SeptStar

by Blaze Ward

  The car rolled to a halt next to a ship that was parked with no close neighbors, clear out at the edge of things, with the boundary fence just beyond it.

  “We have arrived,” the voice came over the intercom, letting Daniel and Joane know that nobody was getting out to open the doors for them.

  As he opened the door, Daniel wondered if there was even a driver, or perhaps the vehicle was automated, or driven remotely. The doorman at the hotel had opened their door to let them in, thinking back.

  The Sept did not allow that level of automation. All vehicles were under sentient control at all times. Partly, a level of trust that being aboard made you a better driver. At the same time, overpopulation required that people have something to do, rather than just sit in front of a screen, mindlessly rotting their brains—or worse, plotting revolution.

  Daniel emerged into the afternoon sun, already cooling as a breeze was suggesting a storm front in the offing. Joane was right behind him, wearing her jacket.

  Kathra always kept the ship nearly eight degrees warmer than the air around them at this moment. Daniel thought he could see his breath.

  He studied the vessel as a crewmember emerged at the bow and started down the ramp to the ground.

  The Anndaing built standard ships, even as individualized as they got. Modularized, perhaps, with various options being assembled at the factory, or allowing a trademaster to swap out sections later easily as an upgrade package.

  This was what they called a Cargo-2. Two big cargo pods at the center running parallel with the spine, each six meters tall, eight wide, and twenty long. The pods sat next to each other in cradles loaded from the outsides.

  He had seen the Cargo-1 that was the original basis for the design, half as wide with a single pod for a belly on a shark. The front of the ship was living quarters for the crew, along with the cockpit, with a catwalk running down the spine above the pods and connecting to the engines and engine room at the rear.

  Because it was Anndaing design, instead of a beak for the cockpit like a human ship would have, these vessels had a hammer, usually with a bridge to the right and a matching room to the left that could be anything, depending on the owner. Daniel had seen plans for various ships that listed the left hammer as an observation deck, an office, the trademaster’s cabin, and even a detachable, mini-cargo module for hauling extra material.

  Daniel nodded as he finished studying the vessel. It was well founded and clean looking in ways that suggested a classic car, rather than a beater being held together with cloth tape and bondo like a few of them he had seen in his time.

  He turned to the Anndaing approaching, recognizing her from yesterday.

  Raja Zoodrah, Trademaster of the Cargo-2 Windrunner. She had come to the hotel the day before to meet them briefly, but only as part of a larger group as Wyll had been moving quickly to do something. Daniel had gotten the impression that the circle of people who knew the truth was still relatively small.

  Why, he didn’t understand. At least not yet.

  Trademaster Zoodrah stopped and bowed. Daniel and Joane returned it.

  “Your personal gear, what there is of it, is being delivered from the hotel shortly, along with the rest of my cargo,” she said with a smile. “Shall we go aboard?”

  Daniel nodded, but let Joane take the lead. Shortly, she would be the expert. Maybe he could go back to being a chef and occasional translator of old books.

  Up the ramp, his original impression of the ship was borne out. Koni Swift had felt like a hard-used but much-loved vessel. The kind of thing you flew on a variety of missions and eventually either took in for a major renovation, or wore it out and sold it to the next owner to repair.

  Windrunner had been kept almost pristine inside, in spite of being over a century old. Daniel was almost surprised not to have that new ship smell in his nose as he emerged from the airlock.

  At the top of the ramp they stepped into what would have been a mud room, were this a house on a planet somewhere. Space suits in various sizes and constructions, but all for Anndaing by shape. He and Joane could use one of the soft suits if they had to. It would just have a much wider faceplate than he needed.

  Except that on the end were a pair of newer ones that looked like they had been made especially for humans.

  Raja noticed his surprise and smiled.

  “Wyll found you a couple of standard Kaniea male suits,” she said. “Daniel’s has been adjusted down to fit his arms and legs, but Joane’s is just out of the box.”

