It was the natural evolution of society. Culture had become more sensitive to warfare since the time of the Sojourners' Crusade. To the elite and the "civilized," war was a term, a diplomatic word to be bandied about as a last resort, not an action to be taken. The days of "barbarism" were past. Gone, apparently, like the Sojourner ideals that established this very world.
Battles were now won and lost in the hearts and minds of the populace. Castellum grew to maturity in an era of truce, if not peace. The Asterfraeo was once willing to go to war to defend their way of life. That was a key factor holding the Perigeum at bay for two centuries. But as that will slipped and readiness slacked, an aggressor could take advantage. Perhaps to the incoming magistrate, there were no longer any barbaric aggressors.
The Perigeum showed their sneakier side during the Egress Incident. Was that debacle enough to push them into something more overt?
"Show the last part, Highearn."
"It's still speculation, sir."
"I know."
Information was long delayed coming out of the Perigeum. So they estimated the new, unusual egress syncs and continued deployments of scores of scattered P-Star forces. It was a tangled web filled with educated guesses. Highearn ran predictive models numerous times, with most coming out inconclusive. But the ones that did turn out conclusively pointed toward a rather unpleasant conclusion.
Thorium was silent for a few seconds. "Surely you don't think... I mean, these are rather outrageous conclusions. Besides, the window of opportunity is just about to close. Deployments to take advantage... they would've needed to be ordered months ago."
"Thorium, where is the Polemarkh?" Kord asked.
"He's still at Windermere until term's end. He chose not to travel here with the headquarters. A bit of a stickler, really. Who cares from where the orders originate?" The rambling Chief of Staff was exhibiting growing concern, as if he was aware something important loomed just out of sight. "The new Polemarkh won't be voted on by the Vallum Corps for another four months."
"The magistrate-elect needs to see this," Zephyrean D said.
The situation had been unfolding for a dangerously long time before he arrived. Kord hoped, assuming no further complications, that he could start straightening out this mess before it was too late.
"Your father just arrived in system," Highearn sub-whispered.
Kord met Vittora's wide eyes. She had heard it too. His hopes about no further complications evaporated.
Even mystic ships needed fuel from time to time, at least the "normal" kind. After their tenuous escape from Drekka, Alb-Sone's scout was ready for a once-over in a staryard. There was certainly ample room at Castellum. The lack of new hull construction left plenty of extra berths for maintenance and refits.
Once the locals found out what a classic the little scout was, various factions fought over what berth would receive it. Alb-Sone opted to stay with his rare and valuable ship. Jordahk added a task to his list: Procure new supplies for the ship's food-jerk.
Two hundred years was a long time. No matter how well raw nutriment stores were preserved, and how insistent the AIs were about their fitness for consumption, Jordahk's taste buds said otherwise. He already had to wrestle with less-than-optimal appetite. Tasteless food only made it more challenging.
Khai-aLael didn't seem to mind, but Jordahk suspected her memories of food were more virtual than actual. Food-jerk prepared meals, even made with the old stores, were still a novel experience to her. She didn't like or dislike the taste. That wasn't the way to experience eating. He looked forward to introducing her to the pleasure of good food.
He was apologetic after the incident in the gym, and she bounced back well, not having brought it up again. They acted professionally toward each other and interacted where appropriate, but never with the verve of their exhilarating experience in the bay. Aristahl had his own affairs to check out, so he suggested Jordahk shuttle her down to Castellum's new station, High Castle. She needed a number of things, and it had amenities aplenty to fit the bill.
The station promenade was impressive. Two traditional city blocks wide, with travel tubes at either side, and a pedestrian street down the center that ran the entire circumference. No crystal panes showed the outside vista. The rotation would disorient many, and only serve to break the illusion of planetary habitation. Highlighting that conclusion was the active bulkhead serving as the ceiling of the giant enclosure. It mimicked the day/night cycle of the region below on Castellum.
