Tethered Worlds: Unwelcome Star

by Gregory Faccone

Kord scanned for threats, only catching sight of the scorched utility bot skittering into the woods after the Archiver. Good riddance.

  Hearing approaching footsteps that he knew were his wife's, he laid his head back. The sky was beautiful.

  Glick was locked in a death grip with the man who had killed her brother. Neither could bring a suit rifle to bear. Glick had drawn her monomer knife in an attempt to drive it into the damnable legionnaire's heart. His iron grip held it fast, though, and his arm, braced against his body, wasn't going anywhere. There was no way to push the short blade, which was nearly touching his armor, any further.

  How had they stumbled upon an exceptional fighter among all the chaff? Cruel luck? Their rifles were crossed to the side like swords. In a surprise maneuver, he ejected his and moved to strike with his now unencumbered arm.

  Glick caught it just in time and was shocked to see a monomer knife extended from his gauntlet. Who was this guy? His blade was built-in, no doubt powered indefinitely by his suit.

  "Put up the count," she said to her AI.

  A timer popped up in her helmet, counting down from one minute 13 seconds. After that, the power cap in the pommel of her monomer knife would be exhausted. The blade would shatter from the slightest lateral pressure.

  She tried to press forward again. Her enhancement servos strained against his, but his braced position could not be overcome.

  Suit warnings flashed. The enhancement joints in her blocking arm were being pushed past limits. His heavier suit had more torque and raw strength.

  His blade crept in from her side. Glick pushed out with everything, but her suit was maxed. His servos ground the knife ever closer. Pierce alarms sounded. Her suit went into repair and life-support preservation mode. It tried dutifully to seal the breach as the legionnaire's monomer knife inched slowly inward.

  The egress emitted a flash of light, then another. She glimpsed the Earth side egress breaking up before the sync totally failed. Then the hexagonal window burned like a nova, and her panes darkened automatically.

  The first white flash had interrupted the sync for an instant. That was all it took to cut through the First Cruiser's hull. The dagger-like front quarter of the ship was cut free from the rest. Atmosphere and severed plasma lines emptied into space, causing the bow section to nose-dive. The second flash, which preceded the solar flare, interrupted the sync again, cutting a thin slice of the massive ship as it continued through.

  When the intensity of the new sun faded, looking through the hexagon showed only the stars above Adams Rush. Small white explosions dotted the egress's circumference. The particle wave that made her suit's cold plasma glow blue faded.

  "They did it," she whispered.

  Above, the front of the First Cruiser tumbled closer. A horrid, sharp pain pierced Glick's side. Locked together, she couldn't move away from the legionnaire's monomer knife. Suit alarms blared with new urgency. She ordered her AI to suppress pain. Blood micros rushed to intercept nerve signals and stop the bleeding, but the wound was penetrating fractionally deeper every second.

  She read the counter. It was hard to concentrate through the pain. Forty seconds. That was about how much time she had anyway until his knife hit something vital. Glick's opponent cleared his panes. He was a large man wearing the hubris-filled smile of victory. Surprisingly, she felt no fear, only a desperate, unresolved need for justice. The bow of the First Cruiser loomed over them, plunging nearer.

  Her high maneuverability and his heavy-duty pack proved an even match. No matter how much propellant either of them burned, the other was able to counter.

  "Where's the avian?"

  Her AI put a green circle out in space. It was damaged, and its power exhausted, but it could still fly with remaining fuel.

  "Return."

  A series of flares closed the distance. The device was pulsing its rocket to save fuel. Somehow it understood her desire. But the pain, the excruciating pain was starting to blind her.

  "Hurry..."

  Right before it arrived, Glick initiated a thrust maneuver. It would take a second for her opponent to stop whatever momentum she started. But her desire was only to reorient, which she accomplished in a spray of propellant.

  "Maximum burn."

  The locked opponents lurched forward, then his pack countered hers, and the built up momentum slowed. She felt a burst of speed. The avian arrived and pushed against her back.

  "Burn everything you have left, as fast as you can."

