Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy

by Gregory Faccone

  “Ingots.”

  The man had restored the ring into an incredible amplification device, among other functions, for sure.

  Drones appeared. “Reinstall this,” Jhapa said, handing them the Coriolis flywheel. “Maintain the strictest tolerances on this impeller.”

  Jordahk looked back toward the reactordyne room. “I think...”

  Jhapa nodded. “Yes, time to get back before your guest does something we'll all regret.”

  They strided back up the shaft.

  “How did you do that without a forge?”

  “And that dimensional... thing,” Solia asked.

  “Dimensional draw?” Jhapa offered. “What about it?”

  Jordahk grimaced as a thought came to him that upended everything he thought he knew about Jhapa, which, admittedly wasn't much.

  “Who are you?” Jordahk accused more than asked. “An Artisan?”

  They were coming up on the reactordyne. Jhapa kept moving, but looked back with a sour expression.

  “Hmpf. No. Not one of those. Egotistical and ambitious. Knowledgeable enough to be a danger to themselves and the unsuspecting.”

  His mannerisms weren't sounding much like the crotchety imprimatur that had boarded.

  Jordahk had to know the truth. “Then a... a...”

  They entered the reactordyne room and Jhapa stopped.

  “A Sojourner? I'm no more a Sojourner than you are.”

  Zoraida approached them. “Have you made it functional again?”

  “Yes,” Jhapa said with his old drawl.

  She reached for the fastener of her decorative belt and a small grister was pushed into her hand. She pointed it at Jordahk and fired. He was so filled with disbelief that it caught him tactically flat-footed for the first time in a while.

  The mystic part of Jordahk's brain flared to the point of pain. Gravity and pressure collided causing his ears to pop. Jhapa had somehow moved in front of him. Jordahk stepped back and looked down. He wasn't shot. But Jhapa staggered back past him, holding his abdomen. He groaned before hitting the bulkhead and sliding down to the deck.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  Aristahl's taunting opponent had gone silent, but Capt. Benziger's disagreement with Cmdr. Schapp was anything but.

  “Sir, with all due respect,” Benziger said, “the Jetty is compromised. We cannot repel enemy ships nor communicate with our allies.”

  “I don't need to hear from you, captain, what I already know.”

  “Our shields aren't under our control. Please, sir, I urge you to evacuate all non-galleon crew. The Jetty isn't safe!”

  The commander's voice was as dour as his face puckered. “I'm not going to abandon Aventicia's greatest asset nor give up my command to some hacker. Don't comm again unless it's to tender your resignation.” The VAD buzzed off abruptly.

  Aristahl suspected the commander was motivated more by personal considerations than pride in Aventicia's military assets.

  “Whatever you're doing, we're getting more outside feeds,” Capt. Benziger said. “More internal comms too, but still no outbound.” The captain stopped short. “Oh no.”

  The reaction alarmed Aristahl. “Barrister, that feed, immediately.”

  A low rez VAD showed the First Cruiser's Artemis cannon powering up—from head-on. The image flashed and the mammoth beam flew at the cam-eye before it flutzed out.

  “This is it,” the captain said.

  Aristahl shook his head. “I am not convinced.” He looked up.

  The Jetty trembled for the first time since being set in orbit. Power systems station-wide flickered with disruption.

  “God of my mystic mother,” the captain said.

  “I have another feed,” Barrister said. “It passed just over us.”

  The VAD showed the beam plowing into the Aventicia fleet, destroying the last deployed galleon and more. Energy and debris expanded over the scene, nudging the Jetty.

  “Such power,” the captain said.

  A command VAD appeared. Cmdr. Schapp's eyes bulged, and the Jetty control center was awash in disorganization.

  “They can't! An outrage!” Cmdr. Schapp said.

  “Commander. Commander!” Benziger called.

  But Schapp was hearing nothing but his own thoughts. “Prepare to return fire! Do you hear me? Return fire!” The man ran off leaving only commotion filling the view.

  “He's lost it,” Torious said. “I have some pharma that might help.”

  “The Aventicia fleet is in disarray,” Barrister said.

  “That's being generous,” Torious quipped.

