Tethered Worlds: Blue Star Setting Read online

  "Now?"

  He wanted to resist it, to hold off its visions of the past. But what could he do for Khai? What could any of them do? Ohrias had made his last appearance for a reason. It was time to step aside, trusting people and powers beyond himself.

  He allowed the embrace of the strange data construct, and it conjured a vision centuries old. So much of today's society had been shaped in the crucible of the Sojourners' Crusade that he wasn't surprised to be there once again. This "vision" was a strange mix. A composite of recollections from Aristahl, Alb-Sone, and others. Written reports and data from various sources were generated to life. It was all woven into a story glued together with details from an enormous historical datalattice.

  Starting like the time previous, it named itself, "Ohrias."

  The story unfolded. Some spoken, some formed of narrated text, and other bits just obvious. It started with The Strength, the most aggressive of the five legendary Khromas. He had wanted to fight fire with even greater fire to push the Perigeum back to the Six Sisters. His efforts, while effective, were too extreme for the prevailing Sojourner culture. With strength to push to mystic places surpassed only by The Will and The Spirit, he forged tools of incredible power. Tools that helped the Sojourners span space. Tools that could destroy without discrimination between friend and foe.

  He met a Sojourner woman, Feye-loRhen, who helped him plumb near-impossible circus depths. She was blessed with the ability to share the strain caused by another's intense mystic efforts. Whether he truly loved her or not is unknown. She became integral to his experiments. Eventually, they were married. Perhaps she was the only thing that kept The Strength from becoming wracked with the Onus or lost outright in the circus. But her ability had limits.

  One day Feye-loRhen found new reserves. Once again she poured herself into her husband's dangerous forays into foundation space. Only after it was too late did they discover she was pregnant, and her baby had absorbed the extra strain at a terrible cost. Half of her brain was unformed, inert brain matter lacking the synaptic paths humans take for granted.

  It was a devastating blow to the highest levels of Sojourner leadership. The incident, combined with pressures of war and differing opinions about strategy, broke their marriage apart. It ended not with a blowout but a fizzle. The Strength did not look back, and pushed on to dramatic events that eventually brought him into conflict with the Khromas and left his infamous mark on history.

  The Will and The Spirit had compassion on the girl baby. They teamed up with a brilliant doctor, Alb-Sone Whaye, who had dedicated himself to curing the Onus. The Will envisioned an impossible plan to treat the girl. The doctor isolated the biological specifics required. It was powered on the microscopic level by an energy everyone had but only The Spirit could manipulate so finely.

  Creating mystic quadnapse pathways in the unformed sections of the girl's brain had never been attempted this way. A dozen girls, diversely gifted and skilled, from two years of age to the end of long adolescence, wore tiny transmission meshes along their scalps. The pathways of their synaptic brain growth was impossibly recorded to be mimicked with quadnapses later. For a year these mind sires lived, loved, cried, and one even died, until the war caused an end to the collection.

  The meticulous quadnapse/synapse building would take centuries. Feye-loRhen gave her daughter to Alb-Sone for this only chance at life. Forlorn and already experiencing Onus symptoms, eventually, she drifted into the circle of The Wisdom, becoming involved in the plight of those from Aner Betera.

  To shorten the computations necessary for the therapy, Alb-Sone secretly sought out the Bitlord, whose questionable actions were garnering their own repercussions. Alb-Sone pulled himself off the grid and set up his secret medical base, ironically, in post-cataclysm Drekka. There he was safe from interference by The Strength or the ongoing war.

  The girl named Khai-aLael grew slowly, in and out of suspension, while her brain was glacially re-forged...

  "Ohrias."

  Jordahk suspected that in real time, only seconds had passed. He allowed himself to remain in the state of the vision, opening his mind to understand the fullness of the experience. It explained so much about Khai. Her childlike behavior one moment and maturity the next. It also explained her incredibly diverse skill-set. No doubt one or more of the girls was a high-caliber gymnast. Another trained in martial arts.

