Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1)

by John Hindmarsh

  “So, we’ll be patient,” mused the colonel. “We can wait, that will give us time to prepare. Our forces will use that time to their advantage. Senior, you have been most helpful.” He saluted, the gesture more a sign of respect than a military farewell.

  First Senior held himself upright until the two officers had taken their leave and departed and then he collapsed into a chair. The young Acolytes gathered around him. They were concerned at his apparent state of exhaustion. He fought the waves of exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him.

  “Helen, you are now to take charge of the Ebony program. You have studied the data, all the projections. You know what to expect and what the possibilities are. Remember, de Coeur is likely to be our most effective decoy. Expendable, yes, they all are. But only at maximum cost to our enemy, you understand?”

  The young Acolyte, her eyes sparkling at the thought of the challenge just offered her, replied without hesitation. “Yes, of course, First.”

  The First Senior issued instructions, ensuring each team member understood the need to constantly monitor progress of the decoys, and to provide all the support possible from Homeworld’s resources. Finally he addressed the group. “I must admit—I am tired. You already share most of my workload. Evelyn, I want you to contact the Second Senior for me. He will need to break off his research and be ready to replace me here. And each member of his team will support each of you. We must not fail in these endeavors to rid Homeworld of this Imperial blight. Yes, yes, I know he will bark at you, but tell him of my—our need. He will understand. Now go, all of you.”

  They went. First Senior sat back in the chair. He knew and so did they, that he would only call for the support of the Second if he himself had doubts—not about his abilities; rather doubts about his strength, about his survival. He grimaced against his exhaustion. His responsibility was to plan and oversee the defeat of Homeworld’s enemies. And he would succeed. It would be his death, he knew, and then the Second would take over. First Senior spoke aloud to the empty room. “That will upset Second. He won’t have anywhere near enough time for his favorite project. Still, evidence in support of his so-called Ancients is very thin, very thin indeed.”

  ******

  Chapter 7

  The captain, pilot and helmsman were standing in the center of an almost complete sphere of viewscreens when Steg entered the bridge. He stopped for a moment; the images gave the impression he had stepped off into space. The bridge was in darkness except for soft illumination from minor instruments and the glow of numerous viewscreens. He stepped forward onto the small floor area with a certain amount of trepidation, for no matter which way he looked, whether down, up, in front, behind, in every direction, viewscreens portrayed a sector of local space.

  The astrogator was marking a navigation target for the helmsman. He indicated with a pointer a glowing spot on a forward viewscreen and the system drew a green circle with that point as center. Steg did not hear the conversation; however, he realized the pilot was defining the course for the helmsman to follow.

  “We don’t usually have passengers,” Well Drinker’s captain greeted Steg. “However, a Homeworlder is always welcome. In fact, most of our crew are Homeworlders.”

  “And probably the owners?” queried Steg.

  “One way or another,” affirmed the captain. “We are going to rendezvous with another Rimerian star ship, an ore carrier, the Walrus, before we transit. My astrogator has just marked the navigation key for the helmsman. Walrus ordered fresh produce and we have a Homeworld container to transfer to them. Transit to their location will take nearly four hours. They are moving towards their nexus, and we have to match course and speed, dock, deliver, and undock, before they transit. Then we will head to our nexus for our transit.”

  “Do you usually trade with the ore carriers?”

  “Occasionally. If it’s a W Line. We do it enough we won’t raise anyone’s suspicions. One of the Imperial warships may lift off and follow us, although so far they are just sitting on-planet. The fragility of their hold on Homeworld requires the presence of both warships on the surface. The Imperials have sent messages to all systems on our itinerary, requesting that you be arrested. I expect we will be stopped and searched at each Imperial system we visit for the next four or five weeks. The solution recommended—or rather, directed—by the Complex is that we transfer you to Walrus, at the same time as the container.”

  “Where is she headed?”

  “Alliance Nexae, Zeta Three and Zeta Four. So that will break the trail for the Imperials. They cannot get their noses into Alliance space. And you can transfer at either waystation, which one I do not need to know. Walrus has a full complement of ore barges and will transit once she has her fresh provisions.”

