Tethered Worlds: Unwelcome Star

by Gregory Faccone

  Tethered Worlds: Unwelcome Star

  Text Copyright © 2012 Gregory Faccone

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Second Edition: November 2013

  http://gregoryfaccone.com/

  http://tetheredworlds.com/

  ISBN-13: 978-1481114363 (Print)

  ISBN: 978-0-9859076-1-7 (ePub)

  ISBN: 978-0-9859076-0-0 (Kindle)

  United States Library of Congress Copyright Office International Standard Number: ISBN 1481114360

  Cover Art: Lorenz Hideyoshi Ruwwe

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author takes no responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The author would like to express gratitude to the first and stalwart, M.Carl. Special thanks also goes to Z. And finally, thank you 2K and Dr.S.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  PROLOGUE •

  CHAPTER • ONE

  CHAPTER • TWO

  CHAPTER • THREE

  CHAPTER • FOUR

  CHAPTER • FIVE

  CHAPTER • SIX

  CHAPTER • SEVEN

  CHAPTER • EIGHT

  CHAPTER • NINE

  CHAPTER • TEN

  CHAPTER • ELEVEN

  CHAPTER • TWELVE

  CHAPTER • THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER • FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER • FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER • SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER • SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER • EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER • NINETEEN

  CHAPTER • TWENTY

  CHAPTER • TWENTY ONE

  CHAPTER • TWENTY TWO

  CHAPTER • TWENTY THREE

  CHAPTER • TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER • TWENTY FIVE

  CHAPTER • TWENTY SIX

  CHAPTER • TWENTY SEVEN

  CHAPTER • TWENTY EIGHT

  EPILOGUE •

  The TETHERED WORLDS Series

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Blood trickled off my father's arm. He hated it when technology let him down.

  One hour earlier, before the assassination.

  "Now everyone's shocked?" Jordahk asked his father.

  "They can scramble comm and skew coverage, but they can't mask the sky," Kord answered.

  Milling people hampered their vehicle's progress near the university. The quaint old section of New Vernon was already less than ideal for ground vehicle traffic. Citizens gawked upward, wandering into the roadway. Frightened exchanges and arguing rang out. Someone was crying.

  "We knew they were bringing in something big," Kord said, looking around, "but it's a cold splash of reality for too many."

  Their movement toward Central Square was all but impeded. Ahead, many gravitated into one of the parks dotting the university district. Jordahk heard a familiar voice addressing the growing crowd.

  "Forget the square," Kord said. "Looks like Isadore decided to hold our rally impromptu."

  Vittora, Jordahk's mother, worked the controls of their venerable family fanicle. "You want me to park?"

  Isadore's amplified voice could be heard across a large grassy area. Jordahk noticed his father's practiced security assessment of the surrounding knolls.

  "Hmm..." Kord paused. "See if you can edge us closer. Flow with the crowd." He jumped nimbly onto the hood, showing off a bit Jordahk suspected, and parted the crowd as best he could.

  Isadore stood atop a platform cobbled together with objects taken from a nearby recreation field. The platform was erected before a small park building. A stream wound behind it.

  "Ease into the stream bed and pull close," Kord said.

  Vittora nodded, turning the ancient surplus machine. The little utility vehicle had been in their family since before Jordahk's birth. He didn't know which planet's ground forces had originally fielded it. Nor did he understand the hindrance of staying with it, but he sensed concern and wariness in his parents. This wasn't the time to ask.

  Old, but still effective sound cancellation technology kept the fanicle reasonably quiet as it pulled out of the stream bed on directed air, spraying a trail of water.

  Isadore had almost everyone's attention, though some still gaped upward. His discourse focused on certain Assembly delegates gone to ground after that morning's vote. As people recognized Jordahk's father, a murmur went through the crowd, and it parted to let him approach.

