StarFlight: The Prism Baronies (Beyond the Outer Rim Book 2)

by Reiter

  “Go ahead, Swan,” a thick and strained voice spoke up.

  “Time to bring it, Flambé,” Sarshata commanded. “Bring it in, please, and let them know you’re there.”

  “Roger that, Swan,” the pilot replied. “Scoring the battleship!”

  “Close channel and give me a tactical,” Sarshata commanded. As an image of the lone battleship was projected, a much smaller craft appeared on the starboard side of the battleship and started firing on it. The ship was not in a defensive position, so there were no active shields. Three bursts were fired but the computer scans showed that aside from hull scoring there was less than minimal damage. “You might want to get back to your office, Baron Straum. By the time you get there you’ll have at least a good half dozen requests for a serious conversation. Feel free to forward them to me, if you like.”

  “You’d take their call?” Ivus asked.

  “They may not approve of my language, but it would be an honor to speak for you, sir.” Ivus looked at the woman carefully, contemplating one thing.

  “Are you sure the training of this woman started recently?”

  “I can’t be held responsible for what she did before she got here,” Sarshata smiled, reaching for the Governor’s arm. “But as I said before, Governor, I like you.” Taking hold of his arm, Straum’s wrist-com signaled that it had received a message. He looked at it to see, Spade was her initial instructor. It was on his recommendation that she’s here! The Baron looked up into the Commandant’s eyes, looking for the slightest sign of duplicity. She was too steady, too sure. It was not a falsehood she had shared with him, and he was not surprised to see the message delete itself.

  “I think that will be all then, Commandant,” Ivus said softly as he started for the door. “If it’s the same to you, I’d just as soon not meet with the woman in question.”

  “I understand, sir,” Sarshata smiled. Her face remained that way until the doors to her office closed. She muttered a curse for the Field Marshal and then centered her thoughts, reaching out with her mind for the Eye.

  “Greetings, brothers of the sky,” she projected. “This is Swan and I formally request an audience with Queen Gexxur-Hahni at her earliest possible convenience.”

  “Your request has been heard, received, and recorded, Sister of the Stars,” a Dragon replied. “As soon as she has returned to the Brood Hall, I will see to it that she receives your words.”

  “This cannot be happening,” Sarshata thought. “Not by a damn coincidence. I’ve talked to Gexxur-Indaysi one time too many already. She’s one snort away from challenging the pact with her pretentious, scaled ass. Now, the only thing that normally keeps her in line is not even in the brood caves! Terrific!”

  The doors to her office opened again and Sarshata smiled as an officer of the Baronial Militia entered. “Not too shabby, Intelligence Officer. Not too shabby at all! Your notification gave me just enough time to carry out your suggested plan. So I come off looking more like a bad ass to the Governor, and the Field Marshal no longer has a grievance with the barony, just the Corps.”

  “A position I thought you had more experience dealing with effectively,” Michael Ress said, placing his hands behind his back. “The only trouble Baron Straum has is with women, especially those with any level of authority. I do hope you didn’t mind participating in a bit of manipulation.”

  “As a woman who’s had to deal with the aforementioned problem, I want to thank you for helping me to skirt the matter. Pardon the pun. The taste of the mystery spice should keep him honest for the foreseeable future. Of course that only gives us until dinner mess.”

  “The Commandant is most generous in her estimations,” Ress said, giving a slight bow before turning to leave. Sarshata chuckled as her mind returned to her trouble with the Dragons.

  “That’s one word for it,” she muttered.

  ** b *** t *** o *** r **

  “You see? That is one thing the city cannot do,” Misharee said with a bright smile forming under her glossy eyes. “Even with purifiers, the sky never looks this clean… this clear.”

  “The stars look like you can gwab them!” Patra declared as she jumped, taking broad swipes at the sky. All of the boys except Phay laughed at her attempts. Braxton nudged his younger schoolmate as he chuckled.

  “C’mon, even you have to think that’s funny.”

  “Not as funny as it’s going to be when she snatches one of them out of the sky,” Phay replied before he grabbed Braxton’s sleeve and strained his eyes to look down the path. “What’s that?”

  “Sharp eyes on that younger one,” Winpruhl thought as he continued to walk, acting as if he saw nothing. That was the expected reaction, after all, with the telepathic nudging directed at the minds of the walking group. Winpruhl was not in his preferred range. Not yet. “Northerners are getting desperate.”

  At the end of the hill-winding path – where Winpruhl was hoping to take his charges, introducing them to the plot of land he had procured – ten people stood at a five-meter spread from one another; each in full-body armour. “Some military training,” the Blood Paladin concluded, stretching his neck. Seven of the younger eight had taken positions behind the two older men. “Eight Temple Warriors and two Chevaliers,” Winpruhl concluded. “That woman standing almost equal to the front men isn’t a Chevalierra. She’s too eager to prove herself… probably the first to move.”

  “Temple Warrior K’Jolun Threlzurk!” one of the two Chevaliers called out. “Come forward and give testimony. It’s me, son. Landion Saern.”

  “Damn!” Winpruhl thought bitterly, his grip tightening on his walking stick. “A Chevalier who doesn’t need to say he’s a Chevalier. Humble power isn’t easy… they’re never easy!”

  “Instructor Saern?” K’Jolun replied as he moved to the front of the group.

  “Stay to my right, boy,” Winpruhl whispered as K’Jolun walked by him.

  “It’s good to see you, Mr. Threlzurk,” Landion said with a slight smile. Winpruhl noticed that the man’s feet stayed at shoulder width. He could also tell which of the other five had come with the speaking Chevalier. They were the only ones who were not presenting their chests to the approaching group. Saern and one other both had a shoulder toward Winpruhl and his charges. “I’ve been asked to resolve a troubling matter that you seem to be in the middle of.

  “And don’t I also know you, young lady?” Landion asked, looking up at Misharee. “Miss… Kebbleton, is that not correct?”

  “It is, Instructor Saern,” Misharee answered, trying her best to keep the trembling out of her voice. “I am surprised you remember me. I only attended three of your classes before I was asked to leave the temple.”

  “It was four,” Landion corrected . “You forget the day of orientation. As for why I remember you, there was great potential in your ability to learn and apply new knowledge, editing it for your own use. That is a quality difficult to forget.”

  “Yes, now that we have had our touching reunion,” the other Chevalier boomed as he stepped ahead of Landion. His left fist was propped on the side of his hip as his right hand swiped his cape away from his body, demonstrating that he wore an En-Blade. “… we can get to the matter for which you are hereby summoned. If you will not yield to Instructor Saern, yield to Chevalier Taces.”

  “Knew the Stars loved me,” Winpruhl thought, giving a very cold smile after he lowered his head. “I’m in the market for that idiot!”

  “Easy Yadior,” Landion said softly, examining the reactions of the young people who walked with his former students. The old man might have tried to shrink away from notice, but the youths remained very straight of back and fiery of eye; the effect becoming more intense as one moved from the oldest to the youngest.

  “I said get over here boy!” Yadior barked with such force that his long brown hair came from behind his ears.

  “Maybe he doesn’t like the way you asked,” Amosse suggested as he and Eleda emerged from behind the kennel. None o
f the persons present took well to having people suddenly appear within their range of awareness, least of all Winpruhl, but his was by far the least of the reactions.

  “Hold!” the eager female cried as she drew her blaster. Amosse had signaled for Eleda to hold her place before the hand had even grasped the weapon. “You are interfering in matters beyond you, citizen!”

  “And I know for certain I don’t like the way you’re talking to me,” Amosse replied. “No formal statements have been issued here, and this is the Terran Triangle, the pinnacle of human freedom. You look more like members of the Northern Temple, not Magistrates.”

  “And that is what we are!” the young woman asserted.

  “Giving you even less authority to make your opening declaration,” Amosse pointed out.

  “Holster that weapon with or without the assistance of my blade!” Landion hissed. As the young woman moved slowly to follow the order she had been given, Landion held out his arms and spoke aloud. “We are in the presence of a scholar, that much is clear. And we need not proceed any further down the path of confusion and calamity.”

