Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy

by Gregory Faccone

  Solia shielded her eyes, but Jordahk looked straight on, reprimanding himself for being so surprised, for it all made sudden sense.

  “Thule-Riss...”

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  “We can't stop him,” Arceneaux said.

  The First Cruiser didn't only continue its march toward the Jetty, it sped up, unimpeded by the Confidence Fleet nor the scattering AvSec.

  Defeat was in the captain's voice. Kord wasn't one to give up, but he had to admit a shortage of ideas. At least practical ones.

  Enjoy the fullness of your gloat now, Janus.

  “It's not over yet, captain.”

  Arceneaux raised a questioning brow. “Really? What are you expecting?”

  Kord glanced back at Vittora. “The unpredictable. In the meantime let's get back up to effective strength and keep what we've earned.”

  “You're an optimist.”

  “Alpha Squadron's Thunar has rendezvoused with Beta Squadron,” the tac officer said. “The Svals are finally backing off from a raiding position.”

  “They really don't want us keeping their destroyer,” Kord said.

  “Bringing down the captured Sval destroyer's computer systems was right up the 'Decimals' alley,” Arceneaux said. “Between them and the boarding parties, the Svals have been unable to scuttle her.”

  “Heavy casualties are being reported among the boarding parties,” Vittora said.

  Kord blew out a tired breath. “The Svals were brutal in their hand to hand before they became a space power.”

  “I hope they still sell us Thunars,” Arceneaux said.

  Maybe that was the captain's way of showing a little optimism.

  “This destroyer better yield answers for the cost,” Mason said from his VAD.

  “Yes,” Kord said. “Send your out-of-action around the back side, but keep the prize with you, just to be safe.”

  “Rendezvous coordinates set,” Arceneaux said. “Our combined squadrons will have punch again.”

  But not the durability, although there was little point in saying what they all knew. He rubbed the back of his head and caught Vittora staring at him. A reminder that he had also taken some damage. The new combined squadron still wouldn't be enough to stop the First Cruiser. But his hope would not be diminished that things, as they now stood, would change.

  Thrusters lit behind the Drexalis and the rest of the Law and Commerce Fleet that everybody still called the Trade Union. The carrier reconfigured from launch mode. The giant outrigger circle holding its four thruster clusters contracted, and its receiving bay raised back up.

  “The carrier has recalled all fighters,” the tac officer said.

  “Trade Union moving into Jetty space,” the data rider said.

  Kord took in the golden lines along the active engine clusters of the Drexalis. A mystic ship. It's grand sail-like central fin was like a work of art, and glowed with its own fanciful lines.

  This is a strange battle.

  Mystic ships, carriers, fighters, and an Artemis cannon. Svals and eccentric Consortium. Perigeum Starmada and eclectic Asterfraeo. Plus the Aurora. It was indeed a little like the Sojourners' Crusade.

  “The Jetty has begun to launch boats in earnest,” the data rider said.

  He knew with surety that his father was fighting a desperate battle for their cause on the Jetty. But he didn't know what more he could do for him.

  “Send our out-of-action around the back of Aventicia too,” Arceneaux ordered. “Best speed to rendezvous with Beta.” The captain looked up at him. “You have a plan?”

  Kord paused. “I'm working on it.”

  Chapter Thirty Six

  A TIME OF SOJOURNERS By Sparber Quintile, Historian (22??-2450?)

  The Khromas: Prices Paid and Passions Lost

  (excerpt from the series)

  The last generation on Neumanus believed the Khromas pushed mystic technology closest to the creation places of the Deity, at least on a micro scale. Some may argue this on a number of levels, but the Sojourners did not. But such insight and power came with a price, as all things do.

  All who called Neumanus home saw upheaval in the waning years of the Sojourners' Crusade. The fall of their planet, the rise of oppression, and the deaths of loved ones. The Khromas were scattering to their own causes by this time. The Will was already striving to secure a new region of space, what would become the Asterfraeo, where millions now reside in relative freedom.

