by Chris Fox
“But…that….” She trailed off as she swayed toward the doorway, hobbled by what I’d just told her. “That shouldn’t be possible. We were told we’re centuries from repairing the ship’s drive. No one is allowed aboard, so we couldn’t verify, but…have they been lying to us?” She shook her head, then looked up at me. “I can’t tell you everything just now. There’s too much to think about. I’ll meet you at the aft airlock.”
I nodded. It was enough. Then I turned from the mess and headed up to the bridge, which was where I’d find Seket. As expected, Seket stood in the spell matrix, in full spellarmor, despite the ship being at rest.
“Do you sleep in there?” I asked. “Or do you just not require sleep?”
“I do sleep.” Seket turned to face me, his golden helmet clutched loosely under one arm. “But it is standard operating procedure to have two pilots on deck at all times. As we only have two pilots if you are away from the ship, then my place is here. Find another pilot, and I will take my ease.”
“You’re going to hate this ask then.” I still had my helmet up, but I’m sure he could detect the weariness in my voice. “We need to guard the minister’s person. She’s at a meeting, and we have been tasked with getting her back from it safely, and then taking her to her flagship. I’d like you to personally tend to her safety, until we get back to the Remora and can install you on the bridge.”
“And if the Remora is attacked while we are gone?” He raised a perfect blond eyebrow. “I do not like leaving her without a pilot. She is grounded. Vulnerable.”
“Rava has fire magic now, and is a quick study. She can pilot in an emergency.” I turned before he could respond, since I couldn’t counter any of his objections. Rava would be a terrible pilot, until she was trained at least. She’d never worked with magic, and had no idea how to operate a spell matrix. “We need to move. We’re already behind, in an unfamiliar place. I’ll meet you at the aft airlock.”
Seket didn’t reply, but a moment later I heard the clanking of his booted feet on the deck as he followed. I used the short walk to the airlock to try to find my footing, but was instead distracted by random thoughts.
Why didn’t the trade moon have atmosphere? Why not cover the surface with forests to sustain oxygen? Another ship lifted off in the distance. Oh. Atmo created drag, and would be terrible for shipping.
I arrived at the airlock and found Vee waiting in an unfamiliar blue uniform with gold trim. There might have been patches on the shoulder, but it looked as if they’d been skillfully removed.
“I found it in my quarters,” Vee answered my unasked question with a blush. “I figured it was more…formal than my clothes. I don’t want them to assume I’m some sort of yokel. I’m every bit as good at artificing as they are. They just keep a stranglehold on the market, and call themselves the best while quietly smothering competition.”
Seket clanked his way up behind us, then snapped his left wrist down and ignited a blue-white spellshield. He made no move to draw a weapon. “I am prepared. I will fight defensively if we’re engaged, unless you designate a target, Captain.”
“Thanks, Sek.” I turned back to the ramp that led back to the welcome chamber where I’d met the minister. “Let’s be quick about this. I want to get there before the Inura’s Grace does whatever it’s going to do.
“You think it might attack this moon?” The question held no contempt, though it sounded ludicrous when he said it out loud. He seemed to be seeking tactical data, and it took a moment for me to remember that he came from a time when planets were routinely blown up by gods.
He already knew this place wasn’t safe, a notion that had just taken root with me. What if the ship was strong enough to attack the moon? Or the Word? Either was bad for people I cared about.
“We’re not going to be here long enough to find out. In and out. Let’s go.”
3
We raced down the ramp, and I’ll be honest, we looked kind of badass. I took the lead with my still unnamed pistol belted at my thigh, and Vee to my right, with Seket trailing behind both of us.
I glanced up through an enormous atrium window at the glittering Vagrant Fleet high in orbit, and realized I could easily make out the Inura’s Grace. Too easily. It appeared much larger than the Word, now. That thing was headed our way.
I redoubled my speed and we raced down the atrium walkway, toward the corridor at the far side on the lower level. We’d made it maybe 50 meters when a gorgeous woman with dark hair and alabaster skin fell into step next to me. It was like meeting Seket’s just as hot cousin.
“A moment of your time,” she panted, while managing to keep pace with our sprint. “My name is Miri and your minister thought you could use help getting to the arbitration.”
“The minister sent you?” I panted back. Physical exertion was easier for me in the sense that it was now possible, but even with the armor I didn’t enjoy running. “What’s the fastest way to the meeting?”
So why suddenly trust a stranger? Because thanks to my connection to the Web of Divinity no one could lie to me. She had to be telling the truth, or I’d know.
