Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy

by Gregory Faccone

  “Yes, in all but the most extreme cases,” the man said.

  Durn brought up a VAD showing the station asteroid growing large. Finally the main nuclear rockets fired. Cones of superheated plasma jetted out the back of the shuttle. The deceleration was so great that they felt a touch of it through the grav weaves. A bay loomed in front of them as the shuttle flipped back to normal orientation. But Durn estimated they'd not sufficiently slowed for docking.

  Adrenaline must have jogged his memory, because recognition bloomed in an instant.

  “Wait. You're that old man... Before the Egress Incident, you stole a shuttle and made an illegal rendezvous!”

  The man rose for the hatch as the bay entrance sped past. “We stole no shuttle.” It was the first time he had pushed back. “It was sent immediately to its original destination with little delay.”

  “You caused an agency wide alert! I had to answer questions about it for weeks.”

  “Barrister, was that kerfuffle because of us?”

  “I'm afraid so,” the man's AI answered.

  Durn felt a strange sense of relief. The deja vu had been excised, and firm memory put in its place.

  “It was you!” Durn got up to follow. “Did it have something to do with the battle?”

  “Be careful, lad. To facilitate this accelerated approach, they are switching over to local grav weaves early. They are old and have lost pull.”

  The shuttle touched down hard with only a little bump making it through the shuttle's weaves. He felt a slight drag as they slowed, but it spiked when the local weaves switched in. Durn was not holding the courtesy rail and tumbled. His elbow found the luxurious seat's only edge in a burst of pain. As the shuttle finally came to rest, he got up bleeding. The man had remained inexplicably unmoved.

  The nurse bot was there before he could straighten up. It sprayed something soothing and the pain was gone. It worked a few more seconds and the bleeding stopped.

  “Come on Torious,” the man said, “we have a fleet to save.”

  “I'm coming,” the nurse bot answered. “Just a regular old contusion and laceration.” It reached into one of its many compartments and tossed him a small sprayer. “Here, use this once every three hours until it's finished. However it won't cure clumsiness.” The robot got up into bipedal mode. “By the way, I read your postbook. Rather self-aggrandizing, wouldn't you say?”

  “Torious,” the man reprimanded. He stepped down the unfolding stairs while they were still deploying. “Quite a refreshing ride. Like the days of old.”

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Kord watched Arceneaux pace the bridge, and burned off his own growing tension vicariously. They were on the cusp of something... Something about which he hoped he was wrong.

  “How much longer?” Arceneaux asked.

  “We'll get a direct feed from the Jetty in about thirty seconds,” the data rider answered.

  He sensed the tactical layout of the battlefield changing before him.

  “Have all ships check in.”

  The twelve ships of Alpha Squadron made their readiness known to Arceneaux.

  Arceneaux looked up at Kord. “They're ready.”

  Beta Squadron had eleven ships, for the Aurora, still disguised, was at Concourse. They checked in with Mason.

  “Eleven active ships in Beta Squadron at the ready,” Mason reported.

  They were ready to deploy. Ready for... whatever.

  “There's movement,” the data rider exclaimed. “It's the Perigeum squadron.”

  “To where?” Arceneaux demanded.

  The big, 3D tactical VAD came to life, and a line drew from the Perigeum squadron toward the edge of Granamar. Not far from the spot they all had their eyes upon.

  “Jetty feed up,” the data rider said.

  The new visuals showed the crest of Granamar. It zoomed and white dots emerged from behind the gas giant. It zoomed again, showing in detail two aegis destroyers. Behind them a long, pointy shape began to emerge. And it continued, and continued. With each passing second hearts dropped. It was joined by two more shapes, bracketing it. The three were connected, and all hope that the emerging ship could be anything else evaporated.

  “The F-First Cruiser,” Arceneaux said. The mammoth tri-hulled ship cleared Granamar. The Central hull glowed with the blue lines of its hybrid Artemis cannon. “But it was destroyed.”

  “My compliments to Janus,” Kord said, “for the best ruse since the Iron Commander's phantom force at Utica Cyr.”

