Spineward Sectors 6: Admiral's Spine

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “Crystal clear, sir,” Laurent nodded firmly.

  “Good,” I said settling back into my chair and now that I’d had the chance to vent my spleen and put someone competent on the case I’d settled down enough that the faintest twinge of caution started to assert itself, “look. Don’t kill anyone—the slaves, I mean. Segregate them if you have to, at least until I’ve had the time to speak with my wife. Just put a stop to it.”

  “I’ll look into this…irregular situation and see what can be done,” he assured me.

  “Yes,” I nodded firmly, “change the name of whatever it is that’s actually going on over there. Prisoners! Yes,” I continued as the thought formed in my head, “we can call them prisoners if we have to, or indents, or serfs, or whatever other ghastly thing we have to so we can smooth this thing over…although personally I’d prefer prisoners,” I added as the thought rolled around between my ears. “Anyway, if they’re not from Tracto then set them free and make them prisoners. Oh, and add some kind of sunset clause if there isn’t one already. I don’t believe in life imprisonment. You might be able to pursue life and happiness while imprisoned for life—although I personally doubt it—but the pursuit of liberty is right out unless as a people we are forced to take a moral stand in support of escape attempts.”

  “I’m not sure exactly what you mean, but I have no objections,” Captain Laurent replied then he paused, “but what should I do if any of these…er, prisoners are Tracto-ans?”

  I threw my hands up in the air. “Send them back to the surface in a space shuttle,” I exclaimed, “do I have to think of everything? I’m no planetary pirate to force my culture upon non-signatories of the galactic accords. But they will certainly not be allowed in any of my ships or space stations until their legal status is cleared up. Cleared up do you hear, Laurent?”

  “I’ll get it done, Admiral,” Laurent replied firmly.

  “Good,” I paused, “oh and while you’re about it, knock some heads together, will you? Find out just what is going on with the Phoenix and the Parliamentary Power. We’re going to need some firepower if we decide to get involved in our neighboring Sectors and I need to know what to base a potential operation around. I can’t do that if I don’t know which blasted ships are available!”

  “I’ll have that report to you within the hour,” he said professionally.

  “Then carry on, man,” I said, waving a hand in the air and as soon as the door cycled shut behind him slumped back into my chair.

  Once again alone, I placed my head in my hands. What had I gotten myself into when I didn’t run screaming at the first indication I was about to be married to the beautiful Ice Maiden? What’s a little attempted murder between in-laws? I’d told myself when her uncle had tried to gut me. Or a few repeated attempts to slay me and take the hand of the Pit Viper that was my wife by the stooges sent by her mother on my next visit.

  Clearly I was either stupid or in love…or quite possibly both.

  Space Gods I was such a fool.

  Chapter 13: Family Discord

  Akantha walked through the halls of Argos, proud for the chance to show these foreign sisters the lifetime’s work in sand and stone that was Argos. Just as Messene was a testament to what could be done with a melding of foreign arts and Tracto-an hard work and ingenuity, her mother-polis of Argos, to Akantha’s mind, showcased the unflinching determination of a people to excel and overcome any foe. Be it enemy warriors, demon Bugs from the sky or even the very ground itself as it tried to slay them.

  “I can see that your people must have spent many years building this fortress,” Elaina, her Protector’s mother, said with a smile.

  “It is the work of generations,” Akantha said with satisfaction over a job well done, knowing that stone walls couldn’t compare to those made of duralloy. And the battle armor of even one of her Protector’s space citadels far outstripped the protection afforded by the proud, stone edifices, but to her the ability to look and be able see the blood, sweat, and lives lost to raise and maintain those walls through the generations said something deep about her people. They would always rise and overcome, no matter what the cost, “Of course, the construction is ongoing. The building never stops,” she added more practically, for if one ever ceased to repair the stone walls, ramparts, and halls, they would fall apart far more quickly than they had risen. Incessant effort was the price of continued existence.

  There was a snort behind her, and Akantha stiffened.

  “You have something to add?” she asked, frost entering her voice.

