StarFlight: The Prism Baronies (Beyond the Outer Rim Book 2)

by Reiter

  “Not one that I’ve given it,” Teela answered, looking at the wand and feeling that she had missed the mark as far as gaining the Captain’s approval.

  “Guys, you gotta start with the basics,” Jocasta said as she approached the two remaining wands. “Excuse me, wands, should you have the ability… are either of you inclined to share a few words with me?”

  “What words in particular would you care to share, milady?” one of the wands replied to the surprise of the three students. Jocasta moved to stand in front of it and looked on the design of the wand. It appeared to be of normal wood with engraving around the handle. It was the most plain of the three wands.

  “You can talk?!” Amosse barked. “You can fucking talk?! Why haven’t you said anything before?!”

  “You were not speaking to me,” the wand replied in a slightly disgusted tone. Amosse rushed toward the case, muttering something no one could understand, though his tone was quite clear. He meant to do major harm to the artifact.

  “Ease up there, Junior,” Jocasta said, lifting her arm across his chest. The young man, however, was not to be undone so easily and smacked her arm away. Bantar called out Amosse’s name, moving to grab his fellow researcher. Teela gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. Amosse got in one good stride before Jocasta’s gun smacked against the side of his head. Her weapon was re-holstered before Amosse could fall to the floor, though said fall came without any hindrance whatsoever.

  “You have to forgive him,” Jocasta said to the wand. “He’s young and something of a hothead.”

  “It would seem that you have managed to cool him for the moment,” the wand replied.

  “I’m JoJo Starblazer.”

  “I am the wand of the SorceresS Qualandra. The name that was first given to me was Syntior. But you are the master of this ship, and therefore my master as well. What name would you care to give me?”

  “Do not answer that question, Captain!” Dungias shouted. “Not here, not now. It is a trap.”

  “Seriously?” Jocasta said, looking at her First Mate. She quickly turned and smiled at the wand. “Oh, you are a tricky one!”

  “I do not know how the blue-skinned brute knew of my ensnarement, but he has saved your life this day, woman!”

  “That’s what he does, toothpick,” Jocasta shot back before taking a step back from the wand and turning to face Dungias. “Any idea on what we should do with it, Z?”

  “We should finish this conversation,” Dungias said, holstering Alpha as the wand came up from its resting place. “Just not here.”

  “Report,” Satithe announced. “The three boarders have been restrained. Shall I place them aboard the lander?”

  “Stick them in a gravity pod and flush them out into space.” Jocasta replied.

  “Captain, the gravity pod will not survive both the distance we are now from NayFall and the process of reentry.”

  “Does that sound like my problem, Sati?” Jocasta returned as she walked out of the chamber. “You have your orders.”

  “Administer a time-release stimulant to all three before launch, Satithe,” Dungias added.

  “I do not know how the blue-skinned brute knew of my intentions,” Jocasta said, emulating the voice of the wand. “… but he has saved two worthless lives and an adorable little Delman.”

  “A Delman you adore that you would have killed?” Dungias inquired.

  “Never let it be said one shouldn’t be careful as to whom they call friend, Z,” Jocasta replied. “There are times when hanging around classless people can get you killed!”

  “So it would seem.”

  “And right about now, I’ve got a bar to maintain,” Jocasta said softly, clenching her fist. “The one that Cutter set. You do what you have to and meet me in my Ready Room.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Dungias watched as Jocasta continued to walk away from him. There was no doubt in her stride, and soon there would be only the regret of losing one she trusted. The time of mourning was coming to a close for Jocasta. She had meant every word she had said at the wake… and Annsura, dear Annsura, was still her Cutter – seeing to the crew that was Jocasta’s ambitions.

  “How very fitting then,” Dungias muttered as he departed for his laboratory.

  Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.

  Martin Luther

  (Rims Time: XII-4203.07)

  “This was my idea, wasn’t it?” Olkin thought as he folded the blouse. “Me and my big mouth. Closure is the last thing this feels like!” Memories of Annsura stabbed at his mind. With them came the reminder that he would never hold her again, never hear her again, never be touched by her again.

