Tethered Worlds: Blue Star Setting

by Gregory Faccone

He found himself smiling unwittingly, as if he had discovered some new piece of art. She was like a nymph from an ancient painting, or one of those faux statues manufactured during the ancient culture craze. She held the pose, no doubt pleased with her performance. He found the maneuver audacious, and sat there truly admiring her.

  She dropped the pose and met his eyes, smiling. It was her first. She could see his honest appreciation and stood there unabashed, as if she knew the definition of modesty but didn't feel it.

  The smile accented the defined jawbone he remembered from seeing her in the cylinder. It was a wonderful frame to her face. It brought to mind the personal connection they shared on that fateful day in the asteroid.

  That recollection unlocked their current sensational moment beyond its borders. It took on new color, like the sudden redness in Jordahk's cheeks. He looked away, not trusting his discipline after the involuntary change. He wasn't pleased to separate their moment of communion, so hard-earned, for lack of thought control. A spike of embarrassment stung him.

  "One of us isn't programmed for modesty." He knew it was a mistake the second he said it.

  He wanted to take it back instantly, but like a shot fired, there was no un-saying what had been said. Her smile vanished and demeanor closed. Her brows came down, and her eyes sanded platinum again. A maintenance drone bounded to Jordahk's staff and hurled it at the girl. Her unfastened unitard fluttered like a flag upon it. She stripped it from his pole and clutched it to her breasts. The staff clattered to the deck in a sound hollow to Jordahk's ears.

  "I am not a machine!" she yelled.

  Two new streams of perspiration ran down the sides of her face from her temples. She clenched her forehead with one hand, squinting in pain. She did a high, low-gravity aerial off the crate, still clutching the unitard to her chest, and landed one foot at a time into a seamless bound for the hatch.

  Alb-Sone cocked his head, and turned toward his cabin hatch before it even opened to reveal Khai-aLael Khrais. She staggered forward in a state of undress, clutching her garment, sweat trickling from her temples.

  "Uncle..."

  He moved to her with a speed that belied age, supporting her with his arms, and guiding them across the cabin. A chair reconfigured into a flat, padded table. He laid her down, refusing to jump to any obvious but misleading conclusions from her disheveled appearance. He knew Jordahk's character, and knew Arh-Tahl almost as if family. And, though he might not say it, he believed in their line.

  The metal rod attached to his clothing above the wrist was suddenly in his hand and extending across the room to grasp a piece of equipment. He unfolded it expertly, and a dozen tubes of glowing, cooling blue touched her head. A drone appeared by his side, holding a sheet. Alb-Sone laid it across her protectively.

  He noticed his hands. They seemed old and colorless in the instrument's sterile light, but her complex ivory skin was alive with its pulsations.

  "I do not understand," she said. "I did it well." She fidgeted. "His reaction, why is it so confusing to me? I have these memories of elation, right next to ones of sorrow!"

  He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. The crease of strain between her eyebrows eased after a few seconds, as did the tension in her body.

  Alb-Sone smiled compassionately. "You mustn't push yourself to experience too much all at once. These kinds of interactions are beyond easy understanding for any of us."

  "You would have been proud, uncle." She closed her eyes. "My training... was not for naught."

  Yes, your training.

  "There is much in you, and I am proud. Sleep now, child."

  The Palisades world Castellum had the good fortune of being near Patram and its powerful starmada. The only bad fortune associated with Castellum was a costly Sojourner-related fleet debacle, which some during the war labeled "friendly fire."

  And they've been milking it ever since.

  Kord allowed a little cynicism when warranted. It was his opinion that Castellum had grown politically powerful playing on the pity and patriotism invoked from that wartime disaster. Past what was once a compact gas giant, a museum station oversaw a blinking beacon, a permanent reminder of the many who had lost their lives that fateful day.

  Two hundred years later, Castellum spent little on defense. You wouldn't know it from their clout in the Cohortium, but it was common knowledge among the various militaries populating the Vallum Corps. The Patram Guard was a more powerful reinforcement than any Vallum Corps task force, and they were closer. It all combined to make Castellum a very un-Palisades Palisades world.

