by Alex Kings
“But his surviving components remain, and can still live on in us. I ask each of you to give of yourself and your connection to Kaivon, and one of you to allow him to live on as part of our unity.
“We speak as one.”
“We speak as one,” the other Albascene echoed in unison.
With the speech finished, Euron glided away from the centre of the room. The ends of the pillars each extended a smooth white surface, and the surfaces joined to form a sphere about three metres across surrounding the sarcophagus.
“Guardians, please come forward,” said Euron.
A number of Albascene left the walls and floated towards the newly-formed sphere. They assembled themselves into a queue with ease.
Euron was the first to enter. He moved up to the surface of the sphere. Part of it opened up, and it entered. The surface closed up behind him. A little over a minute later, it opened again and he left, allowing the next Albascene to enter.
Kaivon's guardians went in like that, one by one. Those leaving formed a small group on one side of chamber, save for Euron, who remained by the sphere to oversee the process. The siblings were called forward. Some of them talked to Euron briefly before entering. Rurthk recognised Kalver at the front of the line and wondered what he would to Kaivon's remains.
When the siblings had finished, Rurthk, Eloise, and Dr. Wolff came forward with a paltry group consisting of the rest of Kaivon's associates and friends. Rurthk thought it prudent to join the end of the queue
About an hour after the ceremony had begun, Rurthk found himself at the entrance to the sphere.
“You may consider this your last words to Kaivon,” Euron told him. “They are in complete confidence. I have advice if you are unsure what to say.”
“I'll be fine, thanks,” Rurthk assured him, and glided forward into the sphere.
Inside, the sphere glowed with a pale, diffuse light. It seemed to cut off all sounds from the outside. As expected, Rurthk found the suit's comms blocked too. It was just him and the sarcophagus.
He moved up to it and looked through the windows. Inside, the colourful mass of Albascene components danced in patterns too complex to follow. Was there really anything left in there that could acknowledge his words? Or was all this a show, just for the benefit of the speakers?
Rurthk growled to himself.
“You know me,” he told the sarcophagus. “I'm not a sentimental man. I'll leave that up to the humans. I've dealt with too many deaths to count, and it numbs you after a while.” He sighed. “But, if you are still in there, know this. Trust isn't easy for me. There are very, very few people in this galaxy who I've trusted my life with. You were one of them.”
With that, he turned and headed back the way he'd come in.
Chapter 10: Look After Yourself
After they had all come out, a meal was served. Large tablets of all colours, ranging from chalky tones to bright, luminous reds and greens were brought in a streamlined aquatic drone, and dozens of effector fields snaked out like jellyfish tentacles from the crowd.
Rurthk declined to try anything.
Naskis came over to them still in the process of sliding a tablet into a slot on his suit.
“How did you find the ceremony?” he asked.
“I believe it did Kaivon justice,” said Dr. Wolff.
Rurthk nodded assent.
They talked for some time, Naskis asking them about life on board the Outsider, and sharing stories of his own from Kaivon's youth.
“The rocket,” Naskis explained, “actually reached the upper ionosphere. It was nearly shot down by local defence systems until a frantic call from Euron stopped them. Kaivon had only had his suit for three years!”
“I wonder what a frantic call from Euron would actually sound like,” Eloise said, laughing.
“Kaivon's capsule came down by parachute about two thousand kilometres away,” said Naskis. “I was there to greet him. He came out and said he had an idea about how to get to the next moon. ” He paused. “Our guardians received a level-five formal reprimand from the regional authority.”
Rurthk laughed.
“It's common for children to leave the world of their birth by that age,” said Dr. Wolff, smiling. “Though usually not by means of their own contraptions.”
“The rocket had space for two of us,” said Naskis. “I wish I'd gone with him. As it is, I have only left Laikon twice, on official business.” The segments of his suit turned back and forth. “I am going to apply to host his surviving components,” he decided.
*
Laikon moved out of the shadow of its gas giant, and light once again swept across the ocean. The gas giant became visible as a giant white crescent, slowly growing wider and further from the sun.
Below the surface, Rurthk and his crew watched as six of Kaivon's siblings lined up to speak to Euron and volunteer to host the surviving components. Naskis was among them. So was Kalver.
Euron announced that the application window had closed, and then the six Albascene put forward their case to the rest of the family. Kalver spoke about the importance of bringing Kaivon home at last. Naskis spoke about respecting Kaivon's choices, the spirit of adventure, and confidence. The process reminded Rurthk of the human rituals of democracy that Eloise had once shown him videos of, a process which he found to be equally discursive and time-consuming. Even so, he found himself hoping Naskis would win.
The debates among the guardians began. It was clear there was no place for Rurthk and his crew here, and the process would take many hours, so after a while they excused themselves and returned to the Outsider.
There, they sat around the observation room table and went over what they knew of Martian security and Mr. Enoch Chase. Which wasn't very much. After a couple of hours of suggestions, thought experiments, and arguments, they were still no closer to having a workable plan to get Olivia out, or even contact her.
