Surveying his cabin, he sought a receptacle for his nausea. To his surprise, the compartment door to his laver opened. Out stepped Glick wearing white sillifiber. The tank cut undergarment barely reached her thighs. The front was quite minimally fastened, revealing a long, vertical "V" of skin from her neck to her obviously toned abdomen.
In a span of three seconds Jordahk went from nausea to increased blood flow. He tried to form a word, but his mouth was stuck on the first syllable.
"Whoa, take it easy there, kid," Max said. "After Torious pronounced you out of immediate danger, Glick volunteered to stay until you woke."
Glick kept her eyes locked on Jordahk. "Okay, Max, enough of that." She glided over to the bed, each step revealing a tantalizing amount of upper thigh. "No one was one hundred percent sure you'd be okay until you regained consciousness." She smiled at Jordahk's bulging eyes. "Oh, this?" She gestured toward the sillifiber. "What? Was I supposed to sleep in my treaders?"
She picked up a small med monitor from an unfolded nightstand shelf and sat on the bed. The action pulled the barely fastened sillifiber to the side. Jordahk tried not to look as she placed the monitor to his forehead. Tried and failed.
"It appears you're quite," she said, clearing her throat, "fully functional."
Jordahk felt color rising in his face.
"My equipment," Glick said. Jordahk's eyebrows went quite high. "In the gym," she clarified. "You messed it up. I think you owe me. Whatever you were doing interfered with a shield controller. Alarms went off all over the ship. I, uh, was nearby. Anyway, I pulled you out and tried to get that thing off you." She gestured toward the bracelet. "It wouldn't release. Your grandfather said it'd be okay."
She glanced at the monitor's VAD. Satisfied with the results, she moved closer to his face. "You're supposed to drink this."
She pressed a beverage into his hand. Jordahk could feel her heat radiating onto his skin as her cheek brushed against his. Her sillifiber pulled away briefly again as she slid off the bed and stepped into her treaders.
Jordahk's face was on fire, but not the crazy mystic kind. He watched her, never thinking that stepping into treaders could be so sensuous an act. He gulped down the cooling beverage.
Glick gathered her clothes and weapons belt in a smooth, efficient, but still tantalizing manner. "I've got to get to the bridge." Jordahk could sense the avian, but he didn't know how.
With one last glance over her shoulder, and shifting sillifiber offering a glimpse of posterior musculature, Glick sauntered to the hatch, which opened, revealing Aristahl and Torious. Jordahk's grandfather took her in with placidity, but one corner of his mouth inched up. She noticed and smiled.
"Glick," he said, nodding.
"Mr. Wilkrest." She nodded in return. Then, without any further looking back, she walked down the corridor as if she did so dressed that way every day.
"I'd like to scan her for my records," Torious said. His head swiveled to follow her.
Aristahl displayed subtle relief at the sight of his clear-eyed, smiling grandson. "That was a rather foolish—but impressive—move."
It took Jordahk a few seconds to realize he wasn't talking about Glick. "Are you angry?" he asked. "I saw a chance to restore Max and took it."
"I understand." Aristahl adopted a distant air as if suddenly realizing something. "We will talk about caution and wisdom regarding such forays. But first a task at hill bottom. The sooner we accomplish it, the sooner we get back to Adams Rush."
A ship-wide alert tone sounded. The active wall lit, showing their location on a long line drawn through space. The marker reached the end of that line.
A second later they felt the strange but familiar dimensional tingle.
"The bottom of the hill?" Jordahk asked.
"Yes." Aristahl turned to leave the cabin, but called back over his shoulder, "Better swirl some cold water first."
Jordahk could have sworn he heard his stiff grandfather chuckle.
ILLEGAL GOVERNMENT MAY FORESTALL ADAMS RUSH MEMBERSHIP STATUS
Adams Rush, Asterfraeo Territories
(Gaston Canterbury,
Confederated Comm senior correspondent.)
Once thought finalized, Adams Rush now finds its bid to join the member worlds in jeopardy. Even as the egress above their world readies for its full power test, a newly elected government of questionable legality is racing to be seated. The new Assembly seeks to rescind the lawfully enacted Perigeum agreement. Violence leading up to this election calls into question the legitimacy of its measures.
