Tethered Worlds: Unwelcome Star

by Gregory Faccone

  The man sat back for a moment and composed himself, then sub-whispered commands to his non-personality AI. "Auscultare, I've granted you full access to the Archiver database for a narrow search."

  After a few seconds, the mystic AI displayed a visual record. "What an amazing collection of information, but your codes don't grant full access."

  "I know!"

  The commodore often became emotionally unsettled regarding the topic of Archiver access and hierarchy. The ancient adage "information is power" was taken seriously by the secret order of men who ranked each other by number. The fifth of that inner circle sub-whispered more commands, and Auscultare felt the all-too-common pressure sensation. It wasn't pleasant.

  "Not to worry," the commodore said, "I'm just purging everything you saw not related to the search."

  "Commodore, I'd rather you, you..."

  "What am I looking at, AI?"

  Auscultare felt as though he was forgetting something, some malfunction in his memory services. "These," Auscultare paused, surprised at his results, "are from a two-day period one hundred and ninety-three years ago. According to the codes they were taken at Adranus."

  "Adranus? The legendary staryards."

  The commodore's tone might have been admiration, although statistically it was more likely cynicism.

  The silent visual record showed a younger Aristahl Wilkrest interacting with some key figures of the era. His hair was dark, but his upright posture was unchanged.

  The commodore steepled his fingers, though it made him wince. Pharma pain control had undesirable effects on his unique physiology. His high-end scientum compy was trying to control an atypically large number of blood micros. They suppressed nerve stimulation at NuSkin grafts with only partial success. "That's him, minus the ridiculous faux coat."

  Auscultare reviewed his strangely sporadic records of Adranus, the Vallum Corps's most important staryard during the Sojourners' Crusade. It was technologically unique, laying hybrid ships that combined scientum and mystic technology. They allowed the numerically inferior Vallum Corps to stand up against the Perigeum Starmada.

  Even straight scientum ships off those lines were more capable than their sisters laid in conventional yards. This was especially true for the Javelin class, whose accelerator efficiency was never bettered. Two hundred years later, surviving Adranus hulls were still being refitted.

  Auscultare noted the timecode. Approximately 10 years from these recordings the last confirmed sightings of the renowned staryard would occur. Broken up into five segments, it was allegedly ferried away by imprimaturs and the last publicly known Sojourners, disappearing from history.

  "There's something here, at Adams Rush, buried under the years." The commodore trailed off.

  Human mental states were not Auscultare's specialty. Still, "obsession" was fitting the commodore of late. He was likely referring once again to the Thule-Riss Hold, an alleged place over two centuries old. Thule-Riss Quext was certainly real and documented as much as any of the five legendary Khromas, but Auscultare didn't know where the mythical retreat bearing his name was. War era records were surprisingly uncertain.

  "Those fossil arkhons are overly cautious fools," the commodore spat. "It's time we left the shadows and became the Sojourners of a new age!"

  The commodore came back from his reverie. A flicker of worry crossed his face. He sub-whispered commands again, and Auscultare felt the spikes.

  "It'd be... better if you didn't recall that, Auscultare," the commodore mumbled. "Now prepare another message for the next burst to the spies. It needs to go undetected to our mystery asset. Send an anonymous coin voucher for double what the Legion pays for information. The promise of more should be incentive enough to work for us, too."

  "Going through the Legion network will limit our interaction."

  "Set up a secure comm. I don't want Starmada flunkies getting in my way." The commodore punched fist into palm, causing more pain. "Inform our new asset they're now a triple agent."

  In her younger days, Vittora thought lack of emotional discipline would spin her out of control. Her faith, followed by her husband's influence, kept her firmly sane. Kord brought out the best in her, and calmed the rest. Perhaps despite himself, he'd modeled the virtues her theology promoted. Traditional thoughts, but Patram was a traditional place. The working side of Vittora's mouth inched up in a smile. Old-world values still found room within the Asterfraeo.

