Tethered Worlds: Blue Star Setting

by Gregory Faccone

  Since Vittora had spared its head and the memory clusters stored inside, they had managed to download many encrypted files that Highearn had little success cracking. Since Max was rooted within Wixom, and no one trusted the mysterious mystic AI, no other resources were put toward finding out what Goldy had once known.

  His unencrypted combat library was intact, along with the experiential tactical rubrics built during his long combat tenure. In some ways, experience translated into wisdom for robots. But the details of those encounters, the who's and where's of the fighting, were unavailable.

  "I know you can look into straight mystic," Kord said, "but we don't know enough about this weird Archiver hybrid stuff. I'd rather we learn carefully over time for once and not just plunge in under emergency circumstances."

  They both smiled at the truth of that statement in light of recent history.

  Kord chuckled. "At least we can try. Highearn, make a note to replace that shield controller with a straight scientum model. Hopefully we'll be able to find something remotely compatible."

  Goldy's head whipped to the side.

  "Someone's approaching," Highearn and Max said simultaneously.

  Jordahk felt activity deep within his wrist compy. "I think... I think it's Pops."

  "How the hell does he make these stealthy approaches?" Kord said. "My taps should've picked him up when he arrived in-system."

  They had not seen or heard from Aristahl since the Egress Incident. At that time, he hadn't looked good.

  The distant whine of a flyer interrupted the remote quietude. The previous day's icy snowflakes were gone, along with the cloud canopy. High cirrus clouds were the only marks across Adams Rush's blue-violet sky. The extended winter would soon give way to the long spring.

  A rented flyer swooped expertly into the far end of the clearing and touched down lightly. Kord wasn't surprised to see it was a high-end model. Aristahl was always about quality, and he never seemed to lack the necessary funds. On rare occasions when his father chose something cheap or mundane, that usually signified the object was disposable. Events had a way of bringing that to pass.

  A hatch opened and Aristahl approached, the dust of the landing swirling away from his usual semi-formal attire. Fashion meant nothing to him, but in that spirit of uncaring, he made his own style. White shirt, black pants, and dark gray vest all made of soft looking material. He still wore the smooth black, knee-length coat. The purple accents at its collar and sleeve hems reflected the light of the sun. As usual, he walked like a man about to be inaugurated after election to great office.

  "New acquisition?" Aristahl said by way of greeting. His metering and slight accent were from a bygone age. He looked the owl up and down. "I sense this is more than one of your usual scientum toys."

  Kord and Jordahk watched while their senior touched the newly cleansed hull. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds before looking askance at his son.

  "Really, Kord. Mystic/scientum hybrid? Is this the sort of thing you should be playing with?"

  His hand lingered on the owl. Then he looked about, eyes resting on the malfunctioning shield controller Goldy still held. He stepped up to the machine as if it were a piece of furniture and made to grab the hardware.

  Goldy pulled back. "I'm not authorized to—"

  Aristahl's brows came down, and he touched the combat bot. It jerked, and the shield controller dropped into his waiting hand.

  "All scientum, that one."

  "Please, father, don't break him. It may be just another scientum toy to you, but we're just getting him working the way we want. He's been a big help for business and protection."

  Aristahl was already examining the shield controller. Goldy seemed to return to his senses.

  "Shall I retrieve your equipment, sir?" the bot asked.

  Aristahl stopped only long enough to glance at the insolent machine. Suddenly, a tiny metal bird, no longer than a finger swooped down. It stopped with furious beating of its miniature wings, and hovered directly between Goldy and Aristahl. It had an ochre tinted exterior of various grays, with a band of russet around its neck. Kord was no mystic master, but he knew the bird radiated power in that vein of technology. It crackled with mini arcs, and that was only what was visible.

  "Goldy," Kord exclaimed, "stand down! You will follow all lawful orders from Aristahl."

  The machine rested back in his stance.

  "Thank you, Peri," Aristahl said. "No need to be hasty."

  The little mystic bird flitted around the robot once in triumph and flew away. Jordahk watched the entire thing with eyes that grew progressively wider.

