Tethered Worlds: Unwelcome Star

by Gregory Faccone

  Aristahl took a step toward the table and stood straighter, if that was even possible. "Commissioner Navidad, I would like to have an important word with you if you could fit me into your schedule."

  It had not been Christmas for a long time on Co-Op Station. Few realized that more than Commissioner Feliz Navidad. As the Gr'jot economy worsened, good people were forced to seek their fortune elsewhere. And some not so good retreated into fiefdoms and graft. If the commissioner still cared, he was in the minority. The future of Gr'jot was likely as a lawless colony or pirate system.

  The commissioner dropped a cooling cube into a newly poured glowing concoction. It made a tinkling sound that continued as the man's hands trembled.

  "All that's left is to sell everything and clear out." He spoke with a hint of old frontier metering.

  The once grand office was now just large and unkempt. A path between desk and traditional wet bar formed among the flotsam. Along one side of the cabin in a lazy arc were floor-to-ceiling crystal panes. The dilapidated vista they now showed was certainly not the inspiration its designers intended.

  Outside resembled an orbital junkyard more than a mining colony. It reminded Jordahk of unauthorized images his father showed him from lesser-known, non-egressed Hex worlds. No superhaulers could be seen, and the couple of haulers visible had seen better days. They likely needed repairs just to leave.

  Stratified layers of dust drifted like morning mist, just not as pretty. Debris abounded, and chunks rolled past the commissioner's office. Obscured in the distance was a warship of indeterminate design in front of a large orbital construct. Its sprawling layout of booms, festooned with various outriggers, was inconsistent with a mining facility. Behind was dingy yellow maelstrom.

  "What's that facility, Max?" Jordahk sub-whispered.

  "A staryard," the AI said into his link. "Class specialized for repair and upgrade. The information is outdated. I'm locked out of recent feeds."

  Jordahk felt a connectivity surge in his brain and recognized the sensation. Wixom came to the fore. The AI had been silent for the most part. Wixom had spent 200 years locked in an extremely slow chess match with his brother. Now he had an uninvited roommate whom Jordahk mightily empowered and protected. Add to that the strange numenium coupling, something from which even the mystic AI kept his distance. Jordahk understood, but they all had to adapt.

  Wixom accessed the old facility without shattering firewalls or forced penetration.

  "Don't display anything," Jordahk sub-whispered. "I don't want to tip our hand. Uh, whatever that may be."

  Inexplicably but unsurprisingly, Aristahl picked up on Jordahk's inquiry. "Barrister, the Javelin facility, if you please."

  The center of the room came alive with flawless VADs. External staryard views hovered next to those from supposedly secure internal eyes. Statistics of personnel, matériel, and ships were listed and highlighted. Barrister was putting on quite the show.

  The apparent ease in which the supposedly secure facility was penetrated caught the commissioner by surprise. The glow of his drink lessened as he took a great swig. He shook his head in defeat and collapsed into his chair.

  "What do you want?"

  His office wasn't much brighter than the dingy watering hole from which he'd been plucked, though enough light fell upon Feliz Navidad to indicate he wasn't doing well. Blood micros and all the rejuvenation treatments available weren't keeping up. His eyes were sunken and surrounded by dark circles, his hair streaked with gray, symptoms not normally associated with a man still in vigere. His clothes, which previously implied "well dressed quality," didn't hold up under closer scrutiny.

  "I see Gr'jot's second major source of revenue is idle." Aristahl gestured to the staryard.

  "You caused a ruckus to tell me that?"

  Somehow, Aristahl digested an enormous amount of information from the displays. "Hmm... six javelins. Two mystic keels among them. What is their operational status?"

  Feliz responded out of tired habit, "Just who are you to ask?"

  "The javelin orbiting nearest is hot," Barrister interrupted. "It is a mystic keel. The remaining five in the staryard only appear mothballed." Detailed specs and images of the five were displayed. "Closer inspection shows all functional, and each manned with a skeleton crew. They are on standby."

  Obviously uncomfortable, the commissioner stood. "This is unacceptable."

