Inherit the Stars

by Tony Peak

  “I can’t even handle what the Juxj Star has shown me. How do you expect me to take on all that you know?” Kivita quelled her sobs and stood straight. She’d thought being a salvager had toughened her, thought Sar breaking her heart had tempered her. The idea of Sar dying for her made her chest tighten, but the scene of her mother’s decapitation churned her stomach and dampened her vision with tears. Kivita resisted the urge to rub her neck.

  Navon placed his hands behind his back. “I asked Jandeel to lead you through the teaching cubicles. Did you like what you saw?”

  “Who wouldn’t? If even a fraction of the worlds in the Cetturo Arm shared this stuff you’ve told me, we’d all be in better shape. But the Inheritors claim you’re terrorists, saboteurs, killers. Dissenters who want to deny us the glory of the Vim and all that.”

  Navon shook his head. “We Thedes are not terrorists. Yes, Sar—whom I admire greatly—advocates armed rebellion, but what we really do is share knowledge. Knowledge enlightens us, sets us free. So many in Inheritor Space still live in superstition and fear. The prophets, despite their foolishness, know that if knowledge spreads, they will lose power. The Sarrhdtuu also know this. However, I think the prophets have the right idea—the Vim might still be out there somewhere. Finding them and sharing what they know will bring peace to the Arm.”

  “Maybe they don’t want us to find them—you ever consider that? Maybe the Cetturo Arm is a prison. Maybe the Vim fought a war with us and drove us here. Or this is some . . . some Cradle.”

  He chuckled, a deep, infectious sound. “Good, you are thinking about the possibilities. You are correct to refer to the Cetturo Arm as a Cradle. We can discuss that later. Now that you know what the Thedes are really striving for, will you—”

  “No,” Kivita said. “I should leave here right now. You say I’ll be followed wherever I go. Well, I don’t want this station and its people to suffer. I’ve seen enough pain inflicted in the search for me and the Juxj Star.” She thought of the little boy in the galley, the other children.

  “You know it will not stop even if you flee,” Navon said in a low voice.

  “Will it mean I’ll have to live here the rest of my life? If we share what we know, I mean.”

  Navon paused. “No. You are your own person. One who I think has both strength and morals. I would not have asked you if I thought you would betray us or waste knowledge.”

  “C’mon, how does one waste knowledge?” Kivita asked, still unsure of her decision.

  “By not using it.”

  They stared at one another for a long moment. Kivita finally bit her lip.

  “Are there more . . . scenes of my mother in these other datacores? In your mind?” Her mouth went dry speaking the word. Mother.

  “Only one as far as I know. Should you choose to go through with this, then you will see it. I also want to focus on the Juxj Star. Your talents are strong, but you must learn to control the pain of data transfer from a datacore to your brain. Whereas a Savant forgets much of the information after taking their hand off a datacore, you haven’t. I have no doubt the pain is worse for you as a result.”

  A few minutes later, they sat cross-legged on the middle grass mat. She’d removed her hat and chaps. The Juxj Star rested on the mat between them.

  “When touching a Vim datacore, your mind should be clear, your breathing calm,” Navon said. “The first data transfers are usually minor ones. Let these flow into your mind; do not resist them. When large chunks of data surface in your thoughts, try to focus on each individual one and absorb it in its entirety. This will be difficult at first. Once you have mastered this, a datacore can reveal most of its secrets over a few hours of study.”

  “And the pain?”

  “That will fade if you control the flow of data. Focus, attune, and absorb. You must learn how to do all three. Let this be your first lesson.”

  Kivita nodded. Together they reached out to the Juxj Star until their fingertips barely touched the smooth, round surface. The red gem glowed from inside. Navon’s eyes widened in surprise.

  She closed her eyes as details on an air recycler entered her thoughts. Improved air scrubbers, a more conservative moisture intake valve, catch pockets for pathogens, and insertion tubes for liquid medication, which could be vaporized into an air supply through the recycler.

  As she followed Navon’s advice, the data didn’t bombard her consciousness this time.

