Tethered Worlds: Blue Star Setting

by Gregory Faccone

  "Yes. Everywhere you go, everything you buy, everything you say. His connection with us will certainly trigger a red flag, especially after we do what we came to do."

  "No doubt his price is being taken out of here," Alb-Sone said.

  "Along with his wife and young son." Aristahl looked solemn. "Their family line has served long enough. We are going to be staying with him on HAB rock until we can launch for the mine. There is no turning back, so he is all in."

  "Is your ship really in the mines?" Alb-Sone asked.

  "As you know, I was... incapacitated at the time. But I was told it is in the khromathyst mine, of which there is only one."

  "How do you hide a ship the size of a corvette in an active mine for two centuries?" Jordahk asked. "You would think they would've found it by now."

  "Fortunately, the Perigeum's appetite for khromathyst is not great. The Archivers are the major consumers. This unofficial mine provides surplus for them."

  "But the digging will uncover it sooner or later," Alb-Sone said.

  "At the recent rate of digging, I surmise sooner. Extra minerals are being sold to keep the system afloat. The other mines are depleted, and there is little capital to open new ones on the outer planets."

  "This place can't last," Jordahk noted.

  "It had potential once, and may again," Aristahl said. "We are going to be operating under a legitimately licensed Asterfraeo company called Altair Sprite. They have paid to keep the license active out of charity, and because I asked, not because they have used it." Aristahl looked specifically at Jordahk and Khai. "The Perigeum is quite enamored with licensing and fees. You two need to keep your heads down and not make waves. Our contact spent his entire savings on fees to get us this far. It is only a matter time before they put the clues together."

  Jordahk nodded. "Let's be gone by then."

  "And be watchful for Archivers. This is their home turf. It is unlikely they will be walking around in uniform."

  The Perigeum Starmada station was halfway between the planet Beuker and their destination. Supposedly, from there it could react to "needs" in either location. They approached a wide asteroid belt with multiple bands. It housed both HAB rock, and in a farther band, the khromathyst mine.

  HAB rock was an irregular-shaped body the size of a moonlet. It was the largest in the first band and had been pulled away from it for safety and ease of access. Docking trees grew off it like branches designed by a bot with no imagination. They were nearly empty.

  Beyond HAB rock and the asteroid belt was a gas giant. Its close orbital proximity kept the asteroid bands active, which was probably why the habitation hub was removed. The planet was orange and yellow, adding more warm light to a system already bathed in redness.

  Jordahk's eyes started seeking solace among the cool colors of the blue nebula. Instead, Max brought up an image of the distant P-Star frigate. The artificially enhanced image illuminated the bridge.

  "Look at that thing," the AI said, "it's not that much newer than this scout. I didn't know they were still flying the 500 series in the backwater worlds. Wait until Highearn hears this. He had it marked down as retired."

  Perhaps Max was trying to keep things light, no doubt detecting uneasiness at their upcoming disembarkation.

  Aristahl briefed Jordahk in a quiet moment while the others prepped. "Remember, no weapons of any kind, not even defensive ones. Nor bracers."

  "Not even my belt knife? It's conventional, not monomer."

  "Not permitted. Even tools that could be made into weapons have to be licensed, and only to those in appropriate vocations. I have some advanced face-replacement routines ready, which Barrister is going to run."

  "Their security monitoring system is old," Barrister said. "I should be able to keep your true appearance from their records for a couple days. The longer we stay after that, the more likely they will retain a true image."

  "Share them with Max and Wixom, would you?"

  "But sir—"

  Apparently, Barrister was still refusing direct communication with the Bitlord's creation.

  "Really, Barrister, you must learn to trust. Use the scout's buffer, then."

  "Are security systems really fooled by these?" Wixom asked. So, he was willing to come to the surface to taunt. "I'll run improved versions to protect the entire party."

  The bridge hatch opened to Khai. She wore the flattering outfit from Castellum with confidence. The warm light of Beuker shining through the bridge viewport made the molten copper component of her long sweater jacket look even hotter. Obviously, she felt fashion an ongoing concern and had modified the black bodysuit underneath. She added a vertical cut from neck to sternum. It was about three fingers wide and crisscrossed with thin black straps. Her small breasts allowed it to lay flat against the complex ivory skin of her chest.

  It was hard for Jordahk to imagine her memory challenges, but fashion endeavors were a good sign of adjustment to a new life. She was pleased with the approval of both men, but you wouldn't know unless you were a student of her subtle facial expressions. She put on the round, flat-topped hat. It looked good on her, even alluring.

  His mother's leaf pin glimmered on the sweater jacket above her breast. It triggered something within Jordahk's mind. A picture of Khai lying asleep in the scout's shuttle. It was a strange and unbidden image. It faded, and suddenly he was nervous. Not for himself but for her. In this place he had no means to protect her. It was quite possible those with ill intent were the only ones with weapons. Khai and Aristahl both reacted to his changed expression.

  "Pops..."

  "We only have to make contact and act naturally for forty-eight hours. An old man with a young boy and girl in tow is a lot less threatening than two men."

  He was uneasy at this alien experience, being at the mercy of the state and their authorized agents. He closed his eyes for a long blink, then turned to the bridge viewport. HAB rock's docking trees looked like wizened claws ready to snatch.

  The docks were not crowded, yet Jordahk felt herded. He noticed the smell of dirt when stepping into the local air. Not dirty, just old stone and earthiness. Perhaps in the labyrinth of tunnels carved out of the moonlet, some were exposed rock.

  As planned, it was just the three of them. Alb-Sone, more concerned than ever about protecting his ship and its secrets, chose to remain behind. Nothing they had on board was illegal for foreign visitors, as long as it originated and stayed aboard ship. But the Perigeum had a way of making things illegal when it suited their purpose. And "emergency powers" could be invoked at any time in the Hex, overturning accepted laws of space.

  He wanted to show Khai-aLael the universe.

  This isn't what I had in mind.

  It seemed new experiences were instrumental in her personality growth, or consolidation. Whatever. He didn't understand it, but Alb-Sone trusted her into their care.

  He wore his dark pants and cream shirt, covered by the mystic, multifunction coat. He was certain it did more things than he yet knew how to activate. He didn't bother with his sling bag. There would be little in it without ammunition, mystic legacy shells, and an oversized hunting grister. His grandfather was classic Aristahl in his black, knee-length frock coat, gray vest, and black pants. As usual, the accents on his velvety coat at cuffs, collar, and hems were purple.

  They supposed there was no known uniform for prospectors from the Far Worlds. At least not that these guys would know. The docking trees funneled new arrivals into a security zone where everyone was longwave penetration-scanned. He was willing to withstand the indignity of being searched through and through, but he thought it below his grandfather.

  Overlooking the area was a Perigeum logo. The large hexagon with circles at each point loomed on the wall. It wasn't a VAD. Jordahk didn't need a reminder he was no longer within the Asterfraeo.

  The closed, dumb systems of the longwave scanners were beyond the reach of even Wixom. Aristahl lit his up with a variety of anomalies. He was taken to the s
ide to answer questions. Few people were incoming, all shuffled through by humorless men and women wearing the dark brown uniforms of Beuker Security & Inspection.

  The Kord in him surfaced, and Jordahk did a security assessment with one eye while keeping Khai in sight with the other. The S&Is were armed with incapacitators, a nasty choice for nonlethal. None of them looked happy or exceptionally alert toward visitors. Instead, he caught them glancing over their shoulders more than once toward a group near the exit.

  The group wore uniforms of dark gray similar to Archiver ships, with silver accents and a single silver sleeve.

  Polis.

  The Perigeum's inter-system police force. Truly acting like overseers, they let the S&Is do all the work. Looking closely, Jordahk saw their uniforms were actually segmented armor, the kind that hardened up when specialized current was transmitted through. They wore tall caps with a ridge all around, and a brim in front. No doubt a helmet ready to unfold if the armor was activated. A crystal visor dropped down, wrapping in front of the eyes. Though there was nothing visible to him, no doubt they were getting information overlays on everything they saw. But they looked a little unkempt for Polis. Gritty. Even surly.

