by AM Scott
Tearing off a piece of the flatbread, she chewed. The roughly milled grain took some effort to chew, but a tang of sourdough made it tasty. She glanced up at her fellow diners—the Sisters dipped their bread into the stew before eating it, probably softening it a bit. All in all, it was the best meal she’d had on Gliese so far. Which, she mused, wasn’t saying much. But still, it was better than eating the boring packaged meals on her shuttle. She kept eating, but surveyed the room, trying to learn more about the Sisters from the surroundings.
The room was well organized. She was obviously sitting at the leadership table, but it was fairly small, with only two more empty places. Sister Navarr, the ‘house mother,’ sat at the head of the long table closest to the kitchen, young children nearest her, getting older as they continued down the table, until they reached the very end, where teenage girls sat among a few babies and toddlers. The parallel table was filled with women of every age, the rest of Lightwave’s crew clustered at the end nearest them, Loreli at the head. Young women around Katryn’s age sat next to them, in every shade of skin color in the human race.
As Saree neared the bottom of her bowl, Sister Danile slid the serving bowl to her, and Sister Ferra motioned for her to take more, with a small nod. Assuming they had plenty, she took a smaller amount and passed the bowl back. Captain Ruhger filled his bowl, as did Sister Danile and Sister Lashtar, but the others passed, chewing their flatbread slowly, probably so those still eating wouldn’t feel rushed. Many of the younger children shifted and wriggled in their seats, but the only sound was the clink of utensils on pottery. Sometime after she finished her second bowl, a small group of pre-teen girls at the first table got up and began clearing the dishes away from the younger children’s places. At Saree’s table, they all passed the used dishes down to Captain Ruhger’s end and one of the girls took them away.
Sister Navarr stood. “Groups one through five are dismissed to your hall. Groups six through nine are dismissed to your hall or studies as assigned.” Everyone stood, and Saree scrambled to her feet. At the far table, the children left the hall at a walk, although some of them jumped and bounced as they walked, and Saree couldn’t help but smile at their obvious impatience. The young women with the babies and toddlers also filed out, followed by most of the younger women at the next table, including several of those near Katryn. Most of them squeezed her hand or hugged her before leaving and Katryn’s smile was a little tremulous.
Mother Ferra turned away from her. “Captain Ruhger, would you and your crew join us in the meditation room?” He frowned, and she held up a hand and smiled pleasantly. “Only because it’s large enough to hold everyone and the mats there are softer than these benches.” His expression lightened and he nodded sharply. “Scholar, you’re welcome to join us, or I can have someone show you the library.”
“If you want the story of our last run, the Scholar needs to be there,” Captain Ruhger said.
Mother Ferra looked at her inquiringly, and Saree nodded in acquiescence. She wanted to see the Sisters’ reactions to their story, and she was curious about their situation. Perhaps Hal could do something for them?
Chapter 3
Saree followed Mother Ferra out the same door they’d entered, everyone shuffling behind them. Turning left, they walked down a long hallway, doors every ten meters or so on her left, the occasional door to her right, leading to the outside. The hallway was mostly straight, but every fifty meters or so, it bent slightly to the left—the buildings were set in a semi-circle, just as Hal showed her. No one spoke; the sound of many feet on wood planks rumbled like distant thunder. They finally came to a door set at the end of the long passage and proceeded through it. Lights came up, revealing a large room, not much smaller than the dining hall, but with a much higher, vaulted ceiling, supported by big, milky gray timbers. The ceiling, walls and floors were the same pale wood, but much of the ceiling and walls were draped with panels of material in restful shades of green and blue, accented with reds, yellows and golds.
The effect brought to mind a picture she’d seen of Old Earth, of mountains covered in trees in fall colors and of other worlds with similar seasons and vegetation. A hint of aromatic wood, resin and smoke hung in the air; they must use incense, but not often. Overall, it seemed a restful, reverent place, a refuge from daily life.
Just after entering, everyone removed their footwear, so Saree slipped out of her world boots. Thin, rolled mats, in a variety of colors, stood in baskets and big, poufy, variegated brown cloth bags sagged along the walls. Each Sister, and Lightwave’s crew, picked one or the other and moved into the center of the space.