“If you’ll follow me.” She sprinted past me and took the lead. Easily. This woman was a lifelong athlete of the type who could have competed in our Lympic games.
I took a guilty moment to enjoy watching her run, which was impossible not to do with her white uniform painted onto those legs. I noted the spellpistol belted on one thigh, and eventually, many moments later, my eyes made it past her ass and up to her back.
There was a logo emblazoned on her uniform. A smiling Inuran in a white uniform pushing a cart full of guns.
“Who do you work for?” I called after her. Speaking triggered a stitch in my side, but I stubbornly redoubled my pace. Every time I wanted to slow I heard my father’s voice.
I knew exactly what he’d say. Son, I died for you. And now you gotta feel guilty. Keep working out. Or I’ll haunt you. Depths but I missed him.
I strained for a bit more speed, and while I couldn’t keep up with FTL up there at least I didn’t fall behind Vee or Seket. We ran for perhaps three hundred more meters through twisting corridors, and up several flights of stairs.
We emerged into what I took to be a basement, probably of a large structure. I could hear thunderous applause inside, though it ended quickly.
Miri skidded to a halt before the doors, and if she was winded I couldn’t tell. She withdrew a Quantum-enabled tablet from a large pocket in her jacket. “I’ll make this quick as I know you’re in a hurry. I’m your personal shopping assistant. We’re sometimes called solicitors, if people are being nice, or things like spam, ad puppet, or glom if we’re not. I’d prefer either PSA or Miri, but you’re the client, so you decide.”
“Let’s go with Miri. And you help me do what, exactly?” I knew I needed to get inside, but found myself fascinated by whatever her job was. Why did I need a PSA with a gun?
“I’m glad you asked.” Her smile embarrassed the best sunset ever, though it contained an artificial note. “You’re here to acquire something. In this case, the minister. When you complete this task you’ll pay me a nominal fee, plus a gratuity if you feel my service warrants it.”
I nodded along. This was amazing. “And in this service there might be cause for you to shoot someone?”
“Of course.” She blinked me as if the question made no sense. “Are you unfamiliar with the regulations? That sign indicates that we’re in a black area. You are responsible for your own security, though if you report a crime it will be logged, and then ignored, unless you have enough credits to pay for their attention. It’s my job to keep you alive, and if I can’t, well…let’s just say I’m not some helpless mechanic.”
The last two words left her mouth like missiles and streaked into Vee, who’d just skidded up behind me. Seket lumbered up a moment later, just in time to miss the biting comment. The timing was too precise to be coincidence, though Miri’s tone was still sweet as pie.
“Did you just call me helpless?” Vee’s eyes fixed on our new PSA. “And you work in a tip based profession? How does that work, exactly?”
Miri blinked at Vee as if she were being unreasonable, but the shopping assistant were magnanimously overlooking it. How she communicated that with an expression I don’t know, but convey it she did. “I didn’t mean you, miss. Please. I would never offer offense to a client. Though, to be fair, you are not my client and will not be paying any tip I might receive.”
“Uh huh.” Vee frowned at her, but looked away.
“Where to now? In there?” I nodded at the chamber where the clapping emanated from.
She laughed prettily and shook her head.
“That’s the council chamber, but your matter is far too trivial to be heard there. We’re taking a lift down to level 36, in arbitration chamber J-6.”
She turned and trotted toward an unobtrusive pair of grey doors set into the wall. We were already starting in the basement, but we needed to go down thirty-six levels? The idea that our planet’s dissolution warranted nothing more than a side room boiled my blood, but I knew expressing that anger would only delay me leaving this wretched place.
“There’s good news,” Miri offered as she pressed the down arrow set into the wall next to the lift door. “We’re entering an orange area. Automated security has been installed, which discourages most open violence. Snipers and the occasional explosive still get used, but that’s rare unless someone is acting on a grudge. Destroying a turret will get you hunted down, and no one wants that.”
I don’t know what I’d expected, but thus far the trade moon was anything but that. I’d thought the Inurans must be the most orderly, restrictive lot in the sector, but the surface of their moon was a lawless wasteland where anyone could have their gear jacked? How did that make for repeat business?
The answer was right there. Where else were you going to go? If you couldn’t afford your own security, then you weren’t wealthy enough to matter.
The lift doors opened with a reluctant sigh, and Miri drew her pistol, then advanced inside. “Clear! Get in. Quickly.”
I drew my pistol as I entered the urine-soaked lift, and noted that Vee’s bracelet had begun to glow. We were as ready as we could be. I scanned the button panel, and stabbed 36. The buttons went all the way down to 99, and below that there was a fatter button that read Reactor. I didn’t ask.
