Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy

by Gregory Faccone

  He lay on the flag bridge deck, debris strewn about. Wreckage covered his legs. He pulled on them to stand. Pain blasted that notion away. His micros must be maxed out. He brought up a personal status VAD. Busted up legs; internal injuries. Not fatal if he could get to a med station.

  The ceiling of the chamber shifted and an explosion scattered more debris. The lighting was askew as his stomach felt the grav weave below him fail and kick in again. It made no difference to the broken deck into which his legs were jammed. Air whistled out into space from the point of the explosion. The top of the ship must be blown away.

  “Can you reach anybody?” he asked his AI.

  “The comm net is down, and plasma leaks are interfering with transmission range.”

  “Keep trying.”

  Looking around he spied few bodies. In the rear, the Confederated Comm shill Keats Keating sat glassy eyed with his back to the bulkhead. His arm was missing. He was clearly in shock.

  “Keating! Keating!” The man only blinked slowly. “Weak.”

  The groaning of metal preceded another break in the ceiling. Debris was pulled up and out this time as the rush of escaping air increased.

  “There's a damaged Aegis destroyer above us,” Janus's AI said. “I can get a signal through to it, but I am only getting an automated standby in return.”

  Draxy drakkin'...

  “Get a hold of somebody!”

  He pulled at his legs again in frustration. The pain was excruciating. He coughed in reaction, and blood came up.

  Suddenly his command chair came to life, and lowered into the deck.

  Wha—?

  It was a super-reinforced system. He shouldn't be surprised it would be one of the last things working on the ship.

  In a moment, it returned from his flag quarters. Facing away, it rotated with infuriating slowness until at last the occupant was revealed.

  “Leisal! Get over here and help me you moron.”

  The android's movements were plodding, and her actions strange for normally bubbly personality.

  “Help...” came from behind him. Keating was half with it.

  Leisal stood. As she moved closer her appearance altered. Her clothes changed to red, her hair straightened, darkening to auburn. It re-wrapped into braids. Her proportions changed too, her body slimmed, and she adopted a confident gait.

  Janus looked back at Keating, and then to Leisal. “He's right there you dolt. Are you glitched?” She approached and squatted, lifting his chin and kissing him. He received it for a shocked second. “What are you doing? Free me you radiated hammer!”

  “I am your desire,” Sytorra said. “It is my purpose. And I will see to it that I am your only desire.”

  She looked back at Keating as a rupture above them jetted plasma across the ceiling. It was sucked though the damage into space, but Janus could feel the heat of it. The android went to the shill who looked at her in a dazed stupor. She lifted and tossed him into the pod entrance about which he'd been so attentive. With a clunk it ejected into space.

  She sauntered back, imitating an alluring strut. She stroked his outstretched hand with hers as she continued past him.

  “I will avenge you,” she said.

  “You've got AI psychosis you stupid slag!” She sashayed back to the command chair as if the ceiling above them wasn't crumbling. “The bridge is about to fail.” She sat in the command chair, giving him a peculiar look. “Sytorra! Sytorra!”

  “Call me by your desire, for I am the Vittora.” One side of her mouth lifted in a creepy, lopsided grin. The command chair slowly swiveled away from him, and sank away into the deck.

  He pulled on his legs, almost blacking out with the pain. “Get me somebody, anybody!”

  “Only receiving the Aegis destroyer's standby,” his AI said. A chunk of the ceiling pulled away, then stopped. “New transmission avenues open.”

  “This is the Sibylline. Prime Orator, you're alive!”

  “I won't be for much longer. I'm trapped on the flag bridge.”

  “We just saw your captain's yacht blast away. We thought it was you.”

  “It's not me! You receiving?”

  “Yes sir. We have a standard shuttle in the vicinity, but AIs say you need a rescue shuttle. Closest one has been rerouted. ETA six minutes.”

  “I'm not going to be here in six minutes! I don't care if you send a drakkin' suit. Hurry, damn it.”

  “Stand by.”