Mother Ferra walked to the far end of the room and sank down, crossing her legs and sitting upright on one of the thin mats, although she’d folded it in half. Saree looked closer. The mat was actually a thin rug with bright patterns. Did the Sisters weave rugs too? Captain Ruhger, Chief Bhoher and Katryn copied the Mother, but the rest of the crew chose the poufy bags. Loreli elbowed her and motioned to one of the soft bags, so Saree picked one up and sat next to her in the circle forming around Mother Ferra. Other women filled in the circle and a second circle behind them, the filling in the poufy bags shooshing as everyone settled. The bag was soft and comfortable, but a large shift to the left or right would dump her on the floor.
“Sisters, meditation room rules are suspended for this discussion,” Mother Ferra said. “But let us remember where we are, who we are, and the hands that hold us.” She put her hands together to form a cup, raising them up over her head. The rest of the Sisters copied her motion, bowing their heads below their hands. Mother Ferra left them up just long enough that Saree felt uncomfortable not copying her gesture. Finally, she turned toward one of the Sisters on the outer circle. “Sisters Raisa and Ne’char, would you please pour wine for all of us?”
Loreli straightened as much as the poufy seat allowed, her pleased expression shining. “Wine? The grapes grew?”
Several of the Sisters smiled, rather proudly. One of the women behind Saree spoke. “Yes, Chef. They were extremely successful. They take a lot of water, but they produce very well and make a good sweet dessert wine.”
One of the other women chimed in. “And it doesn’t flatten you the next day like the so-called brandy Mr. Smith makes.” Chuckles sounded around the room as pottery cups were distributed. These cups were smaller, thinner and slightly bell-shaped, glazed in a light, mossy green. Saree discreetly sniffed as the cups passed from hand to hand. A sweet, grassy scent, with a tiny little bite of alcohol. When each person held a cup, Mother Ferra intoned the now-familiar, “May the Mother bless us,” and the room echoed it back.
Saree sipped her wine. Overwhelmingly sweet, almost thick liquid coated her tongue, then thinned and left a distinct flavor of grapes with a slightly astringent alcoholic vapor. A pleasantly sweet aftertaste lingered in her mouth.
“Oh, very good. Does it travel well?” Loreli asked.
The same woman behind Saree spoke again. “We haven’t figured that out yet. We haven’t produced enough to sell.”
“Well, if you have a few bottles to send with me, we will find out. There is a high-end market for this kind of wine, especially if you’re willing to label it ‘Produce of the Sisters of Cygnus’ and play up the mystery.” Loreli emphasized the air quotes, waggling her hands and eyebrows with a wide-eyed dramatic expression.
Reactions were mixed, some smiling, some frowning and some clearly unsure, but they all looked at Mother Ferra. She shrugged. “Perhaps. It might be possible. We will send some bottles with you and see if it survives travel before we start down that path. But before we embroil you in our troubles, would you share the real news of the wider universe, especially anything impacting us, and your stories?” She smiled, the expression siting uneasily on her solemn face. “You know how much we love hearing about your adventures.”
“‘Adventure’ is the right word this time around, Mother,” Captain Ruhger said gravely. “But Grant will share the co
re’s news first, then we’ll get to our latest travels.”
Grant stood, starting with the grimmer news of core system governments tightening their grips on their populations, grabbing for more systems and resources, and distracting their poor, downtrodden but happily ignorant inhabitants with fluffy entertainment. Loreli and Katryn chimed in with additional tidbits in their fields of expertise while Captain Ruhger and Tyron occasionally clarified a political point. Saree listened with half an ear, having heard more than enough of the stories from Hal. Instead, she reviewed her clock maintenance schedule. She’d managed to partially maintain all of the clocks in the Cygnus systems they’d folded into, but she really wanted to finish the final sub-clocks and confirm the switch to the newly tuned clocks worked. Hal decided they’d bring the clocks on line in the opposite order of their travel, so Cygnus-Prime would be the last correction applied, while they were still here in Gliese. Hopefully, the phased implementation would draw the ‘human Clocker’ hunters away from her.