  The Wisdom developed a bond with the people of Aner Betera. She disappeared when their society melted under the heat of an expanding Perigeum. The Strength forged a short-lived alliance at Castellum, bringing forth events that are now infamous history. Few other details from that era regarding the Khromas are known.

  Some say Thule-Riss, arguably the most powerful of the Khromas, grew reserved. Perhaps it was a mechanism to bear the weight of extraordinary burdens. He withdrew for seasons of respite, most believe to Adams Rush, a planet he helped found. Of the mountain range there that bears his name he was said to have affection, at least as the word might apply to him.

  The Will had little tolerance for evil, and despised the theft of liberty. But before we judge incidents of swift, sometimes brutal justice too harshly, imagine having the power to avenge almost any wrong. How much discipline could you, or would you exercise? A number of fledgling Asterfraeo colonies credit his efforts in their establishment, although many such claims cannot be proven beyond a reasonable doubt. Perhaps Thule-Riss wanted it that way.

  Editors note: In the 150 years since the author's writing, a number of tall tales from exploratory scouts, prospectors, and drunken spacers have accrued regarding the lost civilization of Aner Betera. The stories do not correlate sufficiently to warrant serious investigation, although it remains a topic for conspiracy theorists.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  The fiery blaze from the Will's eyes shuttered to something Solia could stand. Jordahk had the sensation of being near a singularity, yet immune to its gravity. The man was present, and yet also somewhere else. Two dimensions seemed to be intersecting around him. Perhaps through him. His colorful outline seemed hard pressed to enclose such great power, and concern crossed Jordahk's mind for what might happen if it failed.

  Solia was shaken and shaking. Jordahk moved to comfort her but she recoiled, looking at him with trepidation for the first time.

  “I... I didn't do it,” he stammered. His eyes, he realized, must still be shining metal.

  Solia stepped back, putting her palm up. Then looking at Thule-Riss, she retreated to the hatch.

  “You're soft,” Thule-Riss addressed him. His voice resonated in two tones, as if coming through more than one medium. It was potent. Close and distant at the same time. “The darkness in people will rise to the extent we show weakness.”

  Jordahk wasn't thrilled to be this close to him either, but built up his courage and spoke.

  “She was evil. But with your power, was there no other way?”

  “Judicum is many things, one being cold, untempered justice.” His eyes flared. “You must be careful.”

  “Me?”

  “You will understand in time.” That was getting old. Now he knew where Aristahl got it. “If you live that long,” Thule-Riss added.

  Well, that part was new.

  The man moved back to the crosskeel, placing a palm on its powered-down surface. It hummed with vibration.

  “You fooled Aurora,” Jordahk said, “forging Aristahl's authorization.”

  “I'm of the few who could,” the man said without turning from his work.

  Thule-Riss swept his hand down the keel. Circling runes filled the air, wrapping it, traveling down the cross-keel shafts to either side. It droned louder, almost singing its working status. Jordahk felt his double-wing belt buckle humming in resonance, betraying its presence. The man turned, his expressions near impossible to read, yet displeasure still sensed.

  He reached out a demanding hand. “If you can't handle somethin
g as finely crafted as Aurora, even a step using that flawed dimension splitter is an invitation to be lost.”

  Jordahk no sooner pulled it off when the air cracked with spectral lines and it flew from his hand into the man's.

  “That thing saved my father and I.”

  “It could just as easily severed your legs, with your understanding.”

  “We needed every trick we could rustle against a Hektor.”

  “Hmph.” Even the man's grunts seemed powerful. “The minimum criteria for being human.”

  He turned to the reactordyne, touching it. The two rings encircling it moved slowly, glowing for just a second.

  “What are those?”

  “Crystallized platinum magnets.” Another answer that perhaps was supposed to make sense, but didn't. The man glanced over his shoulder. “A step toward our gyro-gravitc taps.”

  “Your what?”

  Gasket rolled up quickly in trundle mode and stood. “You called?”

  “Teslanium spheres,” Thule-Riss said.

  Gasket shook his head. “None in inventory.” Jordahk sensed the man interacting with the environment. Manipulating something. “Oh, Aristahl's private storage just popped on usable inventory. It contains teslanium spheres. I'll have this loaded in a jiffy.”

