Calling Tower (The Calling Tower Saga Book 1)

by Josh Leone

  Sha knew the guards had a second purpose; to keep him contained in the event of another outburst. A contingent of active Legion personnel supplemented the hospital’s security force with enough firepower to bring even Sha down if the need should arise. But Sha had no desire to move, much less fight. If it had been possible he would have ended his own life. But true suicide was not an option for a Returned.

  Even if Sha was willing to kill every innocent person around him by initiating the Sending, it would be a pointless gesture. His consciousness would simply DL into a new body. He would not have the release he craved and he would be left with the added burden of having inflicted upon others the kind of loss that was crushing his own soul. It was unlikely he would be disentangled from the Calling Tower energy matrix, even in spite of his earlier outburst. In the entire history of the Honored Returned, such a thing had happened only four times. There was nothing to be done except lie upon his bed and pray for release. Of all the injuries Sha had suffered in more than a century of battle, none wounded him as greatly as the loss of his heart.

  ◊

  Vashek watched the screen with great interest. Szoveda Sha had been maneuvered into position. His mental defenses had been stripped away by grief. The death of his wife had infected the otherwise unflappable warrior with a terrible need, a need for a target. Now Sha lay with nothing to take his righteous anger out upon. But Vashek would give the widower a target, one only such as he could reach and destroy.

  Vashek did not use violence lightly. It was a tool, like everything else in Vashek’s world. The sacrifice of Pietra Meot was necessary, every detail carefully planned. The circumstances of the ‘accident’ could be dismissed by official investigators with only slight pressure from Vashek’s agents within the Legion. Yet, when Sha’s eyes cleared and he was pointed in the right direction, the Honored Returned would see how truly unlikely such an accident really was. Then Sha would fly like an arrow toward the target he was given, unwittingly clearing Vashek’s path of a significant irritant and sending the Council into distracting chaos. The distracted Callers would hardly be in a position to notice the subsequent subtle machinations that would be so essential to the final phase of Vashek’s plan.

  Vashek noticed his heartbeat had accelerated from a standard thirty beats per minute to an unacceptably high seventy beats per minute. The Caller could not remember the last time his heart had beat so furiously. More strangely still, it took a significant act of will to bring his racing heart back to its normal rhythm. Vashek dismissed the unusual occurrence as perfectly understandable excitement over the nearing end to his great efforts. He would ascend in the truest sense. His power would be without equal, his will all powerful, and his superiority over all other minds, finally proven beyond all doubt.

  Vashek’s heart raced once more, and this time he simply let it beat, enjoying the surge of adrenalin that accompanied it. Why not enjoy these last days as a mere human? Soon, he would be the new divinity, the true and manifest God.

  ◊

  Seth had to hand it to the Legion techs. They were the best at what they did. The Enduring Journey was better than new. Her hull was perfect, not even a scratch, as though each and every panel had just come off the line. Brand new scrubbers provided air so pure one could forget it was recycled. Every system was either completely silent, or hummed like music to Seth’s ears.

  What the Legion techs had done for his ship was nothing compared to what they’d done for his partner. Vig was also better than new. His scar-lined face had been made smooth by microsurgeries carried out by specialized nanites. No trace of scar tissue remained. Gone were the yellow orbs that had been Vig’s eyes, replaced with bright green and perfectly natural looking human eyes. Only an optometrist would be able to tell that the eyes were not his originals. There was also a new vigor about the old engineer. He breathed with a natural rhythm and he moved with a fluid grace his secondhand joints had never allowed.

  “Looking good, old man.”

  “Feeling good, youngling. Those Legion doctors did a fine job. I don’t feel a day over sixty.”

  They were silent for several minutes as each ran a series of system checks. Seth and Vig were pretty sure the Legion had done perfect work, but after experiencing their earlier ‘malfunction’ neither was willing to take any unnecessary chances.

  “All systems are square, Cap’n. She’s purrin’ like a kitten.”