  That was more than she could say for the Hex, where from her perspective, government had become their religion. They strove for significance in ruling-class pecking order or Starmada expansionism. Many apparently buried themselves in the endless social nexus.

  Asterfraeo culture, perhaps in response to the Perigeum, promoted an independence-minded Zeitgeist, a "don't tread on me" attitude that desired to preserve independence, even from each other if necessary. The Vallum Corps combined fleet was an expression of that attitude, and with the Sojourners gone, the last buffer inhibiting the Perigeum Starmada.

  In the old halls of the six founding sister worlds of the Hex, grudging respect for the Vallum Corps could be found. With the aid of Sojourners, the crusade bearing their name had thwarted Perigeum expansion for the first time. Slowed but not stopped, they still accumulated worlds.

  Meetings in the House of Orators' chambers ruminated on ways to destabilize the Asterfraeo. Certainly the P-stars maintained many a plan for aggressive fleet battles and forced annexations. Conversely, the Vallum Corps never entertained ideas of offensive actions within the Hex. Ruling that out made them predictable and easier to defend against.

  On Patram, Vittora focused her military training on field craft and small party engagements, though never losing sight of the larger picture. Beyond the one-way window of the room she and Kord shared in old Isadore's place, the cloudy midday sky obscured everything beyond. But a VAD projected from a button on her red bodysuit displayed key elements with clarity. Floating above a violet arc was the completed shape of a hollow hexagon. Somewhere out there, far from the action, machine scouts from both sides kept constant vigils.

  She made out uniformly spaced specks. The P-stars guarded the symbol of their presence. Sometimes a tiny flash of light indicated work on the infamous hunk of machinery. She wasn't surprised construction resumed so quickly. The Egov was pushing to keep Adams Rush opposition off-balance. It was working. More time was needed to reform the government and coalesce most people's natural disdain to what was happening.

  "Ruminating on the big picture again?" Kord asked.

  Vittora's husband emerged from the laver, swirled, refreshed, and ready once again to take on all comers. Together, their tenacity multiplied. Kord's recent brush with death did not dissuade him from their mission.

  "You didn't have another dream, did you?" he continued with a wry smile.

  His expression eased her, as he certainly knew it would. His body was healing, and his mental strength unfaltering. His mind focused on whatever needed to be accomplished next. If Adams Rush fell, it wouldn't be because he'd dropped the ball, even if it cost him his life.

  "Our friends in space recover even faster than you," she said through synthesized compy voice.

  When Kord had finally staggered into the clear and Vittora pulled him out of the woods some weeks ago, he was burned, bruised, broken, and concussed. Since then, they had kept off the grid. They couldn't return to any dwelling linked to them. They had to make do with adequate but incomplete medical care. Her voice had yet to be restored, and likewise Kord's shoulder and arm healed unsatisfactorily. No doubt Torious would examine the work and declare it an abomination. Even now she noticed his arm moved without the usual crispness. The blood micros couldn't deaden all the residual pain, though he tried to hide it.

  "They have a lot of help," Kord said in regard to P-star resiliency.

  He sat next to her, making her conscious that only half of her mouth was smiling, and half her head none too pretty. He must have seen it in her eyes,
because he laid a gentle touch on that side of her head, leaned in, and kissed her good cheek. Her heart grew warmer and her resolve steeled. Restoration would come in time.

  "The attack barely interrupted construction," she continued through her compy.

  No one in the hemisphere had missed the projectiles and beams burning through the upper atmosphere that morning.

  "Was a nice try. It's back in our hands again. We've got to seat a new government and call for the Vallum Corps. Right now we can't even recall our own ships doing their hitch." He turned to stare at the hexagon in space. "Asterfraeo worlds are touchy about their freedom. They'd never send ships to populate the Corps fleet without its charter limits. If they came to our rescue uninvited, it could be interpreted badly and lead to a crisis of confidence in the Cohortium."

  Vittora nodded. Patram had one of the most powerful fleets in the Asterfraeo, but it could not stand alone against the entire Perigeum Starmada.

