Rogue Starship: The Benevolency Universe (Outworld Ranger Book 1)

by David Alastair Hayden

  “I think when your father gave you the amulet he passed the responsibility on to you,” Oona said, “although he may not have known what he was doing. That’s just my best guess though, because your amulet is active even though you haven’t had an awakening yet.”

  “How do you know I haven’t?” Siv asked.

  “Just a sense I have,” Oona replied. “I don’t know how to explain it. Besides, if you had, you would have an extraordinary talent, like Kyralla does.”

  Siv turned to Kyralla. His eyes met hers, and for a moment words escaped him. “You never…” the image of her naked, having just come from the shower flashed in his mind “…you never told me…”

  “Focus, sir. Stay on target.”

  Siv recovered his composure. “You never told me you had a special ability.”

  Kyralla sighed. “If my mind is in the moment, then I can see things a split second before they happen.”

  “You can see the future?” he asked incredulously.

  “Yes, but the farthest into the future I have ever managed was just over a second. It’s not enough to correct mistakes, or make a fortune on the markets. It’s just enough to—”

  Siv was sitting a little over a meter away from her. Without provocation, without telegraphing his intention in any way, he flashed his hand out toward her, intending to tap her on the cheek.

  She caught his hand and, with a devilish smile, shoved it away.

  “Not bad,” Siv said. “Could just be extraordinary reflexes, though, couldn’t it?”

  From the backseat, Oona tossed a bracelet toward the back of Kyralla’s head. Kyralla spun and caught it before it reached her.

  “Okay, I’m officially in lo—” Siv caught himself. “Impressed.”

  “Smooth, sir.”

  Kyralla cocked an eyebrow and stared at him quizzically.

  “Plugged into a ship command circlet, she’d make a hell of a pilot, sir.”

  “So,” Siv said, turning to face Oona again, “do you think my dad was a proper guardian?”

  Oona shrugged. “How did he get the amulet?”

  “From an archaeological expedition.”

  “Any details you’re keeping from me? Cause this would be a good time to come clean.”

  “None on purpose, sir.”

  “Someone like me would’ve had to make him a guardian, though it’s not as if we really understand the process,” Oona said. “If the lore is correct, there were no messiahs prior to the fall of the Benevolence. But we know so little, and most of that is conjecture.”

  “That girl is sooooo much more mature than you were at fourteen, sir.”

  “Well, she’d have to be, wouldn’t she?”

  Kyralla twirled her metal amulet between her fingers. “Oona made mine. She took a small, blank piece of metal and…shaped it…with her mind, every curve and bit of intricate design. I would say it was amazing to watch her do it, but it was actually incredibly boring.”

  Oona nodded. “It required many weeks of meditation.”

  “Seems preposterous to me, sir. I can’t think of any scientific explanation for such a gift.”

  “Maybe there are things we don’t know yet, or have forgotten…or were never told.”

  “So you don’t know anything else about your amulet?” Kyralla asked. She reached a hand out. “May I?”

  Siv hesitated, then nodded. He pulled the amulet from around his neck and handed it to her. He couldn’t ever remember even letting someone else see the amulet, much less touch it. She took it, and he shifted nervously in his seat.

  She ran her fingers across the engraved, white square. “What material is this? I thought it was ceramic at first, but it feels…odd somehow.”

  “Silky has been analyzing it for decades,” Siv replied, “and he has no idea. We’ve decided it’s some sort of advanced ceramic the Ancients used.” He shrugged. “I might would know more if I asked a scientist to study it, but…I rarely let anyone see it. The amulet is my most treasured possession. And you…you are the first person to handle it other than me since…since my dad gave it to me as he died.”

  Kyralla smiled tenderly. “I’m honored you trust me so.”

  Siv blushed and muttered a broken phrase that bordered on “you’re welcome.”

  “May I?” Oona asked eagerly.

  “Of course,” Siv said.

  She took it in her hands, and immediately it glowed a faint red. She squeezed it between her palms and closed her eyes. After several moments, she returned it to him.