  “And undoubtedly I will discover some Homeworlders amongst the crew of the Walrus?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “I suspect this is going to be the pattern of my life over the next two or three months.”

  “No comment. You’re welcome to stay on the bridge and watch. We’ve a very good pilot who will dock with Walrus as softly as you can imagine. You will have fifteen minutes to transfer once we dock. We have space armor that will fit you.”

  The Homeworld Nexae provided direct connections to five systems, three of which were in Imperial space, one in Alliance space and one reached out to the Rim worlds. Each of those destinations held at least one jump nexus that provided links for further travel. Overall, almost three hundred star systems were connected by known nexus links.

  Steg watched the leading viewscreen while Walrus grew in shape, as the two star ships moved closer together. Walrus was a giant skeleton with a massive drive that pushed her along at near light speed. The skeleton structure of the carrier was designed to accommodate three rows of five barges each. Most of these barges, long cylinders, would have been manufactured and filled in situ, using mixed and rolled iron and nickel ores. The resulting material, when exposed to jump point radiation, was ready to use in acrylsteel manufacture. Some cylinders were filled with rare earths, extremely valuable material that was used in manufacture of star ship equipment and weapons. When filled, the cylinders were sealed ready for attaching to the carrier skeleton. Space tugs nudged them into place where they were locked down to become an integral part of the overall carrier structure. Asteroid mining was a very profitable Homeworld venture and Walrus was fully loaded with barges.

  The ore carrier was immense, and dwarfed Well Drinker as the star ships drew closer. The two crews prepared for the transfer of supplies, and Steg, protected by space armor, transferred safely to Walrus with the container. He was welcomed by crew on the huge carrier and it immediately prepared for transit.

  The bridge was larger than the virtual sphere on Well Drinker, with many more viewscreens providing external views both of the ship itself and of nearby star systems. Its crew numbers were nearly equal; far more of the basic tasks on the huge ore carrier were automated. Bridge officers were preparing for transit of the nexus point and Steg watched the navigation process with avid interest. The captain had welcomed him onto the bridge where he sat with the bridge officers while they aligned the carrier for its transit of the nexus. A set of forward screens displayed a virtual image of their target, a point in space that slowly grew closer as Walrus accelerated.

  The nexus was located outside Homeworld’s gravity well and it provided safe transit for inter-system star ships. The nexus linked two fixed points in space-time; one point was on the edge of the Homeworld system and the other point was in Alliance-controlled space, adjacent to the system known as Zeta Three. From Zeta Three a link connected to Zeta Four, and the Zeta Four nexae linked directly to another three systems in Alliance space. The ore carrier was scheduled to offload two ore cylinders at Zeta Three and the remainder of its load at Zeta Four for an Alliance star ship construction complex.

  Walrus received clearance from Homeworld Way Station control and it increased its rate of acceleration towa
rds the target nexus. It reached and entered the nexus point. The carrier seemed to ripple and then steady, as though flowing through an invisible transition. Viewscreens now displayed a virtual tunnel with a centered exit circle representing Zeta Three.

  Progress from entry to exit points seemed to be painstakingly slow; however, the carrier exited Zeta Three nexus at almost the same real time that it had entered the Homeworld nexus. The paradox was well known as a feature of nexus point transitions and its cause remained unsolved.

  The ore carrier immediately began to slow in order for tugs to approach and detach the two barges destined for their Zeta Three purchasers. Once the barges were detached the carrier would accelerate back outsystem for its next transition. Steg would remain on board Walrus until tugs at Zeta Four detached the last ore barges; his journey had only just begun.

  ******

  Chapter 8

  The terminal exit doors hissed their farewell salute as they closed behind Steg. After three standard months of being cooped up in star freighters, some modern and fast, many ancient and slow, with interminable delays in innumerable transit stations and only the occasional luxury of a fast passenger liner, he was overjoyed to finally reach Althere. Homeworld contacts and trade links had eased the problem of distancing himself from the planet where Imperial forces held sway; he hoped fervently that he was out of their clutches.

  He lifted his duffel bag onto one shoulder and looped his swordbelt over the other. By some small miracle of organization his travel kit, newly purchased clothes and even Ebony had all been carefully stowed in his small cabin on Well Drinker. He adjusted the two burdens and stepped out onto the street.