If you didn't think about it, and accepted that no matter where you were on the central street it was always uphill in either direction, you could almost believe you were on a planet.
Khai took it in with the wonder of a girl who only ever saw such things in books, although she was subdued about expressing it. But he had learned to read her subtleties. She was refreshing memory with reality, and making even the ordinary seem wondrous. He found himself appreciating things more through her eyes.
Their first stop was to pick up a simple, scientum compy. No personality, just a competent, safe machine through which she could interact with the local technology. On the ship she didn't even need to touch mystic equipment to interact with it. Scientum was a different story. She also needed access to the purchasing power of a coin line Barrister set up for her. The girl had no clothes to speak of.
Jordahk was pleasantly surprised to find his parents were also in-system. Despite he and Khai being a little cool toward each other, Jordahk still felt a sense of pride about her. Her very being was an accomplishment, as was their crazy rescue. He wanted to introduce her, and some new clothes would do her justice. Not that her exercise outfit did not, just that it wasn't appropriate for dining out.
The electronics establishment where they bought the scientum ring—a base-model, no-frills Tarun—was filled with VAD advertisements for the new fourth-generation grease monkey. It made Jordahk smirk. Try as robot manufacturers may, there was no duplicating the popularity, personality, or "friendly functionality" of the original first-gen grease monkey. His artifact-hunting led him to research historical entries regarding the first grease monkey maintenance robots, manufactured before the Sojourners' Crusade.
Things were understandably mixed up during the war. Afterward, only when the second-generation was being manufactured did people realize the value of the unique first. Its adaptability to mystic technology was proven during the conflict, along with a personality that seemed to rub everyone the right way. It was a just-right mix of hardware, software, and timing. It had yet to be duplicated with 100 percent satisfaction, not for lack of trying either.
Had advertising changed much in two centuries? It caught Khai's attention. "This model seems very friendly," she said. "Are its functions confined to maintenance and repair?"
"Of course not," the owner of the establishment answered. "I've put my own order in for one of these fourth-generation models. Going to let him run the shop. He'll draw plenty of customers. Everyone knows how friendly grease monkeys are."
"I've rarely seen a first-gen," Jordahk said. "But I've heard them used as butlers, teachers, even companions. I've seen them going for a lot of coin in private sales."
Society, for good reason, eschewed undue emotional attachment to AIs and, by extension, robots. Yet somehow the grease monkey seemed immune to this phenomena. Most lucky enough to own one treated it like a family pet or prized possession, sometimes going to great financial lengths to secure original parts to keep it running.
Afterward, Max brought up a directory, and Jordahk looked through the establishments, many of which were still under construction. A woman walked by with an unusual version of a topper, a hat popular on middle Asterfraeo worlds. The hat had only token cutouts on the sides of its wide brim. It was earth toned, with a round top. Khai stared at it, fascinated. She looked without interruption, even after the woman wearing the hat noticed. Khai was just not fully in sync with social customs. Either that or she was too enamored with the hat to not
ice.
She also didn't notice the fair amount of looks she was getting in her black unitard with its glowing lines.
"We're going to meet my parents in a couple hours. Let's buy you some clothes."
Although Jordahk was sure some would argue it, there were things he thought universal to the human condition. Even the sexes. Despite two centuries in a crystal tube in the center of a forgotten asteroid, and regardless of a mystically amalgamated memory Jordahk didn't understand, Khai adjusted naturally to shopping.
The rag-jerk aboard Alb-Sone's scout could have made Khai clothing, but the raw materials were old and outdated, and the patterns more so. Even Jordahk could see, when they looked through them, that nothing was suitable. Despite home manufacture of many common items, the social aspect of clothes shopping had yet to be eliminated.
As it turned out, her workout suit reflected her style. She bought a long-sleeved black body suit. Not the thinner, lighter type Vittora favored, but a thick, padded, multifunction model. It was self-cleaning, heated, and radiation resistant. Around her waist was a loose greather belt. It was chunky and oversized. Obviously for looks only, because it certainly wasn't necessary. She programmed her treaders to thin out, rise three quarters up her shins, and take on a dark, creamy brown.
