by Petra Landon
Hope and relief flashed on the stranger’s face. “Aye?”
“Cap’n will hear you out” Vizir assured him.
Back on the Cruiser, their Captain was welcoming a visitor. In person, Serak Vedino had a commanding presence. With clean-cut features and a natty dress sense, an aura of quiet confidence and determination clung to the man. Not so long ago, he’d been a pre-eminent scientist much in demand among the corporations. He’d led large teams on high-risk, cutting-edge and expensive projects. The drive and confidence showed subtly in his bearing and the way he carried himself. Little wonder the Synths had nominated him to lead them, Ryf mused. The more he interacted with the InnerWorlder, the more Soren found himself impressed.
Vedino greeted the Captain warmly and Ryf returned the favor.
“My crew tells me the ale flows abundantly on Dirko Zau tonight, Vedino. This being your neck of the woods, how about you pick the poison?”
“One day, Captain, I hope to walk freely on these worlds with you” the InnerWorlder said quietly, his gaze steady. “But today, I have a bounty on my head. Dirko Zau is a trusted world but this gathering draws visitors from all over the sector. It would be imprudent for anyone to see Ryfkin Soren with Serak Vedino. The Guild has spies everywhere and seven figures is a substantial sum to tempt anyone.”
Not an emotional man by any standards, Ryf was nevertheless stirred by Vedino’s attempt to shield him.
“The Guild needs no excuse to gun for me, Vedino” he quipped lightly.
His companion chuckled. “You’ve put the fear of YanTeo in them — the only man to ever send their army packing. They won’t admit it, but the next time they come after you, they’ll think it through. However, I’d rather not be the one to queer your pitch after your kindness to us.”
“Alright, raincheck on local ale” Ryf agreed. “Mihado from the Ren Welds it is.”
“Never tasted mihado before” Vedino remarked, as the RimWorlder ushered him to his private quarters.
“Hope you have a hard head, Vedino. Much like the Ren Welds, our alcohol has a habit of bringing the unwary to his knees.”
Vedino grinned. “Counting on it.”
In Soren’s spacious quarters, the Synth glanced around him appreciatively. “Nice digs, Captain.”
“Bounty hunter digs.”
Ryf reached for his Hailer. “Our guest is here, Zin.”
Vedino’s eyes brightened as Zinera Jeryn entered the chamber. He jumped to his feet to greet her courteously.
“Mihado?” the Captain asked her.
“Always, Ryf.”
While the Captain worked on refreshments for his guests, Vedino took in the subtle signs of prosperity around the chamber. But underneath it all, he could see hints of the Rim Worlds — a colorful blanket, a picture of the untamed rainforests, a carafe of coria juice. He wondered anew what had Ryfkin Soren and his band of Renegades travel to the Guild’s lair after vanquishing them from their homes.
“You must miss home” he remarked to the Commander.
“The Ren Welds are different since the Guild” she said, her voice shorn of emotion.
The Synth’s eyes flashed to her, taking in the shadows under her beautiful eyes and the unutterable weariness in her she could not hide in that unguarded moment.
“Every month, young men and women branded Synthetic by the Guild join us in the Badlands. Some are so young, they’ve barely had a chance to live” Vedino said quietly.
Zinera Jeryn’s eyes entangled with the Synth’s solemn ones.
“When they see the dilapidated ships and the hand-to-mouth existence we lead, I sense something start to die in them — the very spirit that had them defy the Guild and brave the Badlands to find us. May I tell you how I keep their hopes alive, Commander?”
She nodded mutely, caught by the compassion and understanding in his eyes.
“I tell them that if a small band of RimWorlders can make the Guild Coalition turn tail, so can we.”
Zin felt something stir deep in her frozen heart, an emotion she thought buried in a tropical forest on the other side of the Ring where her world had come to an end. The Synth leader had reminded her that she was not the only one to grieve. There were battles to be fought and the Gorath to be brought to his knees. She must learn to live or there would be no justice for the dead.
Ryf joined them to hand out goblets of mihado. “The Renegades are no heroes, Vedino” he remarked soberly.