  "Uh, good to see you again, Pops," Jordahk said, a little unsure. "Don't mind Goldy. Social interaction isn't his strong suit. But he's a natural for our teaching gigs. I don't know why we didn't look into getting a bot sooner."

  Aristahl turned toward his grandson, and his expression lightened. He tossed the hardware to Goldy and placed his hand on Jordahk's shoulder.

  The combat bot held up the shield controller. "My maintenance algorithms now show this device working within specifications."

  Aristahl raised an eyebrow at his son, then spoke to Jordahk. "How are you feeling?"

  "All right, I guess. Dard's been putting me through magna-paces. And you know mother. No holding back if she thinks it's in my best interest." Jordahk chuckled.

  Movement at the flyer caught Kord's eye. A cylindrical, roughly humanoid, and rather battered nurse bot got out. It had wheels at its knees and ankles, upon which it lowered and trundled over.

  "Speaking of poor social skills..." Kord announced.

  The bot stood from trundle mode when it arrived. Its chipped, once-white supranamel coating was dull even under bright sun.

  "Junior has greeted me with his usual warmth," Torious said.

  His voice was purposefully tinny, as usual, like some old cineVAD featuring ancient robots.

  "Somehow I doubt I'll ever have enough luck to totally ignore your services, you malfunctioning—"

  "You have bitten off quite a lot," Aristahl interrupted. "I see you have accepted election to another term in the assembly. No doubt you are intensely rooting out corruption that led to the recent incident. You have taken a number of teaching gigs, poured time and resources into this restoration project, are rebuilding the cabin, no doubt with advanced security, and likely have been relentless in your training of Jordahk. Quite a lot for any given day, I should think. But at least you have that fine woman up at the cabin to back you up."

  Kord's brows knitted. "You were listening to us?"

  "Just a little."

  There was no point in getting agitated. Aristahl was who he was, and in his own way, he sought the good of them all. And Vittora was a fine woman, the best. Who knew if Aristahl's own wife, out of the picture some two centuries earlier, had been anything like her. Kord certainly didn't, seeing as he was born from a stored ovum years later. At least Jordahk had experienced motherly compassion.

  Jordahk gestured to the owl. "Do you like it, Pops?"

  "It's adequate, for one of the Archiver's Frankensteins."

  "Frankenstein?" Jordahk asked.

  "It's a tale of an ancient monster," Max said, "put together from the parts of different people."

  Jordahk looked at the owl in a new light. "Eww."

  "But I suspect you will have need of it," Aristahl said. "It is a good addition to your arsenal."

  Kord was taken aback. It wasn't often he received commendation from his father.

  "It'll be a little expensive," Kord said, "but we should be able to make our own orbits without the beam. Of course, they're a little touchy about us flying over the cities. But overall it should save us time and give us a few options if necessary. It may not have the punch of a starfighter," Kord said with emphasis, "but it does carry a whole lot more."

  Jordahk's face took on a quizzical look. "You flew a starfighter, Pops?"

  "That is a story for another time."


  "Well," Kord started, "your grandfather—"

  He made an abrupt stop and tried to suppress a growing expression of disgust. Then his leg began to tremble. He clamped down upon it, trying to be casual. There was no suppressing the growing shaking.

  "Damn it."

  Torious perked up and moved to him, scanning the leg. He made a few assorted thinking sounds. Though the nurse was scientum, a small ceramic mystic box was appended to its head.

  "It is as you expected," the nurse said to Aristahl.

  The elder shook his head and adopted an almost compassionate look.

  "You and I cannot go to the deepest places without risk. You have not been trained for such things."

  Kord clenched his teeth and tried to suppress the trembling. Torious produced a blinking instrument and ran it along the length of his thigh. The spasms lessened but didn't disappear.

  Concern was written all over Jordahk's face. Kord had tried to keep the nagging condition low-key, and he felt a sudden spike of worry for the fate of his son. Not surprisingly, Aristahl picked up on it.