  "Yes, they're the least martial minded of all the Palisades worlds," Vittora said, "because they rely heavily on someone else for their protection."

  Kord watched her turn to the space opposite the growing planet and behold a red nebula bright enough to cast a scarlet blush on the system's shadows. It was larger when seen from Patram, its rough stellar neighbor. It made Vittora's birthplace easy to find.

  She had perceived his thoughts clearly once again. "How'd you know this time?" Kord asked. "Some special intuition?"

  "No, gefera." She smiled at him in a way that made other men envious. "You often think that when discussion turns to Castellum. Sometimes you say it even when you don't."

  The starliner ride from Adams Rush was a little fancier than their usual transport to training gigs, but it wasn't hard to get used to. There were ample amenities for physical training, a universal martial arts dojo, and even a VAD-simulated shooting course. This particular starline knew their clientele well, usually serving the middle Asterfraeo back to the Far Worlds.

  The observation lounge was filled with those to whom seeing a Palisades world was a novelty. The expansive crystal panes made for an impressive panorama, even if the Castellum system was nothing extraordinary. The space was largely black with a few exceptions including the red nebula near Patram and a blue one pointing toward Windermere. The star was very yellow but otherwise quite ordinary. It cast a slightly sulfurous tinge on anything in-system.

  Crystal panes were magnifying and highlighting planets, moons, and stations of interest. For the lumbering starliner, it was seven or eight hours from the bottom of the hill to Castellum orbit.

  "This is the captain again." His voice sounded over the general comm frequency reserved for ship announcements. "Detensor's showing a large squadron of ships about to hit hill bottom. You folks might be lucky enough to see a Vallum Corps reinforcement squadron."

  A few panes dedicated themselves to the target area of space. The magnification caught a score of fleeting smoke rings, an indication of ships in manifold space. A squadron blurred into clarity, scintillating colors bleeding off into the black. The eye zoomed to frame the formation as it came back together.

  It was a larger force than anyone expected. Murmurs went through the observation lounge as six beefy cruisers and a full escort squadron of 12 ward frigates took on a parade formation of interlocking diamonds.

  Kord shook his head. "That's a big chunk of the mobile arm. What're they doing here?"

  Vittora shared his wariness, staring intently at the approaching ships.

  "Avere, friends, Wilkrest," came a voice from right next to them.

  Kord was a little startled. Vittora was usually the only one who could approach him unawares. But the man to whom the voice belonged was unusual. Kord and Vittora were traveling to Castellum as appointed inspectors from Adams Rush. And the man, Zephyrean D, was already present as a representative from Demeter when they boarded.

  He wasn't very talkative, though they got along well in companionable silence. He had joined them for many meals and even watched them on the shooting course a few times. They seemed of similar mindset when it came to the Asterfraeo, the Perigeum, and the state of things. Not that Zephyrean D said things outright. It was a skill in itself to determine his thoughts on various matters from a few sentences, tone, and body language.

  Vittora was very good at it. The two hit it off well, and Kord was gl
ad for it. It was good to have a friend at Demeter, even if many people thought them a little strange. And Zephyrean D wasn't doing anything to reduce that sentiment.

  He wore cream-colored clothes, cinched at the waist. They flowed, often draping diagonally.

  "Avere, friend, Zephyrean D," Kord said.

  Vittora was still looking intently at the new arrivals. He could see her lips moving subtly and surmised she was saying a quick prayer.

  She turned, acknowledging Zephyrean D with a nod of greeting, and addressed them both. "Something's wrong."

  He had too much experience with her insight to doubt it.

  "From where do they originate?" Zephyrean D asked.

  "You got IDs, Highearn?" Kord asked.

  "If my records are accurate," the AI said, "those ships are attached to the headquarters force at Windermere."

  "What the..."

  Something grabbed Zephyrean D's attention, and he looked out into a different region of space. It was empty. Suddenly, the back of Kord's mind started to tingle. He could feel it, too, and squinted at the same area of space.