Commships bring news that the Perigeum Council of Membership is highly dubious of this rogue government forcibly imposed upon the Adams Rush citizenry. They are determined to complete the egress and bring a diplomatic force to the troubled planet. Their goal is to safeguard the populace in what is turning into a difficult transition.
With unsanctioned elements of the Adams Rush Navy still aggressively threatening our Starmada, Field Commander Pheron Xammetrix has increased his security buffer around the egress. There is word the Prime Orator himself has taken an interest in this transition. It is possible the First Cruiser will unprecedentedly join the initial diplomatic delegation at first sync.
Bringing an egress to final readiness required a waveform test. History's most expensive piece of equipment was unoptimized and overly complex. Myriad elements needed tuning at full power to ensure shielded matter passed through unmolested.
Above Adams Rush, six mighty fusion plants, old but reliable energy generators, fired up. Six egress facets filled with power, shunted through branching conduits. Enough current to run a megacity. At the center of each facet, and branching outward, lines of special panels glowed blue/white to disperse excess heat.
Conduits capacious enough to stand within brought power to ever smaller secondary and tertiary channels until the entire egress resonated with contained energy. The space within the hexagon filled with opalescent haze. Swirling irregularities resisted conformity but were wrangled to smoothness. A radiant flash, like the first gleaming sun rays after an eclipse, burst forth from the interior. A subtle distortion expanded outward from the giant machine, flaring bright over shielded ships.
The view within the hexagonal window now showed different space. A battle-scarred planet of dingy browns and yellow was framed. A wavering distortion across the vision indicated the egress not yet ready for transit. Through it the stars flickered lazily, and a ripple passed over once-remote Numen. The first Sojourner colony, now headquarters for a peculiar branch of Perigeum Starmada.
Everyone in the task force was aware of the planet's significance and the rumors that buzzed around it. Crews aboard Starmada ships stole curious glances. Techs and smiths made an extra effort to focus on tuning. Unsurprisingly, the Archiver squadron came to life, and every ship sent coded bursts through. Information passed the quavering barrier with indifference to the spatial distortions that would disrupt matter.
In the center of that squadron, on the bridge of the war-era attack transport, Rewe was sweating. While not unusual, the increased amount was out of the ordinary. In the dim light, he whispered a command to increase his custom uniform's cooling.
He wore a scientum compy ring, quite simple when compared to Auscultare. He used it for personal settings and conveniences. It never knew anything he didn't want his superiors to know, because nothing on the ship was hidden from Auscultare. The commodore relished being able to coerce the powerful mystic AI into doing his bidding, but he held no illusions the old personality was at all loyal to him. On loan only, its strings were pulled from higher up.
Ten minutes passed, enough time for an AI to read through every transmitted report and summarize highlights.
"There's an incoming audience, commodore," Auscultare said.
Though he expected it, the reality was still disconcerting. In the secret ruling Archiver echelon, the Ring, an "audience" meant one of the seven arkhons was about to talk to another. Audiences went downhill, the low
er ranked at the bidding of the higher. Even so, Rewe, currently the fifth, rarely audienced with the sixth. That overachiever was sickeningly ingratiating. His suspicious obsequiousness bore watching.
Most likely the fourth was demanding contact. Of him, Rewe was generally unafraid, but still uneasy. The fourth may have achieved his position by being underestimated. Of the six other arkhons, the fourth was the one he'd spoken to the most. Still, he didn't know his identity, because the higher ranked arkhon always communicated through an avatar.
For all he knew, he'd passed the fourth or any high ranked arkhon in the halls at Numen without knowing it. The fourth's avatar was a mountain. That was all Rewe was supposed to know of his identity. Anonymity ensured stability, yet did not prevent the recent shakeup. After the old third was killed in that non-accident, the crafty old second, known from his avatar as the Ice Titan, retired. Seeing his subordinate arkhon felled in an ascendancy bid, Rewe suspected the venerable Ice Titan no longer had his heart in the game. Rewe didn't complain, moving up from low man.