  "He is not like you and I," Aristahl said. "He is like my father."

  "Dard, I'm sorry..." Jordahk said.

  Ernest Jordahk. Somehow he always felt responsible. As the tremble faded, Kord put his forearm up for Jordahk to bump, which he did.

  "You know what your mother would say," Kord said. "You're not responsible for what's beyond your ability to influence. Don't bear the entire Asterfraeo's burdens." He smiled then turned to Aristahl. "Speaking of which, we appropriated a lot of encrypted information in the combat bot's original memory. Highearn's hit a dead-end. This Archiver stuff is tough. How about giving Barrister a crack at it?"

  Kord reached out his hand in the classic manner of an old-fashioned handshake, something his father preferred over the modern forearm bump. They shook, and information was exchanged through secure resonance transmission. He took the occasion to examine Aristahl closely.

  The man's hair seemed a shade closer to uniform gray from its original brown. Externally, that seemed the only price he had paid for the previous year's events. But there was a growing tiredness in his eyes. Kord's baseline was only the last 164 years, but it was enough to trigger compassion, though he knew not how to express it. Who knew what his father had experienced in the century— or centuries—before?

  "A number of things are evident immediately," the officious voice of Barrister said. He was housed in a lustrous platinum gray bracelet, accented with thick veins of mirror rhodium. "Your Archiver opponent was Commodore Inspector Rewe Frixion. A person of some importance in their ranks, though my information is unfortunately scanty."

  Barrister was overly loquacious, occasionally snobbish, and devoid of humor. But it was the most powerful AI Kord knew, with the exception of Wixom and Waxad. And those two legacy creations were exceptions.

  "The Archivers have become very crafty with encryption," the AI continued. His accent was similar to Aristahl's, but it had not softened over the centuries. "Of course I can break this. It will take time, though. Dissemination through their amateurish hybrids limits complication. So they have compensated with turgid lengthiness."

  "Certainly, this would be no challenge for you, Wixom, would it?" Aristahl asked.

  Kord didn't look pleased.

  "Sir," Barrister entreated.

  Jordahk glanced at his wrist apprehensively.

  "I doubt it." Wixom's resonant voice filled the air around them.

  It was strange to hear the dangerous legacy creation. They had become used to it staying in the background, letting Max drive all of the service queries and interactions.

  "We are a little time pressed," Aristahl said. "Why don't you share it with him, Barrister?"

  "Time pressed?" Jordahk asked.

  "Sir, I must insist on no resonance transmission," Barrister said. "I cannot protect you from that creation during direct contact."

  Kord put up his palms. "Don't ask me. I won't let Highearn near him."

  Aristahl acted with the patience of a man who felt himself above such things as having to arrange this transfer.

  "Use my son's new combat toy as a relay, Barrister." Kord nodded, and Aristahl put his hand on the bot. "Just the information, Wixom. Remember, I'll be watching."

  The little purple coupling, a part of Barrister for as long as Kord could remember, was now integrated into Wixom's compy. It must have been part of the insurance driving his father's confidence.

  Aristahl, ever aware, raised his eyebrows after the transfer. "Decrypted so soon?"

  "It wasn't a challenge," Wixom said. He spoke in an accent similar to Barrister, but it was mellowed with an aloof delivery. "You're probably interested in knowing that these so-called Archivers dispatched two corvettes deep into the Asterfraeo at the end of the Egress Incident. I don't know their destinations, but apparently the Archiver's started following leads after mystic displays of Sojourner caliber."

  A subtle crease appeared in Aristahl's brow.

  "Do you think they tried to track down the stops we made in the Monte Crest?" Jordahk asked.

  Jordahk and his grandfather had gallivanted across space in that rented rust bucket with its crazy crew. They had left Adams Rush following his father's potent mystic actions, and returned right before the egress sync was mysteriously disrupted. Along the way Jordahk had not only met two Sojourners, but he had come face to face with the truth that his grandfather was a Sojourner.

