Broken Glass (Glass Complex Book 1)

by John Hindmarsh

  “Agreed, on my honor, de Coeur.”

  Steg smiled down at his Fain companion. “All will be well, one way or another.”

  “All will be well if you win this contest unharmed and with your life,” countered Millie as they continued on their way.

  A larger, jostling, noisy crowd had gathered around the small arena. Steg ignored the crush of curious onlookers and prepared himself as he waited for the arrival of his opponent. The crowd grew silent as the noon hour approached, tension building. A sudden parting of the crowd announced the arrival of the sword assassin and he moved confidently towards the center of the arena accompanied by two assistants, their black varma robes fluttering like sails as they approached.

  “Well, stripling, you turned up. A pity, for you won’t survive this encounter. And then what’s yours will be mine.” He leered at Millie, little realizing she was almost as competent a fighter as Steg. He ignored Denke.

  “Assassin, I came to fight, not to talk.”

  “I’m ready,” the assassin signaled his preparedness by dropping his black robe and drawing his sword. His attendants drew back, carrying the robe.

  “I challenge this sword assassin,” cried Steg and Ebony was in his hand. No one had seen the movement and the crowd sighed its surprise. The arena cleared.

  The two combatants moved together, each confident and surefooted, eager to engage. Ebony was humming its song of power and Steg felt a surge of assurance from its almost separate life force.

  “Come, stripling, come closer,” the assassin taunted, beckoning.

  Steg moved in swiftly and the sudden clash of swords jarred both combatants. The sword assassin looked surprised for an instant and then struck out, forcing Steg to defend and defend again. The assassin was trying to force a quick conclusion to the encounter but Steg moved back and the crowd broke and scattered behind him. Steg flicked a sudden response back to the sword assassin, who parried his attack and they locked swords, faces almost touching.

  “The Fain’s free, assassin. She won’t be yours,” taunted Steg, jumping aside and defending a sudden riposte.

  The two swordsmen tracked and traversed, each intently seeking a weakness in the other’s defense, to no avail. Steg felt the weight of Ebony lighten as the battle drew on; it became an extension of his arm, of his mind. He felt a flow of power. He struck and struck again, thrusting viciously at the defense of the assassin. He moved forward and Ebony sang its song of victory. Steg saw his opponent’s eyes widen in sudden fear.

  The sword assassin disengaged and stepped quickly back out of reach. “Break,” he cried, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  Steg looked startled. “Is this permitted?” he asked the Tacian League Quaestor who was standing beside the monitors.

  “Why yes, either party may cry break once and rest for up to five minutes without loss of honor or other penalty.”

  Steg remained alert and prepared, Ebony firmly in his grip. He watched the sword assassin confer with his assistants. Their discussion was intense. At last the assassin signaled his readiness to continue. Steg noted without surprise that the assassin was moving with more caution and less confidence. He entered into the attack, thrusting and parrying, buffeting the sword assassin with powerful and deadly sword strokes.

  The sword assassin faltered and feinted, attempting to entice Steg into an error of overconfidence. Steg refused the invitation and pressed his attack. Now he struck at his opponent’s head, now at his legs, now thrusting at his body, always parrying and avoiding the less effective moves of the sword assassin. Steg had a reservoir of energy and his body moved faultlessly and effortlessly. Steg knew he could wear down the sword assassin with energy to spare. The crowd moved, sensing the inevitability of the sword assassin’s fate.

  Again the sword assassin disengaged and stepped well back, raising his sword with a flourish and a strange display of symbolism. His sword sparked with fire, the flame growing and rolling to form a ball at the tip. The crowd groaned their displeasure. The sword assassin aimed and thrust the fiery ball at Steg. The fireball traveled rapidly across the short distance, growing in size and intensity as it came closer and closer. Steg faltered, unsure of his defense against the fireball. Ebony hummed, almost jumping out of his hand as it detected the threat, and Steg raised the blade to fend off the approaching fire. The black blade pierced the fireball and he felt a shock run up his arm as Ebony absorbed its energy. He exulted; the fireball had not harmed him. He moved into the attack, oblivious to the wonder of the crowd and to the fear of the assassin. Steg’s now desperate opponent threw himself forward, meeting attack with attack. Gradually the force of the assassin’s attacks faded as he weakened. Steg paused to give his opponent an opportunity to cry quarter but the sword assassin declined the gesture.

