Calling Tower (The Calling Tower Saga Book 1)

by Josh Leone

  “You’re not giving up on me already, are you, old dog?” Franks laughed as he approached, supremely confident in his power. Oscali raised his hand to Franks, trying to keep him away, to give himself time to recover. Franks slapped the hand away.

  “This is even more pathetic than I’d anticipated,” Franks said in disgust, continuing to slap Oscali’s hands away as soon as they were raised.

  “Just lie down and die, old dog. At least have that much dignity.” Franks kicked Oscali once, twice, three times, each blow bringing blood out of the older man’s mouth. Franks laughed as Oscali grabbed at his pant legs, trying unsuccessfully to stop the blows.

  Franks backed away from the injured man, continuing to laugh. He went to a chair that had been toppled in the conflict, set it upright, sat down, and watched his opponent crawl to a far corner, trying to put distance between himself and Franks.

  Franks studied the man’s injuries. At least three broken ribs, broken leg, missing right hand, broken left clavicle, and significant internal bleeding. Oscali’s tech was keeping him alive and barely functional, controlling much of the bleeding and suppressing pain where it could. Missing right hand?

  Franks looked again. Yes, the old P.A.’s right hand was severed at the wrist. It was clean, as if done by a laser, and there was no bleeding. Franks did not recall severing Oscali’s hand and wondered if perhaps the beast had so overtaken him that he’d lost track of some of what he’d done. That hadn’t happened since he was very young.

  He felt the tapping on his shoulder and heard Oscali’s dry, coughing laughter at the exact same moment. The hand gripped his right shoulder hard, locking on like a vice. Franks got his armor up just in time to absorb the majority of the explosive force, but not all of it.

  When Franks awoke, not realizing he’d been rendered unconscious, there was little left of the room. Oscali’s body smoked in the corner, most of his skin burned, one eye fused closed. Yet somehow the stubborn old man still lived.

  Franks checked himself for injuries and was enraged to find that his face had been badly burned. His tech suppressed the pain but when Franks looked at his reflection in a piece of mirror his rage grew white hot.

  The burns were worse than he’d thought. Third degree in some spots, others so bad they revealed bone. He knew his face could be healed, whatever his internal tech failed to take care off. But it was an affront to his God that he’d let himself, his God’s creation, be disfigured.

  Franks stormed back to where Oscali lay and kicked the burned and dying man as viciously as he could. Over and over Franks drove his foot into the man’s body, breaking what was left of his bones, rupturing what organs had yet to fail.

  “How dare you!” Franks screamed with each kick. “How dare you! How dare you!”

  Franks finally mastered himself after expending his anger on Teresk’s P.A. The man was, amazingly, still alive. In spite of himself Franks was impressed.

  “Fine, then,” Franks said like a petulant child. “Spend your final moments watching me kill your mistress.”

  Franks used his neurotech to link with the house computer. Though Pirom fought, in the end it was a futile effort. Franks, through Vashek’s authority on the Council, had been given access to the master codes for all Caller security protocols. It was how he’d managed to invade Teresk’s estate and get so far before being detected.

  The massive door to the safe room opened. Franks was impatient and forced it to open more quickly. Inside was… nothing. Franks tore the small room apart but found no trace of hidden escape routes.

  “She was never here?” Franks asked of Oscali.

  Franks wanted to beat him some more, but knew there was no point. He’d failed in his first task for his God. Teresk was gone, fled somewhere beyond his reach, and the one person who might have been able to tell him where she’d gone to was in no condition to do so.

  Franks found a chair that could still hold his weight. He sat down and sulked, holding his head in his hands. That was when he noticed two things. One - Oscali was making a sound that would have been a laugh if the man’s body hadn’t been beaten nearly to pulp and two - Oscali’s fleshless left hand had taken a position between Franks’ feet.

  “HOW DARE YOU!”

  ◊

  Sha was laughing. For the first time in a long time, Szoveda Sha was laughing hard. He’d watched his own body beat the loyal old P.A. nearly to death, watched Franks humiliate the man for his own sick pleasure. Then he’d noticed the sensation of Oscali’s synthetic hand crawling up his back… up Franks’ back.

  Sha had willed Franks’ enhanced senses to ignore the subtle vibration of the hand crawling up the back of the chair, the noise of the thousands of microscopic grippers mounted in each fingertip that allowed the hand to make the climb. It was another small victory but Sha knew he would have to do more. Time was running out.

  ◊

  Vashek checked and rechecked the settings. The machine had been built to his exact specifications but still there remained a sense of nervous anticipation. Vashek had eliminated all the human technicians and scientists, leaving only bots and himself in the facility. What remained to be done did not require more than that and it was best not to leave more variables than necessary.

  Vashek had analyzed the readings from Franks’ transition through the machine. The data allowed him to eliminate most of the turbulence. He recognized that what he intended to do was far more complex and dangerous than simply sending a consciousness from one body to another, but there was no way to test the full process without actually doing it.

  To that end Vashek took his position in a medical bed attached to the machine. A transparent cover transformed the bed into a sealed chamber. The chamber was flooded with thick fluid containing a massive swam of nanites.

