The Ascendant Stars

by Cobley, Michael

  This was the point where control had to be exerted. Were he to allow the new energies to flood the web of roothouses it would be like a beacon in the perceptions of some entities, particularly that resolute survivor, the Legion Knight. So he had to carefully gauge the flow of energies, making sure that their permeation was gradual and even, and to keep the roothouses themselves from trying to draw on this new source of fresh, vibrant power.

  As his awareness continued to expand, and the energy of the depths seeped steadily in, the demands on his will-power grew. His Seer talents drew more and more from his essential vitality and it seemed that the Zyradin was present, watching over him, watching it all.

  There was movement off to one side. The central junction of the roothouse had four galleries leading off, all looking grey, a little misty, and it was in one of them that a tall figure stood. It was a Human, naked to the waist, the skin of his torso marked with many small wounds. And when Chel saw the flat metallic implants on the back and the neck he instantly knew that it was Rory, even before he glanced round for a moment before heading away into the shadows at a crouch.

  Instinctively Chel drifted forward, wondering how Rory had managed to find his way here, to the roothouse. But when the darkened gallery melted away into somewhere in the open, somewhere flat and gloomy, he realised that he had strayed into the domain of that Seer talent that he called the Dream Speculator.

  Ahead of him, the Human Rory was creeping across ground consisting of scattered flat stones and tufts of grass towards a dark, squat building. There were metallic gleams and the glowing red and blue pinpoints of machine displays. Suddenly Chel realised that this was Giant’s Shoulder, and even as the thought struck him the surface of the promontory began to quake. Big stone slabs quivered and shifted and Rory staggered. Some structures, low buildings and a couple of watchtowers, fell apart and collapsed. Then a crack opened and a harsh silver-grey radiance poured out. Rory dodged round and ran for the squat building. But the ground suddenly began to rise from the centre, like a growing mound, forcing Rory to clamber along on his hands and knees.

  Until fractures appeared all across it, seconds before it erupted in a violent rushing blaze of harsh silver light, with a solitary figure silhouetted against the brightness for an instant …

  Chel breathed in suddenly, a quick, cold chestful of air, and he was back on the stone plinth. Most of his awareness was still guiding itself out to the last extremities of the nineteen roothouses and their networks of strands. The planetary energies continued to trickle through, and over on its mech-guarded fastness of Giant’s Shoulder the Legion Knight remained, unfathomable, yet perhaps also unsuspecting.

  But the meaning of that vision – did it presage some kind of inevitable tragedy, or was it a warning, or something symbolic involving Rory? That was the problem with the Dream Speculator – the things it revealed could be thoroughly literal or abstrusely metaphorical, with scarcely any hint as to which was being observed. And right now he had neither time nor opportunity for the meditation that would make the vision clearer.

  I must complete my work and trust that Rory’s path does not bring him more pain, him least of all.

  KUROS

  Bodiless in the cage, sights and sounds were all he knew. From a desperate, indiscriminate grasping at every audible and visual scrap he had grown in attentiveness and analytical acuity. Now he was almost attuned to the totality of the impressions that reached his eyes and ears.

  Except that they were his no longer. He was a prisoner in his own brain, betrayed by his lifelong AI companion, Gratach, who now controlled his body. Kuros knew that he was only able to see and hear because Gratach permitted it.

  At least the AI was not abusing the body it had seized. Kuros remembered rumours of other Sendrukans whose AIs had taken them over and proceeded to plunge into a frantic whirl of self-destructive pleasure-seeking, drug-taking and various forms of deviancy. Gratach had been modelled on General Gratach, the historical figure known for his severe austerity in personal matters, which accounted for the lack of self-indulgence. That said, the presence of the Clarified Teshak no doubt played an influential part.

  The Clarified Teshak … over the days since his ruthless incarceration, Kuros had grown to hate Teshak with a unified, unwavering intensity that he had never felt before. This was given an extra edge by the fact that Teshak knew that Kuros was watching and listening; addressing Kuros directly from time to time clearly gave him a certain satisfaction.

