by Josh Leone
The phase engine was a simple looking half-sphere, approximately two meters in diameter. The only disruption of its otherwise perfect surface was a conical projection ending in a truncated tip seven centimeters in diameter. The inner workings of a phase engine were well beyond Iyanna’s understanding. What she did know was that the half-sphere would project a small orb from its protrusion. Once the orb was far enough away, the cone would project a beam of, not light really, but rather an absence of light. It was a sight many had tried to describe with little success.
The beam of not-light would strike the orb, increasing its mass without increasing its size. Iyanna assumed the process employed something of the same technology that allowed gravity polarizers to provide Earth-normal gravity on ships, negate the pull of a planet’s surface so that ships could launch with minimal thrust, and generally allow space exploration and travel as she knew it.
Prior to gravity polarizers there had been space travel but, for anything long-term, radical modification to the traveler’s biology had been required to avoid the many dangers such travel presented. Rumors persisted to modern times of lost colonies populated by descendants of those early Mods.
In any case, Iyanna had purchased one of the best phase engines available from the most highly regarded manufacturer in the Primacy. She’d heard of many travelers who’d cheaped out on a second-hand phase engine, only to be stranded light-years away from the nearest inhabited system. Salvage teams made a nice living tracing and recovering ships whose crews had long since died of starvation or because their air recyclers had finally broken down beyond repair.
Iyanna spent most of her earnings on her equipment, especially her ship. She accepted nothing less than the best and she’d many times been proven wise for doing so. Equipment failure was the number two cause of death in her line of work. Stupidity was number one.
“Gathering Storm, this is Far Star Station. You are next in line to depart. Confirm.” Iyanna recognized the voice.
“Far Star Station, this is Gathering Storm. Confirmed and waiting. Let me know when I can get the hell out of here, William. I have a schedule to keep.”
Iyanna had known the old station A.I. for years. Far Star’s A.I. was among the oldest constantly functioning, fully aware A.I.s in existence. Over four-hundred years had passed since its installation as Far Star’s control computer, another hundred before that as the pilot of a commercial transport, and twenty or so before that working off his contract as a Legion scout ship. More than half a millennium of awareness had made William one of the most developed artificial life forms Iyanna had ever encountered.
The old A.I. had developed a fatherly attitude toward her, often working things quietly in her favor. If the station’s repair facility had an early opening, Iyanna got the first call to see if she needed to bring her ship in. The maintenance bots always seemed to take particularly good care of Gathering Storm while it was docked. And, like now, Iyanna always seemed to get preference when it came to the lineup of departing ships.
“Don’t be a wiseass, Iyanna. You might find yourself bumped to the back of the line.” There was humor in William’s voice, though he’d tried to sound stern. It made Iyanna laugh.
“You wouldn’t do that to your favorite rocket-jock, Willy.” William had taught her the archaic term.
“Yeah, kid. You’re right.”
“What’s wrong, Willy? You sound distracted.” There was pause before William answered.
“That guy you met with in the Bazaar,” William could watch and hear everything that went on in Far Star. Hooked into the station, William had thousands of electronic eyes and ears. “He’s bad news, kid.”
“You know who he is?”
“No, but I’ve seen his kind plenty of times.” Iyanna raised an eyebrow. Willy hardly ever spoke to her about her business. Discretion was essential in a place like Far Star. An A.I. that didn’t respect that could find itself quickly replaced by the powers that be.
“Yeah, Willy, I got the crazy vibe too. But that hardly makes him special.”
“Oh, he’s crazy alright, but not like you’re used to. It’s the kind of crazy you only see in fanatics. I saw it plenty of times back when I was Legion.”
“So he’s military, so what. I’ve done lots of work for the Legion, all kinds of shadow stuff.”
“He’s not a soldier, kid. Frontline troops are dedicated, sure, but not usually fanatical. That guys not Legion, he’s Ministry.”
“A data-pusher?” she scoffed. “How’s that supposed to scare me?”