  "Whoa folks, you're really in for a treat," the captain said. "You won't believe what's coming in next."

  Eight great smoke rings expanded and faded among a spate of smaller ones. More panes in the lounge dedicated themselves to highlighting yet another surprise for the passengers.

  Their eyes focused on enormous splashes of color marking the entry of eight ships. They were voluminous, with extra decks and scaffolding across their fuselages. The retrofitted additions didn't make them prettier, but it was significant in identifying their purpose, as if there was any doubt.

  Obsolete for front-line use in the opinion of most admirals, the ships were adopted for special use in the postwar era. Two mighty dreadnoughts, one mystic, one scientum. Two enormous carriers, one mystic, one scientum. Two scientum battleships. And lastly, two cavernous superhaulers.

  "Vallum Corps HQ," Kord mused.

  When in position, the ships would be joined at bow and stern by long scaffold extensions to form an octagonal ring that rotated for gravity. The mobile command center did this dance every 10 years at the election of a new magistrate. But it was always squeezed into the month before and after the new Cohortium was seated.

  "I thought we were still four months from the transition," Vittora said. "It's one of the reasons we're here."

  They exchanged looks that ran from quizzical to worried. Zephyrean D was getting an eyeful this trip. Unfortunately, it looked like atypical, potentially dangerous political maneuverings.

  Kord's brows came down. "Who's left guarding Windermere?"

  The "inspection" was a tradition dating back before Kord's time. Contributors to the Vallum Corps sent their inspectors on a pilgrimage every 10 years to the new Palisades world selected to host the Cohortium. Perhaps, in the beginning, it really was to ascertain the military fitness of the loose governing body's new headquarters world. In modern times, it was a ceremonial formality.

  These new Vallum Corps deployments were trouble, and something this inspection was going to address ASAP. But Kord's attempts to set up an appointment with the magistrate-elect were unsuccessful, and he was forced to settle for his Chief of Staff. As soon as the starliner made orbit, he used his diplomatic status to get the first shuttle to High Castle, the new station nearly completed in Castellum orbit.

  High Castle was large and ambitious, like much of the recent in-system construction. Its rotating design looked like a wide, old-fashioned tire. Its interior habitation surface was expansive, boasting hydroponic greenery and a comfortable .9 G. The "street-level" in many ways tried to duplicate a planetside environment.

  In a luxury office building erected on that surface, whose upper floors were still incomplete, Kord stood in the Chief of Staff's office. One of the active walls was showing a looping silent VAD touting all of the amenities of High Castle. The Chief of Staff sat behind an oversized, faux-wood desk.

  Vittora and Zephyrean D flanked him, sharing his concerns. Someone not sharing his concerns, but tagging along anyway, was a character named Darren Starr. He was a former Adams Rush Orbital officer who had apparently gained some small measure of notoriety during the Egress Incident. He stood off to one side and took a hit from a stimgar ring.

  Chief of Staff Thorium Wells was slightly overweight in a way that had apparently become fashionable among the elite at Castellum. Although still in vigere, he adopted a sempai appearance to lend gravitas to his position. He wore his governmental sash as a robe of state and folded his hands calmly on the polished faux-wood.

  "Of course," Thorium said, "I understand how those from Adams Rush might feel suspicious. But I assure you, the Egress Incident is over, and the impetus behind that misguided diplomatic foray forgotten."

  Kord tried to keep his temper. "With all due respect, Thorium, a dozen Legion centuria and squads of combat bots, both of which I encountered personally, are more than a 'diplomatic foray.'"

  The Chief of Staff bristled at being addressed so casually. Certainly, that wasn't the case locally, but custom dictated no undue deference from out-worlders, especially official inspectors.

  "Yes, well, I understand Adams Rush dug itself quite a hole. Don't project circumstances of your own doing. Castellum is focusing on the integrity of the entire Palisades. No one Palisades world is more important than another. But of course, the seat of the Cohortium does take preeminence."

  They were taking a lot more than preeminence. The level of ongoing development was astounding. Out-world construction firms, some Kord would like to vet more thoroughly, were working on a half-dozen major projects. The promotional VAD on the wall showed a vast, circular construction site on the planet's surface.

