The Karasor

by Philip Hamm

  “That much is obvious.”

  Narikin sat up on his bunk and Jamadar sat beside him.

  “It must have been worse for you,” he said.

  “It wasn’t easy,” the War Master agreed. “But I have seen worse.”

  “What could be worse than that?”

  “They could have been alive. After the Battle of Variola, I saw the suffering of thousands of casualties, heard them screaming for their mothers and watched them die, some in my arms. I am called a ‘war master’, as though war is nothing more than trick to be learnt, like the stroke of a brush or the touch of a pen, but I have done nothing more than master my emotions. I see the horror, it still affects me; I remember the face of every soul who died beside me, either as an enemy or a friend.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget what I’ve seen today, or on Tenrec...”

  “You shouldn’t – you must hold onto these memories as hard as you would the good things in life. If you forget them, you might begin to think war is an acceptable risk.”

  “I’ve never thought that.”

  “No,” he agreed. “The captain calls you ‘peace-maker’ and I think that’s true. But we must not be afraid to act. That ship needs to be hunted down and its crew need to be brought to justice – either in a court or by a missile through their hull.”

  “I have a picture of it – it’s not very clear but it will give us a rough idea of what we’re looking for...” He got up and hobbled to the darkroom.

  He had pegged the worst photographs, the images of the dead on the Gory Kamen, so they faced the wall and he wouldn’t have to look them every time he came into the room. Knowing it would be needed, he had left the picture of the phantom ship close to the door. He took it down from the line. It was still damp but dry enough.

  Back in his cabin, he showed it to Jamadar.

  One side was over-exposed because of the burst of light inside the Gory Kamen’s Exarch field. But on the other side, the outline of the ship was visible.

  “This is excellent work,” said Jamadar, holding it out in front of him.

  “A lucky shot,” Narikin replied.

  Though size was impossible to determine, it was roughly the shape of a fish. There was a definite head at one end and the body tapered to a tail at the other. It was smooth; no joints or signs of plates. There was a kind of mouth through which the main weapon was probably being fired. No other features, fins or marks were visible but the image was blurred so it was impossible to be certain; there could have been a flag or even a name painted on the side but nothing showed on the photograph.

  “I’ve never seen a ship like this,” said the War Master.

  “No, me neither and I’ve studied many books on the subject. This is something new.”

  “I will take it to the captain. We will be holding a meeting in the wardroom later to discuss the situation and he’s asked me to invite you – bring the rest of the photographs. But have some rest and food. You’ve done well, Prince Narikin; we’re all very proud of you.”

  “That’s kind of you but I’m sure I’ve given you no cause to say so, not compared to how hard everybody else has worked.”

  There was another knock at his door. Quassin came in, his face still covered in sooty marks, just as Narikin’s was. He was wearing a robe and carrying a towel. “I’m on my way to the bathhouse and thought you might like to join me.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll make it down the stairs...”

  “Renshi and Sonoba are coming with us – they’ll give you a hand.”

  Jamadar showed him Narikin’s photograph, “If you had any doubts about him, this image would tend to dissolve them, wouldn’t it?”

  Quassin looked at the picture and smiled, “I never had any doubts, War Master.”

  While they talked, Narikin stripped off his clothes and put on a dressing gown. He could feel the sweat and dirt clinging to his skin - he had never been so filthy in his life. He picked up his towel and followed the Sword Master out of the cabin, leaving Jamadar to examine the rest of the photographs drying in the darkroom.

  The bathhouse was on ‘E’ Deck, next to the storerooms, near the laundry. It was a luxury considered a necessity by most Pentī; a little piece of home in the depths of space. Narikin had not used it yet; there were showers at the end of his corridor and he hadn’t felt confident enough to go on his own. But if there was ever a moment to be comforted by tradition, this was probably it.

  Renshi and Sonoba didn’t need to help him down the stairs as much as he’d anticipated. He was definitely stronger or maybe his limitations had been in his head rather than his body, but he made it to the bathhouse without having to be carried.