  Daniel touched the one with the shorter legs. He’d been scanned, at least visually, for this close a fit, even if he didn’t need such a thing to survive in deep space.

  Not that he was going to tell them that. He had made it a careful point while on this planet to strip both layers at once when he needed to take a shower, putting them both back on again later while not revealing that silly lime-green and white suit that refused to take on any other colors, regardless of how hard he tried to change it.

  Urid-Varg had been possessed of an utterly terrible fashion sense.

  “This way.” Raja led them through the nearer of two hatches on the left side of the room. This would be the rear bulkhead on this level, with another level above it and then the catwalk hallway above that.

  The room on the other side of the hatch took Daniel’s breath away. If the interior of Windrunner was carefully clean and precise, this was the epitome of luxury such as the highest lords of the Sept might demand for their travels.

  The carpet under his feet looked deep enough to have its own tides. The walls were covered over with wood strips a little wider than his two hands together, stained in different shades and cut from different parts of different trees from the textures. Three-meter ceilings in here let the room feel airy, as did the various lights on tables, in corners, and recessed overhead.

  The furniture looked hand-crafted, from the table with wooden chairs to the upholstered sofa and cushy seats formed around what looked like a fireplace.

  Daniel did a double-take at that last bit.

  “It puts out heat, runs one of the most effective holograms I’ve ever seen, and will fool anyone,” Raja said. “Makes things homey. Wyll picked out this particular pod for you, based on things you told him.”

  “What other options did we have?” Joane asked.

  “Chrome and steel, seascapes, and jungle,” Raja laughed. “Assuming modern bordello wasn’t to your tastes. This one had the best kitchen, and I’ve been told you are a pretty good cook?”

  “He is an award-winning chef,” Joane laughed. “Who misses being constantly in the kitchen, spoiling us.”

  “Well, my crew is only four, so we have a tendency to casseroles or frozen meal packs,” Raja replied. “If you want to make dinner occasionally, be my guest. An ambassador pod like this has a better kitchen than I do forward. Plus, you’ve got this whole thing to yourselves, when normally we’d haul at least one finfull of staff and fill the second pod just with their stuff. Our spare pod had nothing in it right now except a few crates of food and books, from what Wyll told me.”

  “I can explain more, once we take off,” Daniel said. “Like you, I have a feeling that there is more going on than we have been told.”

  “Well, let’s finish the tour, then you can let me know any last minute things you need,” Raja said. “At that point, we’re about two hours from liftoff, according to the most recent updates from Wyll, and then I can haul you wherever it is we’re going.”

  The pod had two decks, with an oversized sleeping chamber supposedly for him and six more for assistants. He and Joane took the two closest to the spiraling staircase, ignoring the decadence in back, as they were still larger than either of them had aboard SeekerStar. Extravagant restrooms upstairs and downstairs, in addition to the utter decadence reserved for the ambassador. Salon. Kitchen. Dining nook.

  Far more space than Daniel needed or even wanted, but Wyll was treating him like an important personage, so pres
umably all of this was intended to be communicated to Kathra at some point. Were they preparing to aid her in her quest, or fattening her up for a slaughter of some sort?

  They ended up in the kitchen downstairs, the three of them. Daniel checked the pantry and cooler units, making sure he understood everything that was stored as what he and Joane could safely eat.

  “Everything good?” the trademaster asked as he finished up.

  “It is,” Daniel said. “Rather looking forward to cooking again.”

  “And our mission?” she asked. “Secret until orbit?”

  Daniel nodded, but kept his mouth shut. He had a chip from Wyll Koobitz with a recording for him to play once they cleared the atmosphere and were ready to cross the stars. Presumably, it would contain coordinates for Raja Zoodrah to get him to the place Joane called her boneyard, where so many old ships and dreams had gone to die.

  Hopefully she wasn’t afraid of ghosts.