  With lips tight, the assassin pressed back into the attack. Steg could see only one conclusion to the encounter and drove Ebony past the weakened guard of the assassin. The sigh of the crowd followed his final blow. The assassin fell, exhausted and severely wounded. Steg stood back and saluted his fallen foe. The crowd slowly dispersed, silent in their appreciation of swordsmanship. The two guild attendants carried off their fallen companion. Steg returned Ebony to its scabbard and then almost fell as a wave of exhaustion hit him.

  “So sword assassins use fireballs,” murmured Denke as he assisted Steg. “Apart from electronics in Ebony, what magic did you use? I think your Fain lady may have helped somewhat?”

  Steg did not answer. He was exhausted and in no condition to review the fight. The sword assassin had been a worthy opponent. Now, with Denke supporting him on one side and Millie on the other, they made their way back to their accommodation. Steg slept for hours, a deep and healing sleep which the Fain attended.

  ******

  Chapter 25

  As Steg slowly awakened, in that half state between sleep and full alertness, he realized the Alutan firefighter was somewhere in orbit above the planet posing a threat to his and Millie’s safety. A major threat, and he had no knowledge of its capabilities. He reached out, seeking, searching for the whisper of its system. He detected and discarded a number of ship systems. Practice was improving the range and depth of his ability to identify and link with ship systems. He listened to the electronic tangle of space, separating natural noise from ship systems, and then identified each star ship, sometimes by taste, sometimes by color, sometimes by both or neither. He heard numerous distant electronic murmurs, their messages unintelligible and indecipherable, their coherence lost in the impossible distances of space. The background was star noise, the random stirrings of insensate systems blended to a deep rumble of blurred ululations as they struggled for life. Steg quickly blanked out these sources, afraid to be drawn into the intense turmoil of their painful struggles. He concentrated on the sensible systems, those with coherence and identity. At last he found the firefighter. He merged with its system, absorbing and studying it until he was able to see with its sensors and hear with its detectors. He accessed its memories, read its data cells. He understood its deliberations.

  The firefighter was a long distance traveler, a private sloop rigged for deep space. He noted its heavy armor and illegal arms, and he counted the force that it carried. House of Aluta had dispatched a powerful, armed unit from its own force of military professionals, soldiers of fortune, mercenaries who signed on for life and who were prepared to lose it in service of the company. Nominally they were a security force, functioning to detect and deter enemies of the company where local forces were either non-existent or else corrupt or possible inept, and where the arm of the Imperial Fleet was unable to reach. In fact they were a private army trained and ready to settle with arms and force any dispute against the interests of House of Aluta. The company was prudent in their utilization and never used its private force against Imperial interests. The company was not yet strong enough to challenge the Empire.

  Steg admired the sleek and deadly craft. He was determined somehow to capture the
sloop and make it his own; that would be a fitting reversal, he thought.

  Suddenly he was wide-awake, his energy restored, his appetite ravenous. He refused to speak with Denke until he had eaten. Millie prepared a meal and he ate. When he had finished he turned to Denke.

  “You can talk all you wish, now.”

  “What about little big ears?”

  Steg thought for a moment. He did not answer Denke. Instead he sought the robotic program of the monitors and, without triggering an alarm, carefully rearranged their eavesdropping programs. Now they were temporarily deaf. They would revert back to full functionality after an hour or so, and his interference would be undetectable.