  "The staryard appears to have been picked clean," Barrister continued. "Each of the docked javelins is loaded with ore, spare parts, and the system's remaining teslanium."

  "Ah, planning an early retirement, I see," Aristahl said. "With all that is developing these days, I am sure you can get fair coin for a javelin from some Asterfraeo starmada."

  Feliz Navidad's eye twitched, and his mouth moved, but no words came out. He stepped back, distracted.

  "The commissioner is attempting to call security," Barrister said. "Should I allow it?"

  "Commissioner, we do not have time for power struggles and exit strategies. Fortunately for you, I am not some unscrupulous blackmailer. How long do you think this system would last without warships to screen it?"

  The commissioner's eyes darted back and forth. Then he resigned himself and sat back down. Jordahk sensed his resistance exhausted.

  "Our goals could work together nicely," Aristahl said.

  Feliz Navidad ran fingers through unnecessarily thinning hair and stared down at his desk. "There's no predicting that yellow demon." The commissioner gestured in the vague direction of the nebula. "It spits out drak all the time. This whole damn system including that angry star is an anomaly." For a second the responsible governor came to the surface. "Look, no one's going to stick around once the javelins pull out."

  Jordahk, still stunned by the episode in the bar, marveled at his grandfather in action. To fulfill their mission here, they must need something from the commissioner.

  "No new ship contracts or significant mining in a decade," Aristahl continued.

  The commissioner glanced at the hatch longingly. "And your point is?"

  "I think we can open up your fields again, but it is going to take cooperation, and javelins."

  The Monte Crest raced toward the outer system as fast as safely possible in the dangerous, detritus filled Gr'jot space. It traveled up from the elliptical to facilitate the quickest possible hilltop. The course was shaped like a giant arc bowing from Co-Op Station deep into the rocky tumult. The old ship was getting quite a workout, but it was the destination that caused more concern among its crew.

  At hill bottom was a seemingly random rocky area in what the locals called "haunted space." Jordahk took over the stone gym and made it a sort of command center. Aristahl sent him a detailed message right before the Monte Crest engaged MDHD drive.

  News of the Perigeum's rise at Adams Rush reached even distant Gr'jot. If this crazy mission was going to help his parents and homeworld, it had to do so soon. Jordahk was uncomfortable with the responsibility thrust upon him.

  Full access to local data and first-hand reports gave Aristahl needed clues. Combined with his ancient information, he fitted together a model of what they would encounter. Jordahk was to use this knowledge to penetrate layers of effective jury-rigged defense. For two centuries a Sojourner, likely suffering from the Onus, still protected the richest veins in Gr'jot from the Perigeum.

  "That enemy's advance has long been stopped," Jordahk mused. Then Adams Rush came to mind. "Until now."

  "Am I supposed to be paying attention to what you're saying?" Cranium asked.

  Jordahk smiled, the first since Aristahl sent him off alone with the crew. A pit that wouldn't quit bored into his stomach. He perspired with the tremendous burden upon his shoulders. It threatened to flatten him against the deck. He appreciated the data rider trying to lift his spirits.

  Their hides, financial futures, the fate of a mining colony, and perhaps the freedom of an entire world were on the line. No pressure. The contract stated sp
ecifically that Jordahk would give mission orders if Aristahl was absent. He felt like throwing up.

  Cranium provided high-end VAD projectors showing rock-strewn space above their standing table. Displayed within were three layers of progressively redder, translucent spheres. The layer boundaries drifted slowly with the flow of the fields.

  Aristahl pieced together enough data to hypothesize ways of breaching the layers. His message played again while Max highlighted relevant elements.

  "The key was overlooked for years," Aristahl's formal voice said. "You cannot blame them since it is so counterintuitive. Plasma, the most common spaceship protection, is actually the substance through which this technology thrives. A sufficiently energetic shot, using my old friend's principles, is amplified through the excited matter, bouncing back and forth within any containment until the system ruptures. On ship exteriors, it is the shield controllers that blow. Imagine an impact on an interior plasma conduit."

