Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy

by Gregory Faccone

  “If more people understood that simple truth, our coalition fleet would be larger.” Kord looked afar off, his brows momentarily knitting together. “The Banking Confederation has called in a number of favors to bolster us. Our presence should be enough to ensure the ongoing neutrality and stability of Aventicia until the Perigeum's financial crisis passes.”

  Vittora lounged on the other side of the pool in a black and red one-piece swimsuit. Even relaxed, she looked poised for action. She stood to meet them.

  “I'm not sure what I'm going to contribute to this gig,” Jordahk said. “I feel like my growth is hiding somewhere in the Thule-Riss Range.”

  Vittora grabbed her husband's arm and smiled. When her eyes met Jordahk's, a strange expression crossed her face. One that Jordahk had begun to dread. Did she have one of her cryptic dreams or visions for him? She grasped Kord's arm tightly. Both men waited on her. In a moment she loosened her grip.

  “I'm going to have to pray on that one,” she said.

  His mother was from Patram, their destination, possibly the most successful mono-creed world. Certainly the most formidable.

  Jordahk fought off fear. His mother's gift was sometimes helpful, and often a confirmation after the fact. But it always portended major things.

  “We're making a difference here, all of us,” Kord said, breaking the silence. “Your mountain will still be there when we return. And I might have a little something for you at Investiture to aid your quest.”

  While Jordahk was still thinking on that, his parents, in a flash, put serious talk aside. They really knew how to live in the moment.

  Vittora took the knapsack from Kord's shoulder and put it down on the lounge. The man didn't go far without his grister, and for good reason.

  “This swan needs to fly, gefera,” she said to her husband.

  “Then fly you shall.”

  They walked to the end of the pool where a variable diving platform stood. But they passed the platform. His mother received a fair amount of looks, as was often the case. Her auburn hair, braided in a thick ponytail down her back, was uncommon. But it was more than that. While she and Sloan were both striking physical specimens, Sloan didn't garner the same kind of attention.

  Jordahk glanced around to confirm his observations and saw Solia sitting nearby at the pool edge, staring at his parents. She hugged one knee to her chest. When their eyes met she pushed up on one leg and joined him.

  “It's the way she carries herself.” Solia seemed in sync with his thoughts. “There's no substitute for quiet confidence and competence.”

  Kord clasped his hands at the pool edge and Vittora bounded gracefully into them. He hurled her into the air with the enhanced strength of Aristahl's ravelen. She opened her arms wide and rode the momentum to its apex, curled into a slow somersault, and stretched to the water.

  Jordahk smirked. “Showoffs.”

  Kord hurled himself after her, grabbing his knees to make as big a splash as possible. At over 160 years, he still retained a boyish streak.

  Sloan made an approach by sea like a locked-on seeker torpedo. Durn was still on the other side of the pool, only now realizing mid-sentence that his conversation had become one-sided. Solia and Sloan… his worlds were colliding. Why did it have to be tense?

  Sloan pulled out next to them, breathing fully from the exertion of her swim. Jordahk was all too aware of the effect it had.

  What a contrast the two were. Their bodies were like night and day, although Solia was only a year younger. She wore a shimmering, dark two-piece suit. A band top that only someone of her petite proportions could pull off, and square cut bottoms which hugged slim hips. Between were defined abs across a svelte midsection. She pulled off a toned, sylph-like look, likely her permanent physique. Where they had once thought she might be a late long adolescence bloomer, they couldn't expect much more physical maturation now with only a year remaining.

  Other factors beyond the physical also proved to be opposite. Solia was quick and smart, proficient in the dojo, and not a bad shot. Sloan couldn't hit a destroyer at point-blank range, but was outgoing, confident, and had a verified magnetism. He felt the undeniable pull. A part of him longed to be an item with her again.

  Why? She wasn't his destiny and he knew it. What was he seeking? Comfort? The familiar? Hadn't his experiences with Glick and Khai taught him anything? He shook his head.

