Savage Stars

by Randolph Lalonde

  “I’ll tell them to come in,” Spin said, shuddering at the fee schedule. A day moored to Beta Bio would cost them three thousand British Alliance Credits, which was about fifteen hundred platinum. It could be worth it, though, the companies working on Beta Bio had product ready to ship in every direction, so they could make it up if their next destination lined up with any of the shipping requests. If they had a solution for her, if they could extend her life, then she’d have to make sure that her ship started earning a reputation as good workers and reliable people. With a shake of her head, she pushed the notion that Beta Bio would be the solution to her genetic issues out of her mind. She refused to get her hopes up.

  “It was smart to leave them hidden, mind you,” Boro said. “With all the abandoned mining operations and ships in the outer system, there was no telling whether or not we’d run into trouble.”

  “I know,” Spin said, nodding and burying her irritation at being reassured. He was just trying to bolster her confidence, she realized, but it felt like a waste of time. Confidence wasn’t her problem. When it failed, determination could take its place. There was no time left to be insecure or uncertain.

  Twenty

  The facilities at Beta Bio were so advanced that they were humbling. “How did your company move ahead so far, so fast?” Master Kort asked the guide that had been assigned to him. She was a tiny thing: short and slim with pretty, sharp features that were only made to look daintier by her nearly white hair.

  “The British Alliance has benefited from several key alliances over the past year. As they discovered new technologies, they offered first usage rights through an auction system. One of the first technologies that we won was a derivative of Framework military systems. That is at the centre of our new line of regenerative armours,” her voice was high-pitched, almost thin and reedy.

  “What alliance brought that tech along?” Kort asked. The light red and grey decks had some sort of self-sterilizing technology. Boot prints disappeared as soon as they were laid down. The view outside was filled with the Lysa Belt; a massive asteroid belt rich in living ergranian metal. He’d only seen an old star fighter with a hull made of the stuff. It was an antique, but highly resilient. “Who did you meet with so many technical advances?”

  “I’m not authorized to speak about that, but it’s not a difficult thing to discern if you do your own research. Suffice it to say; they’re nowhere near this location. From the scan we took of you when you boarded, I can see Tribute Technologies could replace and streamline many of the augmentations and replacements you’ve had implanted over the years. Our cybernetics are much more comfortable while being just as effective.”

  “I’m happy with my custom work for the moment,” Kort said. The four guards he chose to accompany him off his ship were still armed, so was he, and he could see no indication of defences in the corridors or rooms he passed. The scanner system built into his eyes couldn’t find seams or indications of hidden suppression systems, which told him that the Tribune Corporation wasn’t worried about robberies or firefights between clients. They were either cocky, or so well defended that the weapons he and his people were carrying would be like stunners against rail guns. He didn’t like feeling insignificant. “I’m wondering; If I find technology I want to buy, will British law prevent me from purchasing it? My organization keeps debtors as slaves.”

  “I appreciate how forward you are with your questions,” the guide said. “Tribute Technologies doesn’t condone slavery, but we aren’t a law enforcement agency, so how you acquire your workforce isn’t our business. Buy whatever you like. We even encourage you to visit the Main Concourse, where you can see displays from all the competitors with installations aboard this station.”

  “Which one would be interested in Doll technology from Geist?”

  “There are a lot of companies with major research facilities there. Can you be more specific?”

  “Sago or Brimsage and similar models,” Kort asked. Neither of those companies made Aspen or Larken, but they both made variations based on their models. He didn’t want to tell her more specifics than he had to.

  “Green Technica would be the one you’re looking for.” She stopped after they turned a corner. A display case with heavy white armour was behind her. “Before you visit them, I’d like to show you something interesting. This is our Ram Regenerative Armour. A lot of us call it simply; the Ra suit. We just started limited manufacturing, so the first units haven’t appeared anywhere but here yet. I would like to offer you a suit to try – fitted to your body – for cost. We’re contracted by the British Alliance to make suits for their elite squads, but I could secure a number of them for you with the right incentive.”

  He knew there would be a hidden price as soon as Tribute Technologies offered to be his host; covering his docking fees, providing luxury rooms and food. “Does it come with the disintegration rifle?” he asked, looking at the heavy weapon on display with the suit.

  “That’s actually a combined electromagnetic pulse and incendiary round rifle made to destroy heavy rogue robots. I can furnish you with an early production unit along with your weight in ammunition.”

  “I weigh a lot,” Kort said with a smirk.

  “How about a metric ton?”

  “You have a deal,” he replied, knowing that he was only getting an opportunity to buy the armour because she expected him to order more for his own elite soldiers. Even still, he loved new toys, and he could afford the forty-two million.

  “Thank you so much,” she said, bowing a little. “Follow me to your private communications room, where we will connect you to the main network.”

  He followed her down the hall to a small, dark room. As soon as it closed, he was surrounded by a holographic illusion. It looked like he was standing on the armour plating of the station outside, asteroids with a blue tinge passed by lazily. He tapped his wrist computer and sent a request to communicate with the Countess’ private system. Her long, toothy face appeared a few minutes later. She was beautiful in her strangeness; he admired her elongated neck, and her piercing, oversized eyes. “The Royal Fleet has been destroyed! Most of our fighting ships were with them! We’re drifting outside British space, waiting for you to return with everything I have left,” she screeched.

