by Scott Lucas
“Ahmad…” Tem raised a hand. “There’s no need…”
“There’s no one whom I trust more.” Ahmad placed the chip on the console. He clapped Tem on the shoulder and started for the hatchway, then turned back. “I loathe suggesting this, Temirlan, but please do not wear your armor on this assignment, unless absolutely necessary.”
“I understand,” Tem said.
“But do you agree?” Ahmad raised his eyebrows.
It rankled Tem, but he nodded. Tem’s once revered armor now elicited fear and loathing.
✽ ✽ ✽
When Tem was a newly promoted Paladin, The Order tasked him and his mentor with rescuing and transporting civilians away from a war-ravaged world.
Tem whizzed past the Gold Coat destroyer ships and while he was lucky enough to have survived the bombardment, his Osprey Class fighter had sustained serious damage. Tem’s copilot and mentor Paladin, Grandmaster Odo Destamand rescued the civilians, which included Ahmad Bashir, a family man ten years Tem’s senior, who was escaping his home planet of Cantarga along with his wife and child.
Tem landed outside of the town square and stepped out of the ship, providing cover for the fleeing refugees while Grandmaster Destamand welcomed them aboard.
“Lord Brother, we need to hurry!” Tem shouted, firing his blaster. “The Meckanoids are advancing!”
“Understood.” To the refugees Odo said, “Quickly. Quickly, please. We have little time.”
Ahmad ushered his wife, Marion, and his crying toddler daughter, Arwa, into the ship. Arwa dropped her plush dolly and screamed louder when they ushered her into the ship.
“All aboard, Tem!”
Tem retreated to the ship and stepped on the doll. He stooped to pick it up as a Meckanoid blaster bolt hit the ship where his head would have been.
Grandmaster Destamand prepared to launch as Tem leaped onto the retracting landing bridge.
“Go, Lord Brother, I’m inside.”
The Grandmaster blasted off, away from the advancing army.
Arwa Bashir saw the doll in Tem’s hand, screamed, and reached out to the young Paladin.
“This must be yours,” Tem handed her the doll.
Both Bashir parents smiled and thanked him.
“Tem! Up here! Now!” Destamand shouted.
“Yes, Lord Brother.”
Tem, the more superior pilot, switched seats with the Grandmaster. Tem plugged his suit into the pilot’s seat, which allowed the pilot and the ship to become one, a necessity when navigating through hostile and dangerous areas of space. Above the planet, Tem was flying into a fierce battle.
“Everything copacetic, Brother?” Odo Destamand asked as the ship approached post-orbital space, seconds before flying around the battle above the planet.
“Copacetic, Lord Brother,” Tem whispered. He focused on the battle before them.
“You’ll do fine.” The Grandmaster patted the young Brother on his shoulder and headed to the back of the ship to comfort and serve the refugees.
Tem maneuvered the ship away from the battle, around and under the enormous fighting battleships on both sides. The scanner alerted Tem that a Hectoria short-range Stinger was pursuing them, small one-person fighters, which appear as a swarm of attacking insects when first, launched, intending to create shock and fear in the opposing force. The Stinger either did not see or care that the Osprey Class fighter sported a large civilian-transport sigil on the hull. The Stinger had it in for Tem.
The Stinger fired and stung the fighter’s wing. Minor damage, but too close for the pilot’s preference. Then Tem swooped low and around the Hectorian Dreadnaught. He heard screams in the back, including an annoyed Grandmaster calling his name.
“Sorry, Lord Brother. This Stinger has talent.” He jabbed the comm button. “Eegress Squadron, this is Lord Brother Temirlan Blaev in the approaching Osprey Class Fighter, Rosalyn Nova.”
“Go ahead, Lord Brother. This is Eegress Squadron Prime.”
“I have a shadow I can’t enlighten. Care to show a spotlight?”
“Will do, Lord Brother. Take care.”
Tem appeared as though he was racing down the z-axis resembling a rollercoaster drop and into the trap, he had laid for the Stinger. The Eegress Squadron destroyed the stinger.
