The Nathan Daniels Saga: Part 4

by Sam Lippert

  * * *

  After the one hundred eighty-seventh ship entered the null-point it was time for the crew of the Nola to say their goodbyes. Kezia accompanied them to the lock where the Nola was docked. She embraced Nathan and gave him a warm, yet sisterly kiss.

  “Nathan, my ‘brother,’ it is far too long between your visits here. I hope you return to our fleet soon. I trust you have memorized the new coordinates?”

  “Yes, madame Shora of Trade, Tzigane will not miss out on any lucrative trade opportunities because of my faulty memory.” The comment earned the captain a jab in the ribs.

  Kezia turned to Remi and Winette, giving each of them a hug and kiss in turn. “I still do not fully understand the circumstances that caused Nathan Daniels to take on a crew, but he could not have picked better. You are welcome among my people anytime. Please do what you can to keep Nathan out of trouble, although that is likely to not give you time to do anything else.” All three women laughed, and Daniels simply rolled his eyes. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

  The three made their goodbyes, although not as eloquently as their hostess, and moments later were aboard ship and making their way to the control room.

  “Welcome back, sibs!” Nola greeted them. “You certainly know how to cut things fine, we are slated to cast loose and begin our part in this production in one-hundred forty-two seconds.” The nearest display began a backwards countdown from that number. “Did you kiss Kezia for me? She’s a sweetheart.”

  “Yes, sis,” Remi replied. “We did, and she is. Do you have this departure under control? Far more complicated than anything I’ve seen you handle before.”

  “Everything computed and tracking to the four-hundredth decimal place. Just don’t let Nathan try to take over, sis. He’s the captain, so I can’t tell him no, but you and Winette seem to be able to control him somewhat. I’d rather trust my skin to me on this one.”

  “Nola, I was handling departures like this when most of your components were still sand. However, given that your reflexes and precision are better than mine by several orders of magnitude, I am content to let you fly this one.” The three humans strapped themselves down, Nathan as pilot, Remi as co-pilot and Winette in the seat that Nathan had rigged between the two.

  The view out the window mirrored the one they had aboard the Romanipen but was not quite as spectacular as the nearly full surround that had been achieved on the Romani flagship.

  The countdown clock reached zero and there was an audible ‘clank’ as the docking clamps were released, the sound being transmitted through the hull and atmosphere of the Nola. With the release of the clamps, Nola gave a slight nudge with the maneuvering thrusters, and she began her dance towards the waiting null-point.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  Devka had been a part of the Vesestrad work crews for a week. As expected, her request for asylum at the Appenzell embassy had fallen on deaf ears. The request was meant simply to make her known to Admiral Sokolov. Appenzell was only able to maintain their precarious neutrality in galactic affairs by being very careful not to take in too many applicants for asylum.

  The work was hard, but not unbearable. The crew to which Devka had been assigned was responsible for building ‘habs,’ very simple housing for the work crews. Each crew arriving on Vesestrad first had the responsibility for building the hab for the next work crew.

  It is a fact of interstellar economics that human labor is often less expensive than machine labor, especially early on in a new planet’s development. Workers from an older, more crowded planet are often willing to at least partially subsidize their outmigration to a new, sparsely populated world brimming with opportunity. This makes the expense of importing workers far less than the cost of importing machinery.

  Once the workers arrive on planet the cost to the colony is minimal. The new planet has plenty of land, and the first commodities produced in any large amount are things like food, timber, stone and clay, making it extremely cheap to feed and house a large workforce.

  Migrants typically agree to a ten-year indenture. During those ten years, they are well treated, well fed, clothed and housed. In exchange, they spend five days a week doing manual labor, things that would be done by machine on older, more advanced worlds. At the end of their indenture work crew members are given a plot of land with a hab on it. A migrant can reduce their indenture time to five years, as well as receive priority in the selection process, simply by paying their own transit fee. Most migrant workers carried only five year indentures. Devka’s paperwork showed that, shortly after the Kurufet Rising had exploded, she had accepted five year indentures on Vesestrad after using gambling winnings from Vegas to purchase steerage class passage to the new colony world. This history fit with her cover story, as the acceptance of indentures made a person relatively immune from extradition.

  She was approached, while waiting in the line for lunch, on her second Monday with the work crew. The man appeared in line behind her, and had a face she did not recognize. Over the course of the preceding week Devka had memorized the faces of the two-hundred twenty-four other members of her crew, and this man was not one of them, although he wore coveralls with the proper insignia. He also carried himself with an air of conceit. Migrant workers were prideful, sure, but rarely were conceited.

  “Excuse me, miss,” the man said, touching her shoulder.

  At this point Devka had the choice of two options, to be controlled or to control, neither were without risks. She quickly decided the second option was more fitting of a former member of the Kalifet military.

  “Jardinay,” Devka said. “I think you will find that is a match for the person you were sent to find.”

  The man looked startled. “I beg your pardon, miss, but I do not…” Devka cut him off, pressing her advantage.