  “All’s good on my end too. Navigation, weapons, and shields are all tip-top.”

  Vig swiveled his chair to face Seth. “Cap’n, what about our guest?”

  “Hopefully she’s found the airlock by now and done the decent thing,” Seth said without ever looking up from his consol.

  “Come on, Cap’n, that’s not fair.”

  “Fair?” Seth turned to face the engineer. “Fair is not having a Legion spy on board. Fair is not almost burning to death. Fair has nothing to do with any of this.”

  “Seth, your forgetting that I was the one doing most of the burning.”

  “No, I’m not.” Seth knew he was not arguing from a position of strength. Vig had suffered far worse than he had.

  “So then listen to me when I tell you that hating that girl isn’t going to gain you anything. Would we have turned down a fat contract requiring nothing more than following a mark? Well?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Then don’t hammer on her for doing nothing more than what we’d have done in her place. Things are the way they are, and all we can do is deal with it, like always.”

  “I guess so.”

  “You know so, boy, and remember, that girl’s just lost everything. Now get your head together. We’ve got a job to do and a shiny ship to do it in.”

  “Yeah,” Seth said as he put his hand lovingly on his console. “The Journey is looking fine, isn’t she?”

  “Like the belle of the ball. Now, you plot a course and take the old girl for a spin ‘round the dance floor.”

  “Where are you going?” Seth asked as Vig got up from his seat, grabbed his tool kit, and headed toward the engine access tunnels.

  “Well, boy. You might wanna dance with the old girl. Me? I’m gonna go take a peek under her dress!”

  ◊

  Franks was not happy. In fact, it required of him no small effort of will to resist the urge to kill someone. For most people such a statement would be hyperbole. Everyone has, on occasion, thought, ‘I just want to kill that guy.’ But for Franks it was a very real urge.

  Franks had killed many people, dozens during his training, dozens more afterward. Franks had killed to test new ways to kill, to practice tried and true methods of killing, and sometimes just to relieve stress. His master did not disapprove so long as Franks’ hobby did not interfere with his work. Vashek would be God, as was right and proper for one so glorious, so perfect. Vashek must ascend. There was simply no other option.

  But although he knew he was serving Vashek’s purposes in his current assignment, that fact was the only thing about it that gave Franks comfort. Franks was the spider in the center of Vashek’s web of less reputable contacts, the ultimate cutout before anything could be tracked back to the Caller himself.

  There was ample constructed evidence which, upon Franks’ death, would clearly prove that the P.A. was a criminal mastermind the likes of which the Primacy had never seen, running his own criminal syndicate right under his Caller’s nose. Vashek would be embarrassed, of course, to not have noticed such a thing, but prestige could be regained, especially in a life as long as that of a Caller. It was a last resort Vashek had put in place in the event of catastrophe, and Franks would sacrifice himself willingly if the need arose.

  The particularly unsavory character Franks was meeting was especially irritating because he liked to talk. Franks would never understand the drive so many people had to talk about everything and anything. Franks could, at need, hold up his end of almost any conversation and had often had to pretend to enjoy doing so at formal functions. Fra
nks was often required to engage in witty repartee with dignitaries and politicos on behalf of Caller Vashek.

  One of Franks’ favorite mental games was to try and estimate how far his conversation partner’s tongue would stretch before it tore from its moorings. Another game was to listen closely to a speaker and gauge how loudly he or she would scream under certain types of torture. Such mental games were often the only way Franks could bring himself to display a genuine smile while talking to one gasbag or another.

  Speaking of gasbags, the man Franks was to meet had arrived. Dravik knew Franks on sight, but would not have recognized the P.A. if he’d seen him any other time, in any other place. Franks was wearing a nano-mask and the swarm of specialized nanites was formed over Franks’ face in the image of a man Dravik knew as Salazar.

  “Salazar!” Dravik liked Salazar. Salazar paid well and on time and those were the primary qualifications for a friend of Dravik’s.