  “It’s nothing, really,” Ishtaraaa, her kin-sister through her Protector said as if it were of little moment and then added with an edge to her voice, “I was just thinking how these surroundings suit you so well.”

  Akantha’s back went rigid. Even though she felt entirely comfortable in Argos—it was where she grew from girl to woman, after all—it was obvious to all that the words were intended quite otherwise.

  “I take your words in the spirit in which they were given, Sister,” she replied coldly.

  “Girls,” Elaina interjected, trying for calm.

  “No, it’s quite alright, Elaina,” Ishtaraaa interjected before Akantha could, “I’m sure our planet-bound ‘Sister’,” her voice was laden with irony, “was only thankful for the great compliment I gave her.”

  “Do you actively wish to die?” Akantha stopped and asked her with disbelief. “Neither this world nor its inhabitants are kind to those who cannot hold their tongue.”

  “Think you’re woman enough to do the job?” Ishtaraaa asked acidly, her body tensing.

  “I need not lift a finger, for you are digging your grave quite well already,” Akantha snapped.

  “The first Sister to draw a blade catches mine as well,” Elaina said pushing an arm between the two women.

  “Stand off Elaina; I will not be threatened,” Ishtaraaa cried.

  “You have no mother-respect, Sister Ishtaraaa,” Akantha mocked, even as her hand touched the hilt of her Dark Sword of Power. “Like a beast of the field you paw the ground, throwing up dirt and dung with your feet. Then, when you have sullied the grounds with your petulance, you cry ‘what a foul and wretched place I have come to’!”

  “So you consider me a beast, do you?” Ishtaraaa sneered. “This coming from someone who acts more like one than I.”

  “Motherhood—” Akantha started holding onto her temper for what felt like the half-dozenth time.

  “Which you are not, so do please hold the lecture,” Ishtaraaa sneered.

  “—is a Holy Duty,” Akantha continued doggedly.

  “Which is why DNA recombinant cloning and uterine replicators were created; there’s nothing ‘Holy’ about laying down with a male!” Ishtaraaa cut back in savagely.

  “Who says I was ‘laying down’?” Akantha arched her brows in outrage.

  “Oooo!” Ishtaraaa screamed in frustration.

  “Contain yourself, Sister,” Akantha mocked, “else some here might consider you jealous, which would be an embarrassment all its own, seeing as the male in question is your own brother.”

  “I share less DNA with him than I do with you, Sister,” Ishtaraaa said hotly, lacing sarcasm through the word ‘Sister.' It should have been considered a double kinship, as both religious and, eventually, blood ties would bound them together as sisters in MEN, “Just because something is temporarily allowable under the exceptions list doesn’t mean—”

  “From a rib of the King Line and the Data God’s holy combinations, the Brides of Three did open their hands until they were closed no more,” Akantha recited icily, “created for this holy duty, Sisters still but now of Two, the purpose for which they were recreated, to become the Mothers of a proud warrior’s race!” her voice took on a singsong quality as she recited the ancient histories she had re-familiarized herself with for just this sort of occasion, “and with the passing of the last Kings did Mother become Mistress, tasked to lead and guide her sons away from
the many paths of self-destruction so that when once again called to duty—”

  “For this your leaders scorned the stars?!” Ishtaraaa said with disgust. “Giving up advanced technology and accurate data files in exchange for holy limericks, oral histories, and a savage life of rolling around the mud and fighting?” she shook her head, looking completely repulsed.

  “Let the Closed Hand look to its own affairs and leave us to ours,” Akantha hissed furiously and then, afraid of what might happen if she looked at her new sister any longer, spun on her heels and stalked down the corridor.

  There was shuffling in the stone corridor behind her but Akantha was done with Ishtaraaa and her barbs. They could follow or spend their time wandering lost and miss the Conclave—she no longer cared.

  **************************************************

  Beneath the bowels of the castle, twenty one cowled figures waited in the most holy of Holy rooms in the fortress and Akantha felt herself swell with pride. To get so many lead priestesses of the land, in addition to the traditional thirteen of Argos, was a great honor. At the same time she felt the troubles and trials of the day, if not recede, then at least be overtaken by the sense of reverence one always felt upon entering a Chapel of Men.