  "You're building another beam?" he asked. "Your staryard is empty!"

  "The beam will exclusively service High Castle and Vallum Corps Headquarters which will be orbiting next to us."

  He was getting an uneasy feeling. A lot of coin was being thrown around Castellum. He was going to lose his temper with Thorium Wells soon, a man who thought the entire universe ended at his system's border. Fortunately, Kord wasn't there alone.

  "Mr. Wells," Vittora said, "Castellum is spending a great amount of coin on amenities and infrastructure, but I see little defense spending. This is a Palisades world. Have you forged a special defense pact with Patram?"

  Vittora could really hit it on the nose, softened by a light voice and comely face.

  Thorium looked genuinely insulted. "Madam, Patram's affairs are their own, and I don't attempt to understand them. Of course, I'm grateful for their contributions to the security of the Asterfraeo through the Vallum Corps."

  They didn't need a special agreement. Everyone knew Patram wouldn't let Castellum fall to the P-Stars.

  "If you'll indulge a moment's speculation," Kord said, "is it possible you're passing additional units up-the-line to Raetia?"

  It was a mistake not including Raetia in the original Palisades. When the E-gov moved to forcibly annex them 150 years ago, the Cohortium refused to send the Vallum Corps. After a century of draining the system's resources, the Perigeum pulled out their egress, leaving the system a hopeless mess. With a P-Star garrison still spitefully controlling local space, the planet had been neither free to rebuild nor a beneficiary of protectorate status. They were nothing. Adrift. A black mark on the Asterfraeo and its ideals.

  How much longer are we going to let the E-gov have their way in Raetia?

  Thorium made a dismissive sound. "Raetia? You know year-over-year Vallum Corps hull numbers are down. We don't have the firepower for unnecessarily provocative maneuvers."

  Zephyrean D spoke for the first time. "Is not the captured egress a prize to be protected?"

  The man's words carried weight, for more reasons than just their scarcity. The room was silent for a few seconds.

  "The egress," Thorium said, dismissively. "A massive, useless hunk that'll never function for us. Its value is
as a bargaining chip. And diplomacy is the only way they're getting it back. The palisades are a fortified bulwark," Thorium gestured with a casual wave. "Static defenses and Vallum Corps are carefully distributed to deter any Perigeum thoughts of aggression."

  "They won't come back after the bloody nose we gave them last time," Darren interjected.

  "Even taking into consideration the recent anomalous egress sync season?" Kord asked.

  Thorium looked up, and in that second Kord saw the man had little military knowledge.

  "Of course. The Polemarkh runs the fleet with little civilian interference, positioning the squadrons as he sees fit."

  "Perhaps we're overreacting," Darren said. "I'm sure the magistrate-elect has taken all these factors into consideration." The Chief of Staff nodded vigorously. "Well, I have to go. A postbook signing in Promenade Autumn. You understand. The press will be there. Please feel free to stop by Mr. Wells."

  "I just may do that, thank you."

  When the former orbital officer was gone, Kord felt more comfortable about his next step.

  "Highearn, show the Chief of Staff the last six months of egress schedule as we've been able to construct it."

  A trimensional VAD star map filled the room. The line of Palisades was evident even without the Vallum Corps symbols. Beyond, on the Perigeum side, hexagonal egress depictions opened and closed as the days ticked by.

  "Our diplomatic access has allowed me to update much of this information," the AI said. "All of the updates corroborate our suspicions."

  The strange deployments of P-Star squadrons, at least as much as they could determine, along with the rarely open egress routes, painted a curious picture. When Highearn projected possible convergences, the Chief of Staff looked genuinely surprised.

  "Well, that would be unusual."

  "Who pushed for this recent transfer of units?" Kord asked. "And who pushed for the Cohortium transition five months early? Why split up task forces positioned to work together?"

  "The magistrate has his reasons. We're beginning a whole new era of diplomacy. I wouldn't expect those off the Palisades to understand."