  "If that happens, and without Sojourners," she said, "the P-stars would pick us off one by one."

  "Excuse me, sir," Highearn said quietly, "the Council of Resolves is about to meet."

  Vittora exchanged looks with her husband and turned off the VAD.

  "Council of Resolves. Who comes up with these names?" Kord asked.

  "I believe it has old Earth origins," the AI said.

  "That's a shock. Three-quarters of this planet has old Earth origins." He gave Vittora one of his winning smiles. "The Age of Enlightenment brought to the stars."

  Adams Rush bred their citizens tough and self-reliant. It was a way of life the "civilized worlds" in the Hex neither understood nor cared for. Vittora knew admiration lay beneath her husband's joking tone. After family heritage, Adams Rush culture was a big influence on the man she loved. Patram's theistic outlook was different, but it bred a similar mindset, and she'd come to appreciate both.

  Vittora stood and stretched, unconsciously showing only the undamaged side of her face. In addition to the form-fitting sleeveless bodysuit, she wore tall multifunction treaders and a wide utilitarian belt. Both were dark maroon. The ravelen Aristahl gave her made possible years of peak physical performance. She made sure that possibility became a reality. She pulled on a maroon waist-length greather jacket with a built-in holster.

  Kord smiled at her admiringly. "We're only going to the pigeon loft."

  In that strange way she knew things instinctively, she said, "This is for later."

  The Council of Resolves didn't go well. The goal was to turn colleagues into confidantes. Why did Ermine push so hard? Urban districts required a gentle touch. Kord wondered, not for the first time, if Adams Rush was too far removed from its rugged founding culture to recover.

  The university annex dean was young for such a position, but he acted more like someone steeped in the unmovable positions of tranquilatem. Ermine already had him halfway out the door by the time Kord arrived.

  "We'll have security," Ermine said as if selling a product. "I'm sure you'll be safe from interference."

  It was just the wrong thing to say, and the dean was gone before Kord could even make a case. Their standing, much less anything else, was too precious to them to jeopardize. Academia was squishy on freedom versus government.

  The spokeswoman from Exo Services lasted only a little longer. It was one of the larger voluntary confederations, pooling the resources of its members for maximum benefit. It catered primarily to those working support roles in government and shipping. Kord could still picture her sad face and heavy eyelids.

  "Maybe it's progress," she said.

  "A century under that thing," Kord glanced up, "And you won't recognize the drones we've become."

  "Goodbye, Kord." She may have wanted to help, but financial fears neutralized many.

  Despite the rough start, the rest of the Council and its rally plans proceeded. That evening, a loosely packed but large crowd filled the district's square. People were still not the following type on Adams Rush, and recent government decisions were ill fitting.

  Roy's Plaza was the commerce and cultural center of the district. It was bordered by a number of "brick and mortar" clothiers catering to everyone from long adolescents to those in tranquilatem. People still wanted to experience some things in person before purchasing. Many restaurants surrounded the plaza as well. Most were middling, although a few fancy establishments made their presence known with more subdued VAD displays.

  Lighting was purposely limited to that which spilled out from the establishments, with the exception of a large VAD fountain that gave tribute to old Roy Hodges and filled the center of the plaza with warm light. The effect gave the pedestrian-only area a classy, quiet feel, as if it were perpetually moments after sunset.

  Kord and Vittora had stayed in isolation. His clothes were old spares to which he had access. They had a comfortable, broken-in quality too understated for a formal speech, but fit the tone he had in mind. He noticed his formerly new grister had lost some luster since the Thule-Riss ordeal. Hopefully the rally would be a far different experience.

  Two men, the local militia leader and small business association rep, greeted him on the way to the rostrum.

  "Kord! We heard you got your three gun salute," one said.

  "Veritas, that fireball in the Thule-Riss," the other added.

  "Down for a round." Kord put on his confident charm. "But it cost them."