  "Who voted to allow that symbol to come together up there?" Isadore asked. Three speakers hovered above amplifying his words, no doubt in addition to his compy broadcasting them for all who cared to receive. "Why can't we get a hold of them?" The throng buzzed with questions.

  Isadore was a round man with a halo of hair. He dressed the part of a university professor, but that exterior hid many unexpected qualities. Noticing Kord, he smiled. Jordahk's father was known as a plainspoken former delegate, a veteran of the previous generation Assembly, back when it was a part-time gig. In those days, voting in favor of an unjustifiable, stupid decision led to quick recall. In most districts, reputation was significant, and a tarnished one an albatross.

  Isadore gestured toward the fanicle. "Most of you know Kord Wilkrest from the Thule-Riss territories. He served the old assembly with honor."

  Jordahk knew his father was uncomfortable with excessive praise.

  "We had a plan for the square," Vittora said. "This is a mess. You're too exposed."

  Kord put one knee down on the hood, surveying the crowd. The situation was unfolding unpredictably. He reached through the deactivated windscreen and touched his homemade "security in a box" contraption. He brought it to what Jordahk jokingly referred to as, "maximum paranoia." A thin spar telescoped up from the crude looking device. Atop it a multispectral eye crunched 360 degrees of visuals.

  "You know the Perigeum's martinets are in-city," Vittora said. She reached for a pack on the front seat. "Let me at least get some espies out there."

  "Kord Wilkrest!" Isadore finished his introduction.

  "Okay, but stay at the controls," Kord said quickly. He looked Jordahk in the eye. "Stay sharp, but stay put."

  Kord turned to face the crowd. He was a solid man, even thick. A thigh length coat slimmed the few extra pounds he carried. But if someone thought him out of shape, they were quite mistaken. Jordahk noticed how his father tugged subtly at the bottom of the garment to flatten it. The added securewear he wore underneath was becoming habit.

  "New Vernon, you're not alone," Kord said in plain, friendly speech. "Across Adams Rush, other—"

  Three of the four hovering speakers around Isadore moved toward Kord. It sparked something in the back of Jordahk's mind. Four speakers. He recalled three. Jordahk just started moving when the lagging speaker veered. Kord's security contraption beeped twice. Heads turned toward the rogue device, which aimed for Isadore. A brave soul launched into the professor, the flying tackle knocking him off the platform. As the fourth speaker fell, an arc of lightning leaped up to meet it from someone nearby.

  A bright flash was followed by screams. The explosion birthed a spherical ball of heat that consumed both people and building material within its circumference. Kord staggered back from the shock wave. The security contraption beeped three
times in rapid succession. A voice transmitted one word into the ear of Jordahk and his parents.

  "Pistol."

  His father moved with surprising speed. A dark line that would have intersected the middle of his chest passed through his shoulder instead. A cone of clothing stretched off Kord's back before bursting into a pink cloud. The shot propelled him off the hood.

  The park erupted into chaos. Jordahk scrambled to his father and yanked him back into the fanicle. Before they were even secured, Vittora reversed them through wafting smoke, back into the stream.

  PERIGEUM'S NEWEST MEMBER WORLD COMES FROM UNLIKELY PLACE

  Adams Rush, Asterfraeo Territories

  (Gaston Canterbury,

  Confederated Comm staff writer. 334/2613)

  Adams Rush was once a stronghold of retreating Sojourners, but a new era has come. Now it celebrates a vote approving final assembly and activation of an egress. When it syncs a half-year from now, a ceremonial delegation to officially welcome the rustic world into the Perigeum will transit. The planet's ties to the loose Asterfraeo Territories government, the Cohortium, will be officially dissolved.

  Perigeum Starmada Field Commander Xammetrix is confident he will be able to safeguard our newest protectorate. "Once the egress is operational, support from numerous member worlds is just hours away." Some worry this move will reignite hostilities. The cease-fire between Perigeum and Cohortium has lasted for over 200 years with few interruptions.

