by AM Scott
Stuck between a hot rock and a hard, cold place.
The Sisters of Cygnus provide the crew of Lightwave a safe, quiet place to rest and relax. But when Lightwave makes their usual resupply run, they find marauding prospectors attacking the colonists. The Inquisitors, as they’re known, search for transuranic metals deep underground; stealing, raping and pillaging the outlying ranches. The Sisters need help to oust the evil from their planet.
Unwilling to resume a mercenary life, Captain Ruhger offers to evacuate the Sisters, transporting them to a new world. But Mother Ferra, the Sister’s leader, desperately wants some startup credits to ease their way and the Inquisitors aren’t willing to let slave labor just fly away. Saree, Hal and Lightwave’s crew have no idea how far either will go…
Can Saree survive the dangerous caverns of Cygnus Gliese? Can Lightwave hold off the Inquisitors? Find out in Lightwave: The Sisters of Cygnus!
To peaceful, loving, faithful religious leaders who believe in non-violence and respect for all. And practice what they preach.
Thanks for making the world a better place.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
Dust kicking up under her feet, Saree wandered the town square, searching for something, anything, new or different. Looking around, she huffed out a small laugh. The town square wasn’t much of a square, it was more of a town oval, but that didn’t sound right. Square, oval, round or rhombus, it didn’t matter—there just wasn’t much here. A true frontier world. Each step sent gritty, sandy, tan dust poofing up under her feet, permeating her clothing and her sinuses. The constant winds, blowing without impediment across the flat, dry plain surrounding Haven, drove the coarse sand up, against and into every being and building, no matter if they were plas panel, native wood or mud brick. The hot sun beat down each day, and the nights were bone-chillingly cold.
The town, optimistically called ‘Haven,’ was a typical frontier town. The original colonists, plunked down-world without fanfare or advice, erected their few company-supplied plas panel buildings at the same place they, their belongings, hopes and dreams were dumped. Then, in the excitement of new beginnings, they’d harvested every large tree-like growth in the surrounding area, using the automated laser mill to churn out boards. They erected small shed-style buildings to shield them from the weather. Which worked until the green boards dried and split, and in some cases just crumbled, and the weather came to them inside as well as out. How would the colonists know wood had to dry? Or only some trees make decent lumber? Most of them came from overpopulated cities, scrabbling for life. Desperate for a chance at something better, they’d bought right into the recruiter’s tale, trading one scrabble for another. If it was too good to be true…
The story might have ended in tragedy, with all of them dying of exposure and starvation, but Cygnus-Gliese had something a lot of frontier worlds didn’t—the Sisters. Not that Saree had actually seen a Sister yet, but most Gliesians talked about them in almost reverent tones—except a few, who whispered in fury and fear. Probably the predators planning to appoint themselves robber barons of the world.
The townfolk told tales, in awed voices, of how the Sisters, this small group of women, studied homesteading and building from nothing while they were still on the overcrowded world they came from. Not only that, but they’d studied the world of Gliese and brought DNA-modified seed and stock with them. The colonists ran themselves into the ground, then the Sisters swept in and took charge, teaching the colonists how to survive and hopefully thrive on this new world. Most believed the Sisters were busy and hadn’t noticed the plight of the colony, but some whispered they’d waited on purpose, to swoop in as saviors and heroes.
Still, the rescue of colonists by a small group wasn’t an unusual tale. What made it different was what came next. Once the new colonists were safe and established, the Sisters sat down with the town, helped them draft a charter and run elections. Then the Sisters withdrew to their compound to practice their religion in peace and quiet, interacting with the colonists only when they had to. The Gliesians were incredibly fortunate—on many worlds, whoever prevented disaster became disastrous for the remaining colonists, using them as laborers or literally selling them into slavery off-world.