  But right now Teshak’s state of mind could hardly be described as anything as positive as satisfied.

  ‘Marshal Becker,’ he said in clipped tones while staring at the image on the comm screen. ‘This situation is intolerable. The ambassador and myself have been waiting on this primitive backwater for several days, expecting to be transported back to civilisation – if you know anything about the Clarified and the unique rank they carry in the hierarchy of the Hegemony, then you must also realise that obedience to my orders should take precedence for you.’

  ‘In any other situation that would indeed be the case, Clarified One,’ said the Ezgara. ‘But my orders come directly from the Second Tri-Advocate and they are very specific in both priority and objectives.’

  ‘And what would your objectives be?’

  ‘With great respect, Clarified One, I am not permitted to divulge … What?’ The Ezgara-Human turned his visored face to snap at someone out of view. ‘ … No, use the field pumps … ’ He turned back. ‘Clarified Teshak, Ambassador Kuros, my apologies but we have a critical situation that must be dealt with before I can come ashore. Till later.’

  Then the screen went blank.

  ‘We should have dispensed with those Ezgara-Humans years ago,’ said Teshak. ‘Indeed, the fact that the Second Tri-Advocate has entrusted a high-value mission to a non-Sendrukan is further proof of the regime’s unfitness to rule.’

  Gratach made no reply, just looked at the Clarified Teshak, who met his gaze and smiled.

  ‘Don’t be too hopeful, Kuros,’ he said, leaning closer. ‘There’s a Hegemony armada out there and before long a ship will come to take us back to Iseri where the last lingering shreds of your pitiful existence will finally be expunged.’

  He straightened, exchanged a wordless look with Gratach along with a faint nod and a slight tilt towards the window with his head. Then he was out of the door and gone. Gratach got to his feet, closed the commset lid, moved round the table and went to the window. He scanned the night-bound sea, a black expanse glimmering from the meagre radiance of ionisation glows and the now frequent shooting stars, pieces of battle debris burning up as they plunged into the stratosphere.

  Then Gratach looked left to where a long, indistinct shape lay half-submerged in the shallows nearly a hundred sendru-paces offshore. A few worklamps had been set up along the upper hull but going by what Kuros had heard, Becker’s ship was disabled, unable to fly. During the last part of the descent, coming in over the coastal plain, it was hit by about a dozen ground-to-air missiles that wrecked the ship’s main suspensor node and killed three techs. With the thrusters they were able to stay in the air long enough to ditch in the sea close to the Brolturan base. Repairs were estimated to take at least two days.

  So why is Becker here? Kuros thought. He said his orders came from the Second Tri-Advocate, whom the Clarified clearly consider an adversary. And the Hegemony’s fleet is in the system so it is reasonable to assume that they would like to regain control of the warpwell.

  He heard heavy footsteps in the corridor outside, which he knew to be the sound of the night-duty officer leaving to take over the sentry watch. In a few minutes the relieved officer would come up and enter the room across the corridor, slamming the door shut. Kuros also knew that Gratach would soon lie down on one of the couches while performing whatever optimisation tasks it found necessary, and it duly did. The room was small but sparsely furnished, one of two officers’ quarters on the main building’s third floor.

 
; Neither the AI nor Kuros needed sleep, and at such times Kuros kept himself mentally active by recalling small details from happier times. He was just trying to picture the exact shade of blue of the ceremonial cloak he’d worn during his tenure as Second Suppressor all those years ago when a hand rose up from the right and stabbed him in the neck with something unseen.

  Gratach had started to react as soon as it appeared in his peripheral vision but not fast enough to prevent the stab, a second after which the AI seemed to freeze, slumping back onto the couch. The muscles were locked in paralysis, leaving Gratach unable to even make a sound. But who would want to do this to the ambassador? Kuros wondered. Then the assailant came into view and everything changed – it was Vashutkin, the Human politician, altered by the Blue Chain nanodust to be his loyal servant.

  Smiling, Vashutkin nodded, then showed Kuros a transdermal injector before leaning in to apply it to the left side of the neck, close to where the AI implant was.