  The Prime Orator himself recently commented from the floor of the Governors' Chamber, "The Cohortium may not like it, but they cannot interfere with a sovereign world's legitimate vote. Nor can their military, the Valium Corps, protect the entire region without egresses." Adams Rush will be the first planet in a half-century to join the Perigeum. It will be the only member world inside the Asterfraeo's borders set at the end of the Sojourners' Crusade.

  The wound refused to clot.

  "Dard, it started again," Jordahk said, addressing his father with the local colloquialism he'd always used.

  Kord's disappointment was clear. With an irritated grumble he sub-whispered commands to his AI and twisted. The securewear undergarment constricted in patterns trying to stop the bleeding again. The hole in the hollow of his shoulder wasn't cooperating.

  "It just can't get enough purchase," Kord said, grimacing. "What kind of ammo was that?"

  Nasty projectile anti-coagulants, not to mention the constant exertion of their escape, were hindering Kord's blood micros. They converged on the wound with only partial staunching success.

  Jordahk was certain his father could take the pain, but blood loss could take him out of action. A long road still lay before them.

  From the bluff, New Vernon was spotted with fires. Behind them, the beautiful Thule-Riss Range caught the orange rays of the evening sun.

  Jordahk glanced back at the comforting snow-capped peaks. "At least we're out of the city."

  In the front seat of the fanicle, his mother rummaged through an old fashioned pack. She monitored Kord's retrofitted security box to prevent any further surprises. Finding something, she stepped out.

  Her smooth gait belied the circumstances—and inner turmoil—with practiced casualness. Her clothes, a shade of red, as always, accented motion with designed fluttering. It was her style. She'd prophetically chosen blood crimson. It was an omen upon which Jordahk refused to focus.

  Kord eyed the field vial she carried with disdain.

  She smiled. "Just drink it."

  Grudgingly, he downed the quikblood in two quick gulps. Both caused an unconscious shaking reaction, and he coughed heartily. The agents and compounds in quikblood played poorly with the senses. Jordahk caught a whiff of the base, metallic smell.

  "Ugh, this stuff tastes like drak!" Kord shook again.

  "Don't curse, gefera," she chided gently.

  "I can see why it never caught on as a recreational drug."

  Their exchange signaled strength unbroken, making Jordahk feel like a coach whose star player had returned from injury. Still, the situation felt surreal, like it was happening to someone else.

  Jordahk's parents stood close in their own universe for a moment. Kord was taller than her, though just shorter than Jordahk. His squarish face held gentle dark eyes and a ready smile for his wife. The setting sun reflected in the short cut of his earthy, ocher hair more than Jordahk's darker, ash brown locks.

  Reaching beneath her long coat, Vittora presented a segmented field patch. She commanded the securewear to open, and slapped the patch firmly atop the wound. Though Kord winced, his smile remained.

  The patch unfolded, conforming to the extent of the puncture before settling into place. Within seconds, additional coagulants and micros went to work. The securewear closed over it.

  Vittora relaxed a bit. "How do you like that simple solution?"

  It was a sort of contest between them—practical tech versus cutting edge. For as long as Jordahk could remember, Kord was driven to get the latest scientum tactical gadgets. The family business involved training the security conscious, which was a convenient excuse for indulging the practice.

  Vittora, on the other hand, preferred to rely on her uncanny ability to take down complicated technology with little more than a few rocks and a cup of rocket fuel. Like everyone from Patram, she'd served compulsory military service. Her love of the outdoors led her to infantry over ship or desk duty. Infantry was where the action was, where blood and sweat overcame metal and machines.

  Jordahk was well aware of his parent's competency—and how far short his skills fell. What had he inherited? In what area could he make a significant contribution? Hunting relics was an activity with few transferable skills, particularly considering their current circumstances. The realization did little to bolster Jordahk's confidence. It was a deficit he could truly call his own.

  Kord gave his wife a crooked smirk. "You're a little too fond of finding new ways to back me up."