  It was their unprofessional appearance that struck him the most. Combined with the way the S&Is were wary of them, a picture of untrustworthiness was forming in his mind.

  He was the only one to clear the longwave scanners without incident. Aristahl was still being detained and questioned, but Jordahk was sure he had acceptable answers and authentications for whatever parts he had acquired over the centuries. A commotion was brewing near Khai, and he tried to get closer even as a Polis lout closed to investigate.

  "Is she some sort of biosynth?" the lead S&I asked. "You need a license for that sort of android."

  "No," a female S&I said. She was looking at a VAD. "She's legit bio."

  The lenticular VAD was only designed to be seen head-on, but Jordahk got a glimpse when he passed behind. It showed a schematic of Khai's head. Her brain was equal parts organic and technology. Jordahk fought back a wave of revulsion. He didn't want to feel that way about Khai. It was just a natural reaction ingrained from the Mark One movement, and multiplied by society's disdain for emotional investment in androids. There was no denying he had growing feelings for her. But this wasn't the time to work it through.

  The Polis proctor eyed her up. "She's like no model I've ever seen." He didn't even bother to hide his lasciviousness.

  Khai's face grew red, not in embarrassment but anger. "I am not an android." She enunciated each word with growing indignation.

  Jordahk surmised she enjoyed the fatherly compliments from Alb-Sone and Aristahl, and even his awkwardly delivered appreciation for her form and skills. But this guy's leer on top of the machine talk was testing her still-growing stability. Her eyes darted about, and he could see her calculating an escape.

  He line of sight transmitted a sub-whisper to her. "Khai-aLael, please! Stay calm another minute. Aristahl will get us through."

  As far as Jordahk knew, she didn't even have a link, although there was more than enough technology in her head to do the job. She met his eyes immediately, signaling she had heard. Through an undisguised effort of will, she stepped back from the precipice of doing something rash.

  A young S&I who barely looked out of long adolescence approached. "You know, adam, maybe she's a biodroid."

  "Too much time in the nexus, Carlo," the female S&I said. "Your brain's burnt. This ain't radiated Chryson Genos!"

  The Polis proctor stepped close to her. "Maybe this calls for a personal examination."

  It was going bad fast. Jordahk wondered how they would get out of this one. These dolts would use incapacitators on them without a second thought if a fight broke out. But he wasn't just going to stand there and let the cretin touch her.

  "Wait!" Jordahk said, stepping around a barrier.

  Suddenly, Aristahl was moving past him. "Yes, wait. I have documentation for my ward. I was delayed by my own checks." He took on the outward persona of a concerned grandsire. "I have spent a small fortune trying to restore her capacity to live a normal life. Please forgive her if she is a little slow." Barrister started confusing the area with various permit VADs and all manner of licenses. "We have been given authorization to seek a medical imprimatur in the Overtrade Autonomy. Our nurse is going through bot entry. He can provide you with detailed scans. As you can see, the implants are experimental..."

  Aristahl prattled on, surprising Jordahk with his acting prowess. "Now we just need to seal the deal with a distraction," he sub-whispered to Max.

  There was a constant level of activity in his compy. "Barrister's on it. Wixom's got his hands in a lot of things and can see some sort of power surge being set up."

  "Yeah. Pops just has to get them over the suspicion hump first."

  Khai could not bring herself to act simply, but she did take on a certain ill-fitting docility. It was disturbing to see both she and Aristahl take on the demeaning roles. Khai could probably take down everyone in this room in a fair fight. And Aristahl? Who knew what he could bring to bear if he so chose. Jordahk found himself in a wrestling match with pride.

  Not surprisingly, Aristahl did get them over the hump, and the tense posture of the entire group eased. The Polis lout shook his head, no doubt displeased by the wasted "opportunity," as Aristahl put his protective, grandfatherly arm around Khai. What a terrible first port of entry.