  Glick couldn't halt the painful progress of the intruding knife, but she continued resisting with everything she had. She cleared her panes, too, and stared her opponent in the eye. His crooked smile did not alter. Then his eyes grew wide in realization of their course, but his jet pack couldn't counter the built up momentum. The avian was putting out incredible thrust, and Glick's suit burned propellant beyond safety margins.

  The timer read 15 seconds. Their course snaked as the legionnaire tried to change it. But she was ready and countered each maneuver, getting them back on course with minimal deviation. All the while the avian pushed forward until it fell away, fuel exhausted. Nothing was going to stop impact now.

  For the first time, the sick smile on her opponent's face vanished. Then his back slammed into the falling hulk of First Cruiser bow. The combatants pancaked together at impact. The grav weaves in their suits prevented concussion.

  The inertia tore their arms forward. The legionnaire's knife in her side wrenched forward, cutting a gash in her flesh and suit. His blocking arm slammed back into the cruiser, allowing Glick's knife to jar forward, penetrating up to the hilt. She pulled the knife down to make a slit in his suit's outer shell then forced it through the new opening, piercing his heart.

  The legionnaire gawked at her in total disbelief, which turned to scorn. He spat blood at her, mottling his panes. Then his eyes rolled back.

  "I got him, Clutch."

  She pushed the dead legionnaire away and sheathed the monomer knife just as the counter reached zero. Jetting off the First Cruiser, she scooped up the drifting avian. Her side burned, but the suit had resealed.

  "Any sign of Jordahk?"

  "None," her AI answered. "A shuttle at this location is disgorging more legionnaires."

  Her AI highlighted a white dot near the flashing egress. Suits would be everywhere soon. Around her, the space battle was utter chaos. She had to risk a transmission.

  "Jordahk."

  Nothing.

  "Jordahk."

  "A number of Legion suits have altered vectors toward us," her AI said. New courses showed red on her panes. Directly, she received line of sight transmission protocols, and a green circle presented on her display.

  "Jordahk's injured and unconscious," Max said. "The helmet field's fading. Wixom's angling what's left so you can find us. Hurry. Jordahk's suit is dead."

  Emotions warred within Glick. Relief, anger, sadness. It was a jumble, and she was exhausted. Changing course, she rocketed to rendezvous. When she closed, Jordahk was tumbling in a manner no one conscious would allow.

  A half-dozen Legion suits saw her blip vanish. She slipped into the field and scooped up Jordahk with both arms.

  "Hope you're satisfied!" She altered their course out of the fire zone. "Damn Sojourner..."

  Bluepebbles rolled across Glick's cheeks trying to keep up.

  Disbelief. Chaos and disbelief.

  Ten seconds. In that short span the greatest triumph of Field Commander Pheron Xammetrix's career turned to dust, worse than dust. It was the greatest disaster since the Draconem Battle at Numen. No, it was worse than that. At Numen they had lost many ships, but not the egress. The Perigeum had never lost an egress. Even the half failure at Raetia only resulted in the disassembly and withdrawal of this one.

  Playbacks showed the Earth egress breaking apart, and the one Pheron was charged to protect wasn't looking so good. His tactical prospects were unappealing.

  The bridge churned in chaos befitting the space a
round them. How could he salvage this situation? What was left to salvage? The tactical display was a crazy tangle of lines. It called him back to the moment.

  "Leave that frigate if you have to!" he shouted into the command net. "Alpha and gamma pull back, box formation here!" He moved his hand frantically through the tactical spaghetti, rearranging deployments. "Let the Archiver squadron form this corner."

  "The enemy is changing formation to rotating claw," the command AI said.

  "They're attacking?"

  His command cruiser vibrated. Any experienced spacer knew that vibration. The neck snapping jolt of incoming fire was deadened by grav weaves, but not the sickening rumble. The status schematic of his ship flashed with new red. Where was the extra firepower coming from? The four javelins.

  Yet somehow the situation grew even worse. The aegis refused to accept his deployment orders. The fleet was caught amidst a transfer of command.

  "I need that information now, Aetaire."

  His harried second talked behind sound buffers and jumbled VADs. "The Prime Orator was not in the bow."