  Thirty-Two

  A’Alhakoth rapped on the frame and stuck her head into the office. It felt alien to her, but Kathra rarely closed that hatch, and expected her women to intrude like this when they had a question or concern that needed to be addressed.

  If this had been her Father, she would have had to be so much more formal.

  Kathra looked up and smiled.

  “Good afternoon,” the Commander said. “Come in.”

  A’Alhakoth did and sat in the seat on the left automatically. Erin was always on the right when she was here, so every other woman had gotten into the same habit.

  They were alone, the two of them.

  “Problem?” Kathra asked.

  A’Alhakoth had worked herself up to this, but it was still hard to actually say. Kathra Omezi was not that much older than she was, but A’Alhakoth still felt like she had only just escaped childhood.

  This was her Commander.

  But Kathra insisted on openness inside the comitatus, even before Daniel had made it possible to truly share one’s inner self with the others.

  “SeekerStar will be departing for Ogrorspoxu tomorrow,” A’Alhakoth began.

  Kathra nodded, both elbows resting on her desk and watching.

  “I would prefer to accompany you,” A’Alhakoth managed.

  “You do not wish to spend the time with your family and kin?” Kathra asked in a careful voice.

  “My family will be departing on SeekerStar,” A’Alhakoth replied, surprising herself with the depth of her emotions on the subject. “Those remaining here are merely distant kin to me now.”

  “Interesting,” Kathra said.

  They both waited, possibly for the other to flinch first.

  A’Alhakoth felt like turning into an asteroid at this point, just lurking in the darkness until the sun itself burned out.

  “I get the impression that you do not see this as a reward for excellent service,” Kathra finally spoke. “I have no one better suited to dealing with the Kaniea and Anndaing locals and speaking with my voice.”

  “I am aware of that, Commander,” A’Alhakoth answered. “But I am sworn into your service, expecting to fight and perhaps die for you if necessary. Comitatus.”

  “And you don’t want to be left behind,” Kathra concluded the thought for her.

  “I doubt any of us do,” A’Alhakoth smiled. “This is personal.”

  “Personal?”

  “We are here because of my luck in encountering Erin and Daniel at Tavle Jocia,” she said. “In providing an option you have never expected, when you needed to seek friends beyond the Free Worlds. In being able to open doors quickly here and possibly provide the Mbaysey a place they might reside for a time before moving on.”

  “But not a home?” Kathra asked intently.

  “SeekerStar is our home,” A’Alhakoth replied. “Concursion is our place. Kanus is just the planet where I was born, before leaving to find my adult self. Linga and Ch'Caani are the parents that protected the child A’Alhakoth.”

  She paused, looking for the words.

  “You will never live on a planet again,” A’Alhakoth finally said. “Even a TradeStar or CityStar would travel with us, taking us to new star systems, showing us new sights.”

  “Not many of the women understand that,” Kathra admitted. “Most think that Kanus will become a home base for the Mbaysey.”

  “If so, that is a thing measured in months, not years,” A’Alhakoth nodded solemnly. “I’ve seen your memories and dreams. I know the truth. Maybe not as well as Erin or Daniel, but Mbaysey means forever sailing in the darkness between stars. I do not wish to be left behind, even for a short stretch. Certainly not if something happens to all of you and I am all that remains of the comitatus. I should not be the one they turn to, as your successor.”

  Kathra laughed. It was warm and friendly, rather than harsh and biting. A’Alhakoth felt it comfort her.

  “You are harder, tougher than any of those women, A’Alhakoth ver’Shingi,” the Commander said now. “I would stack you up against Nkiru Okeke or Simisola Ihejirika. Old age and treachery would still only carry them so far in the face of your will when you set your mind to something.”

  “Acknowledged,” A’Alhakoth said. “But I had hoped that there might be someone else, someone not comitatus, that you could designate as your voice.”

  “None who are not comitatus, Spectre Twenty-Three,” Kathra said sharply. “That is part of what makes you what you are. Daniel and Ndidi as well. People who have met the standards I demand, in order to share my table and speak with my voice.”