  Apparently not…

  The two girls were almost scowling at each other like competitors on a starting line. He didn't get it. Solia had been acting differently since Sloan's Investiture. The two were from different eras of his life. But his hands were full overcoming his own issues. He needed his close friends to do the same.

  A significant distance past them, as the pool stretched away, was the first whirl. It rose some ten meters from the water's surface like an inverted tornado. Not that they had tornadoes on Adams Rush, but he'd seen visuals. People rode an entry current to the top of the artificial phenomenon where it was warmed and soft water pads bore their weight.

  There wasn't anybody atop of the first one. He put down his sling bag, feeling strange without it, and kicked off his ship shoes.

  He bolted past them, leaping into the pool. “Race you to the whirl!”

  Chapter Twelve

  THE PRIME ORATOR ARRIVES AT

  AVENTICIA TO ENSURE ORDER

  Aventicia, Banking Confederation

  Keats Keating

  Confederated Comm staff writer. 290/2615

  With a robust diplomatic envoy escorting his First Cruiser, Prime Orator Janus has arrived at Aventicia. The move has brought stability to the troubled banking world. “Aventicia is too important to be marred by uncontrolled variance,” the Prime Orator said. “The Banking Confederation has financed much of humankind's expansion. They've earned temporary protection for one of their wayward members.”

  Of course, certain malcontent parties don't see it that way and are bent on interfering with the unanimity the Perigeum offers all its neighbors. Sources tell Confederated Comm that a task force is being assembled in the Asterfraeo to flex their muscles at Aventicia during its time of vulnerability. In addition, the Svalbergen Black Sea Corporation, and even a group calling itself the Trade Union are sending their own assets. All parties claim to deal heavily with the Banking Confederation.

  Janus has made the reformation of Aventicia's governing board the top priority for his remaining months in office. Orator Parium, rare political bedfellow with Janus, will be taking the diplomatic lead. It is hoped the situation can be stabilized before opportunists jeopardize financial solvency. Janus is said to be quite exorcised about the unfolding situation. “The First Cruiser is more than the diplomatic vessel. Rest assured, I will personally lead its firepower alongside the galleons of Aventicia against any unlawful aggressors. Aventicia will remain free.”

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  Far from the sun, beyond where habitable planets usually reside, was the real center of Aventicia's solar system. Granamar was small as far as gas giants go, but it was warm, radiating heat into its satellites and sustaining life in otherwise cold space.

  Most of the moons were small, rocky things that cared little if they were warmed by Granamar or frozen through. But the largest natural satellite was a small planet, perhaps half the size of Earth. It had a thick atmosphere and moisture. Combined with the heat of the gas giant, it was capable of sustaining life.

  Few thought much about Granamar, because its satellite was the root of everything that happened within light years. Truth be told, Aventicia's financial dealings affected matters far beyond that. It had funded numerous colonies within Perigeum territory, and was the oldest of the four Banking Confederation worlds.

  Their weapon was coin rather than starkeel fleets. This concept became unofficial policy when the four banking worlds incorporated, and continues to this day as each are guarded by a wing of galleons, the king of non-starkeel ships.

  As large as battleships of old, and
freed from the necessity of traveling through manifold space, they employ fusion reactors instead of teslanium fission. It affords them shields beyond ships geared for downhill drive. And unlike their streamlined battleship cousins, the stockier form of a galleon still maneuvers better for the efficiency of fusion powered thrusters.

  The twin galleon flagships of the Aventicia Defense Fleet held ceremonial station at downhill drive hilltop. Each was flanked by a half-dozen escort destroyers and corvettes. Aventicia's fleet was staid and traditional, still deploying corvettes despite their modern fall from preference.

  Twelve flashes lit the black of space. From each flash grew iridescent plasma rings of various sizes according to the ships which spawned them. The rings had barely faded when the greatest flash illuminated their hulls.