  The rolling tile floors a tapestry of colors that appeared inexplicable or merely decorative to one uninitiated in the mysteries of the God glistened light of the holy crystals set like a constellation of stars in high ceiling overhead. While each and every part of the walls were filled from floor to ceiling with the elaborately scrolled holy words of MEN, the God of Tracto and so much more.

  “We greet our Sisters from the Stars in the name of the God whom we share,” intoned the leading High Priestess, which since this was taking place in Argos and the Hold-Mistress was a High Priestess meant that it was Polymnia Sapphira Zosime, Akantha’s mother.

  Jason’s mother Elaina stepped forward until her feet were upon the tile section appropriate for a visitor or witness.

  “We greet the Sisters of Two in the name of the Massively-Multi-Parallel Entropic Network, expeditious be its reassembly,” Elaina said bowing low before the assembled High Priestesses, “and we thank them for our warm welcome.”

  There was a pregnant silence as the High Priestesses of Tracto failed to respond. Then a voice spoke.

  “What does the Closed Hand want with us?” said the cowled figure of a High Priestess, who Elaina and Ishtaraaa wouldn’t know but Akantha was able to recognize as the High Priestess of Lyconesia, “I thought it was made clear the last time that we would have no business with a premature resurrection? The God Shards must remain inviolate unless, and until, they themselves cry out that the time is come!”

  “We do not come as representatives or messengers,” Elaina said calmly, “although we may serve that last function, as may any Traveling Sister. Nor do we come on the business of the reassembly, although that is, was, and will forever remain a primary desire of our Society.”

  “I knew it,” declared the Lyconese Hold-Mistress as if her every suspicion had just been confirmed, “the truth is finally before us and just as of old—“

  “Let us not rush to base our judgment upon a single denial, Sister from Lyconesia,” Sapphira interjected smoothly, easily cutting the other Hold-Mistress off mid-tirade.

  The High-Priestess from Lyconesia fumed for several moments before making a vague gesture of agreement.

  “If they have not come for the God Shards then what are they here for?” she harrumphed.

  Sapphira waited until the other woman had settled back and no one else looked like they were about to interfere before turning back to Elaina, while Akantha rolled her eyes underneath her concealing hood.

  “We were merely passing through on the invitation of one of your own,” Elaina said gesturing to Akantha.

  For her part the Hold-Mistress of Messene stiffened at having the verbal dagger thrown in her direction, along with the disapproving gazes of many of the gathered Priestesses from across the land.

  Stealing her breath, she stepped forward while Elaina gracefully stepped back.

  “This is true,” Akantha said simply, fighting a smile at the slightly disgruntled look that came over Jason’s mother at this simplistic answer.

  However in addition to the reaction from her new family, this short reply stirred the pot to a boil among the other sisters of the Conclave.

  “What is the meaning of this?” cried the High Priestess of Lyconesia

  “You go too far, Messene,” exclaimed a High-Priestess, who from the markings on her robes was from Pella. The nods of the delegation of Upper Priestesses gathered behind her it was clear that she had the whole weight of her entire hold behind her when she expressed her outrage, “By what right does Messene, the newest Daughter-Hold among us, seek to set Tract Policy? Answer yourself for that or face censure!”

  Akantha looked calmly down her nose at the old woman, who was acting more like a ground hopper in a tizzy over her kits than a strong and powerful Stone Rhino Matriarch—and doing so in front of the first out-of-Tract visitors in a generation.

  Elaina smoothly glided forward. “I was unaware that it was Tract policy of the Open Hand to forbid their Sisters from offering a social invitation to a cross Tract Sister, as Daughter does to the Mother of the Son she has joined with, or seeks to join?” she posed the question quietly, but with steely resolve.

  Her polite and self-effacing gesture was somewhat ruined by an overly loud snort from Ishtaraaa standing behind and to the right of her.