  ‘I have retasked a portion of my cognitive particles to attack the implant’s interface tendrils,’ he whispered. ‘Once it’s been isolated from your cortex you should regain control … ’

  It was already happening. Tingles of sensation were sparkling on the periphery of his awareness. Kuros felt almost delirious with anticipation as he began to feel sensation coming from his fingertips, impressions like the weight of his hand, his arm, his head. Then it all came at him in a rush, as if he’d fallen into his body … and it was all too much, a cascade of sensations coming from every bit of skin, the mingled torrent of smells and tastes was all just overwhelming.

  But then the intensity of it waned, subsiding from a roar to a manageable background murmur. He sagged back on the couch for a second then swung his legs round to stand, feet planted apart, revelling in his stature relative to the Human. He clenched and unclenched his fists, touched his face, breathed in and out deeply.

  ‘The Clarified Teshak,’ he said, pleased to hear his own words in his own voice. ‘We must deal with him.’

  ‘Something is happening,’ said Vashutkin as he moved over to the window. ‘The Clarified One is about to receive a visitor.’

  Kuros went to join his diminutive rescuer. Outside, a steady rain was falling and wet surfaces gleamed. Teshak was standing off to one side of the floodlit base courtyard while a flat-canopied aircar swept in from the direction of the downed ship, slowing to land, its positional lights winking. Kuros was suddenly full of suspicion – what had really passed between Gratach and Teshak earlier? He had thought the minuscule head movements to indicate a later meeting, but what if it was something else entirely?

  ‘We must go down there,’ he said. ‘I think that Teshak may be about to kill a potential ally.’

  Gratach had thoughtfully strapped on a fully charged Brolturan-issue beam pistol. As they descended the stairway Kuros explained his plan and made sure that Vashutkin understood his part. When they reached the main exit the Human was already in front with hands clasped behind his head while Kuros pointed the weapon at his back.

  The Ezgara-Human Becker and a four-strong armed escort had disembarked from the aircar and were walking towards the Clarified Teshak, who stood flanked by a pair of Brolturan troopers. There were other troopers posted along the courtyard wall facing in, Kuros noticed, with weapons at the ready. This would have to be crushed in the cradle, he realised, so, pushing Vashutkin on ahead of him, he strode out of the building and bellowed:

  ‘Wait!’

  All eyes snapped round at him, apart from Teshak, who gave him a sidelong, smiling glance.

  ‘Ah, so the ambassador has decided to grace us with his presence,’ the Clarified said.

  ‘I have brought you a gift,’ Kuros said, trying to emulate Gratach’s harsher tone.

  The Clarified Teshak turned, frowning as he considered the Human walking at gunpoint towards him.

  ‘I noticed that a certain level of communication had ceased,’ Teshak said.

  Becker and his men had halted, distrust showing in their posture as they watched this exchange. Kuros knew that Teshak could order them burned down at any moment. The time to strike was now.

  ‘This Human infiltrated the main building,’ he said. ‘Assaulted me, damaged my equipment before I subdued him. His punishment will be … elaborate!’

  That last word was the signal for Vashutkin to attack. He had covered two-thirds of the distance to the tall, black-garbed Sendrukan when he broke into a mad dash. Teshak was in mid-grab for his own handweapon when Vashutkin feinted right but lunged down the centre with an elbow aimed at the Sendrukan’s midriff. Teshak doubled over but he was already stepping back. As the pair of them rolled backwards, the Clarified grabbed handfuls of Vashutkin’s heavy coat and used the momentum to throw the Human over his head. Teshak rolled and bounced back to his feet.

  ‘This is a conspiracy – kill the … ’

  He stopped, eyes bulging, tongue straining from an open mouth as both hands leaped to his throat. Kuros had shot him twice in the neck.

  The blood leaking between the Clarified’s fingers was black in the flood’s harsh light. Teshak sank to his knees. His eyes burned with hate as Kuros walked up to him, and his bloody lips framed the words ‘Not the end’ repeatedly until Kuros shot him through the head, and kept shooting when the body fell over. Only when the cranium was a shapeless mess of churned bone and brain matter did he turn away and address the watching Brolturans.