Saree jolted a little in her seat when Captain Ruhger said, “Lady Vulten,” the distaste clear in his voice. Guess she’d better pay attention—there were sure to be questions when he finished.
When Captain Ruhger sat, Sister Lashtar arrowed a look just short of a glare at her, her ice-blue eyes growing colder as she spoke. “Why would these women want you, a Scholar of Ancient Music?”
Shrugging and shaking her head, she put a carefully bewildered look on her face. “It’s definitely strange.” She swept a hand down her body. “It’s not as if I’m a beauty or a particularly talented musician myself. I am a determined researcher, but even so, I truly doubt I picked up any deep, dark secrets of Dronteim in my few hours on their station. Poor Chef was the one who found out their ‘special’ herb—” Saree made the air quotes obvious “—contains extremely high amounts of nickel. So everyone on Lightwave knows that.” She shook her head again, hopefully conveying her perplexed bafflement. “It doesn’t make any sense to me at all.”
Captain Ruhger cleared his throat. “There are rumors Scholar Sessan is the mythical ‘human Clocker.’” He gave her an ironic tilt of his head, the corner of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. “There are at least five different entities offering absolutely huge—and suicidal—rewards for the capture of the human Clocker. Those who don’t know better are willing to take big gambles on the chance.”
Mother Ferra looked at her, eyebrows raised. “And you are not this ‘human Clocker’?”
Saree smiled. “I’m a Candidate Scholar of Ancient Music, Sister. I research and record, and every so often, I join in. I do travel widely, by myself, but so do many others. But I was raised in the human colony on the Sa’sa homeworld. That one fact seems to mean far too much to many beings. I’ve had other attempts on my person, but things like that happen to solo travelers in the fringes all the time.” She shrugged, helplessly. “Until Lightwave brought it to my attention, I didn’t know the particulars of the human Clocker bounties.” All of which was carefully true, if incomplete. She and Hal had discussed how to talk about the allegations without outright lying, since many beings, including some humans, easily detected falsehoods. She suspected some of the Sisters could—large numbers of children to raise probably made you sensitive.
Everyone stared at her, their expressions varied. Some recognized her evasion, but why confront her? They didn’t have any reason to, other than a general dislike of dishonesty, and a very good reason to leave it alone. Their desperate need for clock maintenance should convince them a small evasion was good for everyone. Finally, Mother Ferra nodded and turned to Captain Ruhger again. Saree sagged internally, grateful the soft seat she slumped in didn’t let any involuntary reaction show. Good thing she’d followed Loreli’s suggestion.
“Well, I can certainly see why you’d appreciate a break, Ruhger, but we’re still going to ask for your help. Sister Lashtar?”
Rising slowly from her crossed-leg position using only her leg muscles, demonstrating strength and grace, Sister Lashtar stood. She turned toward Ruhger and the crew of Lightwave, her face emotionless. The crew appeared wary, even disturbed at her manner. “As Sister Ferra told you, several farming and ranching families have disappeared, their houses ransacked and torched, their crops and livestock taken. Looking back, we believe this pattern started over a standard year ago, at the beginning of the winter season. Livestock disappeared from grazing areas, just a few every week or so. One of the ranchers, who lived approximately forty klicks north of here, made complaints to the town council, but there was little they could do, since we don’t have any real law enforcement here.” She frowned. “We haven’t needed police until now. That was the last formal complaint made. We’ve pieced together a timeline based on when people stopped showing up in town. We also went back to the razed ranches and we found this. Sister Ani?”
Sister Ani brought up a holo and enlarged it. “The vid is badly degraded—we believe there was an electromagnetic pulse fired in the area, but this e-torc was just far enough away that it wasn’t completely destroyed.”
A bouncing view, low to the ground, as if a child was running, pixilated interference obscuring much of it. Labored breathing could be heard, getting faster and harder, and flashes of clenched fists appeared as the child ran faster. A man, dressed in dusty black, appeared in the holo. A loud gasp, and the runner jinked, but another man stood in the way. The child turned again, but the two men moved to cut the child off. A man laughed, evil amusement ringing in the sound. Slowly, the men boxed the child in. “Run, girl, run,” one of the men said as the others laughed. The girl ran, twisting and turning, the men taunting her. A loud commanding voice yelled and the men sobered, closing in. “No!” a girl screamed. A swooping, tumbling view of something dark interspersed with sky, despairing screams fading away, the view finally stabilizing on a closeup of a bushy plant of some kind.