  “Cupid,” Llaz said softly. “You about done with that shirt?”

  “What?” Olkin said, coming out of his deep thoughts. “Yeah, I’m done. And please, don’t ask me again if I want to keep it.”

  “Nah, fifth time was the charm,” Llaz replied with a soft chuckle. “But we’re almost done here.”

  “She didn’t really have that much,” Olkin said as he looked down on what passed for her nightstand. “No time for accumulation. None of us have had that kind of time on board this thing.”

  “Hey, easy with the tone and word choice,” Llaz warned. “This thing happens to be our home.”

  “Our home? This thing is a death-trap!”

  Llaz moved fast. His speed surprised both men as he dropped the canvas bag intended to hold all of Annsura’s clothing and spun to put his hand to Olkin’s chest, pushing the larger young man into the wall.

  “You check yourself, Olkin!” Llaz snapped, hissing at just above a whisper. “Now, I get it. You’re jacked up because she’s gone. You want to act like you’re alone on that point, go ahead; you’ve never been one overwhelmed with intellectual ability.

  “But at the very least, you could take a moment, step outside what passes for a brain and realize that you just contradicted yourself!” Llaz said, pushing off from Olkin. “We haven’t had the time to accumulate much, but you two managed to accumulate each other! So make up your damn mind, Olkin, either we haven’t had enough time, or realize that a second is all you need. You might have missed it, but I’ve lived a lifetime as a member of this crew.

  “And let me put one more log on that fire for you… did you ever get around to asking her what the Desert Witch had to say? No? Well I did.”

  “No you didn’t,” Olkin argued. “You only asked me before JoJo left for NayFall.”

  “I asked everyone!” Llaz shouted. “Well, everyone except JoJo and Z,” he admitted. “But I put it to each one of us because that was what I was told to do… by the same Witch!”

  “You said you weren’t going to ask anyone else,” Olkin argued.

  “She didn’t say ‘now don’t lie as you’re asking, Llaz’!” the new Cutter shot back. “But I wasn’t going to be the one who started everybody to asking everyone else! So, yes, I lied about it.”

  “What was she told?” Olkin asked as tears welled up in his eyes. “Please, Llaz.”

  “I’m not thinking of whether or not I should tell you,” Llaz answered. “… I’m trying to figure it all out. Annsura told me that the Witch said there would be a blinding flash of light, a fire in the sky that would consume her… but that she would be with the Captain longer than any of us.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense!” Olkin argued.

  “Says the man who spent several days in stasis as he rode along in a dimensional pocket, chasing after a blue skinned, super-intellectual Adonis! Brother, where does the sense marker start around here? Because I gave up on that point a while back,” Llaz admitted. “Now can we finish this up, please?” Olkin had no words, but he nodded to the affirmative. “Good. I’ll bag up the clothes, you check under the bed.”

  Llaz sighed as he picked up the bag and started stuffing the clothing into them. He had asked Satithe if they should be saved for anyone around Annsura’s size. It was then h
e received a lesson on how efficient the Fabrications Lab was. He had half a mind to turn his clothes in as well and have some new outfits made up, quietly signifying his change of position.

  “What are these?” Olkin asked as he took a large box out from under the bed. A small black box laid atop of it. Olkin handed Llaz the small box as he continued to examine the larger. Opening the small box, Llaz found two vials of a purple liquid. They were unmarked and unused. “Looks like some sort of package. It’s addressed to Ann, but she never opened it.”

  “No time like the present,” Llaz said as he returned to bagging the clothes.

  Olkin looked at the package and came to the very quick resolution to open it. He took hold of the opening tab and pulled it across the top of the box, separating the seal. Reaching inside, he took hold of something soft and cool. Bringing his hand from the box, Olkin held onto folded ochre-colored silk.

  “It’s a flag,” Olkin said as he allowed the fabric to open up. In the middle of the triangular piece of fabric was a symbol. Two curved single edged blades, one on either side of a doubled-edged sword and circle. “… I think. No, wait, I remember seeing this.” Olkin stood there for a moment, trying to recall the instance.