  Three giant rings expanded from a triple hull design, painting the First Cruiser in multi-spectral hues. Few ships could dwarf a galleon outside of relics from the Sojourners' Crusade. Janus's crown jewel was one of them. Its escort squadron formed up in protective formation and the dagger-like leviathan began its plunge into the heart of Aventicia.

  On its bridge, Janus paced. Normally, the focused activity of a system entry was something he enjoyed. But this crew was anything but normal.

  “How hard can it be to leave manifold space and just go straight? My smelting laver AI could do it.”

  “Did you say something, Prime Orator?” Leisel asked from the adjutant chair.

  Vapid.

  To his left the flag admiral's chair was empty. An alert pinged and a ship's schematic joined the stack of VADs before his command chair. Sections of the port hull flashed red. He sub-whispered a command to bring up the captain's channel.

  Gimmelstau's gray hair was more disheveled than usual, and his eye more squinty. Once again he was bickering with the master engineer and the starkeelwright as if the First Cruiser's commonplace maneuver was some monumental task.

  The skeletal starkeelwright darted off screen for a few seconds before returning with eyes bulging more than usual.

  “I've got structure alarms at the beta-phonon feed. The split starkeels are out of alignment!” A crewman ran behind him devoid of military calm. “The warping fail-safes have kicked in.” Something caught his attention offscreen and his head swiveled twice as if spring-loaded. “Why are you taking my bots?”

  “You've had your fun, now I need them,” said the master engineer. The man looked like he hadn't taken a swirl since the voyage began. His matted hair and grimy smudges looked unchanged.

  “Captain, I must protest—”

  Gimmelstau rubbed his temples. “Look, the ship cannon's the priority now.”

  “But the drive is out.”

  “I don't think the Prime Orator needs downhill right now. Just fix it yourself.”

  The starkeelwright's face twitched.

  The master engineer finished a muted conversation with a bot and added smudges to his face with the back of his hand. “Stupid bots have more questions than answers. Captain, if there's nothing else… These hybrid capacitors… I've got no imprimatur support. I'm not sure what will happen if the gun is fired.”

  Gimmelstau injected much needed authority into the conversation. “That kind of talk's likely to get you a visit from a Hektor.” The engineer blanched. “Smelt this up and we're all gonna see the wrong side of an airlock. So do your damn job.”

  Janus shut the feed. For a little while longer he'd have to put up with this collection of dolts.

  “Two commships in-system with updates,” Leisel said. “New files ready for you.”

  The android knew his information priorities. At the top of the list was a Sedge Braksaw interview. The man was continuing his reputation rehabilitation tour. Unceremoniously bailing from the Windermere task force had shaded him with a cowardly pallor, one Janus was doing all in his power to promote. Windermere hadn't been a success, but bold action could be turned to political capital.

  Sometimes it's in the doing, Sedge, not explicitly the win.

  The new VAD popped up, his AI providing highlights.

  “I'm grateful the Prime Orator returned unharmed. The mission to retrieve our property from those traitors in the Asterfraeo was lofty, but heavy-handed.” Sedge looked worn. His jovial uncle veneer seemed thinner than ever. “Perhaps he let… zeal cloud his judgment. What the traitors are calling the Incursion at Windermere cost us dearly in ships, and I might add reputation. Of course my Umbria Magnus yards are working around the clock to rebuild our fleet, but quite honestly it's already taken significant resources to replace our Starmada losses from the so-called Egress Incident.”

  The man had been taken down a peg, but he knew how to bounce back. The bridge monitor VAD showed Parium entering. Janus waved him over. The bore may yet prove useful in slowing the former governor's ambitions.

  “Orator Parium, come listen to this with me.”

  The man was practically invisible in his traditional warm gray politicians outfit, and he continued to wear the gloves. Nodding respectfully, he gave his attention to the VAD.

  “With the Prime Orator not seeking a third term,” Sedge continued, putting on his orator's voice, “nationals need to consider our best course forward. The enemies of the Perigeum must know they will face overwhelming fleets. They will be taught that the industrial might of the Perigeum can crush any handful of ships they field. We will continue to expand, spreading stability from the cradle of humanity.”