Saree avoided those worlds. The Guide™ listed them as dangerous, but she’d ended up on a few with well disguised, but still all too real slavery. It only took a couple of those planetfalls to learn the signs. If everyone on-world trudged around with their head down, the mantra heard most often was ‘none of my business,’ and, most telling for her, there was no music, she lifted quickly. With a shuttle of her own and a young body not worn out by years of hard labor, Saree was a prized commodity for the so-called leaders on those worlds. To keep their abuse under the radar, they usually didn’t move on her right away with force—no, they tried to court her with pretty words, small gifts and ‘welcome’ invitations—another sign of danger.
A child ran up to her, dust trailing behind, dressed in the typical Gliese attire—loose, dark pants with lots of pockets, a blue-shaded shirt, and a floppy brimmed hat covering short hair. No way to tell if this one was a boy or a girl, not at this age. The child stopped in front of her and asked, in a high, slightly squeaky, voice, “Scholar Sessan?”
The pronunciation was mangled, but what else was new? Saree nodded and replied, “Yes, I’m Scholar Cary Sessan. May I help you?”
“This is for you.” The child held out a folded piece of paper with her name on it in bold, but graceful, handwritten letters.
“Thank you.” Taking the letter, she laughed when the child ran off. Guess they didn’t need a reply. The paper was folded and sealed with some sort of off-white substance, a pattern pressed into it. Saree peered closer. A bird, one with a long, thin neck curving up from a big body, wings folded back, no feet visible. As she recalled, ‘Cygnus’ meant ‘swan.’ Was this a swan? A rather odd-looking bird, it looked too bulky to fly. She put a fingernail under the seal, trying to pop it off intact, but it broke in two. Unfolding the note gently—the local paper was fragile—she read. “The Sisters of Cygnus invite you to a communal meal tonight. Transportation will be at your shuttle half a standard before sunset.”
Hmm. Guess she was expected to attend; there was no provision to turn down the invitation. Not that she wanted to turn them down, but a little warning would have been nice.
Saree left the town and made her way back across the flat, dusty plain to her shuttle. Slogging along, Saree looked at the invitation in her hand. Why hadn’t the Sisters messaged her over the net? She was listed as a visitor on the world net, and the Sisters trained net techs and maintained the world net, so why the hard copy? Maybe they liked the mystery? Or embraced low-tech where they could?
Hal opened the hatch for her. Stepping in, she closed her eyes, raised her arms parallel to the floor, took a big breath and held it. A vibration rumbled through her body, followed by blasting air jets, then intense suction. Saree patiently waited, exactly sixty seconds, for the blast and the tingle in her teeth to stop. Leaning against the
cerimetal struts in the airlock, the chilly surface cooling her overheated body, she pulled off her world boots.
“Thank you, Hal.”
“You’re welcome, Saree.” He opened the airlock hatch for her, the dust and detritus of Gliese sucked away.
Heading to her clothes storage unit, she pulled off her Scholar’s robe, dust poofing out around her and falling to the tiles. Saree held her breath, trying not to sneeze. Well, most of the dust was gone. More importantly, any native bugs hitching a ride were most likely gone—between the blasting air and the sonics, most small life couldn’t survive. She pitched the robe and the rest of her clothes into the cleanser, and stepped into the sonic shower to make sure of it. And to get the rest of the dust off. Saree shuddered under the blasting air, scrubbing the remaining dust off her skin. Better dust than muddy swamps. She didn’t envy Nari, bashing through the equatorial jungles behind Al-Kindi.
“Did you see anything interesting over my shoulder, Hal?” Saree asked before downing a glass of water.
“No. Gliese is not a very interesting world, Saree.”
She nodded in rueful agreement. “No, it isn’t. Pretty typical, though. What else did you do today, Hal?”
“I attempted to infiltrate the Sisters’ compound but was only moderately successful. Their net techs are good for a fringe system. I am concerned about tonight. I may not be able to stay in contact with you.” Hal’s smooth tenor sounded slightly worried, but not panicked.