  “Is the Prime Orator seriously threatening the Jetty?” Capt. Benziger asked.

  “His motivation is clear, but not the lengths he will go to ensure it,” Aristahl said.

  “The local forces are signaling retreat,” Barrister added.

  “Time to take it into our own hands,” Aristahl said. He thought for a few, long seconds. “Barrister, do you have enough grip on the systems to emulate a command protocol.”

  “I can.”

  Aristahl stepped back out of the thresh VADs to look the captain in the eye. “Are you prepared to act outside of the chain-of-command to salvage this debacle?” Aristahl thought the man had potential to step up. Now he would find out if he was right.

  Capt. Benziger stood with no vacillation. He walked to a locker on the bulkhead and put on his captain's jacket. He seemed to grow in stature as he sat back in the command chair and straightened his collar.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “A new senior officer has arrived to take over,” Aristahl offered a wry grin. “And he is going to need your support.”

  “He gave us his codes,” Barrister said. “I can do it.”

  “But from the Drattehorn?”

  “I believe so, sir. With your permission, captain.” The captain nodded. Next to him the flag station unfolded from the deck, rising higher and higher. Its systems lit, and flag level VADs appeared. “Authorizing. I have penetrated the local command net.”

  “We do what we must to save lives,” Aristahl said.

  “Yes, sir. I am reading you well. I believe he would condone the ruse for that purpose.”

  Light coalesced into a man atop the flag station. An iconic figure wearing a Vallum Corps admiral's uniform from a bygone age, but lacking rank insignia. A miniature VAD projected on one side of his chest a score of engagement ribbons. His pure white hair was cut close.

  Capt. Benziger looked up in awe. “The Iron Commander.”

  Ferric Marculus nodded in acknowledgment. “Announce the command change, captain.” His voice was mature and confident.

  A series of VADs opened before Capt. Benziger. They had priority command borders.

  “Attention all Aventicia Security officers. This is a transfer of command announcement. Flag Officer is now seated on the Drattehorn.”

  A VAD transmission showed the occupant of the flag station. “This is Ferric Marculus. I've been authorized by Aventicia's Governing Board and the Banking Confederation Board of Directors to take command of all Aventicia Security apparatus. Cmdr. Schapp has been relieved.”

  Aristahl smiled at a piece of history come back to life. “Nice work, Barrister.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The feed from the now isolated Jetty command center showed a disheveled Cmdr. Schapp cursing in muted silence and pounding on controls.

  An alarm sounded across the station as the Iron Commander continued. “All Jetty hands not aboard a galleon are to evacuate immediately by any means. This includes command officers. Please escort any who disobey to the nearest shuttle pod.”

  On the command center VAD, Cmdr. Schapp, now bright red, was clasped on either side and walked off.

  “This is not a request. This is not a drill,” the Iron Commander exclaimed. “All galleons standby to launch!”

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Zoraida's hand was steady as Jordahk looked down the wrong end of a grister. />
  “I was trying to incapacitate him with a non-fatal shot you old fool,” she said to Jhapa. “But you won't last long.” She shrugged. “Those anti-coagulants are top-notch. Just as well. I'd rather have him in one piece.” She turned to Jordahk. “And if you want the old man treated while there's still a chance, you'll do what I say.”

  Since active clothing routinely scoured sweat, dirt—and blood, Jordahk couldn't observe how bad the wound was.

  “And before you consider any heroics,” Zoraida continued. She pulled off one of her spherical, black earrings. It unfolded into an espy sized drone and lifted out of her hand. It looked like a stun floater, but Jordahk knew it was a bomb. A mini seeker drone minus the rockets. “If any tricks take me down, caedam, she goes with me.” The drone moved to the midpoint between the women at the height of Solia's head. She deployed her other earring, too. “Oh, and this one's for him,” she said as an afterthought. It moved halfway to Jhapa.

  “What are you doing? Solia said. “Who's Caedam?”

  Jordahk started to feign ignorance.

  “Oh, don't bring the moment down with banal denial now,” Zoraida said. “I became interested after seeing your unique mystic compy. After that, well, corresponding locations of previous incidents, to which I am privy. Certain signature similarities displayed when you threshed at Concourse. Your mystic abilities, and perhaps most revealing, your naivete regarding good and evil.”