  The bot's unnecessary mouth lights widened into its iconic smile and it rolled off. It seemed unperturbed by who was making the request, even though, as Jordahk understood things, the bot joined the Aurora after the time of Thule-Riss.

  “The Perigeum looks to be winning,” Jordahk offered. “Will you intervene?”

  The man was distant. An alien existing here... and elsewhere.

  “Power corrupts from inception.”

  The man spoke obliquely, but Jordahk surprised himself with some understanding. How tempting had it been to abuse the power of a single Bitlord creation. Imagine the forces the Will could bring down on anything he chose. But some situations did call for action. The man headed out toward the starkeel. Jordahk followed.

  “Pops is on the Jetty.”

  “After hearing the Spirit's recitation of her fireship encounter with you, I came to witness your mettle firsthand.” He kept walking. “Not pull my son out of another Quixotic charge.”

  Jordahk resisted becoming angry. He wasn't qualified to judge a being of such... magnitude? Responsibility? Jordahk just didn't know what he didn't know, except to say that on this point they had differing perspectives.

  “Your heart may be in the right place,” Thule-Riss continued, “but even so you lack wisdom to guide it.” He gestured back to a hunk of matter still steaming-off residual heat.

  One had to admit the man had a point, but Jordahk also had to be true to who he was created to be.

  “I have to try.”

  Thule-Riss stopped in front of the starkeel and faced him. “Everything physical has limits. You can't sap the strength of that proxy girl,” he nodded toward Solia, “like you did poor Khai-aLael.” That stung. He hadn't asked Khai to do what she did, but it happened all the same. “Aurora can't be taken where she needs to go to stop that goliath. It's beyond what you can do.”

  “But not beyond what you can do.”

  Thule-Riss lifted the belt, offering it only a glance and minimal head shake. His outline shimmered and diamond patterns of purple gray wire in its greather strap glittered and chased with brilliance.

  “Leave me and make your decision, for it does not lie here.”

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  A tableau played out before Capt. Benziger like he had never seen. In the heart of the Jetty's computer landscape a duel was reaching its conclusion. His unexpected champion, this strange imprimatur from the Far Worlds, was facing a foe with staggering computing power. A foe who had protected himself behind impenetrable black barriers of computer corruption. A foe who had imprisoned a half-dozen mighty galleons.

  The standoff's moment of silence was broken by a reverberating voice emanating from the core of moving cubes and light. It hung in the battlefield's sky, perched over the maze of black and hordes of waiting enemies.

  “A mystic compy?” The voice was cocky. “How I would enjoy to play some more, but I'm getting pressure from upstairs, as they say.”

  Since the simulcrum of the Iron Commander was doing so well organizing the evacuation and preparing the galleons, the captain was free to monitor the battles both within and external. Snippets of the space battle were getting through with increasing frequency.

  “The Trade Union is moving to occupy our space,” the captain said. “If they make it that close we wouldn't dare launch even if we could. And farther out it looks like nothing can stop the First Cruiser. It's going to get awful crowded around here. If you have any final gambits, you might want to consider them now.”

  The ninjas and other assorted enemy troops advanced. Behind them another layer of black corrupted maze fell to the ground, crackling with lines of irregular light.

  “Who would have thought,” the voice of their foe said, “that I would find a mystic compy to thresh against in a rusting hole like this? And such power. I don't know how you're carrying so much territory. If I didn't know better I'd say you came out of Taal Foundry. But my technology is endless. I've corrupted processors across this station, and have an entire flagship at my disposal! And you're what? A single compy?”

  “A mystic compy, and a Sojourner,” his champion said, new steel permeating his voice.

  He turned with eyes ablaze in gray and mirrored metal. The sight froze Benziger to his seat, stunning him.

  A Sojourner, right in front of me.

  He didn't know what to say.

  The Iron Commander paused and looked down from the flag station. “Welcome back, Arh-Tahl.”