  They showered first. Though he was tired and didn’t really care, he still felt self-conscious as he stood beside the warriors. Their muscles were like a turtle’s back and his were like a tiny bird’s. Sonoba and Renshi had tattoos with phrases in Pentī vernacular; lines of poetry from ancient sagas, the names of loved-ones on Pentī Prime and battle honours. But the Sword Master’s skin was clean except for the scars he’d acquired in his youth.

  After the shower, they climbed into the hot bath that steamed and bubbled in the next room. The water was shallow enough to sit on the bottom but deep enough to submerge the warriors up to their broad chests. The level came up to Narikin’s chin and he was in danger of floating across the pool - but it did feel good.

  Quassin was watching him closely. “Bravery comes in many shades,” he said. “It will be easier next time.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t have to go to the Gory Kamen.”

  “It was difficult,” he agreed. “But your conduct on the Kyzyl Mazhalyk was exemplary.”

  “I fell down a hole, Sword Master; hardly the actions of a hero.”

  “But you didn’t panic – that’s the key.”

  “Master,” Renshi said, “Did the camera survive the fall?”

  Narikin realised the warrior was referring to him, “Yes,” he replied. “I managed to take a picture of the phantom ship as it attacked the Gory Kamen.”

  The warriors were impressed. Out of their armour, their faces uncovered, they were older than he had imagined. Renshi had grey hairs in his beard and Sonoba had lines around his purple eyes. But if they were tired, they didn’t show it. They watched him and the sword master closely, almost with awe, and hung on their every word.

  “When you disappeared through the deck,” said Sonoba, “We expected you to scream like a child - but you were silent.”

  “I had my eyes closed,” Narikin admitted. “I didn’t see what was happening.”

  The warriors laughed. “Just as well,” said Quassin. “It looked horrific from where we were standing – we thought we’d lost you for sure. A piece of the deck could have sliced you in half or ripped a hole in your suit...”

  “I was very lucky.”

  “It would only be fair if you shared your luck with us,” he grinned.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  After the bath, Narikin felt much better. His feeble muscles no longer ached and his head felt clear. Being with the warriors made him feel slightly less useless; they accepted him in a way his own family never had. They didn’t see his eccentricities or his weaknesses but saw him as part of the Kyzyl Kum, the same as them. When they discovered his legs were too soft from the bath to propel him up the stairs, Sonoba carried him on his back without a word.

  While he was dressing in his cabin, Kruvak’s steward, Pall, came to tell him the meeting in the wardroom had started.

  Kruvak, Jamadar and Durgah were already at the table along with Danaide and Pelike. Quassin had just entered and was helping himself to tea from a pot. He poured a cup for Narikin too.

  On the table was laid the photograph of the phantom attacking the Gory Kamen and the limb they had found on the Kyzyl Mazhalyk. In the light, the latter looked even more alien than when he had found it floating on Uigur’s ship. The shards of the emerald-like nicol crystals w
ere there too, jagged and cracked, but probably still quite valuable.

  “It is not invisible,” Danaide was saying. “Its shape and the nature of its paint make it very difficult to see both visually and with the radar, but Bysen and I believe the Exarch detector, with some adjustments, will be able to find it.”

  “Good,” said Kruvak. “Thank you both for your input.”

  When the engineer and the quartermaster were gone, Jamadar said, “Do you remember we had the same problem with Pavonine field generators during the war?”

  “I do,” said Kruvak. “And most of them were on our side back then. But where did this one come from?”

  “And why is it attacking Pentī ships?” Durgah added.

  “I think the answer to that is obvious,” said Jamadar. “The phantom could have attacked us while we were alongside the Kyzyl Mazhalyk but it was waiting for the Gory Kamen. We were an unexpected complication but it chose to continue with its mission.”

  “Which was...?”

