by G W Langdon
“It didn’t throw the spear. Are you sure it’s after you?”
“It has plans. The beast was a test…” His words trailed off to whisper. “You don’t believe me.”
She sat round to face him and wetted her lips. “Last month I went skinny dipping in the pond.”
“Did you?”
“Nobody was around; at least that’s how it seemed. I checked the paths and made sure there weren’t any peeping Toms.”
He rolled his eyes. Even that hurt.
Sarra giggled. “Not you, silly. I was out swimming when I felt… watched, like you did. I swam back and dressed as fast as I could. Further round the pond, there was a sound—as if someone had knocked a small stone into the water, then ripples at the edge. Nobody was there, but it wasn’t a fish. I can tell you, it put the fear of God in me.”
The reason why the alien demon was so interested in them hit like a horse kick. They were a breeding pair. “We have to leave, now.”
“Elope, how romantic. Cornwall by the sea?”
“No. We have to go to Europe—Spain, or further away… one or two years and then we can come back. Things will be all right after that and we can settle down.”
“Europe! I can’t leave. You only want to go and see that Michelangelo you’re always talking about.”
“It’s too dangerous here.”
She helped Tom to his feet. “No. This is my home and yours too. I’m not running away.”
“It’s after us. You and me. We can’t win this fight. It’s here now, outside the church gate.”
“I don’t feel anything, same as the pond.”
“Its presence is stronger for me.” He grabbed Sarra by the elbow. “It’s playing with us the way a cat plays with a mouse; just before it eats the mouse.”
“I’ll never leave my mother. I’m all she’s got left.”
“I can’t explain why, but time is squeezing in around us. Soon, we’ll be trapped. We have to run.”
“We can beat whatever is out there.” She shot a startled look towards the gate. “Did you hear that?”
She picked up a stone and threw it at the gate. The stone ricocheted off the gate post into the air and vanished.
Chapter 2
Captain Jbir searched through the mementos scattered around his quarters. He’d hid it somewhere amongst the gold and jewels so that a sneak would pass over the real treasures and take what could be repackaged and sold on the street. It couldn’t happen on his ship way out here, but old habits were why he’d survived so long. He spread the fine chains across the desk and chose the smallest. After trying several places on his overcoat that it might look good, he set it beside the small lock that once hung around the neck of his first apprentice on Tilas in the glory days.
He lifted the dragon tooth up to the light. Smaller than his hand, the sharp serrations showed it came from a whelp and not an adult tooth from one of the smaller species. It wasn’t the sort of tooth others would covet in the way of the teeth and scales of the infamous Columni Pink held in the main museum of Nu’hieté. There were bigger, more noticeable, teeth in the haul he smuggled out of the back reaches of the king’s empire for the emperor’s medicine and addictions, but this tooth was special. The success of that daring mission led to him becoming the emperor’s most trusted courier and, in an unlikely chain of coincidences and fortunate timing, had brought him a thousand light-years across the Milky Way galaxy to Earth. He put the tooth down and studied his reflection in the inert lightScreen. How had he gotten so old and flabby? He used to bound down to the bridge two stairs at a time. If he tried that now, his knees would buckle and give out under the strain. Fortunately, should his tired old body expire or be expired, his backup failSafe was a long way off and would reGen if he didn’t get home. Poor Iris was tied to the ship without any lifeline. When her hardware failed, or she was dismantled or superseded, then she ceased to exist. No magical afterlife for her. No wonder she had no need or time for gods. Amie was the closest Iris could ever get to a god, but even as great as Amie was with powers far beyond mere calculation, she was at her core just hardware—as all AIs were.
Even if this crazy mission succeeded, and he became the most famous pirate to have ever lived, if Decay had conquered Heyre there mightn’t be anyone left back home to appreciate the courage and his sheer nerve to attempt the greatest treasure hunt in recorded history. Was his quest for immortal fame destined to fail? After all, Tilas had fallen to Decay and Heyre was sure to follow. First things first, Jbir. Heyre was over twelve hundred years away. He sucked in a chestful of air and strode to the window as his zest returned for the final act.
Far below, the survey ship was a small black dot against the angry, blue Atlantic Ocean. He re-focused his eyesight to maximum resolution even though the increased optic load would eventually lead to a full-blown neuroSplit. If all went to plan they’d have the humans back on board before nightfall and be on their way home before sunrise.
In some ways, he’d miss the primitive world below. It would be safer to stay down there and be a king of kings. However, an unchallenged life would never replace the thrill of dealing with the Federation, or further back to the good old days on Tilas and his constant battle of wits between King Jialin and Emperor Tilaxian to secure the most ‘profitable’ payload.
He’d left Heyre almost fourteen hundred years ago with a starMap in the hope of finding Earth. The treasure trove of data and genes collected by Iris and the eight 4i teams of forensic bioMechs meant only the capture of the humans remained to complete the terrestrial part of the mission. The untainted genes of Thomas Ryder and his partner, Sarra Chambers, would underwrite an entirely new line of Reals and hybrids guaranteed free of Decay. As a bargaining chip that could prove to be the difference between life and death.