  Some of the nanites linked together to form tubes through which a variety of chemicals could be delivered directly to Vashek’s circulatory system. Others formed ultra-thin wires that fused to Vashek’s nervous system. Vashek began a series of ever more complex meditations, sinking into a state of deep relaxation while still maintaining complete awareness.

  The fluid matched Vashek’s body temperature perfectly and suppressed all sensory input. One by one Vashek’s organ functions were taken over by the nano-swarm, freeing his mind from the need to manage them.

  Vashek began to visualize himself, starting with the bones of his feet. He imagined the phalanges, the metatarsals. The rest of the foot set in place, muscle and flesh covering it. Fibula, tibia, patella and femur, layering tendons and nerves, thinking of each name. Pelvis, spine and ribs over organs.

  In this fashion Vashek mentally built his body one piece at a time, fixing each in his mind with all of his exceptional will. When he was finished he examined his work. It was, of course, perfect. More perfect than the technicians and scientists who created bodies for the Honored Returned and Callers could ever have achieved. He signaled the machine to begin the next stage of the process. Before his perfect new form could be made real, his old body of flesh must be destroyed.

  The nanites preserved his brain function at the same time they began deconstructing his body cell by cell. There would be no going back if something went wrong now, but Vashek had no fear. To succeed he knew he had to commit to the process entirely.

  As his body was destroyed, his consciousness transitioned into the Olim-Ojim. As his true self moved through the surrogate tower matrix Vashek sensed what could only be described as a ‘ripple’ in the energy, as if something else was in the alien energy matrix with him. It passed quickly though so he dismissed it, refusing to be distracted at this crucial stage.

  ◊

  Teresk had been good to her word, though there would, it turned out, be no time to help the Caller herself. She had assured them that she would be okay, that it was more important that they get to Vashek’s base and do what must be done no matter the cost.

  She’d managed to trace Vashek’s financial records to a purchase of a small ro
gue moon. Jonah brought up a simulation of the rogue moon’s path through space and Spirit Walker confirmed that his ability to sense the exact direction in which the Olim-Ojim lay tracked the moon precisely. There could be no doubt that the shard was located on that moon, and that meant so too was Vashek.

  During the passage through phase space on their way to confront Vashek, each member of the crew of the Enduring Journey found his or her own way to prepare. For Iyanna and Jonah it was the simple joy of being with each other. The couple spent almost the entire trip in their shared cabin.

  For Seth it was more difficult. For the first time in many years Vig was not with him. They had their rituals. They would calm each other’s nerves before a job with jokes and light-hearted barbs. But Vashek had taken that away. Vig would recover; Seth had gotten word before he’d entered phase space, so there was at least that much to be happy about. But would he ever see the old man again? That was the question of the day.

  The time came to exit phase space and Seth called the two lovers to the bridge. They looked relaxed and Seth envied them. Iyanna took her seat and Jonah sat down at the improvised weapons console William’s maintenance bots had had rigged up. The Far Star A.I. had fit the ship with additional weapons and much stronger shield generators. When Seth had asked where the equipment had come from William had told him not to worry about it.

  “Seth,” said Iyanna, looking at her screens. “We’re targeted. Three drone fighters coming in at high speed.”

  Seth heard the excited tone in the woman’s voice and he didn’t blame her. This was familiar, a situation they both had experience with. They were comfortable under fire. It was better than waiting, better than wondering. Having a clearly defined enemy flying straight at them, cannons blazing, was exactly what their skill sets were meant for.

  “Jonah,” Seth called behind him. “You got ‘em?”

  “On it.”

  Three missiles launched from ports set into the Journey’s cargo box. Each of the missiles was equipped with a computer just shy of sentient. That was Legion tech and Seth knew each cost more than he and Vig usually made in a year. The incoming fighters tried in vain to shoot the missiles down but it was only a matter of time before each fighter disintegrated in a bright ball of light.

  “Incoming!” shouted Iyanna.

  One of the fighters had managed to get off a launch before being destroyed. Six missiles, likely the fighter’s entire complement, covered the distance quickly. Jonah managed to shoot down three but the remaining three hit the Journey hard on its port side.

  Shields absorbed and dissipated most of the force but enough kinetic energy bled through to send the ship out of control for a moment. Seth recovered quickly, setting the ship back on course for its run at Vashek’s base.

  “We’re clear,” Iyanna informed them.

  “I doubt it,” Seth said. “That was just the welcoming party. It’ll get worse as we get closer.”

  He was correct of course. Before they reached the base itself they encountered not only more fighters but also orbital defense pods and a field of smart-mines. But the Enduring Journey was a good ship with a good crew and William’s upgrades allowed it to win through.

  Most of the base had been constructed under the moon’s rocky surface. The only entrance was by way of a natural canyon that had been converted into a tunnel wide enough to accommodate small and medium ships. Seth flew the ship by stick while Iyanna called out distances between the Journey’s hull and the canyon walls.

