Tethered Worlds: Blue Star Setting

by Gregory Faccone

  Unusually favorable stellar a positioning has opened direct egress routes not available for decades. There is no better time to fly the colors, and the Perigeum Starmada is taking full advantage of this phenomenon. The Second Fleet has also been coalesced for the first time during the current adminstration. They are on a whirlwind tour that has everyone guessing As of now they are patrolling near the so-called Strident Cluster. No doubt the Svalbergen Blacksea Corporation is taking respectful note.

  The former governor of Magnus Cemtar, Sedge Braksaw, has continued on with the Prime Orator. His presence ensures timely adjustments to the new and impressive Perigeum flagship built at the staryard he worked so hard to expand. “The new hulls coming out of Umbria Magnus are not only the finest in the Starmada, but the best mankind has yet produced," Braksaw said “Ony a fool would interfere with our progressive march. Prosperity will continue to be shared by billions through the egress network."

  Windermere, self-proclaimed prettiest system in the Asterfraeo. Although some protested out of planetary pride, objectively speaking, it was a top contender for the title. Some say it even rivaled Garlande, the pink tourism powerhouse of the Hex.

  Most remarkable about Windermere was its giant blue sun. But being a binary system, it wasn't alone. A small white companion star helped bathe the enormous system in cool, clean light. Additionally, a relatively recent nova created a blue planetary nebula, filling a chunk of visible space. It was one of the most visited worlds in the Asterfraeo, despite having yet to fully embrace tourism. The system was well-known, respected, and not without influence.

  Each incoming Cohortium Magistrate chose which Palisades planet would host his administration. Centrally located among the Palisades, Windermere had been the seat more than any other. But politics are fickle. Somehow, last year's events at Adams Rush were seen by both sides as a debacle.

  Certainly that was understandable for those within the Hex, but ambition and power knew no boundary, nor did the inherently fallen nature of humankind. The Cohortium had always been a light touch, but the apparent impotence of the Vallum Corps during the Egress Incident allowed those who desired a heavier governmental hand to rise.

  Lilburn Van Buren wouldn't have been elected magistrate if not for the ambition of the Perigeum's failed gambit. In six months he would be sworn into office, and Castellum was his chosen seat. It was a world toward the northern Raetia end of the Palisades. It was roughly in front of starmada powerhouse Patram. Because of that, it wasn't the most militarily fortified system. After all, why forge expensive military assets when you could be reinforced in a timely fashion by the Patram Guard? As a result, political power took precedence in Castellum.

  Capt. Mason Steede of the Adams Rush Navy was amazed at how much political knowledge could be absorbed in less than a year. His star had risen since the Egress Incident, since the Iron Commander had chosen him. When the legend walked into that crowded conference room on Kite Station, Mason's hope was renewed. Adams Rush had a chance. Standing by his side that day in support was the easiest and best decision of his career.

  The bridge of the ARN Truxtun was quiet for the night shift. One crewman manned the bridge with him, although the AIs were always watchful. The Truxtun was the newest ship commissioned for the ARN, not even having fully completed its trials at the time of the Egress Incident. Mason sat in the "big chair," although to his right there was one higher. He smiled.

  Accuse him of sentimentality, he didn't care. The Iron Commander had honored him beyond expectation by making the Truxtun his flagship. This despite two cruisers at the ready. The hastily fabricated flag station would stay up for as long as he was in command. A tribute to a legend with ingenuity and intuition.

  Whatever the Iron Commander had seen in that young man, his crazy friends, and their kooky, unorthodox plan, Mason would never know. But they had learned a valuable lesson that day about the power of the unexpected, the unconventional, and dare he say it, ancient mystic. The Iron Commander was known for using everything at his disposal. Maybe one of his skills was seeing more at his disposal than anyone else.

  The active bulkhead at the front of his bridge displayed vast, blue-tinted space. Everyone liked serving at Windermere. It was pretty and friendly to the military, a pinion among the center Palisades worlds. Almost always one of the most fortified, its squadrons were placed strategically and ready to reinforce northern or southern Palisades planets as needed.