  Pheron argued for another 15 seconds with the commander of the aegis. Finally, he said, "The egress is finished. Fall into formation and cover my command cruiser or I'll fire on you myself."

  It might be better if he died, but he wasn't one to take the easy way out. He still had firepower enough for an ordered retreat, but certainly not enough to take on the Vallum Corps. It was over. He ordered the most direct course out of the gravity well.

  "We're pulling out. Beta squadron form up on the aegis, diamond formation." He played his remaining cards to maximum effect. "Guard the flank on the turn."

  He didn't bother with the Archiver squadron. Either they would fall in or they wouldn't. The Archiver combat transport dipped into atmosphere to intercept a rising owl. The Archiver frigates formed up on it, and they blasted their own escape vector.

  "Thanks for the help."

  "Field commander, we still have a dozen centuria on the surface," Aetaire said. His face retained little color. "The Legate will have our heads if we abandon them."

  "We need to live to hand him our heads. I'm trying to save this force." The ship rumbled again, and a tremor went through the grav weaves. "Damn those javelins!"

  The field commander exchanged some choice words with the aegis captain. Then he broadcast on fleetnet. "Halt boat retrieval. Discontinuing the beat. At will defensive fire. Target the egress as she bears."

  "Field commander!" Aetaire's voice went up an octave.

  "It's lost, Aetaire. Do you want them to have it? But don't be deluded, it'll take more than passing fire to destroy that behemoth."

  As the formation pulled out, Pheron sat back. His dark complexion was now ashen. Even if they escaped, his life was finished.

  UNKNOWN ASTRONOMICAL PHENOMENON INTERRUPTS EGRESS NETWORK EXPANSION

  Earth, Six Sisters Province

  (Ithaca Parchment,

  Confederated Comm staff writer. 067/2614)

  Despite the controlled demolition of Earth's egress, authorities assure us the network remains safe and secure. The sync with distant Asterfraeo world Adams Rush would have been the longest ever attempted. Though the specifics are unclear, scientists believe the circumstances leading to the unfortunate accident were specific to this transit attempt. The Jupiter egress, being moved and reassembled, should soon be online in Earth orbit.

  The First Cruiser lies at Umbria Magnus staryards where its refit is ongoing. A christening is expected before year's end. The Prime Orator himself has taken a particular interest in the reconstruction of his Flagship. When completed, the new First Cruiser will be the most powerful and modern ship in the Starmada.

  In the well of the Governors' Chamber, the Prime Orator remained undeterred. "We regret this attempt to bridge the gap between Perigeum and Asterfraeo didn't bear fruit. We can and will overcome any anomaly, any difference. Progress may be slowed, but it's never halted. Rest assured, we shall try again."

  Indeterminate time passed in snippets of awareness. Moments filled with uncannily real half-dreams, space battles, the egress, and resonating waves of power.

  Sometimes Jordahk felt nearly conscious, hearing familiar voices as if through shallow water.

  "—need to keep him under while replacement tissue finishes growing," Kord said. "The doctors are shocked. He's strong."

  "You know it is more than that," Aristahl said.

  Sometimes, Jordahk heard unfamiliar voices.

  "Why haven't you put in new optics?"

  "The family decided—that is certain, uh, just look for yourself."

  "Oh. I see. You should record this for study."

  Later, Jordahk's ears popped. He opened his jaw, and it cracked with disuse, real physical sensations. He was lying down, it was dark, and he was conscious.

  "Welcome back," Max said. His gruff and gravelly voice was comforting. "Are you all there?"

  Jordahk knew who he was. His mind felt fatigued, but he remembered the events that brought him here, wherever here was.

  "Diiiaa—" Long unused vocal cords weren't cooperating. Jordahk inhaled a deep, slow breath and tried sub-whispering. "Diiidn't I aaask you that not too loong ago?"

  "Yep. Sounds like you're all there."

  "It's daark. Iss it night?"

  "It is," Max said. "A notification was supposed to be transmitted when you came to full consciousness. I'm blocking it for a couple of minutes so you can get your bearings."

  "Thaanks, Max. Why the total darkness?"

  "You've got eye cups on for protection. But I don't think it's your eyes that are being protected. Anyway, it was Aristahl's idea."