  “Dravik, you pirate!” Salazar/Franks said as he rose to greet the man. “You look healthier every time I see you!”

  “Fine living, my friend.”

  “You mean ‘clean’ living?”

  “Nay, Salazar. I mean fine! Fine wine, fine women, and fine friends!”

  They laughed and spoke of mundane things. Dravik was a gambler and liked to expound upon the latest strategies he’d developed. Salazar/Franks nodded with expected courtesy and offered his own anecdotes of winning and losing.

  “Ah, my friend. It is good to see you again, truly.” Dravik drank from his glass of expensive beverage. “So many of these young rogues don’t take time just to talk anymore. Always in a rush to the next job.”

  “Indeed, I know what you mean.” Salazar/Franks said while sipping from his own cup.

  “Well, I suppose we should get to business then.” Dravik pulled the cryo-tube he’d gotten from Pietra from one of his coat’s many pockets, passing it across the table to Salazar/Franks.

  “It is what was asked for?” Salazar/Franks plugged the small device into a slightly larger device and watched the tiny screen.

  “Of course, my friend. Don’t I always deliver?”

  “Always, Dravik, always.” Salazar/Franks saw that the sample was as promised and put the assembled devices away, out of sight of prying eyes.

  “And, as promised, the other half of your fee has been credited to your secure account.” Salazar/Franks got up from the table to leave.

  “Salazar,” said Dravik. “Can you not stay for a few rounds? I have an excellent system for classic roulette.”

  “Sorry, my friend. I have to get this sample to the right people. Perhaps we can meet up at the Orange Dragon on Grendel-Three for a few spins someday soon?”

  “I look forward to it, and to some good conversation.”

  Salazar/Franks said, “Me too, my friend, me too.”

  Franks thought, ‘A tongue that wags so often would stretch far, and the screams would be very loud indeed.’ Salazar’s smile was false, but Franks’ was entirely real.

  ◊

  The Enduring Journey exited phase space so smoothly he doubted the instruments and had to check visually. Everything on the ship was that smooth now. Again Seth was impressed with the job the Legion techs had done. He’d forgotten what it was like to fly a Legion ship.

  “But she’s not a Legion ship.” Seth reminded himself, though he wondered if he was stating fact or just his wish. So much damage had been done during the forced exit from phase space that, for all practical purposes, the Journey was mostly Legion tech now. Seth found that to be a very depressing line of reasoning and tried to put it out of his mind and focus on the job. The quicker it was done, the quicker he and Vig could forget all about the damn Legion and get on with their lives.

  “We’re there?” The question took Seth by surprise. He’d managed, for the most part, to avoid speaking to Iyanna Twill, and would have preferred to continue doing so. But Vig’s words still rang in Seth’s ears, so he tried to be if not nice, at least not unnecessarily aggressive.

  “The Legreth star system, right on schedule.”

  “What now?” Iyanna made to take a seat in Vig’s chair, but hesitated.

  “It’s okay,” Seth said. “Take a load off. Vig won’t mind.”

  Iyanna almost smiled, but stopped herself. She did sit, but did not seem any more comfortable.

  Seth asked, “Something wrong?”

  “I miss my ship.” Iyanna brought her legs up to her chin and Seth thought she looked very young.

  “Tell me about her.”

  “The Gathering Storm was the first thing I ever really owned. My first real home, sort of.”

  “I know what you mean. The Enduring Journey is mine and Vig’s home - has been for years. When I thought she was dead it was almost as bad as thinking Vig was.”

  “Your friend is a nice old guy.”

  “Yeah, he is.” Seth knew Vig had been trying to make Iyanna feel at home during the passage through phase space. ‘That girl’s just lost everything.’

  Seth swiveled his chair toward where Iyanna sat tucked up in Vig’s seat.

  “Iyanna look,” She turned to him with eyes that looked slightly wetter than normal. “It wasn’t your fault, what happened back there.”