  A system for improved hydraulics on starship lifts came to mind, then coordinates for a tiny world with rich farming soil just eighteen light years outside the Cetturo Arm. An analysis of interstellar asteroids, showing how each could be mined for exotic new bulkheads, stronger hulls.

  Her temples ached. “I see what you mean. Now I can—”

  A bulk of data hit Kivita’s mind. She concentrated, fingers balling into fists. Sweat ran down her cheeks.

  “Focus,” Navon said.

  Her skin crawled with chill bumps. Electric, tingling sensations ran over her scalp. Jaw-popping pain shot into her skull.

  “Attune and absorb,” Navon whispered.

  An old memory of her father surfaced in her mind, telling her to be patient with the manuals as she piloted Terredyn Narbas over Haldon Six. Showing her how to judge short distances with the eye, almost feel the starship in the void, without depending on the navigational computer. His kind, crooked smile urged her on.

  The memory merged with her having piloted Terredyn Narbas over Tejuit by thought alone.

  “Rhyer showed you how to link your brain with your ship’s navigational system?” Navon asked. “Uncanny.”

  The pain in her temples crept into her forehead. Kivita concentrated harder, slowing the data flow in her mind. Different starship designs to hold more cargo and use less energy, farming techniques to revitalize soil with natural bacteria and fertilizer, rather than coarse chemicals or slash-and-burn tactics. Medication to relieve Bellerion bog diseases or Haldon winter flu.

  The Juxj Star offered many such beneficial technologies, but why nothing on weaponry or warfare? It made the dogma of the Vim imprisoning humanity in the Arm for past sins ludicrous. Now she understood why the Inheritors considered the Vim superior beings, even gods; there seemed to be no limit to their scientific marvels. There had to be a reason, beyond mere posterity, why the Vim would have left the datacores behind.

  What did the Vim gain by doing all this when they were gone?

  Instincts told her the far-flung coordinates she’d gleaned, the origins of colony ships, even the Aldaakian homeworld of Khaasis, all resided in other Vim Cradles. The Sarrhdtuu had either destroyed or conquered some of them. What their designs might be for her and the Cetturo Arm chilled Kivita’s skin.

  Navon grunted and shuddered, but Kivita increased her focus. Icy daggers cut into her brain, so cold they burned. Her mouth opened, loosing a silent cry.

  Genetic coding for different human classifications entered her thoughts. Bulked soldiers, reed-thin pilots, fine-boned individuals adapted for low-G. Ones who could adapt to cold and gravity fluctuations: Aldaakians. Bulky individuals with increased metabolic rates and environmental tolerances: Ascali. Kith genes, and their use of hydrogen as food, then Sarrhdtuu code indices to integrate with their ships.

  Navon shivered, and she grabbed his hand before he fell backward. Her other hand still remained on the Juxj Star.

  Her breath caught at a memory of Sar meeting Navon on Bellerion. He looked a little younger: his eyes brighter, his smile easier. Kivita didn’t want to intrude on Navon’s life, but information flowed into her like water through a sieve.

  One image stood out from the Juxj Star, though, and Kivita absorbed it over all others.

  The viewer holding a hazel-eyed baby girl before a seashore fortress—Susuron Palace.

  A frigid hammer blow smashed into her mind. Everything went dark and numb.


  Kivita rolled over on her side, gasping. Sweat drenched her clothes, hair, and face, while chills ran along her body. Her tongue sought moisture in a bone-dry mouth. A humming in her ears matched the cold throb in her temples.

  The Juxj Star remained on the mat, its divulgence still tickling her mind.

  Navon lifted her to her feet, still shaking himself. “You kept absorbing the data from the Juxj Star. I could not endure any more, yet you went on . . .” A few new wrinkles lined his face.

  “I saw her. I saw her holding me. But how? If she was the Savant, then who recorded the data and how?” Kivita asked.

  “Somehow the Savants of old were able to record their experiences, their thoughts, their knowledge in the datacores. How, I do not know.” Navon sat on a couch and massaged his temples. “It also seems Terredyn could send her thoughts to datacores far away, which recorded them. Like that stone one, or the Juxj Star. Like you did within that crystal tower on Vstrunn.”