  Jordahk scrunched his nose. “You're Consortium?”

  “Your monomer edge wit just figured that out?”

  It was all on the table now. “Max, compare physical stats of the creep we took down when we first arrived with the VAD-mask guy Zoraida slapped.”

  Max brought up a VAD, crunching information as silhouettes overlapped. In the end it showed a 99% match.

  “It's him,” Max said. “We missed that one.”

  Zoraida laughed. “All that power, yet you're so easily misdirected.”

  “You see?” Jhapa sighed. He remained motionless but gave Jordahk a reproving eye.

  “Save your strength, old man,” Zoraida said. “You might live a little longer.” She kept her eyes on Jordahk. “I'll be made senior partner for exposing you, or finishing you. But alive you can demonstrate what this ship can do. I know certain people. Perhaps you do, too. They call themselves the Artisans.” Jordahk's eyes narrowed. “Ah. I see they're familiar to you. They'll drain the coin of a planet for this ship.”

  “You're horrible!” Solia said.

  “Watch it, shapeless.” Zoraida twirled her index finger and the seeker drone made matching circles in the air. “Now Caedam, you can start by transferring all the files you've stolen from the Consortium.” His shoulders pulled back in defiance. “What do you care if I blackmail amateurs running unauthorized schemes?” She looked through him to some distant vision. “This is working out better than I could've imagined. Aventicia is going to need a Consortium partner on their new Governing Board. Now I can leverage out that conniver Vizier.”

  Jordahk looked over to Solia. “Sorry.”

  She was trying to be brave staring down a seeker drone

  “Don't look so crestfallen,” Zoraida mocked. “Darren is a useful idiot. But your parents are canny. Yet they raised such a gullible son.” Jordahk clenched his fists. “Please. You don't have what it takes to fight the Consortium. I'm surprised you made it this far.”

  Jordahk thought hard about a quick draw. His autobuss hummed in response.

  “If you go for the drones,” Max link-said, “she'll cut you down.”

  That would still leave Solia and Jhapa to Zoraida's mercies, which he surmised were few. And if he went for her, what were the chances of intercepting those drones even with a smart-barrel? Why was she so twisted? He had threshed to save this woman. What happened to her?

  The damage Aurora could wreak in the wrong hands was astronomical, especially if one had the skill to draw out her potential. Even a fleet of poor imitations the Artisans could field would overturn inhabited space, or embroil it in another layer of war.

  A moment of introspection flooded upon him. His mother's words came back to his remembrance and resonated in his spirit.

  Don't play God in the moment of crisis. Stay true to who you are. Who you were created to be.

  He had to stop Zoraida, but wouldn't sacrifice Solia or Jhapa to do it. That was who he was created to be. Maybe he didn't “have what it took,” but he believed his decision, for this moment, was the right one. He knew it with a sureness he could back up with nothing more than his gut.

  “Hello? Don't go into shock on me,” Zoraida mocked. “Where are those files? Maybe you need a little more incentive. How about an arterial wound for Little Miss Flat-top?” Zoraida raised her eyebrows and slowly pointed the grister toward Solia.

  Jordahk was blindsided by skyrocketing anger. A burning spike in his head. The entire force of his body unified behind it, coiled in sudden frustration.

  No. NO!

  His rets cleared. Platinum irises, now patterned with neumenium shone like mirrors.

  Zoraida was physically startled. “What?”

  Jordahk gripped his compy wrist. It suddenly felt as if being crushed in a gravity well. No movement brought relief.

  “Oww,” he groaned. “S-stop it!”

  “It's not us,” Max link-said.

  “It's your neumenium coupling,” Wixom said.

  It began to glow, burning his skin. Light flashed outside the hatch, and someone walked in with garments of white, accented in purple. A wide belt, displaying the full spectrum of platinum group metals, cinched his tunic, and heavy neumenium bracers gripped his forearms. Circling his neck and covering his shoulders was a curved collar piece filled with rings of counter-rotating Sojourner runes.

  “Judicum,” Jordahk murmured.