So the most dangerous arkhon after the legendary first became the new second-in-command. Rewe doubted the new second wanted to speak with him. Known as the Dragon from his avatar, he was feared by the few who knew of his existence. Rewe suspected he was a grand schemer, ambitious and formidable.
"Sounds like me." He allowed himself a chuckle.
Well, the Dragon wouldn't last long if he thought to take down the legendary first. Rewe would be interested in observing that battle of behemoths, but only from a great distance.
The lights on the bridge dimmed, the viewports darkened, and all the VADs and control surfaces switched off.
"What's this, Auscultare?"
The AI did not answer.
"Auscultare?"
The commodore stepped to the inert command console, unresponsive even to his personal overrides. The dimly lit bridge acquired a reddish hue. Rewe's fear spiked. Such theatrics weren't the Mountain's way, and the third was rumored away on some distant quest. The long-lived legendary first rarely communicated with anyone. That left the most unfortunate possibility.
Rewe found himself swallowing despite his sudden saliva-free status. A reddish tinge crept over every surface on the bridge like some sort of fiery lichen. Soon, the commodore was standing among rocks lit by a magma-filled crag. Mystic VAD projectors could generate convincing surroundings. He could practically smell charred rock. Wait, he could smell charred rock.
"Auscultare!"
A greenish, shimmering image formed in the center of the bridge. It spanned deck to ceiling, first resolving into hard lines and sharp points defining a malevolent shape. Then it filled with dark, iridescent scales. The creature wavered with heat. The only white was in the eyes and abundant teeth of the Dragon's Cheshire smile.
A similar, albeit less demonic, Sojourner image wreaked terrible carnage at the final battle for Numen, a piece of history that likely inspired what was before Rewe. A condescending voice came from the Dragon, though its mouth did not move.
"You disappoint me, Rewe." It echoed but wasn't loud. "As an arkhon you should know we gain more by reputation than direct intimidation. I'll question the Mountain regarding your qualifications."
Rewe had grown accustomed to deference given by Archiver subordinates and Starmada officers. The matter-of-fact way the Dragon just threatened him was like a monomer knife inserted into his gut. It was hardly felt going in.
"The Starmada's failure to fully secure the planet," Rewe said, "has, complicated my efforts. But I'm confident Thule-Riss's hold is here. There have been Sojourner-level incidents."
"I've seen your sloppiness," the Dragon rumbled.
A stiflingly hot breeze grew stronger by the moment. Rewe tried to move out of the Dragon's gaze, but its unmoving eyes followed.
"Anything concerning the Khromas is of great importance," the Dragon said, "but, we're patient. Though the Starmada are dim proxies, they are many. If we poke that giant too hard, its anger would be more than our organization could bear."
Rewe couldn't deny that he'd provoked them.
"The Archivers were here long before this crisis, and we'll go on the same way," the Dragon continued. "Let the Starmada be unknowing tools. On the surface their goals are often our own."
Rewe's breathing wasn't providing the necessary oxygen. His voice became raspy as every mucous membrane in his already overstressed body dried. "I needed access to the Legion's spy network. While I may have been, ah, overzealous altering Auscultare's shadow tapping, I got results. Possibly the line of Thule-Riss. The informant will soon—"
"Your informant is an untrustworthy worm."
"Yes, but, he's our worm," Rewe said. He tried to stand tall behind his one potential success. The trail of Thule-Riss Quext, the mythical Khromas known as The Will, was worth some heavy-handedness.
The Dragon faded for a second. The unpredictable waveform test was pushing overworked egress crews. Upon returning to full opacity, the scaled form incrementally grew, and the "wind" blew stronger and hotter.
It became unbearable. In a second of weakness, Rewe sub-whispered to Auscultare, "Tone it down, would you?"
"Oh, don't bother," the Dragon said as if he heard the request. "Auscultare is my servant. Isn't that right, Auscultare?"
"I'm sorry, commodore," Auscultare said, "but I must obey... my master."
The growing dragon head filled Rewe's vision. The surrounding rocks became hot orange, and licks of flame darted off them.