  “How’d I see your thoughts, then? Those memories of Sar.”

  “As I said, the human brain is the biological version of a datacore, Kivita. What else did you see? The images confused me once I glimpsed the different kinds of humans.”

  Kivita described the Ascali, Kith, Aldaakian, and Sarrhdtuu data. Navon listened with intense focus, not even blinking.

  “I think there’s more, too.” She wiped her forehead. “Don’t think I’ll be trying to get it for a while, though. I feel as if I’ve just finished a high-G training session.”

  Navon rose. “We must eat and rest for a few hours. I would like you to use the Juxj Star again, as well as take on my personal data.” He smiled at her frown. “It is not intruding. I think of it as sharing. I have nothing to hide.”

  Kivita’s cheeks burned as she realized he might have looked into her past. “Well? What’s the verdict on me, then?”

  “I have been honing my mind for years, Kivita Vondir. You took on more data in your first true session of absorption than Savants handle their entire lives. Legends said Queen Terredyn struck fear into the Inheritors with her amazing abilities to absorb and redistribute knowledge. You are her daughter in every way.”

  Kivita said nothing. As the truth sank in, everything she’d ever thought about herself changed. No wonder her father hadn’t taken her along on his salvaging runs. What had he really been up to? And what about her own wanderlust? Maybe she’d been salvaging all along to discover these secrets, without realizing it.

  Navon gently squeezed her shoulder. “The man whom you knew as your father reared a baby princess. I see a ripe queen before me now. Maybe you will become a mature empress—not of worlds and servants, but of wisdom.”

  She faced him. “Where is this ship going? Jandeel said you’d tell me.”

  “As soon as you boarded Luccan’s Wish and we knew you were the one who sent that signal, we agreed it was time to investigate the signals’ coordinates. Our enemies may already have.”

  “How far is it?” Kivita asked in a whisper.

  “Six and a half light years. A little over two for Luccan’s Wish. All aboard enter cryostasis in four month shifts, so you will have plenty of opportunities to hone your Savant skills.”

  She turned from Navon and fought the tremor in her heart. The more she learned about herself, the further Kivita traveled from Sar and the life she’d wanted.

  24

  Harsh light stung Sar’s eyes, and then pseudoadrine splashed into his mouth, invigorating him to a fully awakened state. He raised his hands and coughed. No polyvambraces covered his arms. Sar glanced down. No polycuirass, no polygreaves. Just his gray bodyglove and boots. Both kinetic pistols had been taken.

  The light flared in his vision again, and he moved his head.

  “So this is what the great Sar Redryll has become? Frozen on a derelict trawler that wasn’t even his own ship, floating in an uncharted asteroid field? How pathetic.”

  Recognizing the voice, he moved his head again. The light lessened in intensity. His eyes opened.

  Sar stood in Kivita’s cryopod, which had been placed upright against a wall covered in quartz mosaics. Bright lamps shone from the ceiling, encased in Susuron coral enclosures. The light glittered off the sandstone floor as if he gazed at a night sky filled with stars. Gold-thread drapes hung on either side of a quartz throne in a round chamber.

  Several figures moved before him as his vision focused.

  “Shit,” Sar muttered. In the depths of his heart, he’d known it would come to this.

  Dunaar Thev walked toward him, dressed in a scintillating outer robe, clasping a stone staff. “Not to mention irreverent. Guard, show him what such a foul tongue earns him.”

  A soldier in a red jumpsuit slammed a baton into Sar’s stomach. Sar heaved and doubled over. The soldier struck him again over the head. Though blood blinded Sar’s left eye, he raised his hand in feeble defense as the baton rose again.

  “That is sufficient,” Dunaar said. “Shall we continue? Ah yes, that’s better. Tell me, Sar, how many Thede agents do you think my loyal soldiers have killed in the past year in Inheritor space?”

  Sar gripped the cryopod’s sides and staggered onto the sandstone floor. Two soldiers with batons moved forward, but Dunaar waved them off. Behind the Rector, Shekelor Thal smirked at Sar. The pirate warlord wore different green carapace armor, and three new coils writhed from his left wrist.