  The highlighted, extraordinary abilities of a dozen girls were meshed somehow into one brain. The personas combined within Khai form her own unique personality. Of course there were going to be misunderstandings and problems, confusion and overreactions. But it was also life in all its unpredictable variety.

  All at once a wave of sadness washed over him. She was dead. But brain death for Khai-aLael meant something different. He grasped at the lingering vision. So much beyond words had been transmitted to him. He could feel the depth of The Will's vision, the vivid energy manipulated by The Spirit.

  The energy...

  His mental foray into Khai had touched fleetingly upon it, but it was more clearly framed by Ohrias's download. He could almost feel it. In a spark of sudden realization, he remembered where he had felt it before.

  His awareness fully returned to the bridge. Everything was just as before, although he was different now, armed with new knowledge. He thrust his hand into the sling bag and retrieved the energetic legacy shell of the two formed at Khai's "birth."

  It was a concentrated match to what he had sensed briefly within her. Without a second thought, his autobuss was in hand, breach open, and legacy shell slammed home. He had no idea what would happen next except that he believed it could help.

  The autobuss recognized the shell immediately, and began to power up, filling every corner of the mystic device. Simultaneously, a dimensional space formed to contain its peculiar, unconventional energies. The space grew to a one meter radius all around him. He couldn't see it with his eyes, but he could sense it. The shell "looked" at him, examining his strength, his emotions, his mental state. He tried briefly to force its activation, but that only took him backwards. It couldn't be compelled.

  The autobuss shook with energies it could barely contain. But the invisible sphere around him, ready, waiting, but empty, was the other half of the process. Time didn't stop. He was at a frustrating impasse. When it came to The Spirit's technology, he felt his experience sorely lacking. It seemed something more appropriate for his mother, and she wasn't even an imprimatur.

  He grew desperate. Within the invisible radius, he could sense the last vestiges of Khai slipping away. The space around him should have filled with the energy she needed. Certainly, any Sojourner who ventured deep into foundation space acknowledged the Creator. Jordahk had sensed the Creator's fingerprint personally in matter itself during his deepest mystic escapades.

  He thought hard about that acknowledgment, pressing it into the ego of the shell, but it wasn't enough. He fell to his knees in despair. Next to him was the empty shell of a girl who had saved his life. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep for a year. He wasn't Vittora. What could he do? He desired to save the girl... even if that meant giving up what was most precious to him.

  Abruptly, everything changed. The autobuss became stone still. Energy tingled in every gram of its construction. It no longer felt like a cohesive thing, rather a collection of molecules assuming a shape. It burst into something else, leaving behind a miniature, floating sun.

  The matter of the autobuss formed a metal cage a couple of meters across comprised of hundreds of interlinked diamond shapes. Never had he thought the template within a legacy shell could modify the pistol to this extent. Perhaps it was only possible with an an early generation autobuss. Perhaps it was only possible with the Khromas. He understood now how unexplainable and mystic such manifestations must appear to those who never sojourned though foundation space.

  His ears popped, and his vision blurred. Within the cage it was like straddling dimensions. He was almost somewhere
else. The miniature sun burned before him not unlike the flickering energy heart of the fireship manifestation. He dared not touch it. The cage was ready, but was he?

  He resolved himself and plunged both hands into the sun. His entire body felt the fire of it. Current arced across him, withdrawing the energy of life from him bit by bit. It filled the metal construct Jordahk perceived as a sort-of Faraday cage. Energies beyond his understanding crackled inside the metal diamond outline but didn't go beyond.

  Within the cage, Khai lay on the flattened command couch, unmoved by the bright intensity filling the sphere around her. Energy taken from him was multiplied 10 times within the cage. That energy was multiplied 10 times again. It penetrated him down to the particle. He could withstand it no longer, yet Khai remained untouched.

