Tethered Worlds: Star in Bankruptcy

by Gregory Faccone

  Jordahk nodded and smiled. He hadn't liked the distance between them since the reactordyne room incident. Their relationship wasn't back to normal. Maybe it never would be, but it was mending.

  “Staying out of Perigeum squadron's conventional firing range,” Aurora said. “Midpoint in two minutes. The First Cruiser is charging the Artemis cannon.”

  Jordahk squeezed the control stalks, feeling the connection with the cross-keel and powering it up. The Aurora responded by reconfiguring to manifestation mode. The ship streamlined and its nacelles raised to straight out from the fuselage. The wings of the falcon began to glow faintly before them.

  “It's still not too late to spare myself and the girl this foolishness,” Wixom said. “Put us in an escape pod.”

  “Girl?” Solia remarked. “I'm thirty-five! Why does everybody keep doing that?”

  “That's enough, Wixom. Mute it.”

  “I'm getting an unusual fleetnet comm from the Jetty,” Aurora said. “It's old, but I recognize it. It's the Iron Commander.”

  “The—” Jordahk was stymied. “Ah, isn't he...”

  “Dead?” Max offered.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  “The First Cruiser is lining up for a shot,” Capt. Benziger said. “They're not even disguising it.”

  They waited to launch, each second getting more dangerous as that cannon zeroed in on them. The troubled galleon Solothurn was still trying to reach readiness, and his Drattehorn was making no headway releasing itself from the gantry.

  “Four galleons will have to launch without us,” the Iron Commander said.

  VAD indicators flashed. “Solothurn shows ready!”

  “Activate new fleetnet. Transmit rendezvous instructions,” the Iron Commander ordered. “All galleons, emergency launch!”

  Benziger monitored. “Launch systems sluggish across the board. Ours still dead.”

  “Break it. Increase thrust.”

  “We'll destroy the bay.” Benziger realized how little that mattered now. He shook his head. “Thrust increasing.”

  He was starting to forget the legend in the flag chair was a simulcrum. So he could imagine how convinced the other captains and even the enemy might be.

  A lot had occurred in just one day. A legend he was pretty sure was dead, had come back to life on his bridge. And a legendary character, a Sojourner, perhaps gave his life in the same place. Arh-Tahl was still as a cadaver, and the examination noises the nurse offered were not encouraging. The little metal bird, loyal to the end, guarded him from a motionless hand.

  The ship began to rock as thrust bashed the facilities aft. The pounding begat resonating vibrations the old grav weaves couldn't squelch. VADs lit with structural stress indicators.

  “Gantry systems unchanged.”

  “More thrust,” the Iron Commander ordered.

  Capt. Benziger knew his command was finished for any number of causes, but he wanted the Drattehorn to see fleet duty again. Not to mention he'd rather not be the target of whatever political scheme Janus was hatching. He increased the thrust turning the bay into a maelstrom, smashing bulkheads and wrecking everything behind them. The ship began rocking with an increasing amplitude that would soon tear it apart. Structural VADs went red.

  “That's all the ship can take,” Benziger yelled.

  “But not all the bay can take,” the Iron Commander said. “We're launching, with the gantry if need be! Ready the flank T-Beam emplacements.”

  “What?

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  From the private correspondence of:

  Decimus, Acting Field Commander,

  Neumanus Vexillation, 350/2413

  Janus my son,

  The current occupants of Neumanus, that is those who remain, were no doubt shocked by our shrewd in-system assembly of an egress. Yes, we brought the power of our civilization right to their doorstep. The task has taken months, but our techs are practiced in the art of it. Civilization and order will arrive here at last, the seat of this absurd crusade, like it has many other worlds. If nothing else, perhaps that will be my legacy.

  The fools fight like trapped animals, rather than resigning to something greater than themselves. Something we all know is inevitable. They're attempting to evacuate their entire population. We try to interdict as many escapees as we can, but until the egress is online we don't have the ships. I don't know why High Command is pushing this hard to retain native inhabitants. The majority of our losses since arrival at hill bottom have been in interdiction attempts.