  “Let’s cut to the chase.” She began to tick items off on her fingers. “First, your jumpsuit is too new, obviously fresh off the rack as opposed to these second-hand jobs they actually issue to us newbies. Second, I have gone out of my way to see and memorize the face of everyone in this crew, because anyone looking for me would have to join after I did, as they would have had no way of knowing they needed an operative in this crew ahead of my arrival here. This leads to number three.” She caught the further look of surprise in the man’s eyes as he felt the blade she now had against his side. “Either you are a KII operative here to kidnap me and smuggle me back to Kurufet for trial, in which case my best choice is to kill you immediately, or you are working for someone else. You have thirty seconds to let me know which it is and convince me that I shouldn’t open you up in a manner that ensures you die of infection if you don’t bleed out first.”

  “Miss Jardinay. Devka, Isn’t it?” The man said, obviously using extraordinary control in an effort to remain calm. “Please don’t do anything rash, the organization that I represent can not only offer you protection from the KII, but can also allow you the opportunity to continue your work from aboard Kurufet Rising.” Devka felt the light touch of a blade against her own ribs. This had not caught her off guard. She had eyed the man’s weapon from the outset, he was heeled with a ‘toadsticker’ just like the vast majority of the population here. A toadsticker was a very generic knife, used primarily to kill an indigenous reptile which had been named, rather improperly, a toad, due to its marked resemblance to the Earth amphibian of the same name.

  Vesestradian toads were so common as to be a nuisance, however they were inescapably dumb, with, by all appearance, no instinct for self-preservation. It was often joked that the toads were so easy to kill they all but leaped onto the knife. Their ubiquity, along with their ease to kill, made the toad a staple of the migrant worker’s diet, especially those who needed more than the two-thousand calories a day their indentures entitled them to.

  “Go ahead, make your pitch,” Devka said, not relaxing her knife hand at all. She was of no value to the man dead, so she was secure in the knowledge that if she didn’t attempt to spill his
blood, hers would stay safely contained in her body.

  “I represent certain contacts within the Rathshelliam military, contacts that, much like your General Marag, have no interest in a unification of our empires. Your familiarity with Kalifet military protocols, and knowledge of potential sympathizers within the armed forces, could go a long way towards replacing what we lost with the untimely destruction of the Kurufet Rising.” Sweat was beading on the man’s forehead. It was obvious to Devka that he did not usually handle field assignments. Probably an embassy desk jockey that was employed to contact her out of necessity, given the surprise of her appearance on Vesestrat. That would explain the mistake he made with the uniform as well.

  “Very well.” Devka released her knife hand and sheathed her toadsticker, her contact did the same. “I don’t negotiate with underlings though. To quote ancient science fiction: ‘Take me to your leader.’”

  * * *

  Mory lay prostrate in the Great Hall, deep within the Temple of the Elite. His pilgrimage had taken the better part of three days, almost a day longer than it should have. He had spent the extra time in meditation at the base of the mountain, in what he thought would be a final attempt at inner peace for what he was about to do. But, now, as he entered his fourth hour with his nose to the intricate marble floor of the great hall, he realized that the Elite meant for him to meditate on his decision one final time.

  “Rise, Mory,” rh’Omucy, First Among Equals of the Elite, said in a soft but firm voice. “A first order priest is generally not required to take the penitent position when in the Hall, but we sensed your inner turmoil. You requested an audience with the Elite upon your arrival, citing a violation of the Proscriptions as your reason. A witness to a violation has the authority to make such a request. Please proceed with your report.”

  Mory lifted his nose from the marble, straightened his back, then rose from his knees to his feet. He addressed the gathered Elite.

  “It is with a heavily conflicted heart that I must report a violation of the Proscriptions by one of the most prominent High Priests of our order. I believe that Omany, mentor to Princess Remini of Kalifet, has revealed teachings of the Ways normally reserved to those that have taken the Vows, to his charge, in violation of the Proscriptions.”

  “Believe?” the Elite immediately to the right of rh’Omucy spoke. “My son, these are very serious charges to be making on a belief. It is generally required that the one reporting actually be a witness to the violation.”

  “I am familiar with that convention, and it is one of the reasons for my inner turmoil. But, I did witness an event that could only be explained by a Violation on the part of Omany, even though I did not directly witness the Violation.”

  rh’Omucy spoke again. “Use every bit of strength you have to find the inner peace to meditate with us. We will join with your consciousness and witness this event through your eyes and mind. If we agree that it can only be explained by a Violation, we will proceed accordingly. If not, there will be a price for you to pay.”

  Mory fell into lotus and worked his way into trance in the company of the Elite. In a few short minutes, all were reliving his memories of the escape from Kurufet Rising.

  * * *

  Although Equinox was larger than Nola, it was still a small trading vessel, designed to be crewed by a single person. The ship had four passenger cabins, and by rights three of those cabins should have been occupied by three of The Collector’s former captives, with the fourth cabin housing four of them. However, much to his consternation, Omany had found himself sole occupant of one of those cabins. His brother priests felt indebted to him for their rescue, and the only way they had to show it was by providing him with a resource that was always scarce aboard a ship such as Equinox: privacy. For the first several days Omany had protested, but to no avail.