  “Not a problem,” reassured Steg. “I still have two questions. Why did you throw me to the wolves on Ziangka? And how did you leave the ship?”

  “I told you, de Coeur, duty called. My CO sent an urgent signal and I had to respond. I knew Captain Gallos had been subverted by House of Aluta, I just didn’t expect things to move as fast and as far as they did. My error. And I know the result was almost fatal for you. I came as soon as I could, I assure you. Why did I come? We want you, de Coeur. We need recruits of your caliber, with your—attributes. It is a dire need.”

  Steg was not impressed. “Why should I have anything to do with Imperial Special Forces?”

  “Two reasons. I have offered you our assistance against your Homeworld enemies. Oh, not that you must have our assistance to overcome them, but we can help, we can make it a lot easier. The second reason is the answer to your other question.”

  “Don’t be obtuse, Denke. In case you need reminding, your promises have proven somewhat nebulous, from my point of view.”

  “What can I say?”

  “Answer my second question. How did you leave the star ship? A massive power usage occurred at that time, which somehow is linked. And don’t worry about Millie—if I have anything to do with the Specials, she’ll be involved as well.”

  “Very well. This is one of those ’if I tell you I’ll have to kill you’ secrets. The Special Forces have guarded this information and we’ve killed to keep the secret. So, if I answer you, and then you refuse to join us, we will have on our hands what can only be described as a major impasse. Understand?”

  “I think so,” confirmed Steg. Millie nodded and remained silent as the two men determined their paths.

  “Well, be it on my head, I suppose. The answer’s relatively simple although the issues it raises are not. The star ship’s equipped with a portal, as are a number of Fleet star ships.”

  “A portal?” cried Steg. “Are you serious?”

  “Shhh,” cautioned Denke. “Yes, a portal. Don’t ask for an explanation of the science or how they work because we simply don’t know. So far we’ve identified over a hundred installations. About half—sixty or so—are built into the older, larger star ships of the Fleet. Most of the others are on planets although one or two are on made satellites and one just sits in space. We’ve lost twenty good men over the last three years in accidents from just mapping the damn things.”

  “You are serious, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I’m serious, dammit. Listen. I’ll tell you what I can. The existence of the portals was discovered about five years ago, by accident. We—the Specials—took over and placed a tight security block on the discovery. We managed to achieve a total exclusion of publicity, mainly by conscripting everyone who had some knowledge of the discovery. Since then we’ve been exploring and mapping the network which is vast. It spreads throughout explored space and well into the Rim and other regions we’ve never penetrated. Our main problem is that we need to experiment with new destination codes and the risks are extremely high for our exploration teams. Imagine keying in an untried destination and stepping through the portal into space. Or into a location where the planet has long been destroyed and all that remains is a collection of rocks in space and a portal.

  “The network is an invaluable resource, especially to the Specials. The Emperor’s advisers, the good ones, are predicting decay and decline of the Empire. Some of the things we see make us think the Empire is already decaying. The Specials are doing all they can just to cover the major attacks against the Empire, or rather, attacks on the freedom the Empire is supposed to protect. We have too many needs and not enough resources. So the more we can discover about these portals, the better our chances are for success.”

  Steg said, “I understand the value, at least in part. The concept is phenomenal. But I am at a complete loss to see where I come into this?”

  Millie spoke. “Major, who made these portals?”

  “We don’t know. They are old, very old. Older than the Empire. We don’t know who made them and I am reluctant to add to popular mythology about an ancient race. We just don’t know. We are still trying to determine how they work, and we need all the help we can get.” Denke turned to Steg. “de Coeur, I think—no, I know—you have an ability to communicate with these damn things.” He indicated the monitors. “I know you were in direct contact with the Ziangka system, and I think also with D’Art and others. I heard about the auto-miners on Hellfire. I’m either grasping at straws or making an intuitive jump, however you wish to describe it. I think you can help us, and I’d like to have your willing assistance.”

  “I see an implication that if you do not have my willing assistance, you will make do with my unwilling assistance?” Denke shook his head and Steg continued. “I still don’t know how I can help. However, I recall an offer of assistance in exchange. My willing assistance for your support against our Homeworld enemy.”

  Denke did not hide his satisfaction. “Done. We can work out the details on the way to our base. Can you leave tomorrow—no, dammit—can you leave now?”

  “I thought press ganging had been outlawed. Millie, are you willing to join in this mad venture?”

  “For a Fain, Master, I have only one answer. If you’re going with Major Denke, I too, will go.”

  Steg turned back to Denke and said, “I’m waiting for a transfer of funds, which will take another three or four days. Otherwise I’ve no objections to an early departure from Tacia.”

  “I can arrange for your transfer to be taken care of. The longer we stay here, the more exposed you are. You’ve little to pack, and I can settle for your rooms.” He indicated the monitors. “The League authorities will be relieved to see the last of you. What do you say—I borrowed a star courier to get here and it can be ready to go in thirty minutes.”

  Steg nodded in agreement, as did Millie. Steg was prepared to take advantage of even the remote possibility of assistance from Denke and the Empire’s Special Forces against Homeworld’s enemies and had no reason to stay any longer on Tacia.

  ******

  Chapter 26

  “Don’t worry,” counseled Denke as the star courier left Tacia orbit and exited the system’s space control region. “Anon can run the legs off the firefighter. She’s almost as fast as a Xesset star ship.”

  “Oh, I am not worried,” countered Steg as he watched the viewscreen. “In fact I was going to ask you to let them catch up with us. Can we review the navigation charts and find somewhere where they could attack us?”

  “Dammit, I don’t want to sacrifice my ship,” protested Denke. “That firefighter’s well armed and Anon’s built for speed, not military maneuvers.”

  “Relax, Denke, relax,” soothed Steg with barely concealed amusement. “Do you really think I want to let them capture us? All I need is for you to ask your captain to keep us idling along. In the meantime, let’s see where we can tempt the firefighter to launch its attack. They won’t succeed, but they don’t know that.”

  Steg and Denke sat with Anon’s captain and navigator around the navigation station, examining star charts. Denke was begrudgingly following Steg’s directions while the star courier’s officers were totally perplexed. They were tasked with identifying locations where their potential enemy could launch an attack, while every c
omponent of common sense suggested they should be running at full speed.

  “We need a location where we are between shipping lanes. The firefighter won’t want to attack us while we’re in the middle of a shipping lane,” advised Steg.

  The pilot traced their course, identifying jump points and shipping lanes. “We move off standard shipping lanes when we pass the Kohn Cluster. See? That should be a suitable location—if I was their captain that is where I would attack.”

  They all examined the indicated chart. The location was an ideal, two days out of Tacia, and would be overwhelmingly tempting for the firefighter.

  “I agree,” commented Steg. “I would attack there, too. Denke? Captain?”

  “I think you’re both crazy,” commented the captain. “But I have to agree. If I were going to attack, that would be ideal.”

  “Good,” confirmed Denke. “Captain, I know it troubles you—it troubles me as well. However, I’ve experienced enough of de Coeur’s abilities to know he’s not putting Anon at risk. We’ll do it. Objections?”

  “Hundreds. But you’re the senior officer here. We’ll cut our course accordingly. Anon can coast along for a day or so.”

  The meeting concluded and Denke accompanied the captain and navigator as they discussed the necessary course settings. Steg located a spare viewscreen, sat down and accessed its displays. For the moment he stayed out of direct contact with the courier’s system since he had no need to subvert or control its activities. He sought out the firefighter system and re-established his previous contact. He spent hours in careful programming of the firefighter. His tasks completed, he sat back and relaxed, retaining a slight thread of contact as the two star ships headed to the first jump point. Intent on his task, he had not noticed the repeated visits of his Fain companion as she checked on his comfort.