OF CRIMSON INDIGO: TALES OF THE MASTER-BUILDERS

by Grant Fausey

  Power made a good Captain and for nearly five years, she drew her strength from the experience of her forefathers. The commanders who preceded her on the Destiny's bridge were long on force and elegance; something she had it in abundance. Now, all her training was about to come to the surface. Anusa walked away and Tiana continued. "Breaking orbit, Mr. Stacy. Give us a wide berth once we have maneuvering room; we'll be going directly to light-speed."

  "Aye, Captain. Understood."

  "Set course for the Nexus, Mr. Stacy."

  "Course laid in, Captain."

  "Thank you, Mr. Stacy," she said softly, turning from the Senator. "Oceanna control! This is Steppon on the Destiny. We'll be accelerating from breakpoint."

  "Understood Destiny," echoed the Admiral's voice over the intercom. "Have a good flight."

  "Maneuvering thrusters," commanded Tiana as the starship began to move slowly, turning its great hulk toward the depths of space.

  "Thrusters. Aye," answered the deck officer. The main engines fired clouding the rear of the vessel in a blur of blue as brilliant as a giant star, which accelerated the vessel to light-speed and beyond.

  Senator Creed watched Oceanna vanish into the tapestry of stars then turned back to join Steppon and her officers. They each took a seat around the large oval projection table encircling the center of the bridge. Admiral Anusa entered the chamber from above, descending a lengthy staircase to a landing midway above the bridge. He rested his fist on the podium and began to discuss new information, scrolling a diplomatic paper up in his hand, so he could hold it tightly in the grip of his fist.

  "Gentlemen," he said holding the paper in front of him. "If I may have your attention please. I hold here a communiqué from our commanders on Telta Minor. It says simply and I quote: Commander Sixth fleet: From Anusa, Unit SSN 24312, Telta Minor. Alexander Gray and his group have departed the city facility on Telta Minor for destination along the Anion border region. Suggest concentration along the Nexusphere at barrier coordinates OR-567-L.

  Anusa stepped away from the podium. "Gentlemen, and ladies," he said addressing the ship's compliment, "if Alexander Gray has indeed fled the city complex as reported it would seem a more direct order than a response to our presence. I assure you, this Time Step Core does exist. Furthermore, at last report our assessment supports the information––The Industries survived."

  Senator Creed looked around the room. The officers were listening intently. He was the only one not surprised by the Admiral's communication. The thought of rebellion excited him, and here he was at the heart of the rebellion. If only he had the bravery of these men, he might have stood for something other than an Emperor's toy.

  The Admiral walked out from behind the podium, continuing to address the officers more personally. "This substantiates Alexander's maneuver off the planet ... and it wasn't because of our presence … remember that. It was due to other influence."

  "But regardless," yakked Commander Steppon, bringing a second hush over the bridge. "The material presented to us by the troops on Telta Minor is overwhelming. The Time Step Core does exist. It's the only possible home of Mega One. Therefore, we must believe that our attack on the First Representatives star yacht was a failure, and the execution of the plan is now in our hands. The failure was a precisely calculated deception to allow the real Trithen Kellnar to reach the safety of this station at OR-567-L."

  "Agreed, Commander," snapped the Anusa taking back control of his meeting. "And with that in mind––if Kellnar does exist, which it's most likely he does, our plan has failed. I assure you, it's imperative for our fleets to reach this barrier station before Alexander or his people can send Kellnar through the threshold of the Netherlands Nexus to another time."

  Anusa paused, turning to his aide. "Get me Relnar on the Omar, priority one," he said to the deck officer.

  ––– 29 –––

  RELNAR

  Captain Relnar stood listening to a holographic projection of Anusa, his mind a blank at the tone of the Admiral's voice. It was like a Saturday morning matinee, a double feature at a first run movie house on the "B" flick circuit. The Admiral was coming through loud and clear all right, but any meaning to his words was obscured in a mass of do's and don'ts. Any agreement he made would be subject to censorship by Admiral Titann, and that wasn't something he was looking forward to. "Therefore, Captain Relnar," vibrated the image. "I request that the Omar join the Destiny at the rendezvous point OR-567-L. Combat mode may be necessary."