“You are to us, Captain” the InnerWorlder countered. “And we are a people in sore need of heroes. And hope. Without it, we have nothing.”
The Captain raised his glass solemnly. “To hope.”
Vedino raised his. “To friends.”
The two men glanced expectantly at the Commander.
“To the Guild’s downfall” she toasted.
Just as they were about to sit down, Ryf’s Hailer beeped. It was Kali.
“Excuse me” he murmured, walking away to converse with the pilot.
Vedino addressed Zinera Jeryn again. “Your presence in the Inner Worlds gives me great hope, Commander” he said with a smile. “It hints that the Synths might not have to do all the heavy lifting with the Guild.”
She took a sip of her mihado, her mood vastly improved by the Synth’s version of pep-talk. “It will not be easy, Mr. Vedino” she warned candidly. “They hold all the cards.”
“They also have enemies, Commander. Disastrous as the Rim Worlds campaign was for them, the Guild has become so big on the Inner Worlds that they believe they’re infallible. It makes them heavy-handed with everyone. They twist the arms of their citizens and other corporations alike. If we band together, the Guild’s hegemony will face a challenge.”
Taken aback, Zin studied the InnerWorlder — for the first time, taking note of the man under the Synth. The RimWorlders were aware that many on the Inner Worlds disliked the Guild’s oppressive rule. But that there might be InvunWelder appetite to challenge the Coalition had not crossed their minds. After all, the Inner Worlds seemed content to live under Guild rule for decades without any serious protest. Yet, Serak Vedino was hinting that collectively, the factions that opposed the Guild could prove a formidable adversary to the Coalition if they pooled their resources together. His confidence and willingness to pursue an ambitious and risky strategy to oppose an overwhelmingly powerful enemy reminded her of Ryfkin Soren. They differed in their personalities — one, a charismatic rough and tumble RimWorlder with the soul of an adventurer and the other, an erudite and polished InnerWorlder technocrat banished into the Badlands. But in a strange twist of fate, circumstances had affected both men similarly — the same adversary had forced them to fight for their rights. And both had been elevated to leadership by their people. Perhaps, Zin speculated with renewed hope, this was a portent of the future. With Vedino as an ally, Ryf could wreak havoc on the Guild. And with Ryfkin Soren by his side, the Synth leader might yet oust the Coalition that oppressed him and his kind.
“You know the Guild well?” she asked him.
“I’ve worked for them, as well as corporations rival to them. I know how they think, Commander.”
Before she would respond, Ryf sauntered back to join them.
“Do you know a Rolit Miveki?” he asked the Synth. “He leads a small settlement working a jethrum claim.”
“The border fuel depot” Vedino said promptly. “I know of the settlement.”
“He has bandit trouble — they’re stealing his fuel” Soren remarked.
Vedino sat up. “You plan to take on the bandits, Captain?”
“I’m thinking about it. He’s offering good money and the job is right up our alley.”
For a moment, the Synth leader was pensive. “There are many self-governed settlements with similar problems, some more serious than others. Once word gets out that you helped the jethrum miners, many will line up to offer you jobs” he remarked.
Zinera Jeryn was pleased by the statement. Perhaps, they’d been chasing the wrong clientele, she
mused. The self-governed settlements were willing to pay to protect their people and interests. And the Renegades possessed muscle in spades.
“Suits us just fine, Vedino” Soren drawled, echoing Zin’s thoughts.
Devastation
It was after dark when Soren finally ventured to the fairgrounds. The Synth’s words had had an impact on Ryf. RimWorlder presence on the planets bordering the Asteroid Ring was not uncommon and did not generate much comment. For many worlds adjoining the Ring, the RimWorlders from the other side were their closest neighbors. But unlike the others, he could not pass as an ordinary RimWorlder. His light eyes gave him away. There were thousands of visitors on Dirko Zau. All it’d take was for someone to comment on his presence. Ryf did not want to draw the Guild’s ire down on these struggling settlers attempting the grand experiment of going it alone, without a corporation to write the laws or its army to enforce them. So, he’d scheduled his meetings after dark and used a hood to obscure most of his face.