“Much obliged, Eegress Squadron. May your Inner Light shine on,” Tem blessed them.
“May your Inner Light shine on, Lord Brother. Get those civilians to safety. We’ll escort you out of the melee.”
“We are grateful.”
When they were safely away from the fighting, Tem unplugged from the seat and programmed the Rosalyn Nova AIto fly on autopilot to Mission Station 23. He removed his helmet and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Brother Blaev.”
“Yes, Lord Brother?”
“Please come back here. There are some people who would like to meet you.”
Tem beamed. “Yes, Lord Brother. On my way.”
In the back of the ship, Grandmaster Destamand made the introductions. And last, but not least, the Grandmaster said, “This little girl is eager to make your acquaintance.”
Arwa Bashir embraced the young Paladin. “Thank you for saving my dolly.”
Tem was so moved he nearly wept.
“My pleasure, little one. May your Inner Light shine on.”
Arwa tried to repeat the phrase, but could not quite manage it. Her parents and the Paladins chuckled.
“Tem, these two are Arwa’s parents, Marion and Ahmad Bashir.”
There were blessings and handshakes all around. Tem sat next to Ahmad Bashir.
After a couple minutes of small talk, Ahmad said to the holy man. “Forgive me, Brother, but I must confess I am afraid. I don’t know what I will do to feed my family. I have heard that the outer colonies are not too welcoming to refugees. They are afraid we are taking their jobs, but Brother, I am not an unskilled laborer. I was responsible for logistics management back on Cantarga, supplying parts and supplies to the watch station.”
“I’ll see what I can do, my friend,” Tem promised.
At Mission Station 23, General Hudson greeted the refugees with a forced smile, but his demeanor changed when the Paladins approached. He brought his hands together and bowed. “Welcome, Lord Brothers.”
Tem brought his hands together and bowed to the General. “How is the station running, General Hudson?”
The general groaned. “Between you and me, Brother Tem, it has been rough. I have supply problems, labor problems. The station seems is falling apart piece by piece.”
Tem chuckled. “Well, General, I may have a solution for you. This man here, Ahmad Bashir, is the best logistics officer and management superior from Cantarga, and he is here to relieve one of your headaches.”
General Hansen studied the refugee. “Are you proficient at programming tertiary loaders for Zero-G maintenance?”
Bashir smiled. “I did that for five years and even wrote my own programs.”
“Good enough for me.” The General pointed to a young officer. “Go see Lieutenant Rico. Tell him what you just told me, say General Hudson sent you, and get to work.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ahmad Bashir thrived in his new position and with a few wise investments, one of them in z-ore, he became a wealthy man after the war. Ten years later, he was the one coming to Tem’s rescue.
✽ ✽ ✽
Wyv chimed. “Sir, we have an incoming message.”
“From whom?” Tem hoped it was a missing member of the Order, but he had learned not to anticipate or have expectations.
“Confederation Patrol.”
“Blast!” Tem swore. “Patch it through.”
A thin, balding, bureaucratic officer appeared in the holographic comm.
Before Tem could speak, Ahmad put his hand on Tem’s shoulder and stepped in front of the Paladin.
“Let me handle this.”
Tem nodded and stepped behind Bashir as his servant.
�
��What seems to be the problem, officer?” Ahmad was all smiles.
“The identification of this Osprey Class starship seems to be in flux.” The officer started reading from the data pad.
“A record glitch?”
“Perhaps. Identify yourself, sir.”
“I am Directorate Ahmad Bashir, executive board member of the Nytech Commercial Omniglomerate, and owner of this vessel.”
The subordinate ConFed nodded to his superior that Bashir’s credentials checked out.
“You own this Osprey class ship?”
“Is that a problem?” Ahmad’s tone conveyed his annoyance. In the hierarchy of the theocratic confederation, Bashir outranked them because Ahmad produced many taxable assets, and taxes paid the government and the galaxy to function.
“No, Mr. Bashir, it-”
“Directorate Bashir.”
“No, Directorate Bashir, but it is unusual. I would have expected a Fanulaan Yacht-class vessel.”