  A squadron of frenzied corvettes fight like Hades minions. And worse, one of their rare destruction machines, in this case the Hesperus Phosphorus, has stationed here for months. But they grow less effective with each passing battle, for they lack time and facilities to effect full repair. I suspect the true power of their movement has transitioned elsewhere. But staring down the Hesperus day after day, a machine allegedly capable of taking a monstrous dragon form, is taking a toll on our forces.

  I visited the Oracle in my dreams last night and received a premonition of my own death at the hands of that dragon. My son, I fear I won't be coming back. We should just let the stragglers go, but I can only follow orders. The egress is impossible to fully safeguard until it syncs with one of our fleet worlds. The enemy knows this. A final, desperate confrontation looms, although it won't change the big picture at all.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  “The “The Trade Union is veering off,” Gimmelstau said from his VAD.

  “A little late,” Janus said. “Looks more like panic.”

  “I don't think they were expecting us to fire.”

  “Hesperus on approach,” an officer said.

  “You were right,” Gimmelstau remarked, unable to keep all incredulity from the assessment. “They look to be positioning right in the line of fire.”

  “Of course I was right.” Janus let himself smirk. “They want to protect the Jetty. Predictable.”

  The Sojourner ship began to form a glowing shape before it of color cascades and shearing layers.

  “It's manifesting the same weapon used against the Svals,” Gimmelstau said.

  “They were damaged using that functionality. It's a point-blank attack. They'll never make it through the formation to use it on us.”

  Targeting information blossomed on the VADs, covering the still out-of-range interloper.

  “If they insist on that corridor I can blanket it with conventional fire,” Gimmelstau suggested.

  “No, captain. We don't want to shoo away our moth.” Janus glanced at the Artemis status. 95%. His patience was all but gone. “Shut down every non-essential function on this damn ship. I want one hundred percent now!”

  Many of the usual political and media entourage had found excuses to leave the ship since things heated up. That is, those who survived the “destruction” at the hands of the Svals and decided to re-board. These few hangers-on murmured. He couldn't help but notice the Confederated Comm shill, Keats Keating, hovering near an escape pod.

  “Have the squadron salvo a wide corridor simultaneously when we fire,” Janus ordered. “We don't want our prey dodging the fun.”

  He stood tall, facing the viewport. This was his moment. His ultimate exit strategy. He would be revered as a hero for putting down the “Shadow Board Rebellion,” and be ensconced as Chairman of the planetary Governing Board for life. Eliminating the objections of a few local holdouts, or just eliminating the holdouts, wouldn't be an issue. And his earlier sleight-of-hand had legally transferred ownership of the First Cruiser to him.

  With the coin of Aventicia, and the anonymity of being out of the Prime Orator's seat, he could continue his own shadow war against the Sojourners. Quashing new threats as they arose, and keeping their feted ideology from gaining any foothold.

  “Artemis cannon at ninety-eight percent charge,” the ship AI said, seeing his glances.

  “Hesperus about to enter the firing corridor,” an officer said.

  “It's
going full-on into the weapon mode,” Gimmelstau said.

  The bird-of-prey shape formed around the leading edges of the ship, most prominently on the wings. It was some sort of spatial distortion and related energy, although the link-heads didn't understand it. A spike of trepidation crossed his mind as he stared into a dangerous, unknowable phenomenon. But he forced it away. It didn't matter what it was, he'd seen it in action and it wouldn't be enough, not by a long shot. Perhaps tales of the destructive power of the Hesperus class were exaggerated.

  Alarms sounded and warning VADs appeared. A large anomaly was forming around the Hesperus.

  “What?”

  “It's new. The bird form remains unchanged,” Gimmelstau said.

  “No… Fire!”

  “We're only at—”

  “Fire now!”

  The new spherical phenomenon was flooding the scans with intensity the AIs couldn't interpret. Numbers that didn't make sense.

  How?