  He paused, almost tempted to retreat back to the sanctuary of the space terminal. The wind was cold and gusts buffeted him, tugging at his thin cloak and swinging him momentarily off balance. The hurrying people were careless of his presence and added to his buffeting. He ducked out of the way of a phalanx of pedestrians and pressed himself against the wall of the terminal building. The sky was gray and threatening rain or possibly snow, the air was heavy with pollution and the street was littered with discarded rubbish. His first impressions of Althere increased his longing for Homeworld. His thoughts interrupted, he looked down. A small alien was tugging at the bottom of his duffel bag.

  “Most honorable human,” it wheezed. “Permit me your heavy load to carry.”

  Steg kept more than a firm hold on his only possessions as he examined the small alien. It waved eyestalks at him and tugged at his duffel bag with a claw-like hand. Steg had no idea at all of the creature’s possible origin and thought in some way it reminded him of the small lobsters caught on Homeworld, except the fishermen would be alarmed both at the size of this waist-high specimen and at the vivid violet color of its carapace.

  His first inclination was to reject the offer of assistance and move away; then something changed his mind, perhaps a reflection of wistfulness or perhaps a desire on his part to ease his loneliness.

  “Very well. I need a guide who knows the city. What will you charge?”

  After a brief haggle, they settled on a fee acceptable to both.

  “What do you wish, oh young sir,” queried the alien. “Nice girl human, or something more exotic?”

  “No, thank you. First, I need to find my hotel.” He provided the name of a hotel where the purser on the incoming star liner had reserved his accommodation. “Then a tailor and perhaps a short tour of the city. All right?”

  The alien held him back while it wheezed and clicked to itself, then it spoke aloud. “Lordling human sir, that hotel not good is. Tziksis will show. It unsavory reputation has, not good for young sir. Come, Tziksis show. Come.”

  Tziksis moved ahead to the pavement edge with a scurrying rapidity that almost tugged Steg off-balance. He gave a shrill whistle and Steg watched with interest as a roving autocab pulled in and its wide passenger access door opened. They climbed aboard. After punching in a series of destination codes, the alien turned to Steg. “You see. Your hotel and two others, your choice take after inspection.”

  Steg nodded his agreement and sat back in the comfortably cushioned seat while the alien crouched, its legs folded up under its body. The autocab maintained a hectic pace through the traffic and after a moment or two of viewing a seemingly endless string of almost impossibly close near misses, Steg turned and gazed instead at the speed-blurred buildings and pedestrians. From the little he was able to see, he thought the buildings were drab and grime coated, their designs monotonous and lacking flair or appeal. In contrast the pedestrians were a bewildering mixture of shapes, sizes and colors, in perpetual movement, weaving and dodging as they hurried on to their destinations.

  The autocab eventually turned off the main thoroughfare and traveled down a nearly deserted street dotted with scattered garbage. Then for a while each street was progressively worse than the one before.

  “See,” wheezed his guide when the autocab stopped after they had traveled for another ten minutes. “Hotel is. Your choice human sir, not good is. Street not good is. Human probably not survive. Lucky daylight still, otherwise Tziksis not come. Now other hotels visit.”

  Steg silently agreed with the criticisms voiced by the little alien. As the autocab had slowed he had seen a wrecked vehicle being ransacked and he was certain some of the damage to buildings adjacent to the hotel had been caused by laser fire. While he had intended to occupy a hotel room for only a few days, he did not wish to run a gauntlet of thieves and gang fights every time he left or returned to his accommodation.

  “I think you may be correct, Tziksis. You can find a better hotel?”

  “Oh yes, your kindness.”

  The alien’s eyestalks bobbed up and down as he spoke and Steg struggled to resist the impulse to move his head in unison.

  “Not difficult is. Some sectors of city very dangerous be. Others, safe are. Can walk at night without death, if lucky. Here more than magic sword and hidden shell needed is.” A small claw dug gently at Steg’s chain vest as the autocab accelerated out of the street, towards their next destination.