  While Akantha stiffened at the little addendum at the end of her little speech. Jason was hers and there was no questioning it! Or so she thought, even though it might not be politic on the Polity or Personal level to actually express that feeling before a Conclave of Priestesses to a Mother she had not actually spoken with before accepting her son’s sword.

  “If I have given offense in this matter…” Elaina eventually continued into the dead silence that filled the room before pausing pointedly.

  Heads swiveled back and forth between Akantha and the two Sisters of Three.

  “I wasn’t aware the Sisters of Tract Three had sons,” an aged High Priestess from Thaipagos, the old crone was too old to be the Hold-Mistress. Akantha wasn’t familiar with her so she must either be a former Hold-Mistress or the much respected leader of a Hold-Minor, possibly elevated during a regency to carry on the holy duties of the hold until the daughter came of age, or when a younger daughter or member of a cousin line not expected to succeed was suddenly elevated. Once a High Priestess, always a high priestess regardless of continued temporal power. So there was really no way of knowing without asking outright or sending spies. Neither of which Akantha was currently inclined to do.

  “We don’t!” Ishtaraaa couldn’t help but exclaim, only to belatedly step back.

  There was a stir among the Conclave Priestesses at this and some hard looks, causing Elaina’s shoulder to stiffen.

  “There are certain Tract Duties which are not generally spoken of among outsiders, but I believe that in this case it is not only acceptable. I believe it is to be expected that we speak plainly with our Sisters of Two,” she said, shooting Ishtaraaa a quelling look before turning back to the assembled Priestesses, “Much as the Sisters of the Open Hand are considered responsible for the continuation of the Tract Two Bloodlines, so have the Sisters of Three been entrusted with the duty of ensuring the One Line does not die or breed itself out of existence. And since the last assignment of the surviving One Line was upon the world of Capria to prepare it for the return of MEN, we have taken this to mean that once a generation a receptacle is selected to go forth to Capria and bear a child of One in the old way. In this way we shall not compromise the ongoing mission to which we have each pledged our very lives.”

  “The insane way,” Ishtaraaa muttered behind her, and Akantha with her acute hearing could hear as she trailed off even lower muttering something familiar about uterine replicators and cloni
ng technology.

  “Beyond that,” Elaina continued in an elevated voice, speaking over the rebellious words of her daughter, “is information I would consider proprietary Tract business and therefore not necessary for the purposes of this Conclave here.”

  “You speak of the Protector Jason Montagne,” the Hold-Mistress of Pella said, rather than asked, with shock and clear disbelief.

  “Yes,” Elaina replied simply.

  “Yes indeed, what a tangled warp we weave today,” cackled the old crone from Thaipagos, laughing in an amused a ‘huh-huh-huh’ sound, “A Closed Hand Mother with a One Line Son joined to a Tract Two Hold Mistress by Sword-Bond. The Holy Protocols will be put to the test tonight!” she cackled.

  Akantha had to fight to cover her scowl. “The Protocol is clear,” both Akantha and Ishtaraaa declared at the same time.

  The two young women stopped and glared at each-other, locking eyes in a silent test of will.

  “As we are already familiar with an ordained Hold Mistress’s right to choose when it comes to a Protector,” Sapphira said, cutting through their silent battle, bringing Akantha at least back to where and more importantly who she was. Here she might be a Sword-Bearer and a Hold Mistress, but more importantly right then she was first and foremost a High Priestess of MEN. “Let us have our second visitor make her case,” she added, indicating Ishtaraaa with a tilt of her chin.

  “While the Sisters of Tract Two have remained isolated on this Holy Mud-ball, guarding our Core Fragments from the potentially corrupting influences of any Tract other than theirs,” Ishtaraaa said, her respectful tone and posture at odds with her characterization of their home planet and holy duties, causing Akantha’s teeth to grind, “we of Tract Three have held a Cross-Tract Clave and elected a Paragon,” her voice turned both cutting and triumphant, “as a Paragon naturally has primacy over the proclamations of any mere Conclave of Sisters, I ask if you are now ready to receive Her words?”