  Jordahk took a moment to assess himself physically. He wasn't ready to move yet, but he sensed all his parts were there. He noted silent activity from Wixom.

  "What's going on? Where's everybody?"

  "I've let the notification go through. We'll soon have company and you'll get your answers."

  Max was holding back until family arrived.

  "Listen to this news snippet from Ascetic Sentinel," the AI said, "I think you'll find it entertaining."

  Jordahk had only become interested in news recently. Sentinel was probably the fairest local service.

  "Adams Rush politics, historically subdued, have become red hot. The newly elected Assembly will start an official term next week. Crowds are actually expected for the swearing-in. While many critical measures are on the docket, a lighter order is expected early. Decorations for the recent engagement will be disseminated, including a number for civilians. The Noble Edge will be awarded to Orbital officer Durn Stobahn. 'There is a time in every man's life where he has to step up to duty's call. It was an honor to play a role in our victory.'"

  "Stobahn?" Jordahk croaked.

  "Thought you'd get a kick out of that."

  Someone entered the room and clasped Jordahk's forearm.

  "Well done, son."

  Jordahk squeezed back hard. His father's strength was steadying.

  "Dard! I thought I heard you in my sleep. Mother?"

  "Not here, but well. Had to have some work done. She'll comm in a couple minutes."

  "What about the egress? And the Navy?"

  "Slow down. We'll fill you in. A doctor's coming to take off the eye cups. Your eyes are whole enough for rets."

  Jordahk didn't understand the connection, but other things he needed to know pressed. "Did Pops make the party? Is he okay?"

  "He busted in-system with a squadron of javelins, from Gr'jot of all places. Apparently you've had quite a journey. It helped tip the scales against the P-stars."

  "And Pops?"

  Kord hesitated then continued. "He spent a day with Ferric Marculus. The two warhorses caught up and talked old times. The Iron Commander passed in his sleep that night. They're going to award him the Platinum Cluster posthumously."

  Jordahk's shoulders slumped. "They never would've gone for our crazy plan if he didn't back us."
<
br />   "Yes, a final, fitting tribute." Kord paused. "As for my father, the straight shot is he didn't look good, and left soon after for points unknown. I hope he went to wherever he goes to rejuvenate."

  Jordahk agreed fervently. Apparently, Aristahl had gone to great lengths to engineer a legacy, if the information from the Ohrias data-construct was true. His grandfather deserved to see it through, wherever it led. And his wisdom was needed for an uncertain future. Alb-Sone, still out there in forgotten space, was no doubt counting on him. Perhaps, even the girl, whose restoration was their mission.

  "What about the Monte Crest?" Jordahk paused, "And the woman who helped me."

  "Yeah. Saved your butt out there. Brought you in." Kord softened his tone, "She left you a message."

  Jordahk recognized where this was going. Like every other challenge set before him lately, he was determined to push through as best as able. "Play it, Max."

  Max produced a VAD, though Jordahk couldn't see it. Nor could he see the floating timestamp. Max indicated it was two weeks old.

  "They say you're out of immediate danger," Glick said somberly. "I'm glad—and I know my brother would be, too."

  Jordahk imagined Glick's pleasing tomboy features, worn and tired as they sounded.

  "Once he found out who, or what, you were, he would have gone with you to the ends of the Ajurian Realm." Glick paused. "Sojourners."

  She must have shaken her head in scorn when she said it, or so Jordahk envisioned.

  "You call with your high ideals, and for some reason people follow. And see where that gets them?" She paused again to reset. "Look, Jordahk, I need time to think. Your grandfather performed Captain Luck's long sought-after ravelen. He retired and sold me his shares of the Monte Crest. That combined with my brother's... well, I've got a ship to run now. I think it's best if you and I—just let things go." She sounded distant. "Until the next orbit."

  The VAD faded out of existence.

  Jordahk allowed himself a few seconds to mourn that which would never be. What could it have been? Things were changing. He was changing... into something. He batted away a past future under the inky shroud of the eye cups. Only the darkness was more gray than black. He sensed, knew, his father had moved across the room to give him privacy.