A young man of Yukon’s age awaited him by the entrance to the fairgrounds.
“Captain Soren?” he inquired as the RimWorlder strode through.
“I am” Ryf acknowledged, without exposing his face.
“Follow me, please.”
The man ushered him to a corner of the deserted fairgrounds. The stalls had their shutters down for the night and the few remaining visitors had moved beyond the grounds to enjoy the night time festivities. Dirko Zau had no accommodations to offer its visitors. Thus, for many, a visit to the festivities was a day trip. Those interested in a multi-day affair spent the nights in their parked crafts at the Vestibule.
“Serak said you had questions about the time I was taken by the Guild” the young man said. “We are grateful for your assistance, Captain. I will answer all your questions.”
The RimWorlder pulled down his hood, to hold out his arm in the InnerWorlder greeting. “Ryfkin Soren.”
“Kural Divi.” The InnerWorlder entwined his arm with the Captain’s to thump the RimWorlder’s upraised fist.
“How long were you imprisoned, Mr. Divi?” Ryf asked, meeting the young InnerWorlder’s eyes in the semi-darkness.
“Not long. I was taken into custody and put on the Guild transport which crashed while landing.”
“You are sure that it was the Guild?” Ryf probed gently, not wanting to stoke any haunting memories for the young Synth.
Divi looked puzzled but answered readily. “I was arrested by the Guild Corps, Captain.”
Ryf reflected on the answer, mystified by the discrepancy of a Coalition vessel making for a Venn Corp world. “What about the transport — was it staffed by the Corps?”
The InnerWorlder shook his head. “They were in uniform but not of the Corps.”
“Any logos on their uniform?” Ryf persisted. He sensed that this baffling puzzle might yield a chink in the Guild’s armor. It was also critical to understanding the tangled ties between the largest corporation on the Inner Worlds and the richest one. There was a reason the assault on Ilar’s Justice had shaken Zufon Ventini. Ryf was determined to get to the bottom of this.
Divi was silent for a few seconds. “No, there was no logo, Captain.”
The Synth met the Renegade’s unusual silver eyes. “It is unusual for the Corps to not be in uniform.”
“Hmm” Ryf mused aloud. “Was there anything that identified the transport as a Guild vessel, like the Coalition insignia or something else you noticed when you were taken aboard it?”
The Synth looked rueful. “I was drugged after I was taken into custody, Captain. I don’t remember being taken aboard their ship. When I came to, I found myself on the transport with other Synth prisoners.”
This time, Ryf hesitated. “I apologize for pressing you on this, Mr. Divi. But nothing seems to tie the transport to the Guild.”
“Until your questions, I did not doubt that it was a Guild transport, Captain” the young Synth responded candidly. “Like the other prisoners, I assumed that we were on a Guild vessel. We’d all been taken into custody by the Corps. And it is well known that only the Coalition arrests us. The other corporations don’t care about us. They only restrain us at the Guild’s direction.”
Ryf nodded. Divi had ample reason to lay his detention at the Guild’s door. All the signs pointed to it and it was common knowledge that the Coalition persecuted the Synths.
“Did you interact much with the guards on the transport?” he asked.
“We only saw them when they brought us food.”
Ryf changed tack. Perhaps, there were other details buried in the young Synth’s mind that might help explain the oddity of his mysterious detention.
“What about the world you crashed on, Mr. Divi?”
“The guards told us to ready for landing” the InnerWorlder responded soberly. “It was a warning intended for the prisoners who were in bad shape. Some had been in Guild custody for a long time and were suffering the consequences. I felt the transport shake, followed by a wrenching sound like it was being torn apart, before we crashed with a jarring thud. I blacked out from the force of the landing. When I came to, everything was in shambles. The door to our cell had been torn apart. Outside, a guard was dead, crushed under the debris. I knew it was only a matter of time before they came to secure the prisoners. I changed clothes with the guard, placing him inside the cell. When the rescuers came, I pretended to be injured. They put me and the other injured personnel on a shuttle to a nearby Portico. There, I gave them the slip and called some friends to come get me.”