The survey ship cloaked at eighty thousand feet, beyond human eyesight, and vanished.
“May the gods of Pando be with you,” he said and dialed the optics back to default to subdue the neuroSplit growing at the back of his head.
The last human experiment cartwheeled past the watchtower, his contorted face forever locked in the final moment of an undignified death. He saluted Spooky then gazed past him across the great void towards Heyre. Would they welcome him back as the greatest pirate, which would be the case if General Reuzk and the Federation ruled the roost, or would his reputation count for nothing if Heyre had fallen?
The trinkets jangled on his three-quarter coat as he turned in small steps on his spindly legs. He stopped by the desk and picked up his revolver from next to the box of Neonite slugs. He ran his finger through the fine dust. Rulg was right about StarTripper. Earth was too far from Heyre and even further from Tilas. The ship was built for navigation within the Tilasian solar system, but events—opportunities—had required modifications that put extra stresses on the original design. Iris was beginning to look old—if that was possible for an AI. If Rulg hadn’t in his regular rages dismembered most of the service droids, then the ship wouldn’t be in this mess. Damn Rulg. He curled his old hands into fists. If only he’d never met Rulg then everything would be so very different. He’d have escaped Tilas without his help, made it to Heyre with the Exodus, and be trading favors between Queen Lillia and General Reuzk. Different planet; same game. They were in this mess together, but only one was going to make it out.
Iris projected her natural blue self into the room, wearing a formal uniform of a jacket, trousers, and combat boots.
“Expecting trouble?” she asked, as he loaded a Neonite slug and spun the chamber.
“Why don’t you wear something a bit more tasteful?”
“You mean like this?” she said, flashing into high heels, a short orange skirt and a breast-hugging top.
“Yeah, like that; it makes you look… younger.”
Iris changed back. “Keep your eyes on what really matters.”
He held out the triangular dragon scale attached to his coat by a thread of shriveled sinew. “Did I ever tell y
ou how I got this?”
“Several times.”
“Of course, you remember everything.” He squinted and held the scale closer. “We’d just picked up the crates of dragon bones for the emperor and hauled them into the hold when one of the crew demanded a bigger cut.”
“I delivered the poison. You carry the scale to remind you trouble often begins after you’ve assumed the hardest part is over.”
“I sometimes wonder why I bother talking to you.”
“You say I remember everything, but I have no dataStrings from the time of Emperor Tilaxian’s courts to when we reached Heyre.”
“I had to do that for your protection. The cargo was sensitive.”
Iris curled her lips. “My protection?”
“From Reuzk—and Amie. Which reminds me. I’ll have to manually delete every dataString that connects the ship—you, to the main storage Orb. If we should run into trouble, which we could when we get home, I want one less complication. If there’s an interrogation, you’ll know nothing.”
“Understandable. I’ll run an analysis algorithm through the systems to collate the Strings for deletion, but it will take time to find every single one if we are to fool Amie.”
He holstered the gun and stalked back to the window. The beaded tips of his dreadlocks slapped into the small of his back as Iris walked silently by his side.
“We orbit Earth fifteen times each day,” he said, “yet its natural wonders never cease to amaze me.”
“Earth’s pre-machine Nature is pristine.”
“Tilas was once that, before us, before…” He shuddered. “Earth’s an irresistible target—much like Thomas Ryder. When is one coincidence one too many?”
“What do you mean?”
“You wouldn’t understand, but experience has taught me that nothing ever goes exactly as planned. Thomas Ryder is the perfect human to take away—and we didn’t have to search for him. He lived right where we chose to set up base. Just happened to be there.”
“You’re second-guessing yourself. You’ve made a wise choice with Thomas Ryder. His Self-Reliance Index score is the highest of any human we tested.”
“Choice? I guess so, but he’ll need every point if he is to survive the curious Federation.”
“Decay?”
“No amount of self-reliance will save him there.” He clamped his jaw tight and fingered the safety clip.
“You could stay on Earth,” Iris said, “but if I know you then you prefer the bustle of the hyper-tech world of the Federation’s Heyre?”
“I don’t belong here. I need to get back to Heyre and face my fears. But if it’s Decay, I’ll probably wish I’d stayed here.”
“As would I.”
“Rulg’s a first-class navigator,” he said, fingering the scar along his jawline. “The best I’ve worked with if I’m honest, but he kept very strange company on Tilas.”
“That, I wouldn’t know.”
“The best pirates have secrets they can call upon for leverage when things get tight, but Rulg has too many. More precisely, he’s hiding one, big secret.” He wanted to confess his own big secret to Iris and reduce its burden, but that would be suicide—or worse if she was ever compromised.
“Rulg lives for the fight,” she said. “His battle logs are crammed with taking calculated risks to defeat superior forces. Don’t underestimate him.”
Jbir rocked back and forth on his heels and stroked his straggly beard as he cast a wary eye over the Category Two storm developing off the coast of Ireland. “Storm prediction.”
“The storm will pass directly over the target zone, but after the extraction.”
A flash of lightning arced beneath the clouds.