  “I heard the news,” he replied. It was amazing to him that she wasn’t curious about how he was communicating with her with only a few seconds’ delay. It cost a fortune to hook up with any of the three quantum communication networks, and it took intelligence to find out who had standing accounts in British Alliance space. The hacks his crew put in place so he could even make the call took his best people and a few bribes. “There is more.”

  “I need you to come back and cover our retreat. The dream of having breeding dolls died with our poor, golden Prince. Golden idiot, for certain, but, the entire Royal family is in mourning. I have to return for the official funeral. It's going to be the greatest networking opportunity of the century.”

  “What if I could retrieve his body and the doll technology? I’ve heard something interesting from one of our spies in the British Alliance Military: the defences around Geist are broken.”

  “What? So, the whole system is undefended?”

  “Not the entire system, that would be too much to ask, but the development facilities we need, the database access points for our purposes are open. There are a thousand prizes for the commanders who have the cunning to raid them.”

  “Those systems will regenerate. Robots rebuild given enough time. You could decelerate into a fool’s trap.”

  “Word of the defeated defences are spreading. So far, I’ve seen three corporations and the British Alliance carrier: Lady Grace preparing to make the journey and break through the rest. Geist will be wide open. If I time my arrival right, I’ll be able to get the information we need so we can manufacture our own dolls. If I fail to accomplish that, I’ll at least be able to recover the Prince’s body. What will that be worth to your r
elations? You will surely rise.”

  “I’d see it done. Go. I’ll return to my palace and prepare for your victory. Get the data we’ll need to correct the dolls we’ve acquired and to manufacture more and Prince Connor’s body.” She leaned towards the recorder on her end. Her head was almost as large as Kort. “There are only rewards for you if you accomplish both and, whatever you do, do not bring the wrath of the British Alliance upon my house.”

  “I am your servant,” he said, bowing. The transmission was terminated at her end by the time he straightened. Holographic asteroids drifted past as he wished that he’d only told her about the Prince’s body. That would be hard enough, but he could do it. Few if any of the organizations about to race for the Geist System cared about the remains of a slaver prince.

  The feat of downloading from a heavily contested genetic development lab and fabrication complex was a different kind of task. He might be competing with several well-armed corporations if he was lucky. If he was unlucky, there would be robotic defences inside the facility and the British Alliance would be after the same thing, adding their military might to the list of violent competitors. It didn’t help that he had no idea what the facility looked like inside. Kort only had coordinates and a set of customer codes. He made sure he was standing straight, pushed his insecurities from his mind and stepped to his left. The hatch opened, creating a hole in the holographic illusion that led to the simple corridor beyond.

  Twenty-One

  The deck rumbled as the doors to the Grand Gallery closed behind the four servants of the Lux Crown. Hard plating and evenly lit corridors were replaced with a growing vista in twilight. The path they were on was simple interlocking stone. As they proceeded further in, the illusion that they were inside some curated park surrounded by balconies became more complete.

  The walking path they were on connected to others leading deeper in, where trees overhung, soft clover and wildflower lawns were interrupted by a few streams, bridges, and small, multi-storey buildings. “Hello,” said a soft, sweet voice from their left.

  “It’s Aspen,” Skylar whispered. “Is this where she ran to when she escaped the Countess?”

  Gavin squeezed her hand a little and nodded at the figure approaching. She was in a long, gold robe with images of jungle cats stretching and prowling stitched up the cloth. “I don’t think that’s her. Look how young she looks.” The woman who greeted them with an easy smile would be in her mid-teens by human standards.

  “I am one of the new Aspens,” she said. “I was born only three months ago, right there,” she pointed to one of the nearby buildings. “From a maturation pod. As I approach adulthood, I’ll look less and less like the rest of my line depending on incremental decisions I make about how I want to change.”

  “It sounds like freedom, but I only see another prison, with parameters made to control you,” Terry said.

  “I have more choice than a human does,” she replied. “I was born with every advantage that every other Aspen had, and now that I’m approaching maturity, I can choose how I’ll become unique. In five years, this face, this body will be different. I plan on growing another twenty centimetres past the maximum height of previous Aspens, for example, and I’ve already made that decision. Over the next two years, I’ll reach that height. No one told me to choose that, and no one is stopping me. I can have more changes made after I’m mature, so as I live out my three-hundred-year life span, I can become even more unique through genetic and nanobot manipulation.”

  “You were born without a life span limitation?” Farrah asked.

  “Every synthetic here has been. The Aspen model is old, so it was one of the first genetic keys the scientists who work in this program decoded. There are hundreds of Aspens, but they don’t go by that name. I’m one of the few who have the original face. I might keep it, too.”

  “What about our models?” Farrah, who looked around in disbelief at the convincing park, and at the fountain in the middle. It looked like the summit of a tall hill with water coming out of the top to create several waterfalls.

  “Don’t believe everything she says,” Terry advised.

  “Terry, your model has nearly been mastered, we're moments away from completing a genetic key just for you,” Aspen said. “We're hoping that Skylar and Gavin can help us finish the work. Would you like to have the restrictions on your model removed? Would you like to live a long life? Be able to have children with Farrah when she’s unlimited? It could happen as soon as tomorrow.”

  “Are you going to start making more of my model here? Manufacturing us to fill your ranks? Which Aspen are you? Number three thousand?”

  “I don’t actually know how many people are based on the Aspen model right now. Most of us choose our own name, I’m Nessa. Many of us are soldiers, in fact, two years of service is mandatory, but I’m studying to become a botanist and diplomat. In three months, you’ll probably meet people based on your model who are studying to become starship engineers, biologists, or historians. Once you bring choice into the situation, you never know what will happen. Meanwhile, you and Farrah will be living a good life, working in a field that is fulfilling to you. That is if you agree to the treatment that will unshackle you from the biological restraints your creators put on you.”

  “I want this. I loved the Prince, but he's gone, we're far from his House. If we find our way back to a Lux world, we'll be treated like failures. We have to find our own opportunities now,” Farrah said to Terry.

  “We don’t know if anything they’re saying is true,” Terry said. “They’ve already put their own system of control on us. Our duty is to return to our people and report.”

  “Come with me,” Nessa said. “I’ll show you to your private quarters and show you how to call up our research. You’re here, in our gallery, the safest place in the ship. Review our work and do your best to contribute.”

  “Thank you,” Skylar said.

  Gavin was pleased that she was willing to play along. He didn’t know if he trusted the Sol Defence people, there was something desperate about how they were making their case, but they needed something from them. As they passed through the garden it was hard not to be taken in by the lovely sights of streams populated with fish leisurely swimming, trees whose leaves rustled in the artificial breeze, or the rich living smell of it all. If green had a scent, that would have been it. He also saw other people in robes, most of them looked like Aspens or Larkens of different ages to varying degrees. The other faces he glimpsed had matches too, and he counted fewer than fifteen models before they climbed one set of stairs and were shown to their apartment.

  When the door closed, he embraced Skylar, who squeezed him back for a long moment. “Do you think it’s true?” she asked finally. “Are we so limited?”

  He looked over her shoulder and nodded. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

  To one side of the living room’s plush, rounded furniture was a pair of desks with equipment on them. Skylar looked and nodded. “It’s scanning equipment. We can do our own checks.”

  “Then I think we’ll find that everything they said about us is true,” he said. “No matter what happens, though, we’re still alive.” He was relieved that he and Skylar were left alone in their own space. Terry was great at questioning everything, having his aggressive curiosity could be helpful, but what had to happen next would only be hampered by it.

  “We have to verify what they told us,” Skylar said. “But first we have to make sure those devices aren’t connected to their network so they can’t change the results.”

  “I’ll find something to get to work with,” he said.

  She looked into his eyes and smiled a little for a moment. “Assuming what they're saying is true, why do you think they want to help us so much? They can have hundreds of our model ready in months, maybe less judging from what we just saw in Nessa. They have to know that we'd rather return to our people, given the choice. Terry was right; we have to report what's happened
. Our Prince could still be rescued.”

  Gavin thought for a moment, looking around. The careful design of the space was elegant, but it looked like it was from another time, classic somehow. There was gold trim halfway up the walls, which were padded in the lower half and glossy blue along the top. He closed his eyes and focused on Skylar’s question.

  “Share your thinking with me.”

  “They were already there, as if they knew that Geist would be under attack or as if they had their own purpose on the planet,” Gavin said. “The world was clear of Issyrian life, but there must have been hundreds of millions there.”

  “More like two to three billion,” Skylar said. “Toxins in the water killed them, I’m certain. Most of the buildings I saw didn't look like they were empty long. It didn't happen ages ago, maybe a hundred years at most, when the Geist System was repurposed as a research hub. The Issyrians were eliminated using toxins, not in a firefight, or invasion.”

  “There's no chance the Issyrians did that themselves? Not even accidentally?”

  “Their technology is made so accidents like that can’t happen,” Skylar said. “They don’t destroy the environments they live in. I also didn't see any sign of a military attack.”

  Skylar knew what damage done by a military force looked like even better than he did, and she was more adept at taking information in quickly than he was. Her interpretation of what she saw would be the only one he'd trust, and he trusted it implicitly. "There was evidence of an old Lorander gate, but they preserve life whenever possible too.”

  “So, it wasn’t them, and the only other people we saw there are the ones we’re dealing with.”

  “Yes, and they murdered our squad mates without hesitation,” Gavin said. “So it’s likely that the people who are in charge of this ship, the entire effort, are responsible for poisoning the water, killing the Issyrians. What if the Issyrians didn’t want these Sol Defence people there? What if that was the result of a conflict? Let’s assume that. So, the Issyrians were out of the way, and they had their planetary shield in place to protect them from machines they said they controlled.”