  Another explosion caused the lights to flicker out. Shrapnel rained down, but did not stay down as the grav weaves failed. A few dim emergency lights still shone. He pushed hard on the wreckage behind him. It moved more than before, but still was not going anywhere. The opening above him now went three decks. There was very little left between him and space.

  Six minutes. Might as well be six hours...

  The structure groaned and the air was thinning fast. He wasn't going to make it. It got quiet in the dimness, and a thought came to him.

  “Command override,” he said. It was getting difficult to talk. “Priority scramble relay...”

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  “Kid. Kid. Wake up. I'm doing what I can with the micros, but you gotta work with me.”

  “Wha... Whas going on... Max?”

  “Welcome back from wherever your mind went. Your body doesn't like it when you leave. I'm not too keen on it either.”

  Good ol' Max.

  Jordahk blinked away the torpor. “I... I can't move.”

  “Your body isn't dead, just a little lifeless. I think it's coming back slow. Give it time.”

  He got his neck to turn. Solia was stretched out in the right officer's seat.

  “Solia...”

  “She's alive. The jump was too much for her. Not everybody's a Sojourner ya know. Her AI's keeping her out for another minute to reset.”

  “She stuck with me... How's the ship?”

  “I hope you weren't keen on the hypergun, or the entire port nacelle for that matter.”

  “Oh. Pops isn't going to be pleased I broke his ship.”

  “You didn't do it. Well, not all of it. Aurora had to go offline. The energy was too much. She'll be back up on secondaries soon. I can handle basic functions until then. We're not being pursued.”

  Solia groaned, slowing waking from her induced respite.

  “Picking up a strange comm,” Max continued. “Whoa. I think you aught to take this. I'll transmit modded voice-print and silhouette only.”

  Janus appeared on VAD through his compy micro cam-eye. He was hurt, and perhaps trapped in wreckage.

  “You took the comm,” the Prime Orator said. “I wasn't sure what was going to happen. This will make my last moment more interesting.”

  The man was sarcastic and cynical. Was he talking about the end of his own life? Jordahk's mind was racing to catch up.

  “What—what are you talking about?”

  “You blew up my ship!” That was real anger. Janus winced and slouched back, getting a grip on himself. “Don't tell me you don't remember.”

  “I... remember.”

  More of the bridge blew up behind him. Air was escaping with a rapidity that space travelers dreaded.

  “I don't think this bridge will last.” He'd moved into bitterness.

  “Is his bridge really failing, Max?” Jordahk sub-whispered.

  “I believe so,” the AI link-said.

  They had a stare down for a moment, although what Janus could see was limited.

  “I imagine you're a Wilkrest,” Janus said.

  “You sent those Hektors!” Now it was Jordahk's turn to be angry.

  “Yes, yes. You beat them, didn't you? Get over it.” Janus had a change of expression. “You're young, aren't you?” Jordahk didn't say anything. “I was expecting an older Wilkrest. Have you even had your Investiture yet?” Jordahk wished he had just so he could say “yes.” Janus shook his head ruefully. “Overpowered by a long adolescent... But at least not outwitted.”

  S
olia's eyelids fluttered, and she roused into consciousness. She started to speak, but saw the conversation and just observed.

  “Why isn't what you have ever enough?” Jordahk complained. “People die when you try these... schemes!”

  Janus was not a man to defend his actions, even in defeat. Even in the face of death.

  “Many are the insignificant,” he said, “but there are truly few like us.” Jordahk didn't know how to respond to that. Janus chuckled, and coughed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “You're powerful, but naive.”

  Jordahk detested the man's actions, but admired his single-minded strength and confidence even when they lead him to a premature end.

  Solia got out of her seat gingerly, stretching arms above her lean form.

  “You cant even move, can you?” Janus surmised. And he was right. “I knew your tricks came at a price. Small consolation I suppose to assuage my hate. I at least respect your power. My successor may not. You'll have your hands full with Braksaw, that's if you can even stay in the game after this.” Jordahk moved his head with some success, and nudged his arms into small action. “Here, I'm going to send you a little file. It'll take some time to decrypt, but you, or whoever takes up the torch, will find it... useful. I suppose I despise Braksaw more than you.”