  “That boy is of the Northern Temple!” Yadior proclaimed, yelling at Landion. “He is ours to claim as we see fit!” Yadior then pointed at K’Jolun. “I will not tell you again, boy. Present yourself!”

  “Make him!” Patra said as she stepped in front of K’Jolun. Winpruhl coughed as he stepped to his left off the path, looking as if he wanted nothing to do with what was about to happen. “Cage is ours! He’s not in your stupid temple anymore!”

  K’Jolun lifted his right hand, asking for things to pause as he put his left hand on the youngest girl’s shoulder and Landion nodded in response. “Cleopatra, what you did… is that part of the code? Is that what we’ve learned?”

  “It’s what I learned,” Patra muttered and then pressed her lips together. “The Z-Files say it: walk the path of creatin’, but sometimes you gotta wreck stuff!”

  “By all the gods!” Amosse exclaimed. “Did she say ‘Z-Files’?”

  “Aye, she did,” Eleda said, witnessing a gleam in the eye of a child that sparked to life a fire in the woman’s heart and she put her first meeting with the man in higher regard. She was still fresh from her first experience aboard one of his ships – and Ainille had only recently stopped talking about the experience – she had observed the character of those he had trained and now those he had obviously influenced. It was becoming a pressing issue of growing importance for her to speak with the man.

  Riveted by Cleopatra’s statement, it took a moment for K’Jolun to find the words. “Then I would suggest that such a time is not yet upon us,” he argued. “They are only asking me to answer questions. This could be an opportunity to create. Will you give me a chance to try?” Patra did not speak, nor did she look back at K’Jolun. She simply stepped out of his way – to his right – and it was a struggle for Winpruhl to keep from smiling. “Thank you, Patra.” K’Jolun started down the last measure of the path.

  “You’ve had the last of your first moves in my presence,” Landion whispered when the young woman started to walk to meet K’Jolun. “Step back and embrace the shadows!”

  “What my young friend has said is quite true,” K’Jolun said softly. “I am no longer of the Northern Temple. Out of gratitude for what has been granted to me, and respect for what the ideal of the Temple represents, I will answer your inquiry to the best of my ability.”

  “Gietrik,” Yadior said, signaling to his Gallant. The young man reached to his back and produced a set of restraints.

  “Answer your questions, yes,” K’Jolun said sternly, moving his left foot back so that his right shoulder faced the Northern Temple group. “… but I will not be arrested by you!”

  “Enough!” Yadior spat, unleashing a ThoughtWill attack that did not reach the intended target. The glow around Yadior’s head had just appeared when he moaned in pain, staggering back into his Gallant.

  “Psy-Wave scrambler?!” Landion whispered as he looked around. His blue-green eyes locked on the old man just before the man fired. The projectile struck Landion’s helmet, snapping his head back and throwing him to the ground. The young man behind Landion dropped to his knees to tend to his Master. With his free hand, Winpruhl tapped a button on a small module and threw it toward the group of Temple Warriors and Chevaliers.

  “Guard your minds!” he shouted.

  “No! Don’t!” the kneeling young man cried as he closed his eyes. The scrambler exploded in a wave of energy seeking elevated levels of ThoughtWill, like the sort normally demonstrated in most mental defenses. Only the kneeling youth, the eager female Temple Warrior, K’Jolun, and the back-line Warriors at either end were unaffected by the pulse that was limited to a thirty-meter radius.

  “Some kind of short-range, anti-ThoughtWill device,” Amosse commented. “Crafty old bird.”

  “Indeed,” Eleda agreed. “For the most part, he just made this a contest of skill and skill alone.” Her nostrils flared as the elderly man allowed his long coat to open, showing that he had collected five En-Blade pommels.

  “The old man’s a Blood Paladin!” the female cried out, drawing her weapon and firing a mind blast that stunned Winpruhl. “Kill him first!” Stepping back and breathing in, the glare of active ThoughtWill flared in her eyes.

  “Cleopatra!” Phay called out, reaching for his nun-chuks. “I need a shot!” He broke into a desperate sprint as the young girl allowed her chain to drop from her hand. She spun it around once before it took on the bronze sparks of fiery light. “Intercept!” Phay called out, jumping up, flipping and lifting his knees up to his chest.