  Recordings of damaged ships and probes accompanied the narration. The records went back over a century and a half.

  "What, has this guardian spent all this time in and out of entrop? Cold comas?" Cranium asked.

  "He's a Sojourner. Maybe juvi sleep."

  "Juvi sleep? Forty-day increments in and out for 150 years? You'd go nuts."

  "I don't think that's far from the truth," Jordahk said. The information painted a picture of isolation. "Normal space transmissions don't seem to penetrate."

  Cranium's face puckered. "He may not even know the war is long over."

  "Or maybe about to start again."

  "I can tell you going no shields is suicide. These fields are unpredictable at best." Cranium revved up. "Plus, that subgiant's spitting out all kinds of radioactive drak. Then there's half a dozen nearby anomalies in this God-awful ugly nebula. And that's not considering purposeful attack by the wacky technology of a deranged Sojourner!"

  It sounded pretty bad when put that way, but Jordahk thought it best to sound confident, even though his insides were churning. "We'll know more when we get to the bottom of the hill and can look real-time."

  "I have given you all the information," Aristahl's voice continued. "Build a good plan when you arrive on scene. Stay flexible and think unconventionally. Do not push through the last layer until I arrive. I will make it; do not worry. There is a lot of activity here. You would be amazed how motivated everyone became when offered a real chance to save their system—and be financially rewarded."

  The hatch opened before Glick's smooth stride. "We're at hill bottom. Maybe I should help you two heroes plot. You don't know enough between you to get out of an asteroid's path."

  She was slim and tough as usual in her shipboard outfit, but Jordahk saw something softer now.

  Glick took a position across the table next to her brother. "I want to get paid for the rest of this gig, and I'd rather not do it as an only child."

  Cranium rolled his eyes as light streamed into the gym. The replacement viewport projector showed the kaleidoscopic display of manifold space cut through with white streaks. The vibrant colors cleared, leaving behind a yellow nebula and an ugly brownish mess of dust and asteroids. Real-time information flooded in. Cranium sub-whispered to his AI, and dense asteroid trajectories filled the displays.

  "Well, can we get in?" Jordahk asked.

  Cranium thought for a moment. "Not in the Monte Crest Not all the way." Three brains and an unknown number of AIs were working with the information. Cranium was distracted by an intense, sub-whispered back-and-forth with Ralston. "But if your intel is right, and you can convince Capt. Luck to go cold shields, we can start through the outer layer."

  "I don't think your grandfather has enough coin for that," Glick quipped.

  "Safe" spaces existed between the deadly spherical layers. But ships surviving layer penetration would find themselves thrust into communications blackout. Isolation bred panic before more unexplainable attacks. This undoubtedly fueled the haunted reputation. Even with heretofore unknown layer knowledge, penetration was going to be difficult, although at least Jordahk could rule out spectral forces.

  They estimated the thinnest part of outer layer and knew just how far the first "safe zone" was. No one had ever approached these fields with that information. But knowing what lay ahead was a double-edged sword.

  Capt. Luck's sickly pallor was approaching positively dead. He gripped his command chair with white knuckles that matched paling skin. Sweating at the engineering station, Chaetan alternated between outrage and nervous tics.

  The Monte Crest built up speed and entered an area dominated by two large asteroids. Upon examination of the data, certain smaller ones were the dangerous culprits. An "S" curve between the two giants minimized exposure to them. The ship pumped the hottest plasma possible to its thrust rings to take the snaking course at high velocity. The rings had plenty to work with since no plasma was shunted to shields.

  All were nervous about that. No one traveled in space without shields, but at least for the moment the radiation risk was negligible. They wore space suits just in case, helmets ready to fold closed at a moment's notice. Jordahk was strapped in an executive station near the captain. Glick worked with competence and no sign of nervousness. Beyond her, Cranium worked with equal competence although less nonchalant.

  The ship moaned on the first high-speed curve approaching the large asteroids. Smaller ones began abnormal movements, setting off alarms.