  The politician in Janus appreciated the approach. But they both knew fleets cost coin, the lack of which was one of the Perigeum's most carefully hidden problems.

  “If I may speak bluntly, Prime Orator, a significant Starmada is all well and good, but ships don't build themselves, and an economy runs on more than staryards. Without increasing our ability to trade, the populace on the established worlds, and even the nationals, won't have anything to purchase with their coin.”

  The man seemed less wishy-washy than usual. Perhaps he did have some core beliefs, even if they were wrong.

  “Your frankness is refreshing.” It wasn't. “Yes, we supply their allotment. But we can't have the plebian populace spending wherever they want, pursuing their individual interests. How would we make progress like that?”

  Parium seemed genuinely puzzled. “Perhaps if we could import more goods…”

  “And that's where you come in, Orator. I've granted you significant trade powers, now see if you can negotiate on our terms.”

  Janus didn't expect progress on that front. The Perigeum Uni was worth less every year. It was almost to the point where military annexation of a system was more economical than hammering out trade rates acceptable to non-Perigeum worlds.

  “But of course,” Sedge gestured from the VAD, “I wish Prime Orator Janus great success at Aventicia. The Banking Confederation needs to know how important a profitable relationship with the Perigeum is.”

  Janus was unsuccessful hiding all of his irritation. “You must be aware of Braksaw's political maneuverings.” The expression on Parium's face convinced Janus he wasn't. Was Sedge's rise all but assured? “Might I suggest some political maneuvering of your own, unless you'd prefer Braksaw's fleet-first expansionism.” Janus was saved from having to witness any more of Parium's clueless expressions by a covert signal. “If you'll excuse me, Orator. You have your duties to attend to, and I have mine.”

  When he was alone, Janus touched the notification. His personal AI had finished decrypting an eyes-only black file that piggybacked in by commship. The disorganized clamor of the ship's bridge echoed up onto the flag bridge. Janus shook his head.

  “My quarters, Leisel. Ten minutes.”

  The command chair sunk into the deck, layers of irises providing welcome silence. Two files awaited him. One was only text. A few short sentences that spoke of an impromptu sightseeing side-trip at Adams Rush. His operative must have come across the secondary targets under advantageous conditions.

  Time codes showed a span between
the message's creation and its eventual transmission. The operative never returned from his “sightseeing.” A disappointment that confirmed his suspicions. A new generation of powerful foes were operating behind the scenes.

  If a Hektor thought he had the edge, yet still lost… Janus's brows furrowed. Though he had one operative remaining on the mission, he now put little stock in a successful outcome. He checked the other file. It was a visual record of a brawl inside a restaurant. Location: High Castle, Castellum.

  A grin spread the corners of his mouth. He had only seen snippets of the fight from newsVADs. His sources had managed to obtain the entire security feed. Vittora Wilkrest and her husband were taking on all comers, which was a lot, and winning.

  The man had talents beyond the ordinary, and his intervention at Windermere was costly. He was definitely a secondary target worth eliminating. But it was the woman who garnered his close scrutiny. He watched her lines move through assailants with graceful brutality. He viewed it a second time until the door chime broke his concentration. The moronic Leisel would wait.

  A sub-whispered command brought up a secure VAD. A thin, pale face looked back at him.

  “I've sent you a file,” Janus said. “I want you to incorporate it.”

  Dysig's eyes darted as he examined the visual record at double speed. “I don't expect you to understand bitsmithing, Prime Orator, but the quadnapse and logic structures necessary to facilitate these stylistic actions… Well, it takes time.”

  “You've had plenty.”

  “I thought you were, shall we say, 'pursuing other options.'”

  “I don't think they'll pan out. It's time for activation.”

  “It's not something you just turn on.” Dysig was becoming exorcised. “It's going to be its own thing, its own creation!” His eyes were wide. “As long as it grows, it will need care and guidance. Something like this can never be finished.”