massive for smart barrels. Highearn detonated it beyond, causing the bot to shudder from the shock wave, but it continued undamaged. The power of a sheller was in the direct hit and its devastating armor-piercing charge.

  The next half dozen shells connected to torso and head. Each impact caused a flare of light followed by a burst of scintillating bits. Everything after the third was unnecessary, but Kord had extra wrath for things that fired upon his wife. He peered down the stream and heard echoes of distant explosions.

  "You okay?"

  After a heart-wrenching delay, Vittora's voice finally came on, more annoyed than hurt. "They trashed my sniper gun. Repositioning. I'll give you rifle cover."

  "That's no automount, Vee. You don't want to be stationary against slags."

  "Maybe I can buy you a clean shot. Or maybe your friend will show up. Wouldn't that be nice."

  Talking her out of watching his back was impossible. For the unwise endangering her loved ones, he could almost feel sorry. Almost.

  "Shoot and scoot, Vee."

  She was already on the move, synthesized sub-whisper revealing exertion. "Gotcha."

  "The next three under one minute," Highearn said. "And possibly a command
group of two behind, including a human."

  Kord was exasperated. "I didn't think they'd find us this fast. That faux's too lucky." His mind raced. The nearby owl, the quickly deployed bots, the lack of Legion involvement—he was missing a piece. "They wanted me to uncover the vault."

  They would have found it eventually. With no other way he could see to secure the vault's contents, he'd played right into their hands. The Archiver was impatient, not willing to wait for the outcome of the orbital chess match. He looked back at the pillar ringed by the glowing runes.

  "What?" Vittora asked, sensing something.

  Kord made a snap decision and raced back to the vault. "See if you can buy me thirty seconds. Watch yourself out there. Just distract them."

  Next to the massive cylinder, he placed his palm down on the rotating symbols. He felt the connection through his gauntlet's resonance pads. Two more symbols. Meanings passed through his mind as every rune went by. He was assembling a sentence or a concept. It was hard to put into words, but it was personal, and it was family. The second to last sequence fell into place and the vault rumbled.

  "They're here," Highearn said.

  The cabin wall facing the stream burst into splinters. Kord leaped behind the vault, but a thigh hit spun him. Three slags were shooting battle rifles on full automatic. Devastating mass fire, but it sacrificed penetration power.

  He landed awkwardly. His thigh felt crushed. Heavy cloth, torn apart, revealed quickly bruising flesh. The leg's armor was de-hardened, but had done its job, and no giant hole was made in his thigh.

  Highearn detached an espy from Kord's pack and spun it into the flying debris for concealment. A VAD showed the wall gone. In the clearing, two slags patrolled with random anti-sniper movements. The third charged toward the vault. Kord reacted with trained efficiency. Two seeker drones blasted off his pack. They went up and immediately back down in an inverted "V".

  The bot was nearly in his direct view when it shot one seeker drone and arced the other. Kord was already firing where the bot would emerge, bracing himself against the vault. The slag's rifle aimed upward to engage the drone was of no use. Kord was pelted with robot debris as the relatively slow thunk of his sheller blasted it to bits.

  "The charge has been ineffective for centuries, slag!" He laughed at his excessive tactical interest. The glowing runes continued to pass underneath, daring him to complete the sequence. "If I could just—"

  A single, loud clanking sound echoed. A slag staggered, chunks flying off its head. Seconds bought by Vittora's marksmanship wouldn't be wasted. He slapped his palm on the glowing symbols and forced himself to concentrate. The glitched but still functional slag and its partner fired seeker drones that raced down the stream and out of sight.

  A tuning fork sounded in Kord's head. He grabbed both tines mentally, causing him to shake. Every pore on his body opened at once in a wave of incredible heat. He rolled backwards off the third and final ring as it rose. It formed a thick layer around the first two, filling the room. The three cylindrical columns rotated independently. Suddenly, in a way that would flummox scientum experts, an opening built itself in almost alien fashion. It reached through the stone cylinders, all the way down into the vault.

  A short, powerful burst of static passed to him from Vittora. Kord felt the familiar spike of activity within Highearn. That burst contained more. But how? Their stealthy isolation meant no outside connections. Had someone just unwittingly passed a coded message?

  While Highearn was decoding, Vittora synthesized, "Jordahk's back!"

  Despite the dire circumstances, he swelled with pride. Highearn speed-played the message from Max. It was short and hours old, but it infused him with hope and energy. That elation was cut short.

  "You!" Vittora rasped before her transmission was cut off.

  The sound of rockets hissing wrenched Kord's attention back to his battle. The bots launched a pair of seeker drones. They accelerated over the cabin then bolted directly for him.

  Adams Rush did not have a starmada as big as Patram's. It was not one of the Palisades, charged with hosting the Vallum Corps and guarding the border. It was steady, non-glorious, and venerable by Asterfraeo standards. But that unchanging, common sense mindset endowed it with uncommon influence.