  “It is called the Khanda,” Dungias said as he walked into the room. “It is the symbol of the Sikhs of Old Earth. Annsura’s family are Sikhs and they live in the Terran Triangle. I ordered the flag for her while we were en route to Black Gate.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Llaz said, looking at the flag. “Too bad she never saw it.”

  “Llaz!” Olkin snapped with eyes that conveyed there was no reason for the First Mate of the ship to know that his touching gesture had gone unacknowledged.

  “Be at ease, Olkin,” Dungias said in a calming voice. “The scent of the newly torn seal told me what I needed to know before I entered the room.”

  “I guess there are times when you can be too aware,” Olkin offered.

  “There are, but this is not one of them,” Dungias commented. “Annsura and I shared much more than the sentimentality of a symbol that she never consciously knew but never failed to demonstrate.”

  “What?” Llaz asked. “Can you human that down?”

  “The sword in the center is also called the Khanda and it is a metaphor for pure knowledge, the sort that cleaves away uncertainty and falsehood, leaving one with only the truth. The circle, called the Chakar, symbolizes the perfection and eternal standing of God.”

  “And the blades on the sides?” Olkin quickly asked.

  “Those are Kirpans,” Dungias advised. “The records of Old Earth are not as clear as to what they are meant to symbolize, but one of the most popular beliefs is that they are meant to stand for the aspirations for each Sikh. One is for metaphysical, or spiritual goals, and the other is the testament that each Sikh must deliver to society.”

  “A clean and noble spirit,” Llaz whispered. “Inward and outward.”

  “That is the perspective I have come to understand, yes,” Dungias agreed.

  “You nailed it then, Z,” Llaz stated. “She was definitely all of those things.”

  Olkin looked at the flag as a tear ran down the side of his face. He nodded once and quickly folded the flag. “She would want you to–”

  “Put it in the bag with the other things,” Dungias directed, placing his hand on top of Olkin’s. “But unless you have some argument or disagreement, I shall see to it that your arrowheads are inscribed with the symbol.”

  “Just the blast arrows, Z,” Olkin said as he handed the flag to Llaz. Taking the flag and placing it in the bag, Llaz looked down and then took off the belt holding the Cutter knife. He handed it to Dungias without saying anything.

  “I shall have it back to you by dinner,” Dungias stated as he looked around the room once more. “Carry on, gentlemen.” Dungias turned and moved out of the room, tucking the belt into one of his holding pockets. He would be stopping by the Ready Room before the Fabrications Lab. Jocasta had indeed displayed a surprising demeanor and strength at the wake, but Dungias saw no need to press or further test that resolve… especially with what he had to tell her!

  “I’m half tempted to say, ‘First Mate, anti-gravity thyself’,” Jocasta said as Dungias entered the room. Already taking part of the drink, Jocasta poured a glass of rum for her First Mate. “Do take note that I am not asking if you would like some.”

  Dungias stepped forward and took the glass meant for him. “I did notice, Captain. As usual, your efforts at being subtle are exercises in denial.”

  “Damn straight,” she replied. “Drink up!” Both of them took the contents of their glasses and swallowed them in one gulp. Jocasta smacked her glass down on her desk while Dungias gently put his down as he swallowed. “Whoo! I keep forgetting we came into some money. This is the good stuff!” Dungias would tell her later that while he had spent money on many of the foods and drinks humans enjoyed, she was still drinking his concocted replication of rum which was stronger than the norm.

  “Shall I begin?” he asked.

  “Fire away.”

  “We do have the MannA Keys, and we can be very much assured that Vyllynthe and those like him will be making more attempts at possessing them.”

  “So the books are the keys?” Jocasta asked.

  “No, Captain. In this, the word ‘key’ is figurative as the locks they are meant to open are the boundaries of the manipulations of MannA. The MannA Keys are actually short staffs. In this case, they are the poles that hold the tomes.”

  “And?”