“Personal relic from the Clement Wars. It has sentimental value.”
“I see. However, it says here an Odo Destamand owns it. Is that—“
“That is the name of my servant,” Bashir motioned to Tem. Tem did not look up. “I keep the vessel in his name to avoid annoyances and harassments such as this.”
“It says here that Odo Destamand was a Paladin and was killed.”
Bashir closed his eyes and sighed. “It is a big galaxy. I’m certain you will find many duplicate names.”
“This is highly irregular. We’re gonna need to come aboard.”
“Stop!”
Bashir’s command bristled the bureaucrat.
“This is the Kenzoon System, is it not? The system governor is Deriak Price, your boss, correct? I play intra-satellite golf with him every half cycle. Shall I commend your overzealousness at the next tournament?”
The bureaucrat understood the veiled threat.
“Good. It would be unfortunate to lose such a valued resource to the confederation.”
“As you were. All hail the-”
Bashir ended the transmission. “I promise to get you your new tags when all of this is over.”
✽ ✽ ✽
The Wyvern Star docked along Nytech’s Fanulaan Yacht #9. Before Bashir transferred to his awaiting ship a parsec shy from Mollastian Fields, he told Tem, “Report to me daily and always watch your back.”
“Thank you. I will.”
Tem disembarked from the yacht and headed to Roschin Colony, feeling weary about his new assignment.
Chapter Four: Mollastian Fields
The Wyvern Star swooped and swerved around the asteroids in the Mollastian Fields Belt, heading toward the largest rock.
“Sir, a transmission from Mollastian Fields is hailing us.”
“Patch it through.”
A bureaucrat appeared on the screen. “You have entered Mollastian Fields Belt, a subsidiary of the Nytech Corporation. State your business.”
“My name is Temirlan Blaev. I am the new security consultant for the Roschin Colony. Ahmad Bashir hired me personally to be here.”
“Please hold,” the bureaucratic voice returned seconds later.
Tem waited for clearance for three hours. During that time, Tem practiced his breath-focused meditations he had learned from the Order, designed that the practitioner hardly breathe at all. The ability to fall into this stillness had saved many knights who had drifted inside a disabled or untethered suit with limited air supply.
Tem awoke when Wyv spoke. “Ahmad Bashir is contacting you.”
Tem opened his eyes and stood up. “Patch him through.”
Ahmad appeared via hologram. “Tem, you should have arrived by now. Where are you?”
“I’m hovering above Mollastian Fields. I’ve been waiting for hours.”
“I specifically told them you were coming,” Ahmad muttered, and signed off.
Tem tried to meditate again, but Ahmad was back before Tem could focus. This time the executive sputtered with anger.
“Three hours waiting for clearance! My deepest apologies, Temirlan. Give me a minute.”
Bashir ended the transmission, and moments later, another holographic transmission appeared on the bridge of the Wyvern Star. The man was dressed in executive finery with a golden sash draped down his torso. A gray cape hung over his shoulders. His hair was salt-and-pepper with a chrome goatee around his mouth.
“Master Blaev, a thousand apologies for the delay. I am Vosper Chu, Baron Administrator of the Roschin Colony. Glad you could make it.”
The man snickered nervously and continued.
“Welcome to Mollastian Fields. We had no idea one of our… benefactors had hired an outside consultant. It took hours to… to get proper clearance. We welcome your arrival. You may land at these coordinates.”
Vosper Chu pressed a button on his data pad. The Wyvern Star beeped.
“Thank you, Mister Chu. I will land at once.”
“Thank you again for your patience.” Vosper nodded, pressed a button on his data pad, and his hologram vanished.
Tem said, “Wyv, set down on those coordinates.”
“Right away, sir.”
Tem landed the Wyvern Star.
As he powered down the ship. He stepped off his ship dressed in the gray jumpsuit uniform of a Nytech employee, an umbrella omniglomerate Bashir partially owned.
The hangar doors opened and a small reception awaited Tem. Everyone wore a forced and nervous smile.
Baron Administrator Vosper Chu led the head of the group and stepped forward.