“The Ministry is the priesthood of the Primacy, the true believers. That’s the kind of crazy I saw in that guy.”
“Willy, you know I was almost Ministry myself. It’s not like that.”
“If you say so. But do me a favor and watch out for yourself. I’ve got a bad feeling about that one.”
“I always watch out for myself. It’s what I do best.” Iyanna laughed as she said it, but she wasn’t as confident as she sounded. She wanted to set Willy’s mind at ease, but she knew there was something to what the old program was saying.
There had always been rumors. No empire in the history of any species she knew of had ever managed to stop the rumor mill from running. Stories had been told, even in the PoPros, among friends, during nights out on the town - stories of special training facilities and secret programs that insured unquestioning loyalty among the highest orders of government. It was the stuff of conspiracy theorists and fringe groups, never taken seriously by the mainstream.
But Iyanna had occasionally wondered, ‘What if it was true?’ Such doubts had plagued her early in life. How could she serve the Holy Mother if she doubted the character of Her most trusted servants? The Primacy was based on the fundamental premise that the Council of Callers was the voice of the Holy Mother. If Iyanna could think the Callers would allow such brainwashing programs to occur, how could she devote her entire life to the Primacy? She couldn’t, which is why she’d chosen to do otherwise.
Iyanna shook off that train of thought. She had a job to do, a payday to collect, and open space in front of her. This was her life and she liked it simple. What difference did it make if her current employer had a screw loose? Everyone had their own private crazy tucked somewhere in their brain. So he wore his openly, so what. As long as he paid up when the time came, that’s all the sanity Iyanna needed from him.
She departed the station and piloted her out to minimum safe distance for phasing. The gate opened and she flew in. As the window of the cockpit darkened to protect her from viewing raw phase space, she opened the file the man in the Bazaar had given her and began to study the details. She knew where the ship would be, its description, and its name, The Enduring Journey.
◊
“Hey Cap’n, got a blip.” Seth Okan turned as Jason Vig, his co-pilot and engineer, called his attention to the screen.
“What’re the specs?”
“Small, no phase engine, no organics, no A.I. signature. I’m guessing automated navigational buoy.”
“Confirm that.”
After a few moments Vig confirmed. “Unarmed, sending a repeating location signal, nothing else. Definitely a buoy, Cap’n.”
Seth did not like being called by his former Legion rank, but the engineer was set in his ways and was, as he often reminded the younger man, ‘Too damn old to go changing now.’
So Seth let it go. Jason Vig was far too valuable an engineer and traveling partner for any other course of action. Besides, the grizzled old man was the closest thing Seth had to family.
They’d met almost twenty years ago. Seth had been fresh out of Officer PoPro and Vig had been a Legion engineer for most of fifty years. At twenty-two years old Seth had been ready to explore the universe, fight aliens, and be a hero. Vig was running up against seventy-five years of age and had served on just about every kind of ship the Legion sent out. Vig knew ship’s systems like most people knew breathing.
Vig had even achieved a special co
mmendation for managing to repair a failing phase engine during combat. When Seth had asked Vig about it, the engineer had just smiled and said, “A little quantum field theory, a bit of duct tape, no big deal.”
The Enduring Journey was a testament to Vig’s expertise at keeping things running. The ship was older than the engineer, but still flew like a dream and Seth would have given her even odds in a fight against any of the newer ships coming off the lines. Of course, it helped that the Journey was far from factory standard.
Hidden ports in the ship’s hull housed offensive and defensive after-market modifications. Vig had jacked up her shield arrays to make them thirty percent more efficient in shedding energy. Her sub-light engines could bring her up to .6 of C in a straight line. Journey was also equipped with additional maneuvering thrusters and structural support that let her handle directional changes better than a ship half her size. She was full of surprises, just the way her two person crew liked her.