  "Understood, Admiral," answered Relnar, turning command over to Arrat who hovered just above the floor next to Rena. The image of Admiral Unusa faded and Relnar approached the cat-woman.

  "I'm going to have to push the engines in order to make the rendezvous, Captain," announced the ships second in command.

  "I understand, Arrat, said Relnar drawing in his long chin, while stroking it with his enormous fingers. "Do whatever is necessary to get us there on time."

  Arrat moved off slowly at first then with a graceful speed. "I'm sorry, m'lady," whimpered Relnar to Rena, speaking softly to the cat woman. "The search for Titann must wait a while longer."

  "No, Captain," she said strongly. "I'm afraid Titann is quite dead. I believe his death was intentional––a sacrifice for what he believed in."

  "We're ready to break orbit, Captain.” Arrat floated in close, again. “Rendezvous with the departure ring station Corona in just under six hour."

  "Very well, Arrat. Break orbit." The starship Omar pivoted outward into the vast star field that encircled Telta Minor. The planet diminished in size then vanished among the stars as the starship's main engines fired, leaving the planet abruptly.

  ––– 30 –––

  ATLANTIS TOO

  Travis entered the old starship relic and let out a laugh. He'd never been in a Beamrider before. The starship was strange looking to him. "So ... this is home?" he asked Kristic.

  "About as much as either of us have I guess, if I've placed my guess right." Travis lowered his head and curled his lip inward; his little joke was embarrassing. Kristic was drunk, but he knew a good con when he heard one.

  "Yeah," said Kristic with a snort. "She's not much to look at, kid. But she'll get us where were going."

  "And where might that be?"

  "Nowhere, Kid; this old bucket doesn't fly anymore. She crashed into this rig a couple of centuries ago. I cleaned her up and been living here ever sense."

  "Cozy..."

  "Yeah. She has her moments." Travis laughed and looked around the interior shaking his head. The ship was draped in power cables and slung light holders. If Kristic had really been here for a couple hundred years, he hadn't accomplished much with his life.

  "You've been here a couple hundred years?"

  "Hell no kid! Good God ... do I look that old?" Kristic stepped in front of a shattered metal mirror, and took a long look at himself, then said: "Huh!" The old sailor took another drink. "Well," he said saturated. "I guess your entitled to your opinion."

  Shroom climbed up onto the top of a makeshift bed and tugged at it with his feet. "Get the hell off my bed you mangy piece of shit," yelled Kristic throwing a piece of pipe at him. The tube struck the wall and bounced off. Shroom squealed, leaping off the bed.

  Travis pushed aside a few papers, a lot of dust and debris and sat on the edge of a control panel. Kristic moaned. "Well, Kid––" he said rather groggy. "What is it you want to know, again?"

  "The old ways," he answered finally. "I need to know the old ways, Kristic! Can you help me?"

  "You still have your thing?" Travis chuckled holding out his medallion.

  "You mean this?"

  "Yip––that would be the critter," yelped Kristic taking a long look at the medallion, before pouring the remainder of the bottle of ale into his dirty, shallow glass. "You really want to do this, Kid," he asked with an emotionless expression.

  "Don't know," answered Travis, feeling stressed. "I guess so."

  "You have t
o be sure, Travis Creed. Maccon, or whoever he is out there is waiting to jump in and fill your bones. You'll never be the same afterward."

  "I don't think there's a choice."

  "Your right about that," gurgled Kristic. "You have to do what you have to do." The old sailor reached out and took a hold of the medallion, placing it between both of their hands. The medal began to glow, bathing both palms in blue light. "Repeat after me, okay?"

  Travis shook his head with reassuring smile. The medallion pulsated until its light engulfed the cabin in a whirlwind of light and sound. The interior vanished in a blur of swirling streaks allowing the medallion to bridge all the times of his life. The time had come to teach and enlighten; to relearn what he already knew––the ways of the Ronna-Kaa. It was time to remember. "As I live here," said Kristic, "I have lived in other times, in other places. Hear me brothers of the light. Return me to the time of conjunction, when the universe was young, and the light was upon us all. I need to remember." Travis repeated the words, and Kristic continued: "In whatever time I must live; in whatever place I must stand. I will be with you always. It is my destiny."