  He looked at Durgah, “To make sure the Taira will think we had destroyed their ship. Uigur should not have taken the Kyzyl Mazhalyk into their territory – how the phantom knew it was there is another question but it will look to the Taira as though the Gory Kamen discovered her presence, destroyed her in the fight and was destroyed by us in return. This is an attempt to cause a rift between our clans that will lead to civil war.”

  “Agreed,” said Kruvak. “But thus far, nobody knows we’re here.”

  “Then we should return to Sarillon before they do.”

  “But we can’t leave this ‘phantom’, as you put it, to attack more ships on the Meros.”

  “If we could capture it,” said Quassin. “We would be able to prove we didn’t attack the Gory Kamen.”

  “We do have some proof,” said Narikin. “We have the photograph of the phantom attacking her and we have the limb we found on the Kyzyl Mazhalyk.”

  They looked at the piece of the insect lying on the table. “We can’t prove we didn’t bring it with us from Tenrec,” said Durgah.

  “No,” Kruvak agreed. “And we can’t prove it wasn’t on the Kyzyl Mazhalyk before she was attacked. Besides, we know he crossed the Meros to pick a fight with the Taira and if we admit that then our ‘evidence’ doesn’t matter.”

  “But if we assume it came from the phantom ship,” said Quassin, “What was it doing on the Kyzyl Mazhalyk?”

  “I have a theory,” said Narikin. They all looked at him. “It’s not very nice...”

  “Go on,” said Kruvak.

  “As we’ve seen, the first strike of their weapon killed everyone on board the Gory Kamen but it didn’t cause the kind of damage we saw on the Kyzyl Mazhalyk. When we were on Tenrec, it was clear the people had been torn to pieces and devoured by the insects. I think they were put on the Kyzyl Mazhalyk to feed and then taken off again. That’s why we only found this one piece and not an entire insect. I expect there was a fight over the spoils and it lost its limb that way. Once they were back on their ship, the phantom used its weapon to reduce the Kyzyl Mazhalyk to the state we found it in – erasing the evidence of what they’d done to the crew.”

  “It is a good theory,” said Kruvak. “It also suggests the ship might be bigger than it appears if they’re carrying an army of those insects on board.”

  “But not big enough to carry enough food,” said Jamadar drily.

  “It would have to be a certain size to generate that much power,” said Durgah. “I have never seen a weapon like that; there was no light or sign of a laser...”

  “The Exarch field made no difference,” said Quassin. “In fact, it seemed to make the attack worse.”

  “It concentrated the waves,” said Narikin.

  They looked at him again.

  Kruvak smiled, “You have another theory...?”

  “I’ve read about an experiment using electromagnetic radiation to agitate water molecules. I think the phantom ship’s weapon was literally cooking the vapour inside the inner Exarch field, creating enough energy to discharge as lightning.” He sifted through the photographs he’d taken on the Kyzyl Mazhalyk until he found one that showed the branch-like lines of power burning through the ship. “The iron hull carried that energy that caused the damage.”

  “Photographer and science officer,” said Kruvak. “That’s an impressive explanation.”

  “I can’t think of another to explain this evidence.”

  “No, but where did you read about this ‘weapon’?”

  “I found it in a paper written by a Quelchemon-Zarktek scientist...”

  The senior officers looked at each other. “How...?” asked Jamadar.

  “My father’s collection...”

  “So, it’s true,” said Durgah. “The tsars really are coming back.”

  “That’s not what’s implied,” said Kruvak. “The fact the phantom is using a Zarktek weapon doesn’t make it a Zarktek ship. Could anybody else have access to this kind of knowledge?”

  “I expect so,” said Narikin. “There are probably copies of it at Rhyton University. These electromagnetic waves are very simple in principle.”

  “Is there any way we can proof ourselves against it?” said Durgah.

  “If we create a vacuum in our Exarch field, it won’t be able to heat up the air. The hull should protect us as long as we’re not making direct contact with the metal. But it would be difficult to insulate everything from the effects of the waves; the munitions, the electrical circuits and the nicol crystals are all vulnerable.”