  “Yes, it was, Seth. You were right. If it weren’t for me, you and Vig wouldn’t be on a Legion leash now.”

  “I was just mad. I was looking for something to take it out on. That’s all. I know you didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “But does that excuse it?”

  “Iyanna, did you know that Vig and I used to be Legion?”

  “No.”

  “We were. I used to be a true believer, in the Legion, the Crusades, and the Holy Mother, all of it. I was raised in the faith.”

  “Do you still believe?”

  “In the Legion and the company line? No, I lost that when I saw what Legion loyalty was really like.”

  Seth hardly ever talked about religion, even to Vig. It was just too personal. But he saw that Iyanna needed something. Her anchor had come loose; she needed something to hold on to.

  “But I still believe in a reason for things. I don’t know if it’s the Holy Mother or what, but I think things happen according to some kind of plan.”

  “Do you?” Iyanna was very quiet as she spoke. “Do you think this all happened for a reason?”

  “Iyanna, I think I have to believe that. And if I’m going to believe that, then I have to believe you’re here with us for a reason. I can’t tell you what it is, but it’s there.”

  “Thank you, Seth.” When she smiled, Seth smiled with her. Neither of them noticed Vig enter the command deck.

  “You two kids getting along? I don’t have to pull the ship over, do I?”

  “Only if you have make a pee stop, grandpa.”

  “Nope, I’m good, Cap’n. Already took one on your bunk on my way up here.”

  Iyanna laughed at the exchange. As Vig entered she left his chair so the engineer could sit down.

  “Where’re you going, girl?” Vig said, his voice still full of humor. “I didn’t mean to scare you off.”

  “That’s okay,” Iyanna said. “I’m going to hit my bunk for a bit.”

  “You alright, dear?”

  “I am, Vig. I think I am now.”

  With that, Iyanna left the bridge. Seth felt Vig looking at him from where the engineer sat.

  “What?”

  “I heard what you said to her. The Legion techs did a good job with my ears.”

  “Too good. Mind your own business.”

  “Okay, sourpuss, have it your way.”

  Vig swiveled back to his console and began checking the readings. Minutes passed before either man spoke. When the silence broke, it was by Seth.

  “She’s a good girl. Just finds herself in a hard place, that’s all.”

  “Yep.”

  “‘Yep’? That’s it, just ‘yep’?”

  “What do you want me to say?” />
  “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”

  They sat quietly for several more minutes, checking and rechecking readings. The scanners showed several small ships in the system. Further scanning revealed them to be Legreth security patrols, six ships in total.

  “Send out the Red Fish.”

  “Red Fish is away and screaming at the top of its lungs.”

  The two meter long device detached itself from the Journey and streaked off at a ninety degree angle to the parent ship’s course. The Red Fish was essentially a small ship in its own right complete with a phase engine with enough power for one use. The tiny vessel would accelerate away from the Journey’s true course, attracting the attention of the patrol ships while the Journey itself flew at low speed and minimal power output toward its destination, the sixth planet in Legreth’s ten planet system. If the patrol ships got close enough to take an exact reading, the Red Fish’s onboard computer would plot a course to a preset destination where it would wait for eventual pick up.

  The Legreth system was not well developed. Only four planets were capable of supporting human life and each of those were still under contract to the Legion. That the system had a dedicated fleet of patrol ships was testament to the cooperation of the various farming communities calling it home. Ships, even small ones without phase engines, were expensive. But this far from the core of Primacy space, colonies had to manage their own protection.

  Legreth-Six specialized in apples. Vast orchards covered hundreds of thousands of terraformed acres. The planet was managed by a collective of fifty-three families with a total membership of just under two-thousand men, women, and children. Most of the day-to-day work was handled by mechanization, with human hands being used mainly for maintenance and administrative functions.

  There was a specific clearing Seth had been given coordinates for. The family in charge of that area had been paid not to notice a ship landing there. Seth and Vig settled the Journey neatly in the clearing with hardly a rustle of leaves.