  The room darkened in transformation, blinding Travis with a white light that engulfed every muscle of his body, every fiber of his bones and being. "I feel the power––" he said, turning to Kristic. "It's flowing through me."

  "Let the eternal light surround me," continued Kristic. "Guide me ... for I am a defender ... a warrior of the light, and a Knight in the cause of the Ronna-Kaa." The medallion's glow expanded, filling the room with its luminance until the radiance covered everything, including both Travis and Kristic. The whirlwind crisscrossed the interior of the beam ship, sending arcs of brilliantly colored lightning racing along both their bodies. A symbiotic suit of pure white armor formed about Travis, adhering to his body embracing him in a transformation that withdrew the warrior within him.

  "Through the eternal light I summon all that I have been––" continued Kristic. "All that I must be. Join with me so that we may become one." Travis repeated the words one after another, filling his own life with the power of his heritage. His body radiated in the blinding light, flaring out into a brilliance that filled the confines of the starship, embracing every corner of the craft, with a golden glow.

  A moment later, Travis and Kristic were together, hurtling away from the planet rig in a speedboat–like racer––a cloud skimmer. "Take it easy, Travis," yelled Kristic. "This old hot-rod isn't what it used to be."

  "Old," laughed Travis. "I hope it's the only thing old around here."

  Kristic held on to his aged, wide–brimmed hat for dear life, keeping it from being swept away by the force of the wind blasting through the cloud skimmer's open cockpit. "Where are we going to find them, neither of us knows who's who, Kristic. It's possible they're not even on this planet. How am I supposed to know my brothers when I don't even know who I am? I don't have any idea of where to look."

  "They'll find you, Travis. Remember––first things first; keep us on course. I've a feeling if you're here, so are they! And so is he."

  "Oh, right––simple logic." Travis laughed, shaking his head again then as he throttled up the engines, the high-speed racer disappeared across the clouds, plowing its way through cottony white streams of mist from under its belly.

  • • •

  The Beamrider Atlantis Two emerged from its time jump and slipped silently into orbit, circling Telta Minor like a great sailing ship. The sun crested the curve of the planet and Treads tracked over the projection of the horizon matching instruments with his visual sightings of the surface. The Beamrider dropped out of the sky, descending to a thousand feet above the surface and closed on the Myatek city mining facility. The Atlantis Two banked sharply, following the curved bath of energy that intersected the sky, like a patchwork of lined drawings. The Beamrider flanked the huge sailing ships on the mist, cutting across the clouds above Kristic and Travis' cloud skimmer. The huge platform loomed on the horizon, climbing a mile high into the sky.

  "Myatek approach control," announced Treads, "this is Beamrider Atlantis Two returning home. Request landing instructions."

  A complex series of tones and computer generated signals echoed within the flight deck; each vibration an important message intended to relay information at lightning speed to the ships counterparts. "Roger," continued the single-eyed, wispy creature with long arms and treads for feet. "Docking port ninety three. Please relay our arrival to the Proteus Mona, mission complete."

  A spray of exhaust cushioned the Beamrider's touchdown, allowing a smooth, uneventful landing. The whine of the engines hummed in a deceleration, quieted to a mere whisper in comparison to the local noise from the rabble of spectators. A pair of sleazy locals watched from the sideline, staring at the bluish-grey hulk with great interest. The finer dressed of the two men, cocked his head and smiled a half smile, looking down at the shorter man. He spoke in an indistinguishable tongue, giving unknown orders to his companion. His colleague nodded then sped off though the crowd. The other man stayed put, watching intently as the ramp lowered on the Atlantis Two. Jerolda Manchi poked his head out the entrance, and sighed. "Awe, a beautiful day; even if I must say so myself. Don't you think, Tee?"