“I'll have to keep trying,” Eloise said.
Rurthk nodded silently, looking at a tablet full of information he already knew off by heart. His presence here was a reminder he'd failed Kaivon; he wasn't about to fail Olivia too.
When at last Rurthk went to sleep, it was still light outside. When he woke, evening had only just begun.
Eloise found him in the observation lounge with a carton of fermented blood in one hand and a tablet in the other.
“Morning,” she said, his violet dress fluttering behind her. She looked out at the dim ocean “Or evening. Whatever.”
Rurthk grunted a greeting, gesturing at the tablet again. It showed a map of Enoch Chase's Martian estate, overlaid with the various ways they might get in, none of which seemed to offer any hope.
“Tell me you've had some food,” said Eloise, rooting through the cupboard.
Rurthk gestured at the tablet. “Yes,” he said.
“When?”
Rurthk paused. “Last night,” he admitted.
“Oh, no,” said Eloise. “I'm not having this. You're not doing the despair thing again. Not now.”
The next thing he knew, she had neatly taken the tablet out of his hand and dropped a large container in front of him.
He gave her a look.
In response, she took the carton of blood away. “We've got lots to do. Rescue Olivia. Defeat this giant interstellar conspiracy. Remember all that?”
“Well … yes … ” began Rurthk
“So if you don't look after yourself, you're not going to be able to help with any of that. And if you don't help, then we're not going to get Olivia back. And if we don't get Olivia back, I've got no one to help me paint a fox on the hull again!”
They stared at each other across the table for a moment. Then, without speaking, Rurthk grabbed the container, opened it, and began to eat.
Later, Dr. Wolff joined them, and together they headed back to see the progress of Kaivon's funeral. The night was lit up by the gas giant. The crescent had fattened to a semicircle. A couple of other moons in the sky were li
t up like distant pebbles.
In the chamber, the debate was still ongoing. In standard Albascene fashion, there were no raised voices. But the guardians did seem to be interrupting each other a lot.
They met Naskis, who explained what was going. “I am certainly a bone of contention,” he said. “But right now they are arguing about Imnic, who has a high-level civil service position. Very prestigious, but nothing to do with any of Kaivon's interests.”
After talking to Naskis, Rurthk listened for a while. The Albascene seemed to be talking more about their own bureaucracy than about Kaivon. In the end, he decided his time would be better spent on the Outsider working on a plan to get Olivia free.
The night crawled slowly on, growing brighter and brighter as the gas giant became more full. Rurthk and his crew worked, then slept briefly.
As midnight approached, the gas giant became full: A giant white circle hanging in the sky. The faint patterns of clouds were visible on its surface, and the night sea became silvery in its light. Rurthk, Eloise, and Dr. Wolff returned to the chamber.
The Albascene were gathering in a ring around the edge of the chamber. The local comms system broadcast a timer to all the suits, counting down until midnight. Rurthk found he could translate it to the Isk timing system.
In the last couple of minutes, a few more Albascene hurried in through the door.
When the counter hit zero, it vanished. Euron moved to the centre of the chamber and came to a halt by the sarcophagus.
“It is midnight,” he announced. “I trust you have all come to a decision. All of Kaivon's siblings and guardians please vote now.”
There were a few seconds of silence.
“The votes have been cast,” said Euron. “The result … Naskis will host Kaivon's surviving components.”
Chapter 11: Allies
Albert Wells, undisputed ruler of the most powerful criminal organisation in the galaxy, sat in his study, re-watching a clip of a call he'd received a couple of weeks ago.
On his tablet, Felix Zino, spattered with blood, said, “You think you can just have the assassins say they were hired by Glass Beach or something, and I'd be fooled?”
A moment later, the connection had gone down. Wells had no idea what had happened to Zino.
He leaned over and frowned. “Glass Beach,” he murmured to himself. According to his sources, this was the Isk translation of the phrase from the old Petaur language, Vihan Yvredi.
He hadn't worried too much about the connection. He was too busy securing his grip on power, purging his enemies from Sweetblade. But now …
One of his people came striding into the room. “We've finished the analysis, sir.”
“Good,” said Wells. “And?”
“Your suspicions were right. We obtained a bio-sample from one of the dead Blanks. Certain nanotech markers are the same. The Blanks used in the attack are the same ones Sweetblade was working on before your predecessor came to power. Furthermore, I looked up some of the scientists who worked on the project. Many of them vanished several months ago. And our old lab has been destroyed.”
Wells was silent for several seconds. Who else would know enough to do that? He stared into the roaring fire, thinking “They poached our work to release this abomination,” he said. “And they put us at risk. Right now the Glaber have taken the blame … but if someone traces it back to Sweetblade, that would attract a lot of unwanted attention. I can't let this stand.” He turned to his underling. “Get me Mr. Hand. Now.”
“Of course, sir.”
In the end, it took half an hour for Mr. Hand to get to them. It last, he appeared on the wall screen and nodded softly. “Mr. Wells,” he said in a silky-smooth voice. “How can I be of service?”