  “And while the tomes are indeed of great value, they are actually the operating manuals for the Keys,” Dungias continued. “The Olasson have been trying to reassemble the collection since the Terran Triangle was formed, as that was the last time they were in one place, working in conjunction with one another… as far as Vyllynthe knows.”

  “You don’t say?” Jocasta asked as she poured herself another drink. The Terran Triangle had been created to give the Humans from Old Earth a place to settle. According to legend, so long as one Human being remained on the surface of Vastion – as well as its moons which were named Hope and Glory – the MajiK sustaining the planet and protecting the Triangle would also remain. Many had tried to disprove the existence of the incantation, including the earliest Humans who had at that time still had doubts about the existence of MajiK despite being saved by the Olasson, people the Terrans had at one time called Elves when they had lived on Earth together. Jocasta swallowed another healthy amount of the libation. “So, what you’re sayin’ is that I’ve got the Terran Triangle makers in my hold?”

  “So it would seem,” Dungias replied.

  “Yeah, there’s no way we have enough rum on board for this one,” Jocasta concluded.

  “There is, however, a readily available and very simple solution to the matter,” Dungias offered.

  “Simple to whom, blue-boy?”

  “I would think to you, Captain, it would be incredibly simple.”

  “Must be the rum,” Jocasta shook her head. “Lead me through this one.”

  “We have valuables that are sought by nearly every empowered entity we can think of,” Dungias recapped and Jocasta nodded. She was still frowning, however, as the solution had yet to present itself to her mind. “Captain, what are we, and what do those particular persons do with their treasure?”

  Jocasta’s eyes blinked only once before it struck her. “Ohmygosh, we bury it! We bury it!!!

  “Well, not bury, per se,” Jocasta said as she collected herself. “… but we hide it in a location that only we know about.” She thought for a moment and a location struck her, but she quickly dismissed it. “Hmmm… I trust, oh, reliable blue stone of wisdom, that you have a place in mind.”

  “As do you, my good Captain. Your training facility.” Jocasta leaned back in her chair and gave a very devilish smirk as she looked at Dungias. “And yes, that would mean I am ready to tell you how to achieve its location.”

 
; “Does Satithe know?”

  “Yes she does.”

  “Then don’t bother telling me,” Jocasta saved, waving Dungias’ offer off. “In the event I lose both you and her, it’s pretty much a wrap for me anyway.

  “Speaking of losing her, is she on like a diagnostic from hell, or is it just me?”

  “I would not know, Captain,” Dungias replied. “She has yet to find reason to initiate conversation with me directly. She is, of course, maintaining ship functions and her code is stable.”

  “We’ll go over later how you need to re-examine your word-choice paradigm,” Jocasta said softly. “But I guess she’s in Cutter-wake mode like a lot of the crew, eh?”

  “I had not considered that as a possibility,” Dungias said as he reviewed the facts and the timeline. The significance of her not speaking to him increased exponentially. It had been a fact of living and loving that had caused Kiaplyx to lose focus and become self-destructive.

  “And how long have you been out of the infirmary?” Jocasta asked.

  “Going on four hours now, Captain.”

  “And you’re still not up to snuff,” Jocasta weighed. “I can tell by the way you’re sitting in the chair.

  “Satithe, are you on line?”

  “Systems are functional, Captain.”

  Jocasta smirked and shook her head. “I can remember a time when a yes-no question was answered with a yes or a no. Fine, that pretty much solves it for me. Z, you can take your scout ship. Pick at least two of the crew, anybody with the exception of Llaz… one of the med-techs, and at least two of your precious researchers. Take them, as much of Satithe as you need to address her issues, and the booty… go and hide it for me.”

  “Captain, I–”

  “While you’re away, I will handle some personal business waiting for me in the Pearl Barony,” Jocasta said, pouring herself another glass of rum. She placed the crystal stopper in the decanter and looked at Dungias. “That is all, First Mate. Unless, that is, you have something to add?”

  With the emphasis of her voice on ‘add’, Dungias already knew his range of response had been limited. It was Jocasta’s way of giving orders without giving orders. For a moment, Dungias wondered if she would ever pistol-whip or shoot him in order to press a point.