  Was it just in his head again? No, the others saw him too. He was almost fully there, showing only a trace of transparency. Outlining him was the same psychedelic iridescence revealed by Jhapa during the dimensional draw.

  At the center of Judicum's mass a subtle swirling phenomenon began. Jordahk could feel the gravity of it. Simultaneously the pressure on his wrist increased. He thought his arm would implode. It was stuck, pinned midair by its own gravity.

  “Who is that?” Zoraida demanded. She pointed the grister at the new threat. “Stay back.”

  But Judicum continued to walk toward her with deliberate strides. She fired. The whine of a grister was followed by an ammo nut appearing in the center-of-mass swirl. It spun for a few seconds before dropping to the deck with a clink.

  Was Judicum AI, energy being, or spirit given form? Jordahk didn't know. But it inspired fear, and continued, undeterred.

  “Drakking hell,” Zoraida said. She shot twice more. But those shots also ended up spinning in the phenomenon before clinking to the deck. “I warned you!” She pointed and the seeker drone jetted toward Solia. Judicum held out his hand. Irregular lines of psychedelic color flashed in the air and the drone raced into his body. It got caught up in the swirl, but didn't explode. “You're doing this!” She aimed at Jordahk but Judicum reached out again, causing the air between him and the grister to crack with color. The weapon flew into his body, swirling next to the mini seeker drone.

  Zoraida gripped her gun-hand in pain. “Damn you! Alright, I'll deal. I'll deal!”

  But Judicum persisted in his unrelenting stride, passing Solia. His arms slowly raised.

  Zoraida reached to a treader with her good hand and pulled it away holding a monomer knife. For a woman with a disdain for physical confrontation, she was prepared to the hilt. The blade made its characteristic hum. Monomer weapons were a great danger, capable of cutting through almost anything, often the user by accident. Judicum pressed forward, undeterred, and she thrust it into his chest.

  The blade found nothing to cut, and was sucked into the swirl with Zoraida's hand still gripping. She shrieked in pain, unable to pull it out. Tears and real fear filled her
eyes. Judicum lowered his arms to embrace the woman.

  “Make it stop!” Solia yelled.

  “I—I can't!”

  Judicum's arms wrapped around her. She let out a gut-wrenching wail and shook violently. Red filled the swirl and her cry turned to a gurgle. The seeker drone glowed bright and Jordahk turned away. He wasn't cold enough to watch her demise.

  The muffled explosion ended the horrid gurgling. It expanded a few meters before coming to an abrupt halt. Almost as fast, it contracted back into the gravitic swirl, leaving only Judicum. He stepped away, and a fist sized sphere of carbon thudded to the deck. Steam rose off the compressed matter, the last evidence of Zoraida's existence.

  Jordahk felt a wave of pity. Pity for a woman doomed to live, fight, and die one way.

  They'll be no more orbits, Zoraida.

  Judicum walked toward Jhapa, passing through the remaining seeker drone. The colorful outline rippled and the device turned to dust. Jhapa stood as the gravitic swirl dissipated. His height matched Judicum's. With a step he moved into the entity, so that they occupied the same space. The psychedelic outline transferred to the man, and Judicum faded away. Jordahk's hand fell in abrupt release from its invisible prison.

  The outline intensified to the border brightness of the dimensional draw. Jhapa took a step forward into another space. What came out was very different. The girth, the grimy uniform were gone... Jhapa was no more. Brightness flared over the shape of a man, as if his body couldn't contain a sun. The outline intensified until the coronal eruptions were finally contained.

  A man was revealed, wearing raiment similar to the entity just faded. Dimensional draw openings appeared to his left and right. His arms reached in, withdrawing clad in oversized bracers of swirling neumenium and gold, banded with platinum group metals.

  The man's appearance—it was like a fuller, stronger version of Judicum, with the salt and pepper hair of Jhapa, gray at the temples. The counter rotating runes of his collar highlighted in patterns Jordahk couldn't understand. The outline intensity reduced, but didn't go away. An airy wind, moaning as if blowing through massive structures, permeated the air. He turned to stare at Jordahk with irises blazing the yellow-white of burnished iridium.