  “Basically, we need to avoid being hit...?”

  “It probably doesn’t work over a long distance,” Narikin added. “Which is why they have designed their ship to be stealthy.”

  “But who designed her?”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Jamadar said, “The Rickobites could have paid for it and we know they have access to Zarktek science.”

  Durgah nodded, “And through their contacts in the south, they could acquire Pavonine field generators too.”

  “And they have the will to do this,” Kruvak concluded. “A war with the Taira would leave us unprepared for whatever they’re planning in the Variola system or on our border. But now we know what their secret weapon looks like, we will find it and we will have proof. Let’s get to work; we have a phantom to hunt.”

  The Kyzyl Kum continued south, along the edge of the mountainous asteroids, moving relatively slowly; hoping the phantom ship would think they were an easy target. Larret’s star peeked through the dust and rocks and made the shadows dance and move. Narikin spent most of his time in the observation dome, binoculars to his eyes, scanning the dappled landscape for any sign of the alien ship. It was impossible, of course. They were travelling thousands of miles every second and the closest asteroid was at least ten thousand miles away. If the phantom was after them, it would be Bysen’s instruments that spotted it, not his weary eyes. But keeping watch kept him out of his cabin where the smell of the chemicals reminded him of the horrors that had appeared as the photographs slowly developed.

  They were almost at the end of the Meros, where it met the Ouroboros Road that circled the Sea of Saron, when the phantom reappeared. Narikin had taken a break, had eaten some food and slept for a few hours before waking up after another nightmare.

  He had showered and changed his clothes before going back to the bridge. It was the late shift and Durgah was in the pilot’s chair. Bysen was there but everyone else was below, including the captain, grabbing some sleep.

  The radar operator was pleased to see him, “Narikin, if I show you what to do, could you take my place for a little while? I need the lavatory.”

  Bysen showed him which dials to turn but promised he wouldn’t be long. When he was gone, Narikin sat in his chair and watched the screens nervously.

  “Kruvak, Quassin and Jamadar think highly of you,” said Durgah suddenly.

  They had not spoken alone before and he didn’t know how to
reply. Unlike the other senior officers, Narikin thought Durgah was more aloof and unapproachable. He even wondered if the famous navigator resented having a prince with so little experience on board. “I’ve tried my best, Lieutenant.”

  “But do you think you’re ready for the trials to come?”

  “To come...?”

  “It is easy to survive a week or even a month on board a ship. But longer than that and even the strongest mind can crumble.”

  “I don’t know the answer to your question. All I can say is I feel more at home here than I ever did in my father’s court.”

  Durgah was quiet for a moment and Narikin wondered if he’d said the right or the wrong thing. But then he said, “It must have been very difficult for you to read about the wonders of the Third Sphere but not be able to see them.”

  “I didn’t think about the difficulty; I enjoyed the history and the stories.”

  “Did you ever imagine you would become part of that story?”

  “Not in a million years...”

  “And I don’t imagine you expected to be exposed to its horrors, either...?”

  “No, those have been difficult to cope with,” he admitted.

  “You get used to them.”

  “How...?”

  “I meditate in the Shrine to the Fallen Heroes to remind me that their sacrifice was greater than mine. They gave their lives to keep us safe and we are travellers, benefitting from the paths they cleared for us, that must be kept safe if their deaths are to have meaning.”

  “Do you believe Uigur’s death had ‘meaning’?”

  “He would not have crossed the Meros to confront the Taira if he had felt otherwise. His actions may have been misguided, he may have been wrong to do so, but he believed he was serving a cause.”

  “How can starting a war with the Taira be the right thing to do?”

  “I think that depends on how he perceived the end result. Through conflict, he may have imagined our clan would gain control of the empire in the Third Sphere and the right to decide its fate.”

  “But to defend our empire, we need the co-operation of the Taira and we need to be strong, not weakened by war.”

  “He did not know we were threatened.”