While the Journey was special, she looked anything but. She looked like any of thousands of ancient cargo haulers. She was essentially a cube stretched out at the front end. Variable attachment points along her ventral surface allowed connection to most standard cargo boxes. Her preferred box, the one she carried normally, was a reinforced cuboid measuring forty-five meters long by twenty-five meters wide by twenty-five meters high, large enough for most small to medium hauls. The box was equipped with basic thrusters, a cannon, and a shield generator to discourage casual theft if the box had to be left behind for a while.
The interior of the Journey was basic. A four meter square bridge with a hatch at the back that led to the main cabin. The main cabin was the same width as the bridge and half again as long, containing a sitting area, hide-away table and chairs, kitchenette, and lots of storage compartments.
In the starboard wall of the main cabin, sliding doors led to private berths measuring three meters square. The same on the left wall, except that one of the doors led to the communal head. The back wall of the main cabin held the entrance to the maze of tunnels that allowed access to the engines. To the left of the engine access hatch, a tube lift descended into the attached cargo box.
Seth and Vig had run a lot of crap jobs to pile up the funds to buy The Enduring Journey, a lot more to retrofit her into her current, outstanding configuration. The ship did not have an A.I., but she was still a member of the family.
Seth remembered what it was like at the start. How everything had fallen apart, his life, his carefully planned future, destroyed by a single decision. But it was a decision he’d make again in a heartbeat.
Seth had been promoted to Captain and given his own ship. He’d tried to bring Vig along with him, but the request for transfer had been blocked by Vig’s then current Captain, a rare man capable of appreciating Vig’s talents. Seth couldn’t blame the other Captain for wanting to keep one of the best engineers in the Legion.
Seth and Vig kept in touch during the months following Seth’s promotion. Though Seth outranked him, the younger man gladly took advice from Vig on many things. In addition to an encyclopedic knowledge of everything from engines to shields to waste recyclers, Vig had picked up more than a little wisdom in dealing with the political aspects of the Legion. He knew what to say and when and, more importantly in many cases, when to keep his mouth shut. Seth avoided many problems by heeding Vig’s advice.
There came a day that Seth would never forget. The message came to him because Vig had no next of kin and he’d listed Seth as his emergency contact. The engineer had been in an accident.
It had occurred during a shakedown flight after an engine refit. Vig was monitoring fuel consumption rates when a valve malfunctioned. Coolant gas flooded the compartment Vig was in. By the time the room was clear and Vig had been evacuated, he’d suffered serious injuries. The only reason he was lived was that, due to previous injuries, his heart had been replaced with a synthetic model and he’d been equipped with a supplemental support system for bringing oxygen to his brain.
The coolant had destroyed his eyes, most of both lungs, and every inch of exposed skin. Injuries were not uncommon in the Legion and most could be repaired easily, but Vig was old by Legion standards. He’d been the same rank for years and though that had been by choice, as far as the data pushers were concerned Vig wasn’t worth the cost of repairing. They ordered him put on basic life support and mandated his retirement. Just like that his decades of service, the lives his knowledge had saved, all of it was simply ignored. They would put Vig in a convalescent home where maybe, if he was lucky, they’d hook him up to a virtual reality simulator so he could wither away in relative peace.
It was months before Seth could get leave to go see his friend. When he finally did, and saw the condition of the man who’d been his mentor, who had guided him and acted as a father to him, it was heartbreaking. Seth immediately set out to find anyone in charge that would listen. The answer was always the same. There was nothing that could be done. Vig was out.
Seth had demanded that the Legion at least pay to fix the damage so Vig would not be confined to a slow, withering death. But the answer was still no. It would not be an efficient use of resources as Jason Vig was no longer in service to the Primacy. Seth argued that, as a citizen of the Primacy, Vig was qualified for access to free medical care.
“I’m afraid that is not the case, Captain Okan.” The data pusher was all smiles and solicitude.
“Why the hell not?!”
“Your friend is not a full citizen. His birth records indicate he is a GEC.” Seth knew what a Genetically Engineered Colonist was. He also knew that GECs were only granted citizenship for the duration of their public service. Vig had never mentioned his GEC status, perhaps because GECs were considered by natural born humans to be just one step up from non-humans.