  A squadron of heavies, six cruisers, was pulling away, heading for the top of the hill. With them was a full escort squadron of 12 armored ward frigates. It represented a big chunk of Vallum Corps power.

  "Incoming message," his ship AI said.

  "Yeah, I see it."

  One of the captains with whom Mason had been in competition was commanding a departing cruiser whose home flag was the Frulieste Defense Agency. Apparently, he couldn't help sending a parting shot.

  "Mason, have fun guarding the albatross."

  Maybe they were all boys next to men like the Iron Commander—or the Sojourners of old. The "albatross" referred to what was housed in the huge, hexagonal scaffolding riding in the wake of Windermere's asteroid moon. No one in the Asterfraeo really understood how an egress worked. He surmised few within the Hex even knew. It was an invention almost three centuries old, and this, the last built, was over half that age.

  It would take years to figure out, and even then no existing egress would ever sync with it. That meant another had to be built from scratch. Many thought of it as a big target, brought into their lines because of the foolishness of Adams Rush. On that last part there was little argument. The reputation of Adams Rush was sullied, and its navy at the top of every undesirable duty list. The seat of the Cohortium was moving, and no one wanted to stay behind to guard the symbol of the Asterfraeo's foolishness.

  The Adams Rush Assembly, having regained some semblance of sanity, volunteered the entire Adams Rush contingent assigned to the Vallum Corps to permanently guard the egress. To Mason, it sounded more like penance.

  Everything seemed out of whack lately. Time-honored traditions were cast aside by corruption on Adams Rush. And here at the Palisades, it seemed the same was happening for political expediency. The Cohortium seat always moved in a 60 standard days window, the month before and after the official transfer date. But Magistrate elect Van Buren was riding the wave of anti-Vallum Corps sentiment and "encouraging" the transition early from a military-oriented planet to Castellum.

  In its own orbit around Windermere, the biggest shipyard in the Asterfraeo was already coming apart five months ahead of tradition. Atalantia had served the Vallum Corps since the war, growing larger as the decades passed. Its focus had changed since the early days. Now it tended toward repairing and refitting ships rather than laying new hulls.

  A unique-looking section, removed first, was already distant from the rest. It seemed dingy out of neglect despite its lighter platinum colors. It was the oldest part of the staryard, with much war-era history built in its rigging and struts. It is said that Atalantia never turned away or asked payment from a Sojourner ship.

  Nowadays, the mystic section just tried to keep running the few powerful, but aging mystic ships some Asterfraeo worlds still sent to the Vallum Corps. Fully-mystic designs were a deterring X-factor aggressors needed to consider. Numerous mothballed relics drifted along with it in parking orbits. It looked more like a sad, orbiting graveyard of ships.

  Mason's AI saw where he was looking and highlighted a few elements with supporting statistics. The hull of an ancient mystic battleship, half hollowed out for parts.

  "Probably three quarters hollowed out."

  A blocky fireship. It was more venerable than the battleship.

  "That thing couldn't be coaxed to catch fire if we flew it into the sun," Mason murmured. There were a least a half-dozen orphaned drones from some cloud ship probably long since sent to the smelter. "Being saved for target practice I bet."

  His comments were a
reflection of cynicism brought out by recent politics. On the whole, he valued all things mystic. He even had a mystic link, something becoming rarer by the decade. If anything, those floating artifacts made him long for days gone by, when Centurions raced into battle with the early Vallum Corps and Sojourners blazed a foundation for new worlds.

  Van Buren and his faction wanted a stronger Cohortium, one with power to enact binding policy over independent Asterfraeo worlds. They wanted a permanent fleet under the Cohortium flag rather than the voluntary combined fleet of the Vallum Corps. To Mason, that seemed more like a Perigeum model. He didn't think the Asterfraeo worlds would go for it. Then again, he didn't think Adams Rush would have entertained an egress.