  When his cabin door chimed, Omany was prepared. The arrest order had touched his subconscious simultaneously with all the other Verstaten priests throughout known space. Even though the Elite knew he was already en route to Verstat, the order had to be issued as specified for a Violation of the Proscriptions. Just as he was unsurprised that Mory had reported him, he was also unsurprised to be facing Mecy when he opened the door.

  “My brother,” Mecy began, the emotional toll of what he was doing clear on his face. “I have discussed it with the others, and, as we said when you complained about our insistence on your having solo accommodations, we owe you a debt that cannot be repaid. If you ask us not to do this thing, know that we will not.”

  “Mecy, what would it say of me if I were to ask that of you?” Omany placed a hand on the younger priest’s shoulder. “I remand myself to your custody, brother. I swear to go with you quietly and peacefully to the Temple of the Elite on Verstat, there to face judgment for the Violations I have been accused of.”

  “Thank you, Omany. I told our brothers that would be your decision. We both know this is a mere formality, as you could easily overpower all twelve of us acting in concert, but it is expected. Shall we assume the position?”

  The pair knelt facing each other on the floor of Omany’s cabin, each placing both hands on the shoulders of the other, in what would look to the casual observer to be an extremely stylized wrestling hold.

  On the ethereal plane, there was much more to see. Mecy’s essence projected a blinding sphere which engulfed Omany’s essence, creating a temporary prison for his spirit. He would remain completely isolated until he was brought before the Elite.

  CHAPTER XXVII

  As the Nola settled in to a landing on the planet Kütting, Nathan was unsettled. The Captain truly did not know what to expect, he just knew it would not be good. He had never expected to return here, especially since the events of his last visit had made him persona non-grata with Kütting’s three largest clans. The chances of a trader like Nathan ending up with one cargo of uncut diamonds in a lifetime were small, never mind the odds of a second! As with this time, it had been a stop at Tzgaine that had landed him here ten years ago, but it had been greed and a bet that the odds were against him that had led to the piper that he was now going to have to pay.

  * * *

  The combination of planetary events that gave rise to the fossilized carbon that both fueled mankind’s technological ascension, and very nearly killed the human race does not occur often in the galaxy. Earth had a vibrant biosphere that was decimated at least twice by global catastrophe. These mass extinctions, along with geological activity, were responsible for the massive deposits of coal and oil that fueled the Industrial Revolution that eventually led humans to the stars. Those said same processes also produced diamonds, although in much smaller quantities.

  On Old Earth, naturally occurring diamonds were scarce enough to be highly coveted, with wars being fought and genocide being committed over the rights to dig the gems out of the ground. As humanity spread throughout the galaxy, the lack of coal and oil, even on planets with biospheres as dense and diverse as that of Earth was noteworthy, although not troubling, as humans had long before found other, cleaner, ways of producing energy. But, the lack of natural diamonds caused their value to skyrocket, continuing their reign as one of the most sought after commodities in the galaxy.

  Kütting had changed that. It was a world that was Earth-like to ten decimal places, down to the massive deposits of oil and coal, but even more importantly, diamonds. Within a decade of the planet’s discovery, the diamond cutters of Old Earth had relocated from cities like Antwerp, Tel-Aviv, and Surat to Kütting, where they proceeded to cut and polish to perfection the raw gems as they came out of the ground.

  As any student of history knows, mankind’s appetite for “all that glitters” is insatiable. In less than a century the vast diamond mines of Kütting had been depleted, causing the master craftsmen who had previously found common ground in their strives for beauty and perfection, to devolve into heritage based clans, as they competed for the ever dwindling supply of diamonds. Eventually the Cutting Cl
ans of Kütting had to rely solely on imports to ply their trade. Making the competition even more fierce. Nathan had used this cut-throat environment to his advantage.

  Even the scarcest of resources appear in non-negligible quantities when you are using a fleet of fifty-thousand ships to systematically strip the planetoids of an uninhabited solar system of its resources. The miners of Tzgaine collect these scarce resources, including diamonds, until they are preparing to FTL to a new system, at witch point they are able to fill the cargo holds of small ships like Nola, or sometimes even bigger ships like Equinox. The free trader that can time a visit to Tzgaine with the beginning of one of their exoduses has the ability to turn a substantial profit. Nathan’s friendship with Kezia had allowed him to be one of those lucky ones ten years ago, right when a looming balloon payment on the Nola was weighing heavily on his mind. He had lifted from Tzgaine with a hold full of uncut diamonds which he promptly brought to Kütting, where he managed to sell the cargo to one clan, while arranging with a second clan to have the cargo cut and polished for a share of the proceeds from the eventual sale, and finally lifting with a hold full of the cut diamonds and the daughter of the head of the Surat clan.

  Now, ten years later, without the need to turn a profit, he hoped to use this load of diamonds to pay his debt here.

  Nathan descended the cargo ramp alone and unarmed, a decision that had not sat well with his crew when they had discussed the plan. He had to shout to cut through the cacophony of dissent that had arisen when he suggested it.

  * * *

  “Ladies, please!” Remi, Winette and Nola all went silent. “If this goes south, which it has about a fifty percent chance of doing, it is going to head that way quickly, and you three are going to get out of here, because Remi must be protected at all costs.”