  Before Tee could answer, Jumpstart, in his unique basketball way, rolled down the ramp like a bowling ball bouncing and dribbling all over the floor. He stopped just short of the end of the ramp and opened up to stand on the platform next to Relix.

  "A beautiful day indeed," he said happily. "Even if you do say so yourself."

  Tee looked around. Four large cloud-riggers were moored a few docking facilities over. The sight was magnificent. The huge sailing vessels graced the tales of many a sailor stories of adventure on the high seas of Telta Minor.

  Telta Minor was more than a graveyard for mining operations, the world was a wondrous place filled with life and heritage of a thousand generations. The great sailing vessels that graced her skies were part of the tapestries of life on this world of strong winds and mist lines. Tee knew the stories well, and there was a soft spot in his heart for them.

  "Well––" chuckled Tee, "if that isn't convenient I don't know what is." Relix ran down the ramp and tugged on Tee's arm. "Come on," he said anxiously. "We're in time to see our own departure. We've arrived a couple minutes before we left here!"

  Jerolda Manchi huffed. "If only you would have had some upbringing, instead of such a sheltered life, then maybe––"

  "Traders––"Tee interrupted him. "In the crowd. See them. They’re over there! They undoubtedly have an eye on us."

  "What would they want with us..." asked Relix.

  "We've no monetary value on the open market,” announced Jerolda Manchi. “Besides, we're respectable."

  Tee laughed, said: "Jerolda Manchi, you're such a shit head!"

  "Shit head!"

  Tee slapped his hand over his counterpart's mouth and stepped out into the crowd. "Come on, I don't think their interest is in us, exactly. We've a bigger prize on board than Trods."

  "Trods!" screamed Jerolda Manchi. "Watch who you're calling a Trod, mister."

  "Yeah, right––"

  Four scummy-looking men joined the crowd, driving through the people to the edge of the platform where the observer had stationed himself. The leader, a scruffy-looking individual with soiled clothing and tattered overalls, nodded to the observer and smiled. The observer pointed at the Beamrider subsequently looked at the timepiece in his pocket marking the appropriate digits with an edge button and spoke in an alien tongue sending two of the men off in another direction.

  "Come on, guys," said Tee bluntly. "We're going."

  "Going where? Relix perked up, watching the two men as they circled around to the other side of the Atlantis, but his concern wasn't on the newcomers. He recognized the leader and a lump hardened in his stomach: They where bounty hunters.

  “The port is this way!" Relix pointed out.

  "Never mind. We've a job to do!" />
  "Job!" answered Jerolda Manchi. "You're the one that's malfunctioning."

  Tee cut across the crowd and started running. Jerolda Manchi was right behind him. "Where are you taking us now!" Jerolda Manchi asked his timid counterpart. "Remember the last time––the fun in the sun; the adventure. It was all we could do to lose that Tripodal mover on Earth, remember? If it hadn't been for me we'd still be on that thing's back."

  "Shut up, will you? Don't you see what's going on here?"

  "No!" he shouted. "I can't see a damn thing. I'm too short!"

  "Tough––" snapped Tee. "There are bounty hunters just boarding the Atlantis. And I'll give you one guess what they're after."

  "Jolland," yelled Jerolda Manchi.

  Aboard the Atlantis Two, Callen hit the floor hard, hearing his ribs snap as his eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out.

  "Ouch," yelled Jolland, "you're hurting me!"

  "Shut up," screamed the bounty hunter in her face, "or I'll cut out your tongue just for the fun of it." Jolland went flying across the ramp into the arms of two more of the scruffy-looking pirates. "Take her out of here," snarled the leader, pulling a communications ball from his pocket. "Times up! Deal accepted, Captain Haddard. She's a prize worth the catch."

  A snort echoed over the intercom and the bounty hunter closed the device, returning it to his pocket. "Reena Ga lumineta." Tee watched as the scruffy men pulled Jolland from the ship, dragging her through the crowd. Jerolda Manchi rushed up the ramp, nearly being run over by the bounty hunters. Tee snarled at the dirty man, and helped his counterpart to his feet. "Swamp scum!" Relix’s voice echoed in a high-pitch. “What do we do now?"