“I’m sure I’ll be safe, Hal. The Sisters don’t seem to be aggressive, although everything I’ve heard says they don’t hesitate to defend themselves. Or to retaliate if someone attacks them.” She dressed again, in another set of everyday robes—she didn’t think the Sisters were big on formality, although she really didn’t know. Maybe she should comm Lightwave and ask?
“I do not fear for your personal safety, Saree. I just want to be able to experience everything. But they scan for active electronics at their gate, so I’ll have to shut down most of the upgrades I’ve made to your e-torc. I’ll try to reactivate them once I’m inside, but I may not be able to. I will launch a comm relay when dark falls. If I fly it high over their compound, I may have enough power to penetrate their defenses. The satellite relays don’t have enough power.”
“You know, Hal, some beings would consider what you are doing criminal or at least theft.”
“But I’m not taking without paying, Saree. I transfer funds to cover our use.”
She raised her brows. “But you don’t get permission first, do you?”
“Well, no,” he said, a little defensively. “But I don’t think I can safely do so without exposing you. It’s an unnecessary risk. I always leave the systems better protected and maintained than I found them.”
“It’s okay, Hal. I just wanted you to consider the question. But you obviously have, so I feel better about the situation.”
“I understand. Even though I am putting the needs of the one—you, Saree—above the needs of the many using the systems, I make sure the many users are not compromised.”
She blinked in surprise at the morphed quote. “Thank you, Hal. That’s very reassuring.”
“You are welcome, Saree. The Sisters have attempted to infiltrate my net, so my attempts on theirs could be considered defensive.”
“Ah, I see.” She was sure Hal made his attempt first—he infiltrated everything to ensure her safety—and out of sheer curiosity.
“I believe students are making the attempts; they are not particularly sophisticated.”
Saree chuckled a bit. “But a good enough excuse, huh?”
“Quite.”
She couldn’t help but smile; he sounded so prissy.
“Lightwave Alpha Shuttle is requesting voice-only communications, Saree.”
“Accept please, Hal.”
“Scholar, I understand you are joining us for dinner tonight?” Captain Ruhger’s deep, rough voice rumbled.
She smiled again. “Yes, Captain. I’ve been invited, and told transportation will be provided.”
“That would be us, Scholar. We’ll pick you up at seventeen-thirty local time.”
“I’ll be ready, Captain. Thank you.”
“Lightwave out.”
Saree kept smiling, his voice leaving echoes of warmth in her heart.
∆∆∆
Ryen kicked the carcass at his feet. Rad-blasted beasts were too stupid to avoid the slice grass. He thought he’d burned it all out, but the last storm must have brought in new seed. At least the beast was still alive; he could salvage the meat. Striding to his lift bike to grab the butcher kit, Ryen did some quick calculations. Dried meat earned less than live beast, but it should be enough to finally get them passage off this mud ball.
The holo vids of Gliese had promised burbling streams, snowcapped mountains, and wide fertile plains. They hadn’t mentioned the disease-carrying stream skaters, the days-long dust storms, or the blasted slice grass.
Elisa had convinced him to put in for the colony lottery. Being a pessimist, he’d set aside enough to get them a new start if everything went wrong. But that had been before the twins had come along. He’d begged Elisa to take the kids and move off-planet without him—they had just enough for the three of them, if they did it now while the kids were small enough to share a single seat. She could get a job and save enough to buy his way free, too. But she wouldn’t go. Ryen had to admit, he’d really missed her and the twins this week. But substitute teaching paid good credits, too good to pass up. Especially when she kept the twins with her—no need for expensive childcare. As he worked on the carcass, he dreamed about their upcoming reunion.
Lost in the dream, Ryen didn’t notice the approaching dust cloud until the lift tractor stopped, just out of blast rifle range. He stood, swinging his rifle over his shoulder, holding it high enough to be ready, but low enough to look non-threatening. The world net identified the tractor owner as Porcelli, his nearest neighbor. The driver stood up in the open cab, hands out to show he was unarmed. This year was hard on all of them—Porcelli must have lost a few kilos. Maybe his family needed this meat more than Ryen needed the stake. He sighed and started toward the truck.