  “I think it is time to end this charade.” Arh-Tahl surveyed the virtual battlefield. “For all his boasting, all the power he claims, it must still funnel through the narrow confines of our thresh.”

  Light began to accumulate on the rise before the maze. It appeared out of nowhere, taking on increasing virtual solidity.

  “Sir!” Barrister said. “If you venture into the machine like this you will be vulnerable.”

  The nurse bot unfolded a strange hosed apparatus that began glowing blue.

  “No, Torious,” Arh-Tahl said. “This is something I must do unaided. I need to sense every connection, feel the pricks of being stymied, and the release of every breakthrough.”

  “Your foolish heroics are duly noted,” the nurse bot said with its odd metallic voice. It seemed to slouch back. “I'll just stand by here then, and pick up the pieces.”

  “Nurse!” Barrister said. “Your impertinence knows no bounds.”

  The light coalesced into the form of a horse and rider. But not one of the static torpedo officers. Instead the horse was white and the rider wore the unusual coat of Arh-Tahl. In fact, it looked like him. The rider cantered forward with every troop Barrister could muster guarding his sides.

  The enemies bolted forward, many hurling themselves at the rider. Most were stopped by Barrister's troops, but some shuriken got through. When a cannonier managed a hit on the rider, Arh-Tahl visibly flinched.

  The rest of the enemies bypassed the rider and slammed into Barrister's firewalls. They multiplied in inhuman fashion, becoming a virtual human wave, pounding on the weakening protective structures. The outermost stockade of timber, the first firewall, was already breached and the rest shattered completely. Enemies flooded the no-mans-land leading to the second firewall. They blew up and swirled down traps by the dozen, yet multiplied toward the fort's tall wood walls.

  “Two can play at the conscription game,” Barrister said. Another station on the Drattehorn's bridge burst to life with intense displays. “Offloading the Iron Commander; offloading secondary processes and non-essential files.”

  Benziger admired the AI's resolve and loyalty in the face of deletion. Its troops jumped into the fray anew, protecting the rider with almost berserker rage.


  “We must be ready,” the Iron Commander said, “when Arh-Tahl emerges victorious.”

  Benziger sighed to himself. How had his better qualities fallen so asleep that he was inspired by the faith of a simulcrum? He plunged in anew, pushing captain's privilege to delete entire swaths of non-functional computer functions.

  “More space and processing freed up for you,” Benziger said. “Take what you need Barrister.” Additional stations lit.

  The rider approached the maze entrance, a white dot surrounded by a sea of black. A mammoth block fell from the sky, denying him even that entrance.

  “I can't just let you ride right in,” the voice from the sky mocked.

  Arh-Tahl put his right hand to his chest, and the rider mimicked the motion. Streaks of light emanated from the rider's hand as he stretched it forth, palm out. Enemy troops recoiled at the light.

  “Withdraw your forces, Barrister,” Arh-Tahl said, “and see to your walls.” He seemed to be straining.

  The guards evaporated, and in front of Barrister's second firewall, a fresh round of enemies exploded. Before the rider the black barrier became riddled with lines of silver. An arch shape burst into dark bits that transformed into shards of light before dissipating.

  “That's... that's a nice trick,” came their opponent's voice. The rider rode through the opening, beneath edges still glowing with the dark energy of the maze. “I don't see how you're making those connections, Sojourner, but my hold on the power systems is extensive.”

  The corrupt blocks oscillated in new color patterns. The environment grew darker. VADs indicated the enemy was separating walls into isolated systems, so that Arh-Tahl could not physically join them to his cause, nor perhaps even reach them.

  The rider slumped forward in his saddle. In the real world Arh-Tahl hung his head and rubbed his brow. The sides of his face glistened. The virtual world grew more foreboding, trying to force its darkness on the last specks of nonconformity.

  Barrister's no-mans-land traps were exhausted, and waves of enemies began to detonate themselves against the second firewall, the wood structure of the fort itself. Arh-Tahl lifted his head and the rider continued on with arm outstretched again. Energetic lines of silver now interspersed with occasional purple flashed before him, reaching out.