“The Blanks,” Wells said.
“They have been dominating the news cycle recently, haven't they?”
“They're yours.”
“Ah,” said Mr. Hand. He smiled bashfully. “Yes, that was our operation.”
“I say yours … but then, they are also ours, aren't they?”
“I suppose one could make that argument,” said Mr. Hand.
“You used Sweetblade research and took in former Sweetblade employees, without telling us. And, I should add, I believe you also tried sending assassins after Felix Zino the moment we gave up.”
Mr. Hand nodded.
“This is unacceptable,” said Wells. “You're coming very close to treading on our toes. And I don't appreciate that.”
“I see,” said Mr. Hand. “Would your feelings on the matter change at all if I reminded your that our involvement in Sweetblade's affairs is the reason you are now in charge of the operation?”
“No,” Wells said bluntly. “The Blanks are an abomination. Do you understand? One of the few things my predecessor did right was to scrub that operation. Now I see you've not only brought it back, but used to create a major interstellar scandal, and maybe even lead to war with the Glaber. Do you realise how difficult that makes things for us?”
“War can be a great opportunity,” said Mr. Hand. “Many desperate people, willing to pay high prices for things they can no longer obtain legally. I know how smart you are, Mr. Wells. I'm sure you can turn this to your advantage.”
“That is not the point,” said Wells. “I do not want to see these Blanks again. And I do not want to see Vihan Yvredi getting involved in Sweetblade business without my say so. Otherwise, I'll have to reconsider our friendship.”
“That would be a dreadful shame,” said Mr. Hand. His voice was still friendly, but now held a subtle undercurrent of threat. “Sweetblade and Vihan Yvredi make great partners. If we end up fighting, that could cause a lot of damage on both sides. And I would hate to see your leadership end so soon.”
“Then don't let it come to that,” said Wells. He cut the channel, and stared in silence at the screen, thinking about what Mr. Hand had just set. A stone of worry settled in his stomach. He began to enumerate the people he could absolutely trust if he had to.
There were the people in his mansion, at the very least. They had been with him since the beginning, and he knew they had nothing to do with Vihan Yvredi – he kept tabs on them. Beyond that, there were a couple of other syndicates, run by bosses he knew well. And he had his own smallish network of spies. As for the rest of Sweetblade, he wasn't sure.
He opened a tablet, typed in a few names, and called his underling back in.
“Yes, sir?”
“I want an organisational analysis of Sweetblade.” He held up his hand. “Not the ones Vihan Yvredi gave us. In fact, I want to know which syndics and which bosses have a close relationship with them, as the Information Brokers, or any other name. And I don't want you to let anyone apart from these people know what we're doing.” He handed a tablet to his underling. “Can you do that?”
“It'll be difficult.” The man frowned at the tablet. “I should be able to get a basic report back in a couple of days.”
“Good. Do it,” said Wells. He watched the man leave the room. Depending on how the report turned out, he realised, he could be in a much weaker position than he thought.
*
As Rurthk approached the Outsider, the steps running down its side from the airlock unfurled from the hull. That had been one of Kaivon's innovations.
The full light of the gas giant was receding as they approached morning. Glowing moons were scattered across the sky.
At the bottom of the steps, Rurthk stopped.
“The design is very …” Naskis began. His voice synthesiser fell silent as he searched for the right word.
Rurthk waited for him to finish.
“ … ugly,”
Rurthk cocked his head.
“It violates at least seven aesthetic principles,” said Naskis. “But … it is not without its charm. If I am lucky, after the integration, I will be able to appreciate it properly.”
“When will that be finished?” Eloise asked.
“A month, at least,” said Nas
kis. “It is a slow process. I shall contact you when it is finished. But for now, you should concentrate on freeing your friend.”
“Yes, yes we should,” said Rurthk, climbing the steps. “Goodbye, Naskis.”
Chapter 12: Take Them Down With Us
The liner was a featureless ovoid five hundred metres long, its hull shimmering in crystalline blue and green. Its bulk was just below the surface of Tethya's ocean. A thousand or so Tethyans, plus a smattering of other species, gathered around it.
They'd be watching him, Laodicean knew, as the smooth hull opened up into a door before him. They wouldn't be able to follow him, of course. Not with his skills. Not after he'd gone through Kalbraica, Ghroga, and Atlantis.
Even so, the GEA would have seen him book this trip. They'd see him leave, and they'd notice when he became impossible to track. In a very real way, by taking this journey, he was throwing his career as an Investigator away.
That thought didn't trouble nearly so much as it should.
He'd examined his options, examined his soul, and come up with only one option. There was one way to achieve justice for Illipa – and save the GEA. And if that meant losing his position, he considered it a worthwhile trade.
He jetted inside without hesitating.
When all the passengers were aboard, the liner rose slowly out of the water. As soon as it was clear, it accelerated sharply upwards, cleared the gravity well, and jumped away.