A Fixer he had always been, and a Fixer he would always be. The lone deviation from that predictable life had been his frantic race across the galaxy to retrieve one of mankind’s seven gods and then the subsequent battle against the Otrid invaders. So he had, in fact, captained a ship, however briefly. But for large parts of that operation Mik had felt like a passenger, a spectator to the larger forces at work.
“Who else, Mik? We have one starship left, the Hightower, and you’re the only one who knows how to pilot it,” Talia said. “Do you know of someone better equipped to be admiral?”
Mik watched Talia’s Aspect, looking for signs of emotion from The City’s guardian demigod. But it was no use. The face of her Aspect was a serene mask. She had mastered the art of concealing her true thoughts, and trying to read the body language of a projection was a fool’s game. Mik had wanted to meet with her directly in her underground chamber, to look into the actual eyes of this woman he loved while discussing these issues, but she had grown touchy about letting her true form be seen that way. Being tied into the godtech that ran The City was…well. Even someone born without a shred of vanity would not want to be seen that way.
She drove home her point while he fumbled with these thoughts. “Besides, the people need leaders they can invest a little faith in. You’re quite the hero under the dome, Mik. They all know you were piloting the one ship that turned back the Otrid fleet. They’ll respect you and follow you.”
“Follow me into what?” he muttered. “I know how to fix things, but I don’t know how to fix the problem of genocidal alien invaders.”
This time he thought he detected a note of frustration in her response. “Mik, we’re all learning new roles here. And we won’t be a one-ship navy for long. I’ve already got the shipyards working on a new fleet. They’re older designs, of course; I lack the knowledge to replicate the Hightower. But we need—I need—someone who can coordinate the training of the new recruits and evaluate their performance. Like it or not, the Otrid will be back, and we’re at our weakest since The City was founded. If we can’t turn them away this next time, we won’t have to worry about doing jobs we’d rather not do. We won’t be around to complain.”
Mik knew Talia was telling the truth, and yet still found it hard to believe that he was the best hope for leading a fleet of starships. But he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let the last bit of his old life drift away. The quiet Radiant Acolyte that Talia had been was gone, as was the steady routine of his old life. He’d been hoping that upon his return he would be able to carry on as before, but that life was gone forever.
“All right, Talia. I’ll do it.”
“Thank you, Mik,” she said, and this time her Aspect smiled. “I don’t think I could do this without you.”
Mik returned the smile, and was surprised that it felt genuine. Aye, Talia, I’ll go where you go and never look back.
He slumped into his favorite chair. Talia’s Aspect had materialized inside his quarters at the appointed hour. He had known she was coming, but that materializing out of nothing business still disturbed him. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and took a sip. Mik almost offered one to her, before catching himself. Her Aspect could be that lifelike at times.
“What does Maelstrom have to say about your plans?”
The remote god Maelstrom had been largely silent since the battle with the Otrid, where he’d had much of his power stripped from him. He’d always been the most unfathomable and exotic of the gods, having abandoned physical form long ago, existing as intelligent patterns of magnetic fields. Beyond himself and Talia, nobody in The City really knew how to communicate with the crippled god. Mik realized, with no great pleasure, that he was probably the most experienced in that regard as well.
“I haven’t consulted him on this, nor on my choice of Vance to lead our ground forces.” She hesitated before continuing. “Maelstrom has…not quite recovered from his injuries. He’s withdrawn into his sphere and drifted out beyond the orbit of Lodias. Until we can find a way to contact the remaining gods, I’m all we’ve got.”
He nodded. “About our wayward gods; any luck finding them?”
She shook her head. “No, and that’s particularly worrisome. I’m still trying, but I have to assume the worst.”
For the past thousand years, mankind had relied upon seven gods, all created in the aftermath of the destruction of Earth by the Otrid. The gods had been created using a combination of human tech and advanced technology from humanity’s alien allies, the Beh’neefazor, commonly called the Benefactors by City residents.
There were seven no longer.
Tower had died in defense of The City. Faraway had been captured and corrupted by the Otrid, leading to her eventual destruction. Triton was also presumed lost, at best. At worst, corrupted and still actively plotting against humanity. Maelstrom had survived the battle, but in lesser form.
Of the other three gods, there was only silence.
Grey Wolf was the guardian of the Wandering World, humanity’s other outpost. It was well known that she jealously guarded the secret location of her domain. According to Talia, that was because Grey Wolf firmly believed that the survival of the human race required the two surviving branches of humanity to be separate from each other, and thus harder to track down and eliminate. She would probably not accept any transmission that wasn’t from one of the other gods. But her silence had a darker undertone as well—what if the Wandering World had been attacked by the Otrid just as The City had been?
Apex was the builder, the god who had labored for centuries to create a new world for humanity to inhabit, a second Earth. The past thousand years had revealed one fact with cold certainty—suitable planets where humans could freely thrive under open skies were exceedingly rare in this corner of the galaxy. And altering them was a monumental task, even for a god. Apex himself had failed on his first attempt, a fact that was not generally known.