  Arceneaux accepted the inevitable. “As I recall, that was making nothing appear as something. In this case, what we hoped was nothing has turned into a giant something.”

  Kord got down from the flag station and activated a standing conference table which unfolded from the deck. A small version of the Tactical VAD appeared on it. Vittora and Arceneaux joined him there, behind command.

  A fourth ship emerged past Granamar, trailing the others. Its hull glowed with golden lines, signifying classic, all-mystic construction. The VAD updated the ship's designation. Auscultare.

  “I wonder if he's following you,” Vittora said.

  “You know him?” Arceneaux asked.

  “We've crossed paths.”

  Arceneaux opened and closed a VAD of his own. “Where is our Frulieste rep?”

  “Still delayed at Concourse,” the ship AI said. “They've ordered it evacuated.”

  It was just as well. Kord didn't trust her. He was sorry Jordahk had to be saddled with her, especially now, but he hoped his son was staying a step ahead of whatever she was really up to. He looked to his wife.

  “What's your take on the incoming manifold space ships?”

  “They still have enough time to veer off,” Vittora said, “and make hill bottom just about anywhere.”

  Kord harbored no allusions they were friendly. Allies didn't arrive in peletons. He watched the projected course lines of the two Perigeum groups intersect. They were joining up, but then going where? What could legally be done, or at least construed to look legitimate?

  “The Aventicia Defense starkeel ships are tied up near the jetty,” Arceneaux said. “Keeping an eye on the Trade Union, and no doubt fervently awaiting their galleons' launch.”

  The Jetty was becoming the focal point. His father was there for a reason. The currently beached galleons were the only heavy ships in-system guaranteed to be for Aventicia, aside from their own. It was becoming a strategic tangle of X-factors and hidden motives.

  “I surmise Janus is heading inward,” Kord said, “toward the infrastructure in general and the Jetty in particular.”

  Arceneaux stroked his trimmed mustache. “There's a lot of resources represented there. A fortune in stations and banking. It's a lot to be held over the head of a financial hub, literally, if someone with, shall we say, less scrupulous intent got too close.”

  “Janus wants all he sees within his grasp,” Vittora said.

  The statement chilled them. They knew it was true.

  “Let's move inward too,” Kord said. “Put us between the Perigeum and the Jetty—in a non-threatening way, of course.”

  “Of course,” the captain said.

  Arceneaux moved them out in a ready, but semi-benign formation.

  “Picking up a... strange system-wide message,” the data rider said.

  “Strange?” Arceneaux asked.

  “It has the telltales of a pirate transmission.”

  On the viewport, next to the manicured displays, it seemed ominous.

  “Some call us the Shadow Board,” a voice with subtle distortion said, “but we are the people, and we will soon step out of the shadows.” The silhouettes of six figures sat around a rectangular table. “The people of Aventicia are through with the greed and corruption of the so-called Governing Board. We are the new government of Aventicia, and we shall not be ruled by Banking Confederation edict.”

  “What's the source of that transmission?” Arceneaux demanded.

  “It'
s the Jetty, sir.”

  “Their precious Jetty is now back in the people's hands,” the distorted voice continued. “Most of the starmada is with us. Starting here we shall take back our planet from foreign interlopers and local sell-outs. Aventicia for Aventicia first!”

  A sense of bewilderment and apprehension washed over the Verdant's bridge. They barely had enough time to exchange glances before another system-wide transmission began.

  The hexagonal logo of the Perigeum was followed by a stern looking Janus.

  “These are troubled times for Aventicia. The duly appointed Governing Board has contacted me requesting any and all support against these usurping rebels. Those who try to wrest control for selfish gain will face the wrath of civilized power. To that end the Perigeum will make overtures to the other convened parties in-system.”

  “I'm not going to hold my breath for that overture,” Kord muttered.

  “Together we can, and will stop lawless rebels from seizing a fourth of the Banking Confederation.” Janus's delivery was polished and solemn. “The Perigeum has had a long and fruitful relationship with the Banking Confederation in general, and Aventicia in particular. We will not allow its mighty galleons to be conscripted by rogue agents and terrorists. We call upon all military personnel in the Jetty to stand down immediately. Any other actions you take will be considered hostile.”

  Father, what's going on over there? What have you gotten yourself into?

  Vittora could read him well.

  “Aristahl has a way of getting to the heart of it,” she said.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  As the little tender whisked them over to the ship, Jordahk's mind raced. The discord on Concourse might soon be echoed throughout the system. Aristahl and his father were out there doing something about it. Yet he and the mighty Hesperus Aurora were hiding their potential in a parking orbit.

  If he took Zoraida on board, would their cover be permanently blown? How could he spread Aurora's wings if fighting broke out, or explain his association with the legendary ship?

  “Aurora? Aurora?” Jordahk sub-whispered. “Max, what's going on?”

  “I'm only getting standard telemetry from her. No communication.”

  What could make a mystic ship AI go silent?

  That was as disconcerting as bringing Zoraida aboard. He had to off-load her onto the fleet ASAP.

  The Aurora exchanged wordless entry codes with Max and the bay doors opened. The ship looked stubby, with mismatched plates. Its squat form was two centuries out of date, and supposedly originated from a planet that might as well be an alien world to those within the hex's borders. But if you knew where to look, and Jordahk was learning, you could spy hints of fantastic workmanship.

  His uneasiness only grew as they passed through the soft air bay barrier. His autobuss was with his things on board, and not at his side. Solia saw his apprehension while Zoraida looked through the crystal panes with disguised curiosity. Did she know enough to see through the ruse? She knew more than she let on, that was for sure.

  The tender landed and they disembarked.

  “This is your ship?” Zoraida asked.

  “I'm more of a passenger,” Jordahk answered.

  “What a strange bay configuration.”

  It was, with bulkheads contracted and open spaces squashed. Zoraida looked about as if surveying a grand buffet. The Aurora's disguise would not hold from within to the knowledgeable eye. Behind them the tender lifted off of its own accord and backtracked out. The bay doors, showing hints of mighty ceramic composite armor, closed them in. Jordahk had never before felt trapped in the Aurora, until now.

  “Uh, hello?” Jordahk called out.

  There was no response, and he actually felt a little embarrassed.

  “Is your ship always like this?” Zoraida asked.

  “No. And it's not my ship.”

  The current master was on the Jetty, and the original craftsman had receded into history.

  “What starmada is this ship in?”

  Jordahk wasn't surprised she didn't recognize the affiliation.

  “It's currently flying the colors of Demeter.”

  A loud clanging interrupted the uncomfortable conversation. Something heavy and metallic had dropped. He exchanged glances with Solia and felt behind his back for the incapacitator. The small pistol was small assurance, but better than nothing. As they started toward the disturbance the sound of rending metal was accompanied by a spiking mystic sensation. It was gone just as fast.

  They peered around a bulkhead jutting into the bay because of the disguise configuration. Two grav weave deck plates were flopped over and noise reverberated from the opening. Standing over it was a rotund, somewhat slovenly man. His significant height went a long way in dispersing a lot of mass. His hair was salt and pepper with white on the sides.

  Jordahk was startled when the man's eyes met his with no surprise whatsoever.

  “What have you been doin' to this ship, sonny?” the man reprimanded. “Would you tune a pianochord with a hammer?”

  Jordahk took back the initiative, refusing to be put on the defensive. “Who let you on board?”

  “Why, the Moon Weaver did.”

  “The Mo—”

  “That's the current disguise name,” Max link-said.

  Jordahk switched tactics. “Gasket, is that you banging around in there? What are you doing?”

  The robot's head popped up from the hole. “The compression has wreaked havoc on the non-mystic replacements.”

  The famously genial robot was living up to its hype, as usual.

  “No. What are you doing with him?”

  “An original grease monkey?” Zoraida noted. “Like the epiVAD.”