  Siv hung it around his neck and sighed with relief. “Did you learn anything?”

  “Not anything that I didn’t already know,” Oona said. “And there’s nothing else you can tell me about it?”

  “All I know is that it’s an Ancient artifact, and there’s no record of another like it ever having been found.”

  “Mysteries all the way down,” Oona said with a sigh.

  The skimmer car pulled into the neighborhood with the safe house where Bishop and Mitsuki were waiting for them.

  “So, do you have a plan?” Kyralla asked.

  “Get everyone to another safe house, have a meal, get some sleep, then come up with a plan to get you off the planet.”

  “In other words, you don’t actually have a plan,” she responded.

  “And you do?” he asked.

  She started to reply, but the words died on her lips.

  “That’s what I thought. You’re tired, you’re hungry, and you’re frustrated.”

  “Scared more like it, sir.”

  “I’m trying not to set her off.”

  “After you get some food and rest, you’ll have a better perspective on this mess,” Siv told her. “Getting off a planet when you’re hunted isn’t easy. You can’t just buy a ticket on a commercial flight, and hopping on as stowaways is dangerous for multiple reasons. You don’t just need a plan. You need the right one, and it needs to be as airtight as possible. That’s where Mitsuki comes in.”

  “And why would she know how to do it?” Kyralla asked.

  “Because she’s done it before,” Siv answered. “She escaped from Saxeti and made her way here.”

  The girls fell into a stunned silence as the car pulled to a stop in front of the apartment where Mitsuki and Bishop were meeting them.

  “She’s a Thousand Worlder?!” Kyralla said in a sudden outburst. “You said we could trust her!”

  “You’re going to judge her by the place where she came from?”

  “We have far more enemies than friends,” Kyralla said. “And that will always be true. So yes, I’m going to prejudge her. That seems more than sensible to me.”

  The apartment door opened. Bishop and Mitsuki rushed out, darted across the sidewalk, and headed toward the car.

  “Why do you trust her?” Oona asked quietly.

  “You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Siv said.

  Bishop hopped into the backseat, and Mitsuki slid in beside him. Siv closed the doors, and Silky hit the accelerator.

  “Why did you run away from Saxeti?” Oona immediately asked Mitsuki innocently.

  “What the hell, Gendin?” Mitsuki responded.

  “In the process of vouching for you I told them you had escaped another world before, and I mentioned which world, and that raised some questions of trust.”

  Mitsuki groaned. She turned to the girl and started to speak, but Oona raised her hands suddenly, with a frown on her face.

  “No, don’t tell me,” Oona said. “I can see it clearly enough in your eyes. I trust you.”

  Kyralla turned to her sister. “Are you sure?”

  Oona nodded. “I have no doubts.”

  “I’m starting to have some,” Mitsuki said irritably.

  “Are you going to grumble the whole time?” Siv asked.

  “If I like,” she answered.

  “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not going to live through all of it.”

  Everyone in the car fell into a depressed silen
ce.

  “Way to lighten the mood, sir.”

  “Just take us to the safe house, Silkster.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Siv Gendin

  The skimmer car pulled into the driveway of a picturesque farmhouse fifteen kilometers northwest of Wasa. Well-maintained herb gardens cradled the stone cottage. The house and gardens sat like a gem in the center of an expansive, somewhat wild, zii fruit orchard. The tree limbs sagged with plump, pink fruits.

  Out of all of Siv’s safe houses, this one was by far his favorite. And not just because it wasn’t a dive apartment in a seedy part of town. He always tried to spend a few weeks here this time of year. You could replicate zii fruit all you wanted, but it just wasn’t quite the same as eating them straight off the tree.

  The back deck of the cottage provided a perfect view of the Western Mountains, from the forested foothills to the dark gray base of the range and the snowcaps on the high peaks. The sun had only just dipped below the ridges, casting the area in a growing shadow.

  Siv took a deep breath, and felt a sense of calm contentment. He loved those mountains and this farmhouse. This would be a good place to die.