There were limits on how far the human race could advance while cooped up under domes planted on marginal worlds. Humanity needed that new planet, needed it bad.
So the necessity for secrecy about mankind’s new home was obvious, but Mik was still bothered by Apex’s silence. Mankind needed to survive in the here and now, or all the effort expended on creating a new home would be wasted.
Apollo’s absence was the harder one to figure. Mik had heard many tales about Apollo from Talia when she had been a Radiant Acolyte in the temples. Apollo was the sun-strider god, the deity who catalogued and explored the stars. When Apollo finished his exploration of a star he understood with godlike certainty how volatile it was, precisely how far along it was in its life sequence, and if it had the potential for an untimely nova event.
He had been instrumental in choosing this system in which to plant the human colony that would become The City. The moon Skyra orbited the gas giant Lodias, which itself circled an unusually stable star, one not prone to disruptive flares or violent gales of radiation.
It was said that Apollo even held the power of life or death over a star, but Mik didn’t put much faith in that rumor. Even after all he had seen, he didn’t believe the seven gods truly had that kind of ability.
Despite his astonishing power, Apollo was always considered one of the less remote gods. Although the specifics were vague, in the temples they said he tended the stars in the local group, never too far away, always on watch for any stellar disruptions that could threaten mankind. Besides Tower, Apollo was the only other god to physically set foot inside The City in ages. That visit had been three hundred years ago, long before Mik’s time, but the visit was well cataloged in The City’s archives.
He should be here.
Mik examined the grim probability that if the Otrid had captured and corrupted Apollo, they could all die at any moment. If the legends about Apollo’s power were true, the sun-strider god could simply induce the star in the Lodias system into convulsions that would wipe out all human life for a light year in every dir
ection.
Mik noticed with a start that Talia’s Aspect had been silent, motionless, while these thoughts had run through his head.
“Talia?”
The Aspect remained unmoving, a frozen apparition. Mik started to move toward her, as if to gently shake her back to wakefulness, before catching himself.
Good move, admiral, trying to wake up a projection.
It was several moments before Talia’s Aspect jerked back to life. There was a second when the expression on her face was one of complete confusion. It passed almost before he could read it. “Sorry, Mik. I just had several City imperatives that suddenly pushed their way up the priority list. We were talking about the gods, right?”
Mik watched her, unconvinced. “Talia, are you all right?”
She smiled. “Of course, Mik. It’s just that my integration with The City’s functions is constantly evolving. As soon as I master one level of command, another reveals itself. And I’m still having to… learn… as I go.”
“Evolving, eh?”
She ignored the questioning tone in his voice. “Requisition whatever you need for your new fleet. I’ve given you a priority authorization that can’t be countermanded, even by City administrators.”
Her Aspect winked out abruptly. Mik watched the spot where it had been for long minutes. This was not the first time Talia had frozen up in the middle of a conversation over the past few days. It worried him, but then, he could never make sense of the gods, and Talia was something even newer and stranger than the seven deities. Who could say what was normal?
He shook his head and muttered to himself. “Great. How do I go about building a fleet?”
Chapter 3
From On High
To end the ceremony, the Otrid Lords conveyed the blessing of new names upon the latest group of complete beings to arrive from the surface of the planet.
Joy raced through the assembled Otrid like a current.
North Wind Following let the sound of his original name echo in his mind one final time before letting it drift into memory. The four segment brothers embraced the new name hungrily, this acknowledgment from the Lords of the floating cities that it was now a complete being, the highest form of life on this world or any other.
North Wind Following and his segment brothers were now called Kwed Fighting Sea, although he would primarily be know as simply Kwed in the interest of efficiency.
Kwed stood among a group of sixteen newly blessed complete beings, lingering in the moment. With the ceremony complete, Kwed was now free to explore the city and mingle with his fellow Otrid. The thought was tantalizing. At last, he had taken his place among the clouds!
Another imperative intruded on these thoughts, however—hunger.
The four segments of Kwed were linked now, sharing thoughts, senses and coordinated movement. In time, as their metabolisms meshed, the nourishment that one segment ingested would be shared by all. But for now, Kwed still required four different food groups.
He would have to quell this gnawing distraction before seeking out the higher delights of the Otrid Lords’ city.
The eateries were placed along the outer rim, so Kwed chose a direction at random and headed away from the central pavilion. His visual segment swiveled constantly as he ambled down the broad avenue, absorbing the sights greedily.
Most of the public buildings were sprawling domed structures with large openings to allow for the entry of stalk segments. To the sides of the public buildings were smaller, specialized enclosures that served a variety of functions. A combination of painted symbols and concentrated spores announced the intended usage for these structures, but for most of them, Kwed could not yet interpret the purpose. Kwed was a fully complete Otrid now, but he realized it might take an entire lifetime to understand the subtleties of the ancient and advanced culture of the floating cities.
Kwed marched onward, his hunger momentarily forgotten. The flavor of the city changed as he approached the outer rim. At one point Kwed reached out to feel the texture of one of the buildings. The materials were solid, yet not dense, a logical solution for a city of the air.