  "Your grandfather was right," Glick said.

  Cranium wrestled with high-speed adjustments taking into account the new dangers. "I can dodge a few, but we'll soon have little room to maneuver."

  Wixom, for the most part, was still pouting, so Max conjured a complex VAD before Jordahk showing their course and obstacles.

  "That engineer's getting a little squirrelly," Max said in his gravelly voice.

  "Squirrelly?" Jordahk inquired. The AI was a never-ending font of ancient expressions.

  "Yeah, look at him. He's keeping the shield conduits warm and controllers primed. He's practically got his hand hovering over the activation control."

  Max was right. "Can we lock him out?" Jordahk asked.

  "Barrister could, and certainly my reluctant 'roommate.' But I don't have enough experience in this rig yet."

  "Here comes the first hostile," Glick said.

  Jordahk saw it on his VAD and looked up through the view panes. Rocks zipped past them. The first large asteroid filled half the view. The second, made hazy by distance, was a crescent edging from behind. A flash of light reflected off the dust, turning space yellow-white for an instant. The ship shook briefly with a loud thud. More alarms sounded. The VAD showed the suspicious asteroid gone, replaced by a string of fragments pointing in the direction of the ship. They receded quickly.

  "Captain!" Chaetan said.

  The captain's display showed the ship's status. He manipulated it with vocal commands, refusing to release the armrests.

  "A hit amidships," Glick said in a tone intended to keep everyone calm. That was if "everyone" meant Chaetan and Capt. Luck. "A center thrust ring distributor has been knocked out."

  Sweat trickled down Cranium's head as the valley between the two large asteroids loomed. Minor impacts from plowing through the crowded space without shields vibrated the hull with increasing regularity. It became background noise on the bridge. Large ship's status displays showed a growing number of malfunctions. A pair of flashes cast dark, fleeting shadows.

  "Oh, drak," the captain mumbled through gritted teeth.

  The Monte Crest shook with two more hits, felt more than heard as the din from constant impacts and ship groaning grew louder. Alert lights flickered as Cranium struggled to get the ship between the two large asteroids. A snapping sound after a particularly loud groan ushered in a continuous rumble. A warning alarm sounded, and a piece of hull flew past the view panes.

  "We've got a rupture in the bow," Glick said, trying to convey steadiness.

 
"In B-section. Venting plasma!" Chaetan shouted. "Forward plasma controls are smelting sub-functional."

  "Reroute the damn—Chaetan!" Cranium shouted back. "I need max bow thrust rings, unless you want to make a crater."

  Chaetan re-routed conduits with the ship AI, but was losing his nerve. "Captain, we need the shields on!"

  "Don't do it, Captain Luck," Jordahk said. He opened a comm VAD directly in front of the captain. "It'll be worse if we've got plasma out there." He was sure enough about Aristahl's working theory. And thus far experience added credence to it.

  "Steady on, damn it," Capt. Luck said.

  "Forward thrust rings please," Cranium said. He wiped a hand across his brow.

  Chaetan worked the controls with undisguised self-preservation. The din lessened as they passed between the mountains. It required a different kind of nerve to see those rocky walls racing past so closely. After a tense minute, they emerged out the other side, plunging again into the thick soup. It wasn't meant to be plowed through at this speed, and certainly not without shields. The wear and impacts were adding up.

  Another flash and another thud preceded the bow of the ship lighting up like a Christmas tree on the status schematic. A stream of plasma snaked past the bridge view panes like a wispy trail of smoke.

  "What the hell!" Cranium exclaimed. "I'm losing the first ring altogether." He whipped his head around, risking a quick glance at the engineer. "Chaetan! Feed that ring or damn us to the TransVex!"

  The engineer trembled in his chair. "We need shields right now, captain," he whimpered. "We have to have them, and I can give them to you." He was unhinged.

  Glick released her auto restraints. "Smelting hell!"

  Jordahk and Max concentrated on highlighting nearby suspicious asteroid formations. A trio was moving into their trajectory, which was beginning to resemble careening more than controlled flight.