  Steg was moved to protest. “My sword is not magic.” He was concerned the suggestion might encourage someone to steal Ebony. “My sword is old, yes, and well cared for, but not magic.”

  “Magic sword.” The alien was firm. “Magic for you but no one else. Secret safe is. Tziksis silent keep.”

  Steg was curious but disinclined to pursue the subject. How could the alien detect a relationship between him and Ebony, he wondered. He dismissed the question and relaxed as the autocab traveled in more pleasant surroundings.

  Eventually they stopped in front of another hotel and Steg was reassured to see the numbers of people, human and alien, either entering or leaving the building. The street was comparatively clean with no obvious signs of disorder. He turned to Tziksis and inquired: “How does the next hotel compare with this one?”

  “About same, young human,” he wheezed. “More cost and more commission. But if satisfactory this, Tziksis happy is.”

  “Good. This will do.” He followed the alien’s instructions and used his credit stick to pay the autocab and then climbed out. Tziksis followed after a moment of hesitation, clicking and wheezing with what seemed to be concern. Steg turned back.

  “What is your problem, Tziksis?”

  “Your kindness,” came the response. “Tziksis erred. Credit stick leaves trail and enemies follow.”

  “Why do you think I have enemies?”

  “Answer simple is. Magic sword has. To be used against enemy. Also young human travel light and alone. No servant has. Simple to see, enemy must have.”

  “Well,” Steg hesitated, wondering if he should trust his intuitive reaction to the odd alien. “Perhaps you could be my servant for a few days?”

  “And Tziksis in hotel stay? Oh sir, your kindness is too human.” Tziksis clattered his claws and excitedly bobbed his eyestalks up and down.

  Steg acknowledged to himself tha
t he was taking a risk. However he considered on balance that he was safe. He entered the hotel carrying Ebony looped over his shoulder and Tziksis followed with his duffel bag, carrying it aloft as though leading a triumphant procession. Steg was relieved when no one looked askance at his sword and he noted that most of the people in the lobby were either wearing or carrying arms. He could carry his sword without risk; however, the code required him to accept challenges once he buckled on the sword belt. With the sword over his shoulder he could avoid all challenges without attracting the disgrace of dishonor; in fact dishonor fell on anyone who challenged him. The code was strict and rigidly enforced on Althere as on Homeworld.

  After checking in they were directed to a small suite that Steg painstakingly surveyed. His conclusion was that the suite was not totally secure from possible unauthorized intruders.

  “What do you think, Tziksis? Am I being overcautious?”

  “Master youth, if danger threatens, always overcautious be.” Tziksis had followed the survey with interest.

  “I suppose it will have to do for now,” Steg compromised with himself. “How about organizing a tailor—can you arrange for someone to come here? I need to improve my wardrobe.” At the enthusiastic reaction from Tziksis, Steg continued. “Give me a few hours to clean up, have some rest—my time clock is about two in the morning and I need to adjust.”

  He closed the door carefully as Tziksis departed on his errand and collapsed onto the bed. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. As he descended into slumber, sets of numbers, strangely scripted and framed in green light, flashed and were gone, too rapidly to be read. An urgent voice spoke unfamiliar words that failed to penetrate his sleep-fogged consciousness and repeated them again and again with ascending emphasis on the need for him to comprehend their message. He tossed and turned, restless, while the voice continued, now presenting the words as text rather than speech, however they sped by before he could reach out to them. He tried to slow them down but they slid away unhindered by his dream perceptions. The words kept on, hammering at his slumbering awareness with a shrilling vibration and his frustration mounted with each unsuccessful attempt to contain and comprehend the strange communication. Then he felt his mind moving, drawn by the irresistible attraction of the flow of words and symbols, and it surged, matching the flow but he still could not catch and hold the elusive mixture. Each time he almost caught the distancing pace of the flowing patterns and he felt understanding was within his grasp, the flow accelerated and left him lagging behind and more and more perturbed. The movement continued, segued into loud hammering and suddenly changed to a heavy and repetitive knocking. The flow of indecipherable symbols jumped and faded, disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared. He struggled with the heavy muffling blanket of exhausted sleep. The knocking continued and he opened his eyes, realizing he was no longer dreaming.