  He struggled for one last coherent thought. Then he understood. Spirit energy must be directed by a spirit being. He removed his hands from the sun and plunged them onto Khai's chest and forehead. Her back arched, thrusting her body upward. The energy contained within the sphere flooded through Jordahk into her. Every second, he felt ripped apart by raging torrents.

  Khai remained in that arched position, suddenly letting out a wonderful, horrid gasp. A gut-wrenching sound of life struggling to hang on to this world, not yet ready for the next. Jordahk lost his sense of time. Distantly, he felt his legs buckle. The last of the energy funneled through him, and he collapsed onto the girl.

  The cage contracted into the sun, and something clanked outside his vision. The girl's eyes were not open, and she didn't move. Nor could he move. His ear felt warm against the bare skin over her heart. Then he heard a paired thumping. A sound humanity had always associated with life. A few seconds later, there was another. Finally, they became regular, but remained slow.

  He smiled, confident in an action that, if his last, he could be proud of. As he slipped off the girl and fell to the deck, his consciousness went black. He swam in that dark sea for a moment before hard hands yanked him back to the surface.

  "He'll live, thank the Creator," Gasket said. "That would've been a terrible ending to centuries of service. You know, I've been with Arh-Tahl since before even your time, old girl."

  Jordahk tried to open his eyes. They would only go halfway. He was propped up on the deck, unable to move. Before him was a strange autobuss. Its surface was pearlescent, like some organic white shell reflecting hints of color.

  "She's alive. Barely," Aurora said.

  "It's a good thing I've some experience fixing more than technology. Prep the entrop and a juvi chamber. Quickly. Have the drones take her down. I'll take Jordahk to juvi."

  He understood the words but couldn't move. Entrop? Entropic magnetization. Rare and expensive. Of course Aristahl would have one on the Aurora. There was no better way to suspend someone long-term, especially if the construction was mystic. Strong hands picked him up. He closed his eyes on the strange, receding autobuss.

  "Arh-Tahl is on his way," Aurora said.

  His grandfather would take care of everything. He closed his eyes to rest.

  PRIME ORATOR'S COALITION LOSES. JANUS WILL NOT SEEK THIRD TERM

  Earth, Six Sisters Province

  (Keats Keating, Confederated Comm staff writer. 302/2614)

  The Prime Orator's coalition has dissolved under a wave of new consuls appointed by the planetary governors. The old adage about politics making strange bedfellows has proven true again as new foundations of power are laid in the changing political landscape. Orator Braksaw from Magnus Cemtar and Orator Parium from Siobahn envision the future of Perigeum growth quite differently, yet both agree Prime Orator Janus showed disqualifying judgment in his military foray to Windermere.

  The Asterfraeo Territories ruling body, the Cohortium, continues its belligerence, and the Perigeum's egress is no closer to being returned. Orator Braksaw is pushing for a war footing, lobbying for funding to expand the Starmada using the latest hybrid ships. “Technology off our lines at Umbria Magnus proved superior at Windermere, even greatly outnumbered,” Braksaw said. Orator Parium alternatively seeks greater commercial ties by opening controversial, nontraditional trade routes to the Sino worlds, the Asterfraeo territories, and even the Strident Cluster.

  Final initiatives from Janus look to get the Perigeum's financial house in order before term's end. These efforts focus largely upon Aventicia, the Banking Confederation world within Perigeum borders. Though at odds of late with Janus, the neutral financial center was rumored to be supportive of the Prime Orator's original elevation to first executive. He maintains political connections and a residence in Aventicia, where many speculate Janus will begin his next political career.

  * Editors Note: Ithaca Parchment, who normally covers the Executive Special Projects beat for Confederated Comm, was killed when the First Cruiser took damage at Windermere.

  "The man continues to rise from the ashes," Pheron said.

  The six old frigates and three colliers that made up Pheron's freedom flotilla looked more like the cobbled together navy of a Strident Cluster world. They were nearly at hilltop, about to slip away from an obscure Perigeum nonmember world. He had picked the planet specifically, because it was far from an egressed system, and a commship with news of Windermere would be long in coming. The flotilla, on the other hand, flying straight from the battle in downhill drive, arrived a week before. For five days they extracted as much Perigeum funded repairs and resources as possible.