Every fourth block Kwed encountered a broad ramp leading down to the inner quarters of the city. At the start of the next cycle Kwed would use one of these ramps to descend to these lower sections and report for training, but for now, Kwed planned to enjoy the liberty granted.
Kwed stopped for long minutes and watched the sky. The clouds clenched and roiled in the air above like angry mountains, held at bay by the same technology that kept the cities aloft. Even the might of the world itself was as nothing compared with the power of the Otrid Lords.
But there were unpleasant surprises, too. The Otrid Lords had, for some reason, allowed incomplete beings into their cities. These were assigned menial duties, but Kwed still found their presence vaguely offensive.
Kwed stopped to watch as a stalk segment with an articulated limb section on top—but no eye segment or sail section—shuffled down an alley, picking up trash and depositing it in a bin that it dragged behind.
Kwed had not been much different just a short time ago, but he now fully understood what a lesser being he had been. Why should these incomplete freaks be accorded the honor of a spot among the Lords of the sky, when Kwed had undergone such hardship assembling himself?
An aroma broke Kwed from these ruminations. Kwed was near the feeding district, and one particular scent spoke to his physical needs. He made his way toward the source of the smell, locating it quickly from among the clustered eateries.
Kwed entered, the irises of his vision segment expanding as they adjusted to the dim light. Feeding platforms were lined up on one side of the room, the dispensing stations on the other. Kwed eyed the selection hungrily and then grabbed one of the nets hung by the food and began filling it.
Kwed placed the net on one of the feeding platforms and his whip arms began passing the foodstuffs to the appropriate segments. The parts of him feasted in silence, sharing the flavors of the different food groups. He enjoyed the sensation, knowing that feeding would not be this stimulating once the segments were better integrated.
Kwed had nearly finished all the food in his net before noticing the elderly Otrid at the feeding platform to his right. The old one was watching Kwed intently. Kwed had never seen an Otrid of such obvious age. The glow of his eye segment was dim, and the flesh of his stalk segment drooped in loose folds. The sail segment was nearly transparent, most of its vitality spent.
The elder examined the collection of foods on Kwed’s feeding platform. “Newly arrived to the clouds?”
Kwed responded with a stiff formality. The elder’s rank was not apparent, and Kwed, being so newly elevated, did not wish to give accidental offense. Communication between Otrid consisted of a combination of rumbling noises from the stalk segment, flushes of color from the sail, and precise movements from the whip arms. Occasionally, the visual segment contributed information through the coloring and comportment of the eyes. Given the obvious infirmities of this old one, Kwed paced their conversation as slowly as possible.
“Yes. Have just received complete name. This one is called Kwed Fighting Sea.”
“It is good,” the old one replied. “This one is known as Eight Clouds Burning. Placement decided?”
“This one fights. Reporting to alien combat training upon new cycle.”
Eight Clouds Burning’s whip arms stilled. “Alien combat?”
“Yes. Assigned to the eradication initiative of one of the singleton species that has escaped its homeworld and infected the starways.”
The coloring of the old one’s sail darkened to such an extent that Kwed was briefly alarmed. “The humans, undoubtedly,” Eight Clouds Burning said. “Many good segments have been lost fighting those bizarre singletons. Better to leave them to their own tiny world and forget them.”
Kwed was taken aback by the elder’s blunt words. He had heard no such information about Otrid setbacks in battle. In fact, until no
w, Kwed had never even entertained the notion that such a thing was possible.
“This seems irregular, Eight Clouds Burning. The Otrid Lords are not troubled by the furies of lesser beings. If the low cunning of these humans allowed them to escape one of our initiatives it is only because we cannot comprehend their primitive ways.”
The coloring drained from the elder’s sail. “Last encounter, an entire fleet and a city’s-worth of segment brothers were lost,” he said. “Wisdom comes from understanding. Understanding comes from examining facts, no matter how unpleasant.”
Kwed could only stare, dumbfounded, at the attitude displayed by this elder. In the morning, Kwed would report to training and indoctrination for alien combat. This newest fully-formed Otrid would not go to his first assignment with doubts coloring his perceptions.
“This one will not shrink from the savagery of single-minded aliens,” Kwed said, a firmness entering his voice. “Not long ago, this one was four singleton segments. On our own, we were small and slow and often scared. We were not complete beings. Since joining together, these segment brothers have scaled heights of intellect and perception that would drown a solitary mind. When speaking of these humans, you would do well to remember your own feebleness as singletons, if you can still recall such an ancient time.”
With that, Kwed turned and left.
Chapter 4
A Wolf in the Night
As usual, most of Talia’s attention was focused on running the countless systems that kept The City alive and functioning. Cocooned in the godchamber far below the surface, her body and mind were not truly her own any longer. Information conduits and neuro-conversion tendrils pierced her skin and invaded her nervous system. The imperatives of her body faded to the background, the needs of The City forced themselves to the forefront.
Gods and the Stars (Gods and the Starways Book 2) Page 2