  “File received,” Max said.

  “Keep it quarantined,” Jordahk ordered.

  “Yes, your mistrust is well founded,” Janus said. “That will take you far.” He coughed again, and looked up. His expression returned with no hope added.

  Jordahk swung his legs off the seat and tried to get up.

  “You're not ready,” Max link-said.

  Jordahk stood anyway, for about a second. His legs supported him about as well as thin wire over a torch. Solia moved with a dancer's ease, slipping her arm under his, holding him up with enhanced muscles.

  “You still have someone to catch you at the end of this wreck?” Janus said, seeing the added silhouette. He nodded, perhaps a touch perturbed. “Congratulations, for I, apparently, do not...”

  Jordahk could hear the crunching of ship structure across the comm. The VAD image shook, despite image stabilization. The entire environment on the First Cruiser bridge broke up.

  Janus looked up as escaping atmosphere pulled at his hair. “Oh drak.” The man and the wreckage seemed to jump up with a roar. Janus reached for his collar and let out a wail as the VAD cut out.

  A moment later another explosion blossomed atop the wrecked First Cruiser. Then it was obscured by one of the Archiver's Aegis destroyers.

  Jordahk and Solia stared at the scene, trying to grasp what just occurred. It was a moment of great significance to billions, yet experienced with insight by only two. It was the end of an era.

  “Hey,” Jordahk finally said, “where's that man?”

  “I have no read on him,” Max answered.

  “What about Gasket?” Solia asked?

  “His higher functions are online,” Aurora said, “but he's busy trying to put his body back together.”

  Jordahk, still being held up by Solia, looked afar off. “The man's still here... I think. Get me below decks.”

  Solia got him to the lifts. His legs were still only a step better than playing dead. The Aurora was a mess, with whole sections depowered. But the lack of grav weaves in those areas helped them get around.

  “Where to now?” Solia asked at the central corridor.

  Jordahk concentrated for a second. “The bay.”

  “But he doesn't have a shuttle.”

  “I don't think he needs one.”

  The bay was in shambles. Lights flashed in emergency patterns, or flickered in brokenness. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of an ancient foundry. For Jordahk, it was the last straw in a disheartening walk from the bridge.

  “How are we going to fix all this?”

  Above them, the man stood on a disk-like swirl, reaching into an access port on the ceiling. Jordahk sensed a mystic surge, and power expanded out from where he worked, spreading across the bay. Systems came on as the wave passed. The scrubbers kicked in and the air cleared almost immediately.

  He dropped down in front of them, one hand pointing down toward the swirl, a band of grayish platinum glowing on his bracer. The light faded along with the disk as his feet touched the deck.

  “You can't,” Thule-Riss said. “The Aurora is beyond your understanding.”

  “What about Pops?” Jordahk asked.

  The man shook his head. “Even the 'Son of the Khromas' needs tools.”

  “You have more compassion for this ship,” Solia said, “than you do for people.”

  “Let go of him,” Thule-Riss said to her.

  “He can't stand.”

  “I said let go.”

  His eyes radiated whitish palladium. It was an intimidating sight, and Solia stepped back. Jordahk stood, but his legs would not cooperate and he began to collapse. The man grabbed his arm and held him upright without budging a millimeter.

  Jordahk sensed energy. His veins burned as if filled with lava. The blood in his legs boiled and his limbs vibrated in pain. He grimaced but stared the man in the eye, refusing to give in.

  “You're hurting him!” Solia said.

  “He'll live.” At last the brilliance in the man's eyes faded. Jordahk was shoved back, stumbling, but did not fall. “Hurt, did it?” The man walked away. “Some of the Spirit's techniques I have yet to master.”

  “So, my grandsire does have compassion,” Jordahk said, rubbing his arm.