To that she added a woven, jacket-like garment, open down the front and reaching down to her knees. Max said it could be called a sweater, but Jordahk couldn't recall seeing anything quite like it. Half was woven of soft brown strands matching the boots, and the rest seemed like molten copper. It came alive with bright reflections as she moved.
She still got looks on the promenade. It was the way she carried herself, externally cool, with a defined jawline that framed her piercing, grey eyes. It was hard to tell her age from appearance, which was also the case for those in vigere. His mother was a good example. She kept herself in shape and was blessed with incredible genetics, plus Aristahl's mysterious ravelen lifetime therapy. She could pass for someone in her fifties, or her 250s. Often it was fashion, behavior, and the way people carried themselves that helped identify chronological age.
Khai didn't have those typical markers. Jordahk had seen more of her than he had a right to, and yet even with that extra data, he couldn't place her physical age. It was difficult to tell with those who chose a gymnast's body. She could be anywhere in the second half of long adolescence.
She carries herself with a reserve that approaches sempai.
Jordahk allowed himself a grin. Her emotional makeup vacillated strangely, sometimes appearing pre-long adolescence, and running up the gamut of maturity from there.
"I would still like a hat," she said.
"Max, if it's like that one we saw, were going to need an establishment that specializes in fabricating unusual clothing."
"I found a place that just opened, but it's rather high-end, and may cost you some coin."
"Her bodysuit and sweater jacket weren't cheap. If it's something greatly desired, buy high-quality and you won't be disappointed." He was starting to sound like his parents.
A short tube ride around the station brought them to the specialty clothier, and near the restaurant where they were to meet Kord and Vittora. It was the frontier of internal construction. Beyond was closed off to public access and populated with construction personnel and bots.
Khai stood in a VAD fitting chamber. An AI listened to her describe the hat she wanted and constructed a VAD representation atop her. She stared at it then flattened the brim with her hands. The VAD representation followed accordingly. She ended up with a circular, razor-horizontal brim, and a cylindrical, flattened top. He was no expert on hats, but he admitted it looked stylish on her. For that matter, he was no expert on fashion either, choosing to follow Aristahl's example and make his own.
While they waited outside for the custom hat to be fabricated, they noticed commotion a couple blocks away. Khai's curiosity was contagious, so they checked it out. A temporary pavilion was set up in the street, and people were milling around. Jordahk nearly choked on his own saliva when he saw the oversized VAD placards behind the rostrum.
"Durn Stobahn?"
The name was changed, and his appearance cleaned up, but his puckered, self-righteous expression was unmistakable. One VAD placard showed Durn receiving the Noble Edge in an Adams Rush ceremony. The other showed a cover image for his postbook titled, For the Honor of the Asterfraeo: How We Beat Them in the Egress Incident.
"Ugh, omni-gag. Max, is it really him?"
"I'm afraid so. He's had some work done and goes by the name Darren Starr now, but that's him."
"Apparently, he has done considerable service for the Asterfraeo," Khai said. "Do you know him?"
"Absolutely not. We're barely acquaintances. I doubt he could pick me out of a crowd."
"Jordahk!" Came an amplified voice. "Jordahk Wilkrest." Murmuring spiked. "Clear the way."
The crowd parted, and "Durn 2.0" approached before his good fortune could slip away.
"God of my mystic mother..." Jordahk murmured.
Khai stepped back as Durn put his arm around Jordahk's shoulder.
"So glad you could make it," Durn said, is voice still amplified. "Fellows of the Asterfraeo, you may recall the chapter where I describe a young man. He had unconventional ideas that may have slipped through the cracks had I not backed him up. With my support, those ideas helped us push back the Perigeum."
"Really, Durn?" Jordahk asked.
"It's Darren now," he said quietly, without amplification. "Smile for the eyes, will you? We're heroes, after all." He addressed the crowd again. "I tell you, a Sojourner couldn't have executed the plan better."