  “It’s gorgeous here, Sivvy,” Mitsuki said. “I can’t believe you never brought me out here before.”

  “This is where I go when I want to get away from everything,” Siv replied. “But…I don’t come out here as often as I should. It’s hard to leave the city sometimes.”

  “How do you keep the property up?” Bishop asked.

  After an awkward hello and bow to Oona, the gizmet had lapsed into silence. He seemed completely awestruck in her presence. Siv hadn’t expected Oona to inspire such devotion in Bishop. Hopefully though, he was starting to adjust and come out of his shell. Siv needed Bishop to be an active and vocal part of the team. They were going to need his skills sooner or later, especially once Siv was unable to help them.

  “Keeping this place up is easy,” Siv said. “I have help.”

  “More people we have to trust?” Kyralla said with irritation.

  “Not at all,” Siv replied.

  The car parked in a garage to the side of the cottage. As the door closed behind them, everyone climbed stiffly out of the car and stretched. A bleeping noise sounded, along with the click of awkward legs, and the rattle and grind of old joints.

  Siv’s caretaker cog opened the door leading into the house and greeted Siv with a pleasant buzz and bloop.

  “Seneca, it’s good to see you, old friend.”

  Seneca was basically human in shape, though his limbs were a little long and thin, his body oddly bulbous, his feet broad, and his hands seven-fingered. An eye-band circled all the way around his narrow head. Lights glinted within the eye-band as he constantly glanced around, so much so that you would’ve thought he was designed to be a sentry cog. Yet despite his awkward proportions, he had a refined elegance about him, due to his classic, shiny black-and-white paint job and his manners which were exceedingly precise and perfect, even by the standards of a machine.

  The cog responded with several, polite questioning bloops.

  “Please don’t make me translate, sir.”

  “These are guests of mine, Seneca. They will be staying here with us for…well, several days at least.”

  Bishop darted forward and bounced around the cog, examining it thoroughly. Then he whistled. “Gendin, he’s a beaut. Where on earth did you find him? How could you afford him? Does he—”

  Siv held his hands up. “Slow down! He wasn’t nearly as expensive as you might imagine. Seneca’s core programming and memory banks were corrupted, and his vocalizer was fried. Silky was able to fix the programming, and I didn’t care about fixing the vocalizer. I did have to buy some pricey new memory banks, though.”

  Caretaker, nanny, and entertainment cogs, those that survived the Tekk Plague, had been largely scrapped for parts or repurposed to make up for the sudden shortage of the worker cogs needed for manufacturing, space repairs, and other dangerous or difficult jobs deemed unsuitable for humans. No one needed “luxury” cogs anymore, so they were rare and expensive. Siv, however, missing the days of his youth, had acquired a collection.

  “Bishop, you’re going to love it here. I have thirty broken cogs stored in the basement. Most are in bad shape, but a few are almost functional. I just don’t have the skill to properly fix them.”

  Bishop’s eyes flared wide. “Why didn’t you send me here first?!”

  Siv laughed. “Because the Shadowslip doesn’t know about this place, and I wanted to keep it that way. It isn’t easy to sneak out here. And until now, I’ve tried to keep this house all to myself.”

  They followed Seneca into the main room of the cottage, which was decorated in a cozy, outdoorsy style.

  “Are you sure they don’t know about it?” Kyralla asked.

  “As sure as I can be. They don’t normally keep tabs on me, since the Kompel ensures my cooperation. I tried to runaway once, and it backfired.”

  “You’re about to bring the mood down again, sir.”

  “Thanks, Silkster.”

  Seneca gestured and trilled at them.

  “What’s he saying?” Oona asked.

  “Your chippy can’t translate?” Siv asked.

  They all shook their heads.

  “You forgot, sir. Seneca speaks Tellit, not basic.”

  “Oh, right. Seneca is…a bit abnormal because of changes necessary to fix his core programming, without having to scrap it altogether. He can only speak in a rare language designed on base-thirteen accounting and rhyming slang. It’s…it’s a long story. Suffice to say, he was acquired from the ruins of an old criminal guild’s headquarters on a strange, non-human planet. Silky will send your chippies the translation data you need, though I think you could get used to his gestures quickly. Silky never translates for me anymore. He finds it tedious.”