With no other options available, Seth had sold everything he owned, gotten loans he knew would put him in massive debt for the rest of his life, and begged every credit he could from friends and relatives. The surgeries took several days followed by lengthy rehab for the atrophy that had occurred during his convalescence, but when it was done Vig was mobile again, breathing on his own, and had his sight restored. Seth hadn’t been able to afford top of the line care so most of it had been accomplished using older model synthetics, of which the eyes were most noticeable.
The pale yellow orbs had been second-hand models, probably trade-ins from some fad-follower who’d thought yellow was the color of choice that year. Vig hadn’t been able to cry, because he had no tear ducts, but when he pulled Seth into a bear hug without speaking a word, Seth knew it had all been worth it. Unfortunately, things were about to get more complicated.
Someone in the higher ranks of the Ministry of Records hadn’t appreciated a mere Captain questioning the status quo. Seth was called to the office of a Tenth Minister, a mid-level data-pusher. The man behind the desk was a stereotype - small, weasel-faced, and clearly far too happy with his position of limited power. There were reasons things became stereotypes, usually because they were often true.
“You have been making quite a pest of yourself, Mr. Okan.”
“Captain,” Seth said.
“What was that?”
“It’s Captain Okan.”
“I see,” said the weasel-faced bureaucrat. “Well, be that as it may, it is not appropriate for even a Captain,” the word was said with only thinly veiled contempt, “to dispute the rulings of the Holy Mother.”
“I did no such thing, Minister.”
“Did you not argue that Jason Vig should receive care, despite that he is not even natural born?”
“Jason Vig has served the Holy Mother for decades. I was merely stating that such service should be honored instead of disposed of like yesterday’s waste.”
“The Ministry, the Legion, and the Civil Authority serve the will of the Holy Mother, whose wishes are made manifest to us through her most holy servants, the Callers.” Weasel-face was building up steam.
“You, Captain Okan, should not dispute the rulings of your betters.”
“Then perhaps you should go find my betters so that I may hear what they have to say.” Seth felt his own steam rising. Under other circumstances, if he’d been speaking to a fellow Legionnaire, he’d have backed down. But not from some damn data-pusher.
“Captain Okan, you tread on dangerous ground.”
“I am Legion, Minister. That’s what we do.”
“Perhaps you’d like to join your GEC friend? I’m sure you could both find employment maintaining sewers on a distant colony world? Isn’t that what you Legion thugs are best at, handling the Primacy’s trash?”
And that was the end of Seth’s Legion career. Well, technically the end came a few seconds later when Seth’s fist connected with the data-pusher’s weasel face, but one could argue chicken and egg all day. In the end, it meant one thing, Seth’s life as he knew it was over.
Seth was charged with assaulting a Minister, but due to his exemplary service record he was allowed to go home to await trial. Vig met him there. Seth told Vig what had happened, and Vig’s only response was that he wished he’d been there to land a punch or six himself.
“Well, Cap’n, what’s the plan?”
“Plan?” Seth said in despair. “There is no plan. It’s over. I’ll be lucky if I don’t make the Lists for this. You always warned me to keep my mouth shut, do what I’m told, don’t let them get to me. Holy Mother, what was I thinking?” Seth put his head in his hands.
“Son, listen to me. Listen.” Seth raised his head and looked at the engineer’s yellow eyes.
“All those times I told you to keep it shut, to mind your own business? Well, I told you that because I was afraid. I’ve seen too many decent people chewed up by bureaucracy.”
Vig placed a gentle hand on Seth’s shoulder.
“You’re a good man, Seth. Better than me. Maybe this is how things should be. Maybe getting out from under the Primacy’s foot is exactly what’s supposed to happen, so you don’t wind up a worn out old geezer like me. You’re meant for something more, son. There’s a whole big universe out there.”