"You endanger us, Rewe. Fortunately, the chaos masks your incompetence. Unlike many of his colleagues, Field Commander Xammetrix is a thinker. He may run the Starmada someday. It would be much better for our relationship with him to be, shall we say, non-adversarial."
Sweat poured down Rewe's body. His uniform stopped working completely. He could no longer hide his gasping breaths. "My snitch is close to our quarry. Soon they will run to safeguard their secrets," he wheezed. "Then they will be ours."
Flames rose, forming a ring around the giant, toothy head. Rewe heard their crackle and felt their heat. He put his arm up to shield his face.
"Be successful, Rewe," the Dragon growled, "and not a bother. The arkhons have been unsettled enough for one generation."
Rewe squinted and fell to one knee as the voice continued.
"I shall be at Earth for inaugural sync. I trust you'll have something good to show for my indulgence."
The entire bridge was engulfed in flames, the ardor melting every bulkhead and construct. Rewe screamed and fell. After a few eternal seconds, the fire consumed itself and crept away. The bridge returned to normal with only its beleaguered occupant proof that anything extraordinary had transpired.
The commodore just breathed, trying to gulp cooling air without adding the burden of getting up. His uniform's cooling kicked in, and he pulled a stimgar ring from an inner pocket, placing it on his finger for an immediate hit. Its stimulant, injected through the skin, received a precise jolt of current from the ring. The effect of the activated drug was immediate.
Slightly eased, Rewe turned his anger on the mystic AI, letting loose a string of profanities worthy of a Legion training officer. The string remained unbroken as, stepping to the controls, the commodore twisted the electronic slaving spikes in Auscultare's brain. It was as close as he could get to inflicting pain upon the traitor—for now. When his anger was spent, he sat back in the command chair.
The AI required a full minute to reconstitute. When it finally spoke, heavy distortions lingered. "Commodore, I've displeased you. However, I think you'll like this news. A transmission's coming in using our informant's cipher."
"Shut up and show me." After reading the text, Rewe smiled genuinely, one of his first in quite some time. "The egress is going to open. Jump off the ship, rats. Jump."
The planet wasn't under Perigeum control yet, but chaos created opportunity. Some below were coming to realize their planet would never again be free of the hexagonal eye in the sky.
Those with valuables were trying to escape with them. Those with secrets were trying to secure them.
"How many slags have you rebuilt or salvaged, Auscultare?"
"I've negotiated a delivery with a task force supply ship. The Legion didn't bring bot squads, but they have some small parts stores. I could have three, possibly four more of the older models running within forty-eight hours of delivery."
Rewe wasn't pleased. "I don't suppose the task force brought any Hektors?"
"No Hektors, commodore. Some Legion special forces—"
"Hektors know how to keep their mouths shut. No special forces drak!" He composed himself and took another hit off the stimgar. "Just get me as many slags as can hold a grister, and keep the owl prepped."
Space is big. The old cliché never died. Despite improvements in MDHD drive, and even the star-spanning egresses, space was vast and empty, parsecs of worthless gas, radiation, troublesome dust or absolutely nothing. Stars were incredible distances from each other. Stars with planets of habitable worth were rare. The astronomical set of factors to support life without great expense left few qualifying. Those that could were still cursed with the same sterility humanity had unfailingly encountered.
Space was dead. Not a single extraterrestrial protozoa or alien bacteria had been discovered, no alien slugs or plant life. The artificially created ecosystems of colony worlds were simple in comparison to Earth. At least some far-off soils, after arability terraformation, grew selectively modified Terran vegetation.
No plants grew naturally at Gr'jot, perhaps the ugliest system humans inhabited. It was a place so distant, destitute, and devoid of any life-supporting factors that it should have been passed over. Veins of platinum group metals found in its turbulent asteroid belts removed that possibility. The value of such materials during the war convinced Huguenot Minerale to co-fund a speculative mining colony.
That was long ago. With interest in mystic on the wane, the need for platinum group metals followed suit. Though still used as hard coin and in some technologies, demand was nothing like the craze before and during the war. Making matters worse was Gr'jot's placement within a tempestuous interstellar cloud of gas and debris. It contained a variety of unstable, disturbing stellar phenomenon.
Tethered Worlds: Unwelcome Star Page 32