  “Hmph. I need you able to withstand my calling the chair.”

  The speed and flashing pattern on his counter-rotating rune collar changed. He looked over his shoulder with eyes flashing neumenium purple. Jordahk's wrist suddenly grew heavy in space, as if a gas giant was compressed into his compy. He grasped it with his other hand. Still in a weakened state, he fell to one knee straight away.

  “Ingots!” Jordahk exclaimed. “Why don't you use something of your own?”

  “I am.” The man continued away, reaching to his waist, and tossing back a familiar object. “The Vangr Belt wants to cut across dimensions. It's good at it. But keeping one from being lost in those dimensions, that's a function for which it's ill-suited. I've locked down the more dangerous components. At your level it may still prove some small use, if you can release what you need.”

  White manifold space streaks passed through the bulkheads of the bay. They converged, taking a brilliant shape.

  The starchair.

  The fanicle-sized... thing. It was decorative and technological at the same time. Golden, with swirls of the platinum group metals making up its composition. Channels within its structure collected the streaks, capturing their great power. That was Jordahk's sense of it. He had seen the chair before, but still did not understand it.

  The man mounted the stairs and took his seat.

  Jordahk shook his head. “Why'd you even help me?”

  “Don't be so sure I did. For if I truly succeeded in your best interests, you'd abandon my son's incurable humanitarianism and implausible goals.”

  The most enigmatic figure of the last two centuries was leaving in his own inimitable way, and Jordahk had many questions not even asked, much less answered.

  “Is Pops okay? What happened to Khai? What about the TransVex and the rest of the Sojourners?”

  Thule-Riss looked him in the eye, but released streaks were his only reply. Jordahk could feel the shifting of dimensions, but unlike the belt, the starchair felt solid amid the current, unable to be blown off course and lost. The streaks swirled about it, and the chair was gone. They flew back through the bulkheads to another place, another space.

  An item glinted on the deck where the starchair had parked. He and Solia investigated. It was a bracer, similar in shape to the man's. The construction was mostly platinum, with rose-tinted ruthenium accents. It had embedded bands of various platinum group metals.

  “Well, it's something,�
� Solia remarked.

  Jordahk put it on his arm. “Whoa, some of this functionality is... unusual.” The bracer came to life. A section unfolded in a flash, growing long, becoming a string-less bow of woven, zigzagging metal spars. “What's this?”

  Solia chuckled, her first in a while, at the anachronism. “I don't suppose you have an arrow?”

  Jordahk lifted an eyebrow.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  The Drattehorn plied through debris filled space, probably never looking more ridiculous, but also never so revered. The other space worthy galleons formed up alongside her, taking their orders from a living legend.

  Well, a legend anyway.

  Benziger knew it was time to leave AvSec, but that would not stop him from standing tall, and reveling in the moment. Behind them, the escort fleet was reunited, and forming up on the galleons in cascading wall formation. It seemed they all made a point to ignore the destroyer-sized chunk of Jetty still attached to the Drattehorn via launch gantry.

  “Group three, loosen your formation. This isn't a parade,” the Iron Commander ordered, “and fall back enough to let your wall form.”

  The responses coming back were the snappiest he'd ever heard during his tenure at Aventicia. And the man who'd saved all those lives on the Jetty, and potentially many more in the big picture, lay dead or dying before him.

  Benziger had seen something few would believe, and fewer ever witnessed.

  “I've run through everything,” Torious said.

  “What about the oxygenation?” Barrister pressed.

  “Slow decline. It'll fail soon.”

  “Captain, I read you had an entropic magnetization chamber aboard.”

  “It was removed long ago,” Benziger said. “Too expensive.”

  Alarms sounded. A huge detensor signature was approaching. He was the bridge crew, acting as tac officer and data rider for the Iron Commander. However riding this data was difficult. The AI systems were confused. Such a large signature should have been detected long ago. This came from farther out in the solar system—at a manifold space speed he'd never even imagined. He was no scientist, but this was an order of magnitude faster than anything he thought possible.