  "Quite so, Field Commander," Aetaire said.

  His soon-to-be-renamed "flagship," and, indeed, every ship in the makeshift squadron, were already removing all Perigeum Starmada markings and transponders. The second, and final, group of crewmen not wishing to venture beyond were left behind. The freedom flotilla's next stop had yet to be revealed, so there was little to give away.

  During repairs, they watched every day, waiting for the commship to arrive. At the first hint of its approach, long before it transmitted data, the flotilla rather hastily, and in unorthodox fashion, disengaged from all repair work. The result was rather ugly and unfinished. It displeased many engineers and work bosses, but their complaints meant nothing, for they would never be encountered again.

  The light speed media feed transmitted by the commship arrived. The news report was enlightening but not surprising. Janus survived to move on and cause trouble someplace else.

  "That's about enough time for the AIs to sort the priority messages," Pheron said, "and rouse the senior commander of an obscure Perigeum outpost. It should be any minute now."

  Aetaire, as usual in his role as adjutant, manipulated VADs of information for his commander. "Indeed. A burst just came in."

  "Put it on main display."

  Let the remaining crew see what they were getting into with both eyes open. Sub-ensign Nels, on navigation, looked up. A youngish, slightly disheveled commander appeared.

  "Gruppe Lieutenant Pheron Xammetrix, you are hereby relieved of duty by order of Perigeum Starmada High Command. Come to a complete stop and prepare your ships for surrender. All squadron orders are now issued by me. All ship's commanders will have their cases adjudicated on an individual basis. Compliance must be immediate upon penalty of death."

  "How inspiring," Aetaire said.

  Pheron strategized out of habit. "Eight ships pursuing. Details, Aetaire."

  "Two destroyers even older than this hulk, and half a dozen corvettes."

  "They know it's hopeless. We'll be long gone before they're even halfway to hilltop."

  "What course, sir?" sub-ensign Nels asked.

  "The Overtrade Autonomy?" Aetaire asked.

  "Not autonomous enough," Pheron answered.

  "The Sino Worlds?"

  "That's trading one style of oppression for another."

  Aetaire looked thoughtful. "Certainly you're not considering putting us at the mercy of the Asterfraeo worlds?"

  "I don't think the Asterfraeo's ready for our defection. We didn't stay together this long just to have our
crews separated and ships confiscated." Pheron zoomed out the nav VAD and jabbed a star with his finger. It highlighted for all to see on their displays.

  "The Strident Cluster?" Aetaire asked, incredulous.

  "Almost." A planet's existence wasn't precluded just because a government chose to ignore it. There were many ghost systems in the sector of Perigeum space bordering the Strident Cluster. "And if that doesn't work out, there's a dozen starmadas within the cluster who would relish our flotilla."

  "Something the Svals wouldn't appreciate."

  Pheron nodded in silent thought.

  Nine Perigeum Starmada ships entered manifold space. Something different would emerge.

  Was it his imagination, or was there an extra sparkle in the blue space of Windermere? Certainly a spring was in the step of Vallum Corps officers and crew who had stayed to fight. Perhaps the rest could be chalked up to scintillating bits of debris.

  Rather cynical.

  Mason wasn't sure what it meant when one was able to see his own cynicism. He was pleased they had rebuffed the attack, but he knew how fortunate they were, and how close a thing it really was. Of course, that wouldn't be the portrayal across the new services. Even in the Asterfraeo, appearances had to be kept up. It wasn't the fiction of the Perigeum, but governments were governments.

  Was it that way in your era, Commander?

  No answer came from the Iron Commander's flag seat. But he could picture the old sea dog saying something about how times and technology change, but war and politicians do not.

  Mason was young, but he had two fleet engagements already under his belt. Though common during the war days, few could claim that now. Both occurrences required a little rebellion, and a lot of bravery to buy time.