The crowd seemed split on that pronouncement. Durn waved delightedly, acting as if he and Jordahk were best friends. Espies zoomed around, recording for news services.
"Are your friends also here?" Durn asked. "The girl with the sharp tongue and the octal? They made for colorful characters in my chronicling."
Glick. He did not know where she was now. He did not yearn for her, or miss her beyond what was natural. But there was a small ache there, a sadness at the reason they parted. At least the obvious reason, for though he thought they were probably never meant to be, there was no way now, to find out. Their destinies would go on, unlike her brother Cranium, whose body was just dust falling into the Adams Rush atmosphere.
Suddenly, Cranium's death stung harder than it had for months. It was information Durn didn't deserve to have. The orbital officer noticed Jordahk's unresponsive demeanor and turned to Khai, eying her up like a food-jerk menu.
"Ingots." Durn's eyebrows lifted in overzealous appreciation. "I see you have a new friend." He walked to her, smiling brilliantly with teeth once gray from stimgar stain. "I'm Darren Starr, Jordahk's old friend."
He held out his forearm for a bump of greeting, but she remained impassive. Perhaps she was unaccustomed to the forearm bump, having been "reared" before it was popularized. Certainly Durn didn't realize he had stepped into an issue about which Khai was a stickler.
"Are you his friend, Darren Starr?" she asked.
Khai was too unpredictable to let the situation go on.
Jordahk stepped in. "Okay, Durn—"
"It's Darren."
"Whatever. We have to go." He grabbed Khai's arm, trying to lead her away. He was taking a risk, not knowing whether she would take affront to the gesture or allow him to do it. "Please, just come with me."
Whatever calculation she made, and he could see in her eyes that she had done so, it ended with acquiescence and, thank the Creator, she went along. The crowd was murmuring again, and some small part of Jordahk sought to minimize the apparent scene caused by his abrupt departure. He turned and waved.
"Amplify," he sub-whispered. "Thanks Darren. We have to be somewhere right now. We'll catch up next orbit."
He couldn't bring himself to smile, but at least he had kept his expression neutral. Hopefully, with the words, it would be enough to gloss over the
meeting and not make any newsVADs.
"Apparently, there are many details about your TETHERED WORLDS: BLUE STAR SETTING previous adventures about which I am unaware," Khai said.
Jordahk and Khai leaned against a temporary railing, absently observing the ongoing station interior construction. It broke the terrestrial illusion. Much of the "sky" was switched off, revealing unfolded tracks from which a crane was suspended. It was an old-fashioned but efficient way to work in a gravity station.
A half-completed building, honeycomb frame still exposed, had a line of surfacing inching up over it. He could make out many small black shapes moving at the line. Mini bots. Bit by bit they were constructing the skin of the building. It looked like a modern, polygonal take on the stonework of some ancient castle. A number of buildings used that motif, taking the name "High Castle" and making it a reality.
The crane manipulated feed lines to the slowly rising, material-consuming mini bot line. Atop the incomplete structure were a half-dozen humanoid construction bots and a couple of human overseers. Khai watched them intently because they were more interested in playing a game with their safety grapples.
The two men raced across the length of the building, safety grapples affixed to their backs. As they dove across open spaces, a band grapple launched, trailing a super-strong strand. The band wrapped around the nearest support —or in their case, one that furthered the leap. Their AIs knew the game and aimed appropriately. They could swing around with impunity, finding it almost impossible to fall, although it still took guts.
Khai looked at their acrobatics. "They rely too heavily on those devices."
"I can personally attest, your physical skills leave theirs far behind." They watched another set of moves. "I'd like to know more about your reaction time. How do—"
"Jordahk!" came from across the street.
His parents smiled. Though briefed about Khai, this would be their first meeting. Another man was with them. Jordahk bumped forearms with Kord and grasped two hands with his mother, a more formal alternative to hugging.
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