“You did well” Ryf said quietly.
The Synth sighed. “I couldn’t save the others. If my answers help them in any way, it will be worth it.”
“How did you know that the world was a Sacred Realm?”
“The injured personnel were tended to briefly on the surface while we waited for a shuttle to take us off the world. There, I heard the guards mutter about what a fiasco it was and that they must clean up the mess quickly before the pilgrims saw the wreck.”
He paused, reflecting on an interlude he clearly found very painful. “When I think back, Captain, there was a sense of urgency, almost panic about them. I put it down to the wreck and the injuries to the guards. But it was almost like they were fearful about the crash, something more than their employer’s annoyance with their incompetence.”
Ryf probed the young Synth for a few more details about his brief detention. The young man answered his questions readily. Yet, the puzzle seemed to only deepen for the RimWorlder.
After, the Captain met with Rolit Miveki in another part of the darkened fairgrounds. Both Kali and Vizir considered the settler’s cause genuine and had pressed Ryf to meet with him. Also, Vedino knew of the settlement Miveki represented — an independent fuel depot operated by settlers. Thus, Ryf was more than happy to do business with the InnerWorlder. It took very little time to come to terms with the settler. And it was a noticeably pleased Miveki who ushered the Captain through the fairgrounds to another clearing beyond. Larger than the ground used for the festivities, this was bare. No stalls offering goods or rough-hewn benches decorated the clearing. Instead, a few scattered bonfires with people around it met Ryf’s eyes.
Miveki pointed to a circle in the distance. “Your crew, Captain. They hold a shooting competition that attracts a fair crowd.”
Ryf turned to the settler. “We’ll be at the settlement in a few days, Miveki. Until then, watch your backs. And if you encounter the bandits, use the Hailer. We plan to be in the sector and can get to you quickly if need be.”
“Thank you, Captain” the settler said gratefully. “May YanTeo watch over you and yours.”
With a last wave, Miveki melted away into the fairgrounds, leaving Soren to make for the gathering by the fire. As he approached it, Ryf noted that a rustic firing range had been organized by the bonfire. This must be the shooting competition Miveki talked of. At a distance, a small enclosure had been set up. Under the light of two torches on e
ither end, a variety of prizes lay artistically displayed on a sturdy bench. Two silhouettes leaned on the enclosure fence, their rapt attention on the displayed wares.
“That is gorgeous” a feminine voice breathed, gesturing at a roll of bright blue fabric interwoven with silver thread.
Her companion agreed mutely. So engrossed were the two that the silent man behind them went unnoticed.
As they extolled the virtues of the rich fabric, Ryf noted with amusement that a case of expensive fuel crystals went ignored by the two ladies.
“There’s enough for two dresses, maybe more” the second silhouette sighed.
“Kali says it would not be right for professionals to compete for the prizes” the first one remarked with obvious regret.
Unaccountably entertained by the conversation, Ryf eavesdropped shamelessly on the two InnerWorlders.
“I’m not a professional” the second InnerWorlder declared.
Her companion turned to her, ignoring the blue fabric for once. “Can you shoot, spunky girl?”
“I’d give it a shot. I competed on Idriko.”
Her companion brightened noticeably, fairly bubbling with excitement “Let’s go register you, Novi. Kali said they’re still taking entries.”
Novi shook her head regretfully. “I can’t.”
“Why not? You could win this.” Kidani gestured at the display.
“We’d look so good in blue” she added persuasively.
Diverted and charmed, Ryf worked to hide his smile.
“Such competitions are always ‘bring your own flasher’, Kidani. The organizers only provide a night scope” Novi explained. “I don’t have one.”
“I’m sure Kali or Yukon would lend you a flasher” her companion insisted.
Ryf chose the moment to announce his presence. “Are you a good shot, little burumha?” he asked.
Novi jumped, turning to face the RimWorlder in the dark. Her equally startled companion nevertheless looked pleased by his presence.
For a moment, Novi struggled between answering him and objecting to his moniker for her. Yukon had explained that the burumha was a large wildcat found in the tropical forests on the Rim Worlds.