The Administrator was taller than Tem expected. Tem’s overall impression of the Baron Administrator was of a well-groomed ferret. A compliment of security officers and a bespectacled man accompanied him. A chief security officer, with a shaved head and thick brows who loomed behind. The man resembled a typical bodyguard, taller than average with shoulders that defied the confines of his official wear. A stun baton dangled from the hip of the security officer.
Going into an unknown situation unarmed was something Tem would only do for a friend, and even then, he probably would have hesitated if he did not desperately need the money for the job. These people had to trust him and entering the base armed would not help him.
Vosper Chu held out his hand. “I’m Vosper Chu. Welcome to Roschin Colony.”
Tem shook his hand. “Tem Blaev, security consultant.”
“I am relieved we resolved the misunderstanding. Please follow me. I’ll give you a tour.”
Tem walked with Vosper Chu and his entourage.
Vosper stroked his goatee once and attempted an ingratiating chuckle. “I cannot apologize enough for the delay. My people are wary of outsiders and we cannot be too careful. Ler pirates have seized our last four shipments, and therefore, we view any unfamiliar vessel with suspicion.”
“I understand,” Tem said. “I’ve experienced longer delays.”
Vosper flashed a smile and showed the bespectacled man in the cybernetic goggles on his right. “Mr. Blaev, this is my cybernetics chief, Arno Wurth.”
Wurth came forward more reservedly than the Administrator. He shook Tem’s hand, though he said nothing. At a closer look, Tem noticed Wurth’s spectacles covered cybernetic eyes.
Chu told Wurth, “Mister Blaev was the chief of security for Executive Bashir for years. Bashir informed me that he would trust his family’s lives with him.”
Wurth nodded unimpressed.
Vosper bypassed the security check terminal at the exit to the hangar with a nod to the groggy-looking attendant. Outside of the hangar, the group filed into an elevator that descended at an alarming velocity beneath the surface of the asteroid.
Vosper dismissed the security detail in the corridor and beckoned to the rest of the group to follow. Vosper looked back to Tem when the security detail was out of sight.
“I’ll warn you,” he said as they passed from the landing bay and into the colony itself. “The gatekeepers are not the only one
s who are going to give you trouble. Most of my staff are none too keen on bringing in an outside security consultant.” He shrugged and switched on a smile before changing the subject. “We’re right down the hall from the refinery. We’ll start there.”
The refinery was a high-ceilinged chamber with rough stonewalls. Vosper lead his team toward a metal stairway next to the doors and up onto a walkway that overlooked the refinery. He pointed out various points of interest as he explained the refinery process.
“Once the exploration bots locate a sizeable deposit of z-ore, we send the drones to extract it. The ore comes up to the surface embedded inside large chunks of stone. The first step in the refining process is crushing these chunks into smaller pieces for ease of processing. Several androids load large chunks of ore-infused rock into a cylindrical ball mill that spits the smaller pieces into waiting tubs. Once a tub is full of powdered ore, we transport it to the opposite end of the refinery where it is dumped into one of sixteen large vats of acid. From there, the acid separates the Zoristracium from the inferior stone, and the process skims the ore off the top of the vat and runs through another machine, which washes the ore. In another section of the refinery the ore goes through a smelting process in the two furnaces near the back of the refinery and emerges in melted down chunks of Zoristracium that is, on average, about twenty-five percent pure.”
Vosper pointed to the opposite end of the refinery toward a large sealed door, large enough to accommodate the wheeled containers of ore that the bits shuttled through the cycle.
“The entrance to the mines are too treacherous for humans, typically, but there are a few observations points from the tower.”
Vosper lead the group to a plexiglass window that covered most of a sidewall. From the window, they could see androids working steadily in two rows alongside a conveyer that emerged from a large machine.
“This chamber is highly radioactive. No human interaction.”
Inside the fabrication chamber, powdered ore fed through a large pressing machine and emerged on the opposite side in a series of small gold-colored pellets no bigger than a human thumbprint. The androids alongside the conveyer busily picked up each pellet and fed it into a smaller machine, which Vosper explained was for refining the shape of the pellet.