  ‘The Clarified Teshak was acting in disobedience of orders that came directly from the Hegemon’s most trusted ministers. Pact arrangements and chain-of-command protocols remain in effect so senior officers will now report to me. All other ranks may now return to your stations and your duties.’

  As the Brolturan troops hurried about their business, Kuros glanced over at Vashutkin, who was back on his feet, brushing off wet grit and mud. Then he strode over to the Ezgara Marshal Becker and his men – the former bowed with his head, the latter from the waist.

  ‘Marshal, my apologies that you were forced to endure such an unpleasant start to your task here on Darien. However, the Clarified Teshak intended to have you murdered prior to taking control of your ship, which left me with few options.’

  Looking up, Becker gave a wintry smile.

  ‘Exalted Ambassador, I confess that I had anticipated something untoward – my body armour is fitted with partial shielding.’

  Kuros smiled. ‘Such precautions are the burden of leadership, Marshal. Let us continue our discussion in a less exposed location, over in the main building.’

  Some minutes later they were settling into the wide chairs of the Brolturan officers’ mess, hastily cleared of cast-off uniforms and equipment. Apart from Becker the Humans remained standing while Kuros leaned back in an articulated altercouch.

  ‘Marshal Becker, firstly you should realise that the Clarified Teshak has been holding me under a psychonarcotic captivity for several days. I only broke free with the help of my associate, who administered an antidote into my bloodstream.’ Kuros indicated Vashutkin who sat behind him, near the wall. ‘Like you he is Human. I will explain a little more about him later, but for now we must address crucial matters.’

  He straightened. ‘I do not know what your orders are, Marshal, but you probably realise that we are no longer in control of the landmark known as Giant’s Shoulder and the secret facility concealed within it. In fact, the withdrawal from Giant’s Shoulder was directed by Teshak soon after he placed me under his vile influence. Now, however, Teshak is no more and I am myself again, and I want to use the resources of this base to mount an assault on Giant’s Shoulder and retake it in the Hegemon’s name. Hopefully, my plans do not run counter to your orders.’

  Becker, looking almost childlike as he sat in the Sendrukan-sized chair, smiled thoughtfully.

  ‘As fortune would have it, Ambassador, our goals coincide perfectly. The Second Tri-Advocate was of the opinion that your silence since the destruction of the Purifier signified your death o
r imprisonment, thus I was assigned the mission to regain control over the Forerunner facility. Your re-emergence, however, is most gratifying and I would be willing to defer to you on matters of the strategic overview.’

  ‘An interesting proposal,’ Kuros said guardedly. ‘How do you envisage such an arrangement working in practice?’

  ‘I would see my role as tactical commander under your supervision,’ Becker said smoothly. ‘We already possess significant intelligence gathered over the last few days, which reveals that the Human insurgents have been reinforced by renegade Ezgara, traitors from my world armed with powerful weaponry.’

  ‘I had heard something of this very recently,’ Kuros said.

  ‘But there is more, Ambassador. These insurgents are planning to mount their own raid on Giant’s Shoulder in just a few hours – and they have made a pact with a sizeable faction of the Spiral zealots.’

  Kuros stiffened at this news, glanced sideways and made a beckoning gesture. In a moment, Vashutkin was at his elbow.

  ‘Did you know about this?’ he said to the Human.

  ‘There were some offworlder Humans calling themselves Tygrans,’ Vashutkin said. ‘I know nothing of any Ezgara, and this pact with the zealots is also unknown to me. It could have happened after I left Tusk Mountain.’

  Kuros looked at Becker. ‘These new collaborations could present a problem. They must be stopped, a pre-emptive strike against that mountain lair of theirs.’

  ‘I agree, Ambassador,’ Becker said with a sharp smile as he glanced at Vashutkin. ‘So who is your companion and how does he come to know about these … Tygrans?’