  “Even the impossible has limits!” he shouted at the main display. “Do you hear!”

  Glowing particles accumulated at the front of the First Cruiser. Ship and flag bridges filled with the intense blue light of cannon-energy.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  The Hesperus swooped into the dangerous space between two giants. Jordahk struggled at the controls to bring the falcon manifestation up to full phase one.

  “What's the plan?” Solia asked.

  The strain was growing. “I''m... a little busy.”

  “The First Cruiser is about to be busy annihilating us,” Wixom cracked.

  “Didn't you say you might survive?” The difficulty in bringing the manifestation up to potent levels was exacerbated by his fatigue and the damaged systems. “We need to strike while he's firing at us,” Jordahk finally answered. “All that concentrated energy makes him vulnerable.”

  “Mushashi's Book of Five Rings,” Max said, probably to relieve Jordahk's tension.

  “Yeah, that's right. One of my father's many tomes. 'Cut the enemy as he cuts you.'”

  “Am I the only one who sees the flaw in this plan?” Solia asked. “I thought we couldn't get close enough.”

  “One step at a time.”

  “First Cruiser reads near capacity charge,” Aurora said. “It can fire at any time.”

  Jordahk wrestled with both physical strain, and indecision. He couldn't lose himself in the machine this time. He had to stay cognizant of the tactical situation. Everyone was counting on him. He poured himself into the impellers, holding back only enough to stay aware of the bridge. They pulled hard, threatening to liquefy him and suck him through the stalks. The falcon took form, but still fell short of the cutting point.

  His hunch... his faith, had better pay off soon.

  “Why aren't they taking pot shots since they must know why we're on this vector?” Max asked.

  Jordahk sensed the bridge, but also someplace else. His mind became aware of the next dimension and its interlacing colors. He didn't know what he was doing, and felt pulled apart. He had to hold the dimensional connection in balance. He couldn't give up and leave those he cared about with no hope. But it was too much. His arms drained and went dead.

  Aventicia receded as he fell toward the dimensional colors. A presence was there. He knew when it had last been encountered. The fireship at Windermere. His doubts surfaced before her.

  “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe one Hesperus can't make a difference here.”

  “Maybe,” said the woman's voice. “But one man can.”

  Faint chimes accompanied her distant voice, yet it was as close as the dimension in which his mind was half immersed. It was the Khromas known as the Spirit, Olahn-Dehr. Fresh, invigorating life poured into his arms. He knew what he had to do, and pushed the falcon to the cutting point. Its dimensionally shearing wings were ready to slash, but to what end?

  “Keep the manifestation strong, welp,” said the man from the center of the ship. His presence was unmistakable.

  A large, spherical phenomenon formed around the Aurora. It spun like a cutting wind. It was familiar. Then the neumenium coupling on his compy came to life of its own accord. A vision overlaid his consciousness. The timing was awful, but he didn't have the strength to spare for consternation.

  “Ohrias...” it announced.

  Jordahk let the vision play, in hopes that Ohrias would be satisfied as soon as possible. His perspective shifted to someone standing in the vault under the cabin at Adams Rush. He just knew it was Aristahl. Another entered, coming down the stairs, the thin, multi-colored outline around his presence illuminating the chamber.

  A conversation between the two started. Jordahk saw it as if a dream, unable to understand the words, only the emotion. Then it clarified.

  “I've put items aside for my own reasons,” the man said. “You've added dangerous failures to the collection.”

  “Unsuccessful experiments, true,” Aristahl said. “But in the future, after our kind have left the stage, they may be the last examples of a technology lost.”

  “Hmph, 'technology lost.' Our libraries are vast.”

  “You mean the libraries of those who have chosen to go beyond. Those staying here can only expect a dying art. A contraction for a rebirth that may never come.”

  “You weave words with great flourish,” the man said. “It's your decision to stay. Can't you also make new technological paths?”

  “The Asterfraeo is more or less settled. The need for our power is reduced, and the enemy is poisoning the culture. Many no longer appreciate us like the old days, nor the old ways.”