  Jonah used every bit of his enhanced reflexes to track automated cannons inset in the canyon walls. Seth was impressed. The ship was being peppered by the cannons but the kid managed to divert power to areas of the hull microseconds before they were hit by blasts of plasma. In this fashion Jonah insured the ship never took a fatal hit. But that wasn’t all. Jonah had told Seth and Iyanna that he would also be able to partition a certain percentage of his neurotech’s processing power for the task of hacking the base’s computer and insuring all of the shield walls and emergency doors remained open.

  “How’s our boy doing on those doors?” Seth asked Iyanna.

  “Everything’s open all the way in,” she told him. “The only door we’ll have to deal with is the one at the end that keeps the atmosphere in.”

  “Can’t open that one, Seth,” Jonah shouted. “It’s on an independent fail safe system.”

  “We’ll have to go through it the old fashion way then,” Seth said. “Once we blow through that door an emergency shield will come up in its place. Jonah, make sure you leave that alone,” shouted Seth. “We’ll want to breathe once we’re inside.”

  “Got it,” Jonah confirmed.

  The end of the canyon came up quickly and Jonah poured every forward arc cannon into the massive double doors. It wasn’t enough to punch through the doors but it softened them up quite nicely. In spite of the ship’s gravity polarizers all three of the crew was glad they’d strapped themselves into their seat. The Journey’s shields flared and died, the nose of the ship crumpled like a tin can, but the doors gave way.

  ◊

  Vashek floated. That’s what it felt like. He held the image of his perfect body firmly in mind, visualized it floating in calm water. A lesser mind might have wished to stay there, at peace. But Vashek’s was not a lesser mind.

  It took an immense act of will to transition his consciousness yet again, this time from the Olim-Ojim into Earth’s tower. Not once did he lose his focus, his image of his perfect self in minute detail. He took that image with him, forced the tower matrix to accept it. The tower resisted.

  A returnee, be they Honored Returned or Caller, was trained to let the tower matrix guide them, to let their thoughts and fears go and trust in the Holy Mother. But that would not do for Vashek. He did not wish to be guided. He wanted to dominate the tower, force it to abide by his will.

  He felt the energy matrix shudder under his mental assault. Vashek knew the energy matrix was a more or less self-regulating system, correcting for small disruptions quickly and efficiently. The resistance of the tower was greater than Vashek had expected. It was far from a simple push. It was active, aggressive, as though the tower knew Vashek meant to do it harm.

  There was little sense of time inside the tower matrix and Vashek had no idea how many hours or days or years had gone by. He redoubled his efforts, feeling the tower matrix roll and twist, finally giving way before his mental onslaught.

  ◊

  The technicians reacted in panic to the alarms. They’d been trained for many things but never for what was happening now. The Calling Tower was shaking as if being struck over and over by some giant, invisible hammer.

  The technicians and scientists rushed from station to station checking readouts, trying to find out what was going on. They knew something was taxing the structural integrity of the tower but they had no way of knowing what it was.

  ◊

  The Enduring Journey landed, if it could be called a landing, and continued to slide across the bay floor under its own momentum. Several collisions with smaller ships drained that momentum, but the Journey only stopped when it impacted itself into the side of large cargo hauler.

  Jonah recovered almost instantly but Seth and Iyanna had to take a moment to catch their breath. The safety harnesses had done their job and neither of them had suffered any serious injury though Seth was certain he’d broken a finger or two on his control board during the crash.

  Before they left the ship Seth handed out body armor and weapons. Jonah activated his nano-armor and his linkblade. In his other hand, Jonah held a powerful plasma pistol.

  In addition to her sidearm, Iyanna carried a large pulse rifle that, while not very accurate, would quickly clear a room. Seth strapped a bandolier of very illegal grenades to his chest and stuck with his usual pistol. They all carried as many spare clips as they could manage.

  Jonah had to kick open the door before they could exit what remained of the ship. Seth took a moment to loo
k at the Enduring Journey. He could tell on sight that the entire frame had been bent along its centerline. She’d never fly again.

  “I’m sorry, Seth,” said Jonah, his silver-covered hand on Seth’s shoulder. “She was a great ship.”

  “Yeah,” Seth said. “Come on, we’ve got a job to do.”

  They ran through an open door that led into a long tunnel. Iyanna had a chance to take a scan of the base so they knew the entire structure was designed around a single large chamber, likely where Vashek and the machine were located. Iyanna led the way.

  Bots attempted to intercept them but were quickly dispatched by one of Seth’s grenades. It was a running battle, every inch of tunnel gained at the expense of so many bots Seth lost count. At one point Seth had to use the last of his grenades just to clear away a pile of bot shell bodies so he and team could pass.

  ◊

  It was time. Vashek pushed with his entire self. He used the memories of centuries to give power to his efforts. He didn’t know exactly what to expect. There had been no way to simulate what would happen, no data upon which to base such a simulation. Everything from this point on would be unexpected. This was his ascension.

  ◊

  Franks exited phase space at the highest speed his ship could manage. He maintained that speed all the way to the entrance canyon of Vashek’s base. His armor had absorbed most of the force from Oscali’s second hand but he’d still suffered additional burns. More damage to his God’s creation, more proof of failure. And now he may have arrived too late to protect Vashek while he was most vulnerable.