  The new faction was trying to evolve Asterfraeo traditions, and minimizing mystic was one of their methods. To them, mystic was a curious but dusty technology made by individuals long gone whose values no longer fit the modern Asterfraeo. Older commanders more acquainted with mystic were retiring. And with the Sojourners gone, what mystic role models were there for younger people? Certainly not the imprimaturs.

  At least Van Buren wouldn't get to pick his own toadie for Polemarkh. The head of the Vallum Corps was selected by the starmadas of the coalition worlds, with influence weighted according to level of participation. Polemarkh Havenaur had done the job well enough, if unremarkably. Too bad for him the whole mess at Adams Rush occurred after eight years of not ruffling feathers.

  He met Havenaur at the new officer's dinner. They hit it off well. Mason was glad to be considered for field adjutant. The Polemarkh was a nice enough guy, and a good administrator. But if he was more of a military man early in his career, those years were long gone. Now he couldn't even muster the will to stop premature transfer of military assets.

  The eight bulky ships than made up Vallum Corps Headquarters were already on their way to Castellum. It was unprecedented. The Polemarkh reportedly retreated to the surface of Windermere to ride out the rest of his term, leaving his staff to oversee the shipping-out of what remained.

  Leaving it to me and other suckers.

  The mystic section of Atalantia would be staying along with the egress, and the full Adams Rush contingent.

  All the reminders of failure.

  Last year, Havenaur had the task force that eventually raced to Adams Rush assembled and sitting at hilltop, waiting for permission. He bent the rules as much as he dared, but his hands were tied. That was the purposeful design of the Vallum Corps. Most Asterfraeo societies traced their origins to flight from the Perigeum, so naturally they were wary of centralized government and standing fleets.

  The new faction's unnecessary military disorganization and lack of appreciation for mystic didn't sit well with many. Patram was known to embrace its imprimaturs, and their ships were constructed with copious, if lower-level, mystic technology. Rumor had it they broke out their lawyers and found, in the fine print of the ancient Vallum Corps agreement, the ability to stay on station through the official sixty day transition period.

  No system could stand alone against the P-Stars, but arguably the one that would last the longest was Patram. Their Patram Guard was still the single largest planetary participant in the combined fleet. Nobody wanted to irk them unnecessarily, and even Van Buren, the politician, knew when to back off. So at least the Guard would stay until the new official deployments came down. And what Patram did influenced systems deeper in the Asterfraeo, even the Far Worlds. Most of the forces leaving were from Palisades planets.

  "New arrivals in one minute, captain," his watch officer said.

  It wasn't strictly necessary to say it. The AIs were doing their multitude of tasks. Mason could see the blips coming in on the detensor. But the traditions of watch-standing and formal communication built discipline. And discipline maintained the best ships.

  Besides, this was the Palisades. "The bulwark against the P-Stars." Anyone approaching had to identify when they dropped out of MDHD at hill bottom, even if they came from the Asterfraeo direction.

  "One minute, aye."

  Mason wasn't that old, and yet he felt like a throwback to a bygone era. The new generation of officers were not very different from the younger populace in general. They didn't understand the Perigeum. They knew little of the war. Perhaps they thought peace was the natural state of humankind.

  "Smelting unlikely," he mused.

  He was too young to be cynical but too old to be foolish. He knew the nature of man and the corrupting influence of power. Peace had to be worked at and maintained. The ceasefire wouldn't stand if one party could no longer defend itself.

  The strength of the Vallum Corps varied during the two centuries since the war. It was a measurement of the collective fear of Perigeum intrusion. He expected a spike of participation after the Egress Incident and was surprised when it didn't happen.

  The ship AI pinged. Mason looked up to see who the new arrivals were. Out of manifold space, detensor readings sharpened up.

  "Ingots, two of them are big," the watch officer said. "What are they, command cruisers?"

  "Bigger than that. But they don't look like battleships... Who's even using battleships anymore?"