  He heard the undulating crowd as background noise. He was too grateful for their presence to become accustomed to their organic energy. He spotted Ermine, who had dropped the monochrome for the event. His color scheme was now a dull mottled gray that made him blend into the crowd. The expensive clothes packed armor, but it was the lighter, fancier type. In Kord's opinion, it was better at flattering the wearer than offering consistent protection. The two had exchanged words just moments before.

  "Shouldn't have come down hard like that in the council, Ermine," Kord said. "You trying to push them away?"

  "They're holding us back," Ermine said. Flat cut black hair brushed his shoulders with the head shake.

  "Maybe." Kord spotted children in the crowd and felt contrite. "But was it our fault for letting it get this far?"

  Ermine slipped into the masses and out of sight. Kord mounted the rostrum and began his speech. A few fist-sized speakers floated above the people, amplifying his voice. Of course, anyone who wanted to listen could do so via Highearn's open transmission. But without speakers, rallies became strangely quiet affairs that didn't quite work. Participants couldn't even be sure to what the person next to them might be listening. Without a little boom in the voice and a reassuring echo, people felt as if just milling with no sense of community purpose.

  Kord addressed the still growing assemblage. "Many of you feel as I do." He gestured upward. "We don't want that thing here."

  A wave of assent rumbled back. Kord knew most people here were anti-egress, but certainly not all viewing remotely.

  "Some of you may not be as worried about the egress, but you don't like shady deals and unresponsive government. I commend your integrity, because who knows what it might be tomorrow?"

  Vittora had encouraged him to reach for the less committed. Kord glanced at her with a subtle grin. She returned a quick half smile, though her eyes hardly budged from multiple VADs. Sitting behind snipe screens that protected the rostrum, she monitored every accessible eye overlooking the square. Additionally, her own espies were out there at farther ranges keeping eyes trained for Legion snipers. After her personal experience, Kord didn't fault greater concern.

  "Once a government stops listening, the problem needs to be rooted out without delay. I did my stint there. Your district issue tallies are our lifeline. We don't go against them without good reason. I don't know what got into this last assembly, but for two centuries Adams Rush hasn't worked that way, and we're not going to start!"

  The Egov dangled coin and power in front of enough delegates to fix the egress vote. Too many had sinc
e gone to ground or disappeared. The President of the Assembly was limited without a quorum, so something the people neither wanted nor voted for was coming together in orbit. Healthy suspicion of government was still bred into the culture of Adams Rush. Most in this square knew the wrongness of what was happening.

  The local militia paced in front of the snipe screens. They wore civvies programmed forest green. Despite the seriousness of the situation, they exchanged affable nods and smiles with the people. Many were neighbors. The militia carried no rifles, but like most people on Adams Rush, a defense weapon was holstered somewhere on their person. For additional unity, they all wore the same hat, a topper.

  The topper came out of the reconstruction period. It was associated with a rugged class of Asterfraeo individual and originally worn by those doing the hard work of arability terraformation. Turning sterile landmasses beyond colony cities into something usable was time-consuming and expensive. It took a half-century for some fledgling Asterfraeo economies to get started after all the wartime defense spending. Colonization wasn't easy or quick. If a planet beyond Earth didn't need arability terraformation to grow and sustain life naturally, it had not yet been found.

  The flat top hats had shallow U-shaped cutouts on either side of wide brims. Toppers were just regular nonprogrammable hats so the colors varied, although usually a shade of beige or brown, always earth tones. Spacers never wore toppers. Beneath the brims men scanned the crowd for strangers, determined to make sure interlopers who caused trouble in other districts wouldn't be successful here.

  Kord measured the crowd and knew the silent majority had come to life. This district governor would have no problem voting to seat a new assembly. That would bring them one district closer. It wouldn't be long now. A new emergency government would be enacted, a measure expressly forbidding the completion of the egress would pass, and the Vallum Corps could be officially requested.

  It was time to wrap up his speech. Evening had arrived. The crowd was excited and ready to march through town before returning home. As he began his closing comments, he noticed Vittora's face turn vigilant.