  “Yes,” the robot said. “'Oh That Grease Monkey.' I've been meaning to watch it.” Jordahk gestured palms up with incredulity. “What is it? I thought you knew. This man has Aristahl's authorization to service us.”

  Jordahk stared at the man, forced to venture into the cliché. “Okay, who are you?”

  “Call me Jhapa. Been working on craft like this pretty much since they've been around. Who are you? Kinda young to be shepherding hardware like this, don't ya think?”

  Jordahk suddenly felt inadequate, and no answer raced to the surface. The man wore a dingy uniform.

  “Max, do you recognize his get-up?”

  “Underneath the grime it looks to be utilities once issued to Atalantia tech crew. Imprimatur Corps, mystic wing.”

  The Asterfraeo could historically boast of two great staryards. Atalantia was still the Asterfraeo's premier facility, as it had been since the war. Back then it serviced the largely scientum, fledgling Vallum Corps, but never turned its back on a mystic ship. It recently escaped destruction at Windermere, having been prematurely relocated to Castellum.

  The other... The other was the legendary Sojourner yard Adranus. It was broken into five sections and secreted away by various factions in the waning decades of the Sojourners' Crusade. The unknown locations of said pieces are now fodder for docuVADs.

  “Utilities once issued?”

  “Yeah,” the AI answered, “about two centuries ago.”

  Jhapa looked down, trying to rub off a stain, only smudging it bigger. He wore an oversized, tarnished bracer on one arm. That didn't alert Jordahk, for he knew many tech crew wore bracers as extra protection from current arcs.

  “The last time I saw Atalantia,” Zoraida said, “the mystic wing was dusty with disuse.”

  Jhapa's eyes narrowed for the first time. “I served in a lot more places than what's now the Palisades, you know.”

  Great. These two are really hitting it off.

  Jhapa looked like a man in sempai who had somehow overcome his ravelen to develop a big belly. His old uniform was having difficulty containing it.

  “Where's Aur— the ship AI?” Jordahk demanded?

  “She's still there, monitoring everything. I just temporarily shut down the communication nodes.”


  To emphasize his point, two maintenance drones appeared and hauled away a crumpled piece of conduit Gasket had removed from the hole.”

  “You shut them down?”

  “Of course.” Jhapa was back to his crotchety self. “Aventicia's heatin' up. You wouldn't want some faction or other detecting the engines offline, would you?”

  Solia shook her head. “You took the engines offline?”

  “They're back on now, young lady. Were runnin' as rough as a trainee boat.”

  Who is this guy? The Aurora is one-of-a-kind. Differing even from her four sister Hesperus class ships.

  The old imprimataur's answer was too convenient. “I want to speak to the ship,” Jordahk demanded.

  Jhapa looked down at Gasket.

  “The system's restored now,” the robot said. “You're quite adept at forge work.”

  “Okay, I'll bring the comm nodes online.” Jhapa made a show of getting down into the hole. He disappeared for a moment in the maintenance spaces, grumbling to himself it seemed. “Done most of what we can in this mode anyway. Young people... so impatient...”

  Jordahk spoke into the hole. “In case you're unaware, the system's on the verge of smelt-down.” He felt another mystic spike. The powerful sensation spread through the ship, finishing what it was meant to do rather than fading. He didn't have much experience with imprimaturs, but apparently some could be quite powerful and skilled.

  “'In this mode'? What does he mean by that?” Zoraida asked.

  Jhapa appeared suddenly, climbing out of the hole. “Aren't you a curious one.”

  “Ah...” Jordahk looked into the air of the ship but paused.

  “Moon Weaver,” Max prompted by link.

  “Moon Weaver, how are you? Is anything amiss?”

  Jhapa looked insulted.

  “Hello Jordahk. Sorry for the communication outage. But it was for a greater good. I've some systems online now that have been out for a long time. I still need a staryard, but Jhapa has been a great help.”

  “This ain't my first orbit, ya' know,” Jhapa said. “Workin' on one of these isn't something you forget, even if it's been a couple centuries.”