  When light from the new ships arrived, high magnification eyes focused on them. Calculation lines danced across the visuals as AIs noted identifying features. The ships had low-luster platinum metal exteriors, not supranameled granix. Around the two largest were 10, small, featureless craft. They were shaped like shards of hewn crystal, with thrusters and thrust rings, but little more to signify their function.

  The metal of the ships had a tint, but it was hard to tell in the cleansing bright light of Windermere. A shiny black stripe, like an equator, wrapped around each one. The two largest grew stranger upon closer examination. Their volume was deceiving. They were roughly cylindrical with an immense open tunnel running clear through from bow to stern.

  "What the drak?" the watch officer said, then realized his outburst. "Your pardon, sir."

  "Noted, but understandable. Who are they?"

  The ship AI had no record of such designs, nor was there anything like them known to be currently deployed. But the colors did come up a match. Onyx and rose tinted metal. Mason's eyes widened at the starmada designation, one rarely seen among Vallum Corps squadrons.

  They chose not to fusebox transmit, so their hail came in with the light. It carried all the required codes and idents.

  "Avere, Vallum Corps. I am Savalis of the Demeter ArgoNav."

  "Well space me to the Ajurian Realm," Mason said, forgetting his own discipline.

  "Veri-tas," the watch officer said.

  Why am I here?

  Pheron, sitting in the big chair of his little ship, was musing again. It was one of the few things that could still not be overheard by his superiors.

  Does it matter where "here" is? Do I even care anymore?

  The questions kept coming. Part of him wouldn't succumb to hopelessness. Perhaps the part that struggled and clawed its way up through the Perigeum Starmada ranks. Shadows of the rear admiral who had once been appointed field commander. Suspicion niggled at the back of that man's mind.

  Something was happening. Somewhere. The atypical movement and deployment of the entire fleet... It didn't make sense. More likely, it did make sense, just to something outside his awareness. Somebody in high command was taking advantage of the extra egress routes.

  He had never covered so much territory without knowing why. His little frigate squadron had traveled the entire width of the Perigeum. From the forgotten hole of Beuker on one side to an equally unfavorable destination, the Strident Cluster, on the other.

  The active bulkhead displayed a large, chalky world, marred only by a dark equatorial band. It was chalky not from cloud cover but from ice. Novotna was a century into the often unpractical process of planetary terraformation. To the casual observer, it had not changed at all. Still, some were thrilled by two recent temperature spikes almost reaching freezing. To Pheron, it w
as an accomplishment only a linkhead could appreciate.

  But what Novotna had going for it was the best soil this side of Haelen. Economically speaking, it needed little arability terraformation to produce a variety of good foodstuffs. The fact that the planet was an unstable, permanently winterized ice ball was just a hurdle to be overcome. The locals displayed a level of entrepreneurship not found within the Perigeum where it was easier to leapfrog off a distant egress and find a more promising planet. It was one reason why the Perigeum was so big, with bypassed ghost systems, and even some still unexplored. Most contained therein were just not useful. "Space was big," as the cliché went.

  The Strident Cluster couldn't work that way. It was populated by penal colonies, refugees, gray marketeers, serial entrepreneurs, religious zealots and anyone else who didn't want to live in Perigeum society. A wild bunch that sought no citizenship even within the diverse Asterfraeo. Unfortunately for them, few desirable planets were located within the cluster. But there were numerous ones that could minimally sustain life, and they were packed relatively close together. That was handy without egresses, and it allowed for limited, if somewhat suspicious trade and support. Plus, misery loved company.

  Pheron was no expert on Strident Cluster politics, but he was a student of human nature. The cluster as a whole would be tamed by no one, nor was it worth it. But little gems along the fringe like Novotna could be plucked. And so the two powers with interest in doing so danced their starmadas around a planet that didn't want to be owned by either side.

  Most influential within the Strident Cluster was Svalbergen, also an ice world. It was more inhabitable then Novotna, but its soil was of little worth. The Svals were dependent on food importation. It was the only thing they seemed unable to cobble together themselves. Their starmada, the Svalbergen Blacksea Corporation, was a formidable, makeshift flotilla.