“How much fuel have we got left—enough for a fast burn?”
“Yes, but why the hurry?”
“One last thing. I want a full report on the ship’s hardware. You’ve been through a lot since Tilas—modifications and irregular health checks. Rulg’s ranting about StarTripper being ready for scrap is just talk, but he’s been around enough ships to have a feel for such things. Of course, he’s not right. We both know we’re good for plenty more adventures.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll let you know when I’ve assembled the ship-to-Orb dataStrings for your deletion,” she said and blinked out.
He placed his palm against the window and searched for a final glimpse of Spooky. Outer space was an unpredictable master with gravity waves from exploding supernovae, uncharted asteroids, solar flares, magnetic storms, meddling empires, other pirates, and unexplainable turns of events that the weak-minded would call ‘acts of god.’ He captained with an iron fist and navigated the undercurrents of treachery better than most, but experience had taught him the most dangerous trouble came from within. All the great pirates he’d crossed swords with over the years had lived and died by the golden rule of bounty hunting: greed trumps fear.
“Steady, Jbir,” he said. “Keep a steady hand on the wheel. You’re not out yet.”
Chapter 3
Tom waved his hat to Sarra as she approached on her bay horse, Ellie. He grinned at her riding side-saddle in a dress. Her happy face jarred with how she was at her mother’s burial at the church—on his birthday of all days. Dead on Sunday, mourned on Monday, buried on Tuesday in a grave with a banged-up wooden cross. It was a dignified affair, and necessarily quick given the heat.
Marco and Ellie, brother and sister from the same broodmare, neighed and nudged heads as they came together. Her floral frock had a blue waistband and her bonnet had a matching blue ribbon tied in a bow under her chin. She’d embroidered a golden stag on either side of the wide collar. The sunlight glowed in her blonde hair and a wide smile beamed over her face. Her green eyes sparkled and her cheeks were again rosy after her mother’s tragic death and hasty funeral. She radiated a sureness of who she was and what she wanted from life, something he had yet to discover even after his brush with death and newfound appreciation of life.
“How are you holding up… after your mother?”
She turned the reins and pressed Ellie closer. “Oh, Tom, it was horrible. I couldn’t say at the funeral, but… when I found her sitting on the porch in her rocking chair… the fear on her face.”
He leaned across and touched her on the arm. “I’ve promised to keep you safe.”
They rode their horses down Hole Road almost as slow as they would have walked on foot. The terrible weight of what was to come hung over them as they passed through Bentley towards Alice Holt Forest for the midsummer festival and sod-turning ceremony for the new hunting lodge.
“Some of the oaks in the forest are in their sixth century and still growing,” he said, fidgeting the wooden horse at the bottom of his coat pocket. “One blew down in the big storm of ninety-five and it had five hundred and nine rings. That’s an old tree; started out as a small acorn.”
“You know I’m not interested in that sort of stuff. A tree is a tree.”
He pulled the wooden horse from his coat pocket and passed it to Sarra. “I whittled it from a branch of that old tree,” he said with a wry smile.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, turning the horse over in her hands. She traced her finger over the growth rings around the neck and slipped the horse into the pocket of her frock. A gust of wind tugged her bonnet sideways.
“Those clouds are getting closer,” he said.
They crossed the Wey River and turned down the path to the open clearing and the tents. A wagon laden with food hunted in the forests, passed them on its way to the festival.
“Morning, Sarra, Tom.”
“Morning, Mr. Berry,” Sarra said.
“At the speed you’re going, the ceremony will be over by the time you two love birds get there.”
“That’s an idea,” Tom said, stopping Marco and hopping down to walk.
“You’re crazy,” Sarra said, as she slid to the ground, holding onto the reins. “It is safe here?”
“With all these people about,
I think so. Besides, I can’t feel it.”
He stooped down and picked a daisy.
They leaned into each other and meandered along the path, amongst the gusts of swirling leaves. He stopped and pointed to the bed of leaves that had built up around a large tree root. “See it?”
“No. What?”
“The female grouse. They have to sit for a long time on the eggs, so they need the best camouflage to hide from predators. Weasels and foxes, mainly, but also hawks and owls.”
“I don’t see it. There’s nothing there. Are you playing another one of your games?”
He left Marco with Ellie and walked straight for the grouse and yelled, “Get.” The female grouse fluttered a short distance away through the trees, landed and shook its feathers as it watched them.
“How could you see?”
“Practice. It’s what I do. Look for things that don’t match the background. And patience. If you sit still for long enough you can even see the plants grow.”
“Now, you are teasing me.”
“No, truly. The autumn clematis can grow six inches in a day. I put a marker at the tip of the vine and watched it for three hours. It grew more than an inch. Everything grows, decays, and dies. The trees and their branches and leaves, the grass we’re sitting on, your fingernails, your hair. Everything. It’s just that it mostly happens too slowly for us to notice. The world is far more than we experience with our senses. My hawk, Artemis, can see tiny voles from high up that are hiding in the fields.”
“You sat on a log for the day? Weren’t you bored, just sitting there?”