The remote laser took him right in the back. As his lifeless body fell face first into the dust, the death message he’d nervously recorded on the transport to Gliese so many years ago uploaded to the world net. “Elisa, if you get this, I guess I’m dead...”
Chapter 2
Stepping out of the shuttle and down the ladder, Saree sighed as dust puffed up around her. She scanned the large, flat plain of Gliese’s main landing field. Lightwave’s Alpha Shuttle, easily twice the size of hers, rested on the ground a klick to the north. Some sort of vehicle came toward her, a cloud of dust trailing behind it. She squinted. An enclosed lift van, probably for delivering goods. The large gray vehicle stopped a few meters away from her, dust billowing in a big cloud around it. Turning away, Saree carefully kept her mouth closed, breathing shallowly through her nose until the dust settled. She should have waited inside. Blinking away the dust, she turned back to the van. A door halfway down the body opened and Purser Grant Lowe stepped out, his normal smoldering leer sweeping her from head to foot and back again. He held out an arm and swept it toward the van door with a little half-bow.
“Scholar, come join us!”
She smiled back, ridiculously happy to see the man. Most of the time, she wasn’t too sure she liked him, but she was thrilled and excited today. Grant offered her a hand her up into the vehicle. Stepping up into the dark interior, Saree almost smashed her nose into a crate. Looking to both sides, she saw the lift van was jammed full of crates and boxes.
Purser Lowe stepped up close to her and the door slid shut, brushing against her back. Putting a hand on her lower back, he pressed, turning her to the right. “To the front, Scholar.”
Finishing the turn, she squeezed through the narrow space between the cargo and the lift van wall, eventually popping out into
a seating area. Two rows of long, narrow benches sat behind the driver’s seat, the crates jammed up against the back of the rear bench. Captain Ruhger turned and nodded to her, a tiny flicker of an almost-smile turning up the ends of his soft lips, contrasting oddly with the still glowering brows. Warm joy surged behind Saree’s breastbone. Katryn and Tyron Phazeer, Chef Loreli and Chief Bhoher turned on the benches and smiled or nodded a greeting to her too, and she grinned back at all of them. Happiness and delight solidified in her chest and stomach like a big, warm hug; like coming home to Mommy, her first home, her real home.
She stood there long enough for a puzzled look to appear on Chief’s face. His frown was enough to pull her out of the momentary rapture and remember where she was. Taking a seat on the bench behind Katryn, Saree buckled in, cinching the straps down tight. These lift vans were a little rough without paving of some sort. And there didn’t seem to be paving anywhere on Gliese. Lowe handed her a set of ear protectors and she gratefully pulled them on. Cargo lifts were loud, with very little shielding between the grav generator, the chassis and the ground.
“Anybody not secured and ready, speak up,” Captain Ruhger rasped. “Initiating thrust.”
The warmth in her heart increased. Her feelings were absolutely ridiculous. She’d known these people a relatively short time, but they already felt like family. Saree smiled again, helpless against the joy. The van lifted and started forward, the seat vibrating her body and the noise deafening even through the ear protectors.
From the little Saree could see out the small front window between the bodies, they skirted Haven to the east, and continued east, traveling well beyond the town’s cultivated land. She’d been told the Sisters’ compound was many klicks away, and now she knew it to be true. The trail they followed was mostly straight, but took sharp bends occasionally for no reason she could see. After thirty-eight standard minutes, they slowed to a crawl and maneuvered in slow ‘S’ turns through a maze of mud brick walls. She’d seen these kinds of fortifications before, but not usually on worlds like this one. Why would the Sisters build a defensive ground-vehicle-slowing maze when there was so little ground traffic on Gliese? Maybe there was large wildlife of some sort out here? Any real attack would come from above.