  “Those annexed by the Perigeum feel differently.”

  Aristahl sighed. “Yes, a side-effect of freedom allows the free to forget authoritarianism. I pray they will never relearn it the hard way.”

  The man picked up a few items, each flared to life at his touch. “The roots we planted are not dead, only dormant.” He paused holding something familiar, the metal of its double-wing buckle gleamed, and the strap glittered with infused energy. “The Vaengr Belt.” He shook his head. “Very well. Keep these flawed creations. But beware their danger.”

  Jordahk could sense Aristahl's awe at the ease in which the man activated impaired devices.

  “Some of these are beyond my ken,” Aristahl said. “Only you can bend them all to your will, but perhaps someday...”

  “Cling to your hope, then.” Jordahk could feel the growing distance between them. It was sad. “In the meantime our ships will inspire future generations.”

  “Perhaps. Although not all who pursue that inspiration will be laudable.”

  The vision darkened to black, with the colorful outline around the man the last to fade.

  “Ohrias...”

  It finished, with little time having passed in the real world. Jordahk's mind was back, still split between dimensions, communicating with giants from another age.

  “What was that?” Olahn-Dehr asked.

  “My son's data construct,” Thule-Riss answered.

  “A data construct? How quaint. Perhaps it will give the boy insight.”

  Boy? Now he knew how Solia felt.

  But new insight was had anyway. The phenomenon surrounding the ship was a manifestation of the Vaengr Belt's sphere, only a hundred times as large. Jordahk couldn't imagine what it took to generate a field of that size with a flawed creation designed for pedestrian transport.

  “You're not really going to use that unstable splitter, are you?” Olahn-Dehr asked.

  “He's certainly not ready for it,” Thule-Riss answered.

  “I don't think anyone is at the scale you're manifesting.”

  Oh great... God of my mother, guide us now.

  He didn't know if it worked that way, but it gave him hope nonetheless.

  “Everyone hang on!” he yelled.

  He clung to that hope rather than the alternative; dying, lost in some other dimension.

  The sphere became a physical thing, sharp as a monomer ed
ge, and dense as a sun. It created a din that filled the ship and vibrated their bones. Through the sphere Jordahk saw the First Cruiser multiply into three. Its deadly ship gun flashed white and a pinkish beam filled his vision in triplicate. Some of the beam reflected off the sphere at crazy angles, but most was pulled into the wind of it. An energetic, spinning storm like no other. In a split-second it stretched, becoming a tunnel of manifold space more violent than any he'd seen. The ship lurched in, flattening Jordahk to his seat.

  ▪ ▫ ▪

  Kord watched with trepidation, hoping the death of his son wasn't playing out before his eyes.

  Vittora bolted up. “Jordahk! No!”

  The initial Artemis flash cleared, revealing its beam of annihilation colliding with the strange sphere formed around the Aurora. Kord had seen its like before, albeit much smaller, on Adams Rush when Jordahk used that crazy, mystic belt.

  Potent fractions of the beam angled off the sphere. One cut a nearby P-Star frigate in half, causing instantaneous explosive destruction. In a heartbeat the sphere grew intense with absorbed energy. Three corvette images spread apart before merging. The sphere flashed forward in a streak of light.

  For a second, the mighty Artemis beam continued though space, then the streak reformed into a sphere between the Aegis destroyer and the First Cruiser. It partially blocked the Artemis beam again. More fractions angled off, shearing the rear quarter of a P-Star ship, and carving away half of the First Cruiser's starboard hull.

  The sphere passed below the beam and dimmed. Within it the falcon manifesting Hesperus was off-center. It suddenly appeared shoved from behind, although nothing could been seen, and a wing penetrated the sphere wall. When the sphere winked out, the wing and port nacelle of the Aurora were gone. Plasma flowed from severed connections as the ship rolled. It regained control and plowed its remaining fiery wing into the cannon nose of the First Cruiser. The firing cycle was nearly finished, but tremendous energy was still confined.