  He felt a tingling in that mystic part of his brain. It lowered to a deep rumble, and the longwave scanner his grandfather had passed through popped open in a shower of sparks. Lights flickered until alternates set along the walls kicked in.

  "What the hell?" the head S&I said.

  To Jordahk's relief, it was directed outward, away from their party.

  An S&I from across the room yelled, "It's another power surge."

  The Polis lout scowled. "Did those freaks in Service install drak again?"

  Aristahl affected an innocent, questioning look to the lead S&I and gestured toward the exit.

  "Okay, get out of here."

  Jordahk and Khai were herded gently toward the exit by his surprisingly slick grandfather.

  "You do this kind of thing often?" Jordahk line of sight transmitted.

  "Once or twice."

  They had to pass the remaining Polis clustered at the far end. They were all armed with sub-rifles. Jordahk supposed a full-length long arm would be unwieldy within the station, and overkill for most security situations. Their rifles were stocky, twin barrel affairs.

  "Max, what're those?" Jordahk sub-whispered. "I think the top part is a spasm shock rifle." Kord had filled Jordahk in on his first-hand experience with those the previous year.

  "Yes, spasm shock on top. And I believe a variable load shotgun on the bottom. They can fire all kinds of shells with that thing. I guess you never know what's going to come through a station."

  They passed the group, trying not to make eye contact. The weapons stayed pointed in various unsafe directions, but at least not at them. Their appearance was almost as slovenly as their leader. They passed a hard sign informing travelers to pick up their bots at the next hub.

  Leaving the Polis behind, they saw someone coming down the wide corridor to the hub. Despite Jordahk's efforts stay low-profile, his attention was drawn to the man. He was dressed in neat, high-class civilian clothes. As they got closer, Jordahk saw the man's piercing black eyes, which matched his hair. He had a sharp nose and a wide mouth. Why did this man arouse such involuntary suspicion?

  Aristahl was not looking at the man directly, yet Jordahk sensed he, too, was taking note. When the man passed, Jordahk glanced back to see the Polis stand up straight in a hurry, trying to make their disheveled appearance more presentable. They pointed their sub-rifles toward the ceiling. It seemed more out of fear than respect.

  Aristahl led them into the well-lit hub. Apparently the "power surge" had not reached this area.
<
br />   Torious approached. "Those entry bots were almost as intelligent as foundry-bound flux-jerks." His head cocked, and one of his scanning arms flashed out in an arc. "Flushed skin? Elevated heart rates? What did I miss?"

  The hub was busy, but few talked. People moved as if on preset courses. Travel tubes loaded and unloaded along one side. Tunnels, finished but worn, branched off. Most seemed to follow the outer layer of the moonlet, but a few aimed deeper.

  The body wasn't excessively massive nor rotating, so anything aside from microgravity was from weaves. He sensed them more deeply than he ever recalled. They were absolutely basic. Just enough to do the job, and running at low power to extend their lifespan. They produced about three-quarters standard G, but it was spotty. He could feel changes from plate to plate.

  There were stark differences between this hub and someplace similar in the Asterfraeo. It wasn't just the technology. It was the people. The aura was wrong. They all trudged in various states of "not being there."

  Since most of the time it wasn't easy to visually distinguish age for those in vigere, Jordahk let himself start examining the next level of clues. Of those milling about, he saw two classes. The ones walking with their heads down in worn clothes of a utilitarian nature, he labeled older. They didn't appear to care what people thought.

  The others walked with their heads buried in VADs. They mumbled occasionally or interacted with a display using a free hand, the other stuffed lazily in a pocket. He had heard stories about the endless social nexus but didn't expect to see a demonstration so quickly. An entire segment of the population finding virtual solace.

  Khai stayed close to him out of unspoken agreement. He was seeing Hex life like never before, but he was going in with preconceived notions. How must it look to her? He wondered if she, too, had preconceived notions. Or were her foundations two centuries old?

  Unlike those around him, he lifted his head and beheld an atmosphere of projected colors. Almost every meter of air space was filled with overlapping VADs.