  “You grew up surrounded by cogs like this, didn’t you?” Oona asked.

  “Cogs of all manner, advanced chippies, c|slates of every type…clean streets and everything in order. I miss nearly all of it, except… Well, it’s strange but I sort of prefer the dirty streets and some of the inefficiencies. As much as I loved the golden age I was born into, I like how this new era is more human and a little messy around the edges.”

  Seneca went to the kitchen to retrieve snacks and start the preparations for dinner. The food replicator could have meals out in short order, but Seneca believed in proper presentation and a certain order to how the food should be served.

  “I’d put in a food request right away,” Siv told them. “Otherwise, you will get what Seneca thinks is best. And like I said, he’s an odd one.”

  The others wandered around the farmhouse, winding their way through the kitchen, living room, and three bedrooms, eventually ending up out on the back porch. Siv quietly left them there and retreated down into the basement.

  He passed by his collection of cogs and other pieces of lost technology. The scents of oil, metal, and electronics filled his nostrils with memories of another place and time. Normally, this brought a wistful, nostalgic smile to his face. Sadly, not this time. With only one of the lights activated, he sat down in a shadowy, far corner and wrapped his arms around his legs.

  The tremors began.

  “I noticed the spike in your vitals ten minutes ago, sir. You’ve done admirably holding it together for so long.”

  Siv nodded physically, or maybe it was the first convulsion hitting him. Waves of pain radiated through his body. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He took deep breaths, as best as he could, and focused his mind on the amulet on his chest.

  “At least before dying I got to be part of something more than the Shadowslip…something important.”

  “Your father would be proud of you, sir.”

  As he began to enter a stupor, Siv thought of his father, of Oona, of the mountains, and the wastelands beyond…

  “Siv, can you hear me? Son, open your mind to me. We mu
st speak. It is urgent!”

  Siv opened his eyes, and there in the basement with him, amidst the coils of wire, boxes of parts, and lineup of broken cogs stood his father—not in the flesh, but a ghostly, shimmering image, faintly blue in color.

  “Dad? How…how is this possible?”

  “I don’t have the time to explain it. Son, you must—”

  “Sivvy?” Mitsuki called. “Are you down here?”

  The ghost of his father disappeared as the others, led by Mitsuki, traipsed down into the basement. The waves of pain had subsided, along with the tremors. The amulet on his chest had begun to cool.

  “Silkster, did you see my dad?”

  “No, sir. I’m sure it must’ve been a withdrawal symptom… Although, I did register a temperature spike in the amulet.”

  “I think my dad’s trying to communicate with me, through the amulet.”

  “Why now, after all these years, sir? All those nights you cried after you…defrosted…when you were so desperate for comfort—why didn’t he come to you then?”

  Siv stood and walked, on shaky legs, toward the others. “Maybe it has something to do with Oona’s awakening?”

  “Perhaps, sir. Your vitals are returning to normal. Based on the severity of the symptoms and the speed of onset, I’m estimating at least two hours before the next wave.”

  The waves would get more intense and more frequent over the next twenty-four hours. Within three days, he’d practically be useless. Within a week, he’d be dead.

  “There you are,” Mitsuki said. “Why were you hiding down—” Mitsuki closed her eyes, wincing. “How bad was it?”

  Kyralla observed him closely, a worried frown on her face. There was no point in lying or trying to brush it aside.

  “Not bad…yet. Just the first wave.”

  Mitsuki sighed. “I told you not to go so long between doses, didn’t I? What was the point?”

  “If I hadn’t built up my stamina, I would’ve already folded by now.”

  The look on Mitsuki’s face made it clear she thought his answer was crap. And maybe it was. The truth was he put as much time as possible between doses because he hated taking the Kompel, hated depending on it, and always wanted to stretch out the inevitable for as long as possible, as if pretending he didn’t have to take it for a week somehow made a difference.