  "Try acquiring fewer holes, and I won't have to."

  Kord looked down at the city. "What do you think, Jordahk? Is there wisdom in healthy paranoia after all? The Perigeum wants Adams Rush. We're ripe for the plucking." He made a snorting sound. "Civil unrest. It's the excuse they need here, and in orbit."

  The sun touched the horizon, and the sky displayed Kord's meaning. Tinted blue violet by the Adams Rush atmosphere, a colossal hexagonal construct hung among the emerging stars. Its faceted, hollow form was incomplete, five trapezoidal shapes forming a donut with a bite taken out. Shining like a small moon, it bore down on them like a supergiant. Egresses were the largest conventional machines built by mankind, and some say their greatest achievement.

  No legitimate tally showed majority public support for egress activation. Only the new career politicians thought parts importation should have begun months ago. It started growing planetwide opposition. The government of Adams Rush had acted in concert with its small but growing populace for over two centuries. Apparently those days were over.

  "We thought first sync was half a year away," Kord said dejectedly. "We were wrong."

  A wedge the size of the missing section slowly neared the egress. Though the Perigeum had reassembled the apparatus in orbit over time, the last piece was flown in whole, suspiciously timed to the Assembly's final controversial vote. As far as Jordahk knew, it was the largest object ever moved through manifold space.

  "Didn't know they could do that with downhill drive."

  "Multiple superhaulers linking downhill fields," Kord observed. "A technical achievement at our expense."

  Even the combined mass of four enormous superhaulers was dwarfed by just one sixth of an egress. In a swift stroke, months of assembly and testing were reduced to about 100 days.

  An explosion rumbled in the distance. "The university grounds?" Vittora asked. "Isadore. Do you think—" Her concern was evident.

  "Ermine's calling," an official sounding voice interrupted. Highearn v26 was Kord's personality AI. I
ts cool, unobtrusive demeanor endeared it to generations of military types. Just enough popularity to keep the AI model upgraded over the years to version 26.

  Everyone used a compy, the ubiquitous device for communication, information services, and so much more. However, only about half ran theirs with personality AIs. Some found the ease-of-use outweighed by a sense of intrusion. Though when it came to AIs, the Highearn series was about as close to a non-personality AI as one could get.

  The hand on Kord's good arm clenched into a fist. "Dolt! Told him not to comm until we secured a net. Should have blocked him."

  "Kord, you're alive," Ermine's high-pitched voice sounded through the distortion. "When we saw you take that shot, we didn't know—"

  "You're putting us both at risk, Ermine," Kord said through gritted teeth.

  "—couple of the guys are with me. They just hit Isadore's office. I don't think we should head to the secondary rendezvous."

  The smell of fire reached Jordahk's nostrils.

  "No drak. They're onto us." Kord wasn't pleased. "Split up, and get off the comm! Highearn, take us completely off-nexus. Use my emergency protocol. Leave one crypt channel open for my father."

  "It's done." A single tone chimed from the fanicle's contraption. "Incoming seeker drones; count two," Highearn added.

  Kord said a few choice words. Vittora was already moving toward the driver's seat, but spared him a reproving glance over her shoulder.

  "Sorry," he said, grinning. "Let's take them on the move. Huff it, Jordahk."

  Take them on the move? Jordahk wondered at his parents seamless transition to combat mode. "Is there a pharma-stim for this?"

  Vice Admiral Pheron Xammetrix stared at the Visual Air Display and debated whether to smirk or shake his head. Some half dozen of the VADs floated around him, waiting for his dark eyes. Status reports, security reports, scouting reports, and more, and replacements came without end.

  Pheron reread the Confederated Comm news blurb. "Adams Rush celebrates a vote."

  This was his first deployment as field commander. Though it had not come cheap, he considered it a bargain. Amidst a sea of VADs, some men drowned, sunk by the torrent of information and decisions. Pheron swam. But more than that, he thrived.