  Patra lashed her chain out to strike the sole of Pharaoh’s boot and he became a ball of light. Patra then slung her chain over her head launching the ball of toward the attacking woman. The young girl staggered back a step before dropping to her knees.

  The ball of light reverted back to Phay as he swung his nun-chuck to deflect her slash for Winpruhl’s head. Both bodies landed and rolled, though without any armour Pharaoh’s roll was faster and smoother. He was up and attacking before the woman could stand. His nun-chuks swept her feet out from under and she landed on her back.

  K’Jolun looked at the kneeling Temple Warrior and held out his hand toward him. “Keep your place and no harm will come to you and your master.” He squatted, ducking the blindsiding swing of an En-Blade. K’Jolun then jumped up and spun as he laid out his body. He trapped the arm of the last uninhibited Temple Warrior, controlling the wrist and continued his spinning motion, throwing his opponent to the ground. Locked in an arm-bar, it was simplicity to deprive the man of his En-Blade.

  “Everyone, hold your positions,” Amosse directed as he widened his stance.

  “No bleeding way!” Ephaliun argued over the brace-com.

  “Stand down, Kulrithe!” Rahneece commanded. “The man’s earned some trust!”

  “Very much appreciated,” Eleda stated, watching Amosse cast. It was only the second spell she had ever seen him try, but with the success of the first one, expectations were indeed high. Amosse lunged forward one stride, thrusting his hands out from his sides and small sparks of electricity flew from his palms. It certainly lacked the flare of the MannA Bolt incantation, and Eleda was about to speak in an effort to console her master. Similar sparks of electricity burst from the armour suits of the Temple Warriors and Chevaliers. Override contingencies were forced to activate, and each suit assumed its normal stance used when they were shipped, and were locked from any further movement.

  “Thanks for the override code, Satithe,” Amosse panted as he stood up straight.

  “My pleasure, Amosse,” the computer replied. Not changing the override code was a mistake common to most suit wearers in the Rims. Satithe knew that with the action Amosse had just taken, the number of those who would be affected by such a ploy was going to drop sharply over time. But that was a problem for another day.

  “Are you okay?” Pharaoh asked Winpruhl who
quickly recovered from the mental attack. He lifted his weapon but his shot missed wide due to Pharaoh’s nun-chuks. The Blood Paladin looked down on the young boy with an angered glare. Pharaoh said nothing as he glared right back. He shook his head ‘no’ and tightened his grip on his weapon.

  “This makes us even,” Winpruhl said, slowly holstering his gun.

  “In your book maybe,” Phay softly returned.

  Winpruhl looked up to see K’Jolun stacking the frozen suits off to the side of the path. “Leave the asshole Chevalier. That one’s mine!”

  “And you may have him,” K’Jolun said, turning to face the Blood Paladin. “Once you have stepped through me.”

  “You mean once he has stepped through us!” Braxton said aloud as he drew his En-Blade. Winpruhl turned and looked back at his charges. Not one chest faced him, and not one of them looked like they were going to break and attack without being commanded either by K’Jolun or any action Winpruhl might have taken against him.

  “The job was to get you here,” Winpruhl concluded. “You’re here. Job’s done. Bring me home, Sparky!” A flash of red light sparked to life in Winpruhl’s right eye as his left eye winked at Cleopatra who was still on her knees from her earlier efforts. The red light grew to encompass his body and it faded, taking the old man with it.

  “That wasn’t on the menu,” Amosse remarked, quickly looking to his brace-com. “Sentient EnerJa?! Should I read anything into the fact that the light was red?”

  “We can talk about that another time,” Ephaliun said, dropping the stealth fields around the Kulri-Kraythe and the recently acquired gun shuttle. “Right now, let’s get these people aboard and dust away from this place.”

  “Man’s got a point,” Rahneece said as the side door of the Kulri-Kraythe opened and she amplified sound so that her voice would reach everyone. “We don’t have much time, so let’s get this show on the way.