  “And the treacherous, old ladies of the ClanStars?” A’Alhakoth asked.

  Kathra actually smiled, which warmed her.

  “I doubt that they would select you as the new Commander, if something happened to the rest of us at Ogrorspoxu,” Kathra said. “But that is a responsibility you must be prepared to accept, A’Alhakoth. The Mbaysey is more than just me, just as it continued after we lost Yagazie to a Sept assassin.”

  “And when you return for good and ground yourself to have a daughter?” she asked.

  “And Erin as well, unless I miss my guess,” Kathra nodded. “Then our world will change more drastically, especially if we find a way to take my war back to the Sept. Until then, you have seen more of my mind and my plans than anyone remaining, so you will be able to make decisions with a better understanding of what I would have done.”

  “That includes building up a sperm bank of Kaniea males against future need?” A’Alhakoth asked.

  “Absolutely,” Kathra nodded. “You will not be the only Kaniea to join the Mbaysey, I expect, but the males will remain on the ClanStars and the factory ships. Only the women might qualify to fly on SeekerStar with us. They will need the same sort of future that I have. If Anndaing or others ask to join us while I’m gone, you won’t have Daniel, but any candidates will go to a ClanStar anyway.”

  “And if I end up having to build a new comitatus?” A’Alhakoth pressed.

  “Don’t relax your standards, once set,” Kathra turned serious. “I have only ever had forty-seven women, including all the ones who have retired to start families. That’s of the thousands I could have picked from. Erin lost a leg and is still the top of the pack. With friendly planets and sectors to recruit from, we could possibly get SeekerStar to the point where I had to build sixty more Spectres to fly off this deck, plus add people like Ndidi and women or even men who might command warships we build to fight the Sept. And make no mistake, when I return, that’s the plan. I am relying on you to start the process, because I will need someone to get inside their heads before we have Daniel, so we can know who to accept and who to turn over to the ClanStars for induction.”

  “Understood, Commander,” A’Alhakoth said.

  She rose, nodding. A’Alhakoth had not expected to win such an argument with a woman like Kathra Omezi, but she still had wanted to make her case. She was sworn to obey, but Kathra had listened, acknowledged, and made her decision final.

  Now
A’Alhakoth could choose to leave the Mbaysey, or execute Kathra’s orders. Not that there was any doubt on the topic, but that was exactly what comitatus meant.

  “Thank you,” A’Alhakoth said.

  “You’ll do fine,” Kathra assured her. “Or I would have assigned the task to someone else. Never forget that.”

  A’Alhakoth nodded again and left Kathra’s office, heading to her quarters for homework she needed to read.

  The Commander knew her better than anyone, having been in her mind. She might have thought Daniel would know, but he had apparently not pried into any of her secrets that she wanted to hide from the man. He had probably not understood that working hard not to use the power of a god made him even more interesting than he normally would have been.

  But the Commander believed in her.

  A’Alhakoth supposed that meant she should, as well.

  She had an enormous task ahead of her.

  Thirty-Three

  Hadi Rostami studied the scan results that his bridge officers had built up. SeptStar had long since left the edges of even the maps of Free Worlds space that the naupati had purchased from the locals at Tavle Jocia, the vessel heading towards the galactic core itself.

  The Ishtan had set the course initially. Kathra Omezi had left the Free Worlds from Thrabo, but Hadi did not need to follow her exact course, especially as it had zig-zigged several times, according to his scouts.

  They had already crossed a number of systems to get here, none of them inhabited by any culture with even industrial technology, which made any of the species around here just iron age barbarians he could ignore. That might change when the Sept decided it needed forward bases in a future decade, but that would be well after the Free Worlds were no longer.

  Hopefully, he or someone else would have destroyed the Mbaysey before then.

  But the map on his personal screen did not bring him joy. Hadi took a deep breath and held it to center himself. They had waited here long enough to build such a scan because the Ishtan had directed him to.