Saree swallowed hard and shuddered, the women around her shifting uncomfortably, Loreli gripping her hand convulsively, then releasing it slowly.
Sister Lashtar said something inaudible, and the vid disappeared, a holo of a map appearing, with the town and the Sisters’ compound highlighted and labeled. “That ranch is here,” she said, a dot lighting up far to the north of them. “It’s been destroyed, along with all of these.” Black dots, numbered one through five, appeared on the map in a rough semicircle to the north and west of them, the numbers increasing as they neared the Sisters’ location. “Here is the cave system.” Another dot, in red, to the north of the Sisters’ compound and south of the razed farms appeared, centered in the semicircle of destruction and the Sisters’ ranch.
“They aren’t even trying to hide their location, are they?” Katryn said indignantly.
Sister Lashtar’s face grew grimmer. “No. They aren’t. And there’s a good reason for that.” She swept a vid up. Rough, rugged gray, yellow and red banded spires of rock rose into a blue sky, narrow channels winding between the stone teeth. The viewpoint swept up the spires, then traveled forward into them. Looking down into a forest of rock trees, the stony spires merged into spines, curving and twisting, deep channels separating them, the spines randomly melting into the sand, and new ones appearing farther away—a harsh and forbidding landscape, a maze of stone, like a pack of giant monsters’ jawbones, tangled together and left to desiccate in the sun.
Sister Lashtar said, “The Badlands have never been fully explored or mapped.” She shrugged. “Why waste the time? There’s nothing there—no water, no arable land, no grazing. We have overhead land survey maps, but that’s it. The Badlands start here—” she pointed at the yellow dot on the map “—but they continue to the east for approximately sixty klicks, in a narrow triangle eventually merging with the mountains. In most places, they are only five to ten klicks wide, a narrow spine of rocky desolation. Obviously, they were carved by erosion when Gliese had far more water here than it has now. What we didn’t know, but we know now, is that caves and tunnels exist throughout the Badl
ands. Some seem to go a very long way down into the earth and some meander and connect to others, and some go nowhere.” She grimaced. “While we know they exist, they’re now guarded. The drone we used to get this vid was destroyed after we sent it into a cave. We’d set up a comm relay at the cave entrance, so we saw they used a laser weapon, but that’s all we know.”
“How far into the cave was it?” Tyron asked.
“Just short of two hundred meters and right after it made a fairly sharp bend to the east. We were about to move the comm relay when the laser flashed and everything went dark.” Sister Lashtar scowled. “We pulled the comm relay back immediately and haven’t attempted anything since.”
Chief asked, “Wasn’t the colonizing corporation a mining corp? Why didn’t they explore this area? It seems like a prime place for valuable metals.”
Several of the Sisters made derisive sounds. Sister Ani spoke up. “Oh, they explored. Evidently, rudimentary maps do exist, but since Gliese has been bought and sold several times since then, nobody responds to requests for information and we can’t find it easily either.”
“You can’t find it, Sister Ani?” Katryn said incredulously.
Sister Ani sniffed. “I’m not a net infiltration master, Katryn. I teach some of the techniques to show students how to defend, not so I can bore into systems for profit or fun. And…” she sighed heavily. “This system is now owned by Galactica Corp.”
Saree grimaced, the wine souring in her mouth. Several crew members voiced quiet exclamations of resignation and understanding. Galactica Corp, according to Hal, was owned by the ancient AI, one of the entities placing a bounty on her head. Galactica Corp had a well-earned reputation for ruthlessness—if a valuable substance was discovered on one of their worlds, they swept colonists out of their way, often fatally, and used robots to strip mine. Rumors of plagues or pirate attacks made their way back to the core, but everyone knew it was Galactica Corp. Occasionally, they relocated colonists to a new world, but that happened just enough to keep political pressure off of them. Someplace like Gliese? They’d be targeted for extermination, not deportation.