  Where Adams Rush stood on most issues was historically predictable. Asterfraeo societies unknowingly used the rugged Sojourner colony as a political navigation beacon. As Adams Rush lost its way, the Asterfraeo Zeitgeist was hit harder than anyone expected. The compass was faltering. Even worlds that disagreed consistently with Adams Rush were unsure how to react.

  The Asterfraeo was fractionating. The circumstances could hardly have unfolded better for the Perigeum. The Vallum Corps task force finally dispatched from the Palisades was formidable, but they were streaking into an unpredictable maw. The current strength of the Perigeum task force was known, but reinforcement strength through a working egress was a deal-breaking X-factor.

  Whole P-star flotillas could be brought to bear from far-flung systems once their great hexagonal windows were synced. The completed egress above Adams Rush was about to do that very thing. The founding six sister worlds of the Perigeum were guarded by the mightiest collection of warships since the Sojourners' Crusade. The First Fleet was about to egress to Adams Rush.

  Jordahk was positioned to observe every detail of the historic event. His front row view was spectacular, or would have been if he could see a lick of it. Instead, the three of them were packed like "sardines in a can." Although he didn't know what a sardine was, he knew all too well what the expression meant.

  "I hate being in the dark, adam," Cranium grumbled.

  Jordahk looked about the tools compartment in which they were wedged. The robotic maintenance satellite was never meant to carry people. Their suited shoulders touched to form a triangle in the dingy space. He saw it all in shades of dark gray.

  "Max, is it pitch black in here?" Jordahk sub-whispered.

  "As black as space," the AI link-said.

  Jordahk wondered with some trepidation what was happening to him; something at the cellular level, but that was only a reflection of deeper mystic happenings. He sensed faint activity on his wrist. So Wixom had listened to that little exchange. Things would have to be settled with the mystic creation later. For now, as long as it didn't interfere, he could withstand the AI's "amusement." He shook his head. The gesture didn't carry beyond his no-suit, and since the siblings weren't wearing infrarets, no one saw it anyway.

  Dim green light emanated from Glick's gauntleted fingers. Somehow she'd pried her elbow free enough to reach her belt. The wan illumination showed relief on Cranium's face.

  "We're supposed to be one hundred percent stealth," Jordahk said.

  "It's chem." Glick wasn't satisfied with the comprehension shown by her compatriots. "There's more emissions keeping you alive than this little toy is putting out. You guys aren't up on your survival equipment."

  "My hobby's relic hunting," Jordahk said.

  Cranium tried to shrug in his suit. "I'm an octal."

  The data rider wore the same combat model as Glick minus the heavy-duty weaponry, and with a standard jet pack. A grister was affixed to his thigh. If it ever was reduced to the point where Cranium was defending them with a grister, they would officially be sucking hydrogen.

  Since they were touching, their communication was via resonance transmission. Their jet packs filled the rest of the small volume, ensuring temporary immobility.

  "How much time, Max?"

  "About two minutes."

  "The Iron Commander should have the fleet in position," Cranium said. "Probably already begun the first wave of fire." The octal's face was covered with a sheen of nervous perspiration.

  Jordahk became aware of Glick's eye contact. The green chemical light made her irises shine. Her expression was more than casual. He found himself returning it. Again, an unconscious quaver went down his abdomen. He glanced away to get a grip. Glick s
mirked and raised her eyes.

  "That helmet really takes the biscuit," she said, smiling.

  Jordahk glanced up, seeing the front edge of Crae-Tarn's helmet through his crystal. The kooky old creation with the spike sticking up was emag stripped to the top of his no-suit. No doubt it did look rather silly.

  "Yeah."

  "You're sure you can work the sub-normal thing?" Cranium asked.

  "It pretty much only does what it does. And I think I've mastered turning it on and off."

  They felt vibrations.

  "Debris. The fleet exchange is underway," Max said.

  Jordahk eyed each of them. "Final prep."

  The AIs tightened their gauntleted grips shoulder to shoulder. A strand bound them at the waist. They stood locked atop the most powerful grav weave plate they could find. At 1.4 gravities, it was considered an uncomfortable anomaly and not even in use. A grav weave drowned out other forces. Only the greatest inertial shocks overcame the gravitic stability they enforced. The weaves in Jordahk's no-suit would do the job, but those in the siblings' were a different story.

  Glick made eye contact with her brother. "I know it's a little late for doubts, Clutch, but you're sure they're going to shoot the other satellites first?"

  "According to nearly every projection I ran." The data rider was unconvincing.

  "Nearly?"

  "He means why would you not take the nearest, greatest threat first?" Jordahk said. "It's probably standard procedure."

  "Probably?" Glick said incredulously. "I should've paid more attention to you dolts."

  Their dingy satellite changed course. With weaves inactive, they felt every bit of it. Then the plate powered up, and the Gs faded.

  It was Jordahk's turn, and he concentrated on the Crae-Tarn helmet. It was a surprisingly complicated piece of mystic technology, but it didn't fight him. The time spent familiarizing himself with its unique idiosyncrasies paid off.