  “Not as many as will rise up and take their place.” Gut throbbing, Sar forced down vomit and wiped blood from his eye. “Been expecting this a long time, Dunaar.”

  Dunaar laughed with good humor. “Yes, you should have. All traitors know what their eventual end will be. Like those on Sutara, recently liberated by my soldiers. Two hundred thousand dead. Such a waste.”

  Loss tore at Sar’s heart, and his jaw clenched. He’d trained some of the Thedes on Sutara, smuggled weapons to them, given medicine to their children.

  “You were a renowned pilot and salvager, famed throughout the Cetturo Arm. Who knows what path a man of your talents could have taken, even mastered? I could have placed you in command of this very ship.” Dunaar sighed.

  “What the hell do you want? I was busy.” Sar glared at him.

  Dunaar frowned and motioned a soldier forward.

  The soldier came at Sar with the baton again. Sar waited until the last moment, then ducked and grabbed the soldier’s collar. Using the man’s momentum, Sar flung him to the floor and grabbed the baton.

  Two more soldiers charged him, but Sar whipped the baton across the first man’s jaw. Blood and teeth flew, and the soldier collapsed. The second struck Sar’s left shoulder and elbowed Sar’s right side. Sar rammed his palm into the man’s left temple and knocked him to the floor, baton snapping the man’s neck. Swinging around, Sar lunged at Dunaar.

  Two coils slammed into Sar’s side while another one yanked the baton from his hand. Sar collapsed to the floor, coughing. Shekelor stood over him.

  More soldiers rushed forward, but Dunaar held up a hand.

  “I appreciate this, Sar. Really, I do. I have long wanted you to kneel before the headsman’s block since I discovered your true allegiances. Thanks to your former associate here, of course. But as much as I enjoy watching you suffer, we are wasting time.”

  Dunaar motioned to Shekelor, who dragged Sar to the center of the room, into a round mosaic. It depicted an Inheritor prophet touching a mysterious hand coming from a cloud. Blood dribbled from Sar’s left temple and busted lip onto the prophet’s quartz face.

  “Where is Kivita Vondir? You were on her ship. You were even in her cryopod, Sar. So where could she be? On your ship, Frevyx? Or hidden away somewhere in the Tejuit system? I doubt she is in the asteroid field where Shekelor recovered you.” Dunaar sat on the quartz throne.

  Nothing would leave his lips. These bastards could peel off his skin and he sti
ll wouldn’t tell them.

  Shekelor nudged Sar with his boot. “It is rather rude of you not to answer the Rector, Redryll.”

  Sar locked stares with Dunaar and spat on the mosaic beneath him. Shekelor wrapped a coil around Sar’s throat, but Dunaar grunted.

  “No, he will talk. It is still too early. I doubt you could wrangle her location from him with a simple beating.” Dunaar pressed a button on his throne’s armrest and a four-foot cylinder extended from the ceiling. A light flickered on the tip and shone down on the floor before Sar.

  The hologram of a Sarrhdtuu with two eyes and a dozen coils appeared.

  “This is not Kivita Vondir, Prophet of Meh Sat,” the Sarrhdtuu said in a squishy, mucus-choked voice.

  Dunaar wiped sweat from his brow. “Sar and his Thede allies have tried to trick us, Zhhl. I assure you it won’t work.”

  Sar rubbed his throat after Shekelor removed his coil from around it. “You’ll never find them. Search the cosmos; raze a thousand worlds if you like. You still won’t find them.”

  “You Thedes think you are so clever, with a null beacon on that old ship,” Dunaar said. “You cannot hide from the righteous.”

  Sar’s heart jumped. Only Thedes knew about the special beacon on Luccan’s Wish.

  “Zhhl, we are now en route to find Kivita and the Thedes,” Dunaar said. “Frevyx’s transmitting beacon was more than sufficient to give us the trajectory. Though I was surprised when your friends decided to investigate the signal sent from Vstrunn, Sar.”

  “This is acceptable. Kivita Vondir must be recovered. Sarrhdtuu ships have been deployed, Prophet of Meh Sat.” Zhhl’s hologram flickered over Sar like a god from a dark abyss, then disappeared.