  Kord looked around. "Is Barrister ensuring privacy?" Aristahl nodded. Kord continued. "We have to assume the P-Stars suspect, and surely the Archivers know of the mystic connection to the egress blowout. They had to have ruled out scientum means."

  After a pause, Aristahl nodded as if making a decision. "We have to get going right away."

  "What is it?" Jordahk asked.

  "Alb-Sone did not meet me last month, nor did he send his ship to the appointed trade world for resupply."

  "Alb who?" Kord asked.

  But Jordahk's expression showed that he knew all too well.

  Ships were "weightless" in space because no significant gravity was acting upon them. But they still had mass. Newton's ancient first law of motion was as relevant as ever. An object at rest, like a massive ship, tended to stay at rest unless great forces got it moving. Then its motion created significant inertia which required more great forces to turn or halt. It's what made larger ships harder to maneuver.

  Smaller ships had less mass to push around. They could twist and juke with levels of thrust easier to attain, thus lessening an enemy's hit percentage. But too much speed imbued even their reduced mass with more inertia than could be readily steered. And a predictable vector was easier to hit. It's why fleet battles took place at slower speeds, and why frigates, destroyers, and in general, smaller ships of the line made up so much of the modern Perigeum Starmada.

  Cruisers were about as big as they felt comfortable fielding. Larger than that and special defensive measures needed to be taken, like significant escort, rear formation positioning, or the cover of specialty defense ships like the aegis.

  The first large ship in many years not requiring special protection still had a significant escort. After all, there was protocol to observe. Its mass eclipsed even that of two nearby command cruisers.

  In a remote, cordoned off section of the Earth system's asteroid belt, the wedge of ships held proud formation. The region was designated for governmental special projects. The substantial ship at the center of that formation fit the bill. In addition to its mighty defense capabilities, a more impressive offense was powering up.

  The ship was the First Cruiser, which meant the man at the top of its bridge was the most powerful person in the Perigeum. Prime Orator Janus should have been poised to enjoy a most pleasurable display of firepower. But that wasn't the case.

  The bridge was alive with a curious mix of people. Scientists and shipwrights were there for a military hardware demonstration. Political advisors, reporters
, and media reps were there for a press conference. At least they were all behind the sound buffers.

  Janus opaqued the privacy screen around his command chair, signified from his perspective by a subtle darkening. Unfortunately two additional annoyances, who were draining enjoyment from this moment, were within it. It was like a buzzing in his ear. He resisted the urge to flick at the irritation.

  "You know what a commercial disaster it was," Gov. Sedge Braksaw said. "Beyond disrupting trade, it delayed media distribution."

  Even as Janus listened, he felt a growing vibration within his First Cruiser. Surrounding VADs flickered with activity and growing energy buildup.

  "A commercial disaster, yes. But a political disaster? No." Janus spoke like a man sharing a secret, and to most in the Perigeum, it was. "I got the commships out fast enough to manage the message."

  "You had to commandeer every media and Starmada commship you could get your hands on. And even with their double-keeler speeds, it was a close call." Sedge spoke with uncommon candor, even dropping some of his accent. "You know how dependent we've become on the egresses." The brief flash of glasnost passed. "Of course, Magnus Cemtar was able to weather the storm, especially with all those new galleon orders. For some reason, this Egress Incident seems to have impressed a need for additional security upon many of our fellow Perigeum worlds."

  Janus briefly entertained the thought of asking Sybaris to tear apart the annoying former governor. He smiled inwardly at the fantasy but knew it was a long shot. Even reputedly flexible androids like those produced at Operis Apparaticum had mandated core programming that wasn't easily circumvented. Even if she did obey, she would have to be destroyed. A clever way to get rid of two annoyances, he mused, glancing over at her standing just within the privacy screen. She listened with vexatious dispassion.

  "You can't project power with galleons," Janus snapped, "you need a starkeel fleet." He gestured to the ship around them. The VADs flashed with greater intensity as power caps, capacious enough to store the energy of a space station, filled to projected loads and then some. "And need I remind you, Orator, that it was certain Archivers, whom I introduced to you, who have given you such a technical edge."