The lift whirred into motion, and we began to descend at an alarming rate, far faster than any lift I’d ever been aboard back on Kemet. I seized the bar running at about waist height, which wasn’t too dissimilar from a matrix’s stabilizing ring.
Twenty queasy seconds later the lift hummed to a halt, and the doors protested mightily as they slid open. The level stretching before us was dimly lit, and many of the lumifixtures had failed entirely. Refuse receptacles dotted the main chamber outside the lifts, and every one overflowed with garbage.
Dozens of workers in drab grey or white uniforms scurried to and from the lifts, though not a one darted a furtive glance our way. It reminded me of where I’d grown up. Pretending like you don’t see became an ingrained defense mechanism. They were praying we’d ignore them.
“This way.” Miri wrapped a hand around my forearm and squeezed gently. “Follow me.”
She hurried into the crowd, which parted before her as if they knew who, or what, she was. I didn’t know the cultural significance of these PSAs, but if they were incredible athletes and mages, and also well armed, then it stood to reason people probably feared them.
There were a few others with similar uniforms who seemed to be scanning the crowd. One, a short wiry man even started toward me with a sales pitch.
I ignored him and trotted after Miri, who passed a row of holoscreens, all displaying the same reporter, a woman who could have been Miri’s sister, though with platinum hair and darker skin. I couldn’t hear whatever she was chatting merrily about, but I saw the Inura’s Grace displayed behind her. The Great Ship chilled me the core, though I couldn’t say why. The reporter certainly didn’t seem alarmed.
Miri skidded to a halt outside a pair of bleak metal doors. She withdrew a keycard, inserted it, then uttered an incantation under her breath. The doors popped open with a thunk, and she slipped inside, then beckoned me to follow. “Keep silent, and sit in the back row.”
I recognized the stench the moment I entered. It was a unique blend of poorly circulated atmo, fermenting garbage left too long in bins, and of course the stink of human fear. It was a court after all.
The room didn’t seem too different than a Kemetian courtroom had been. Six rows of uncomfortable metal chairs were bisected by a walkway that led from the door to the ancient basalt throne where the judge lounged. Real ancient Terran stuff. I bet the stone was as fake as the justice you received.
Nearly every seat was occupied. Over half those attending were drifters, most clutching a wad of paperwork in one hand and a beer in the other.
The remainder were human, with only a few shabbily dressed Inurans thrown in. It seemed pretty clear why this specific courtroom had been chosen for our arbitration.
I scanned the crowd until I found the minister, but unfortunately it appeared the case had already begun. A regal man with hawkish eyebrows and long silver hair sat atop the throne. He was handsome, in an Inuran way, but not the Seket level of handsome. He studied the proceedings carefully, then inclined his head to the group of Inurans sitting at the table opposite the minister.
“I, Lord Aruni, have been designated judge and executioner over all cases heard in this courtroom today.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I do not tire. I will not grow bored. However, I may become irritated. Do not irritate me. Who speaks for the Inuran Consortium?”
“I do, your excellence.” A young Inuran with platinum hair rose to his feet. “I am sub-assistant Sarkor, of the Inuran Consortium. I have come to defend our interests. If it pleases the court, may I present the case we’d like arbitrated?”
“Go on.” Judge Aruni flung a leg over the arm of his throne, and adopted an expression that belied his earlier claim about getting bored.
Sarkor rose to his feet and approached the throne. “A now deceased member of the Inuran Consortium, Matron Jolene, caused the destruction of the planet Kemet. Just prior to this she signed a legally binding contract to have a trade moon brought to this system. While we are most regretful that her crimes cannot be punished, we adhered to our part of the arrangement. The trade moon is here. If there is no commerce, then barring some catastrophic emergency that forces us to depart the system the cancellation fee is still owed. That is what we are here to discuss.”
“So if I understand your case,” Aruni drawled as he studied the fingernails on one hand, “one of our Matrons destroyed a planet, and you believe that we should extort the surviving refugees of wealth they do not possess.”
“Precisely.” Sarkor relaxed and offered a friendly smile. “Their loss is tragic, and we understand that the refugees may not have the entirety of the credits. We’d be willing to settle for their claim on the balance of the Vagrant Fleet. They keep the—”
A klaxon eradicated all sound. The man’s mouth was moving, for a moment anyway, but I heard nothing. No one did. Every last person had their hands cupped over their ears, and the situation was worsened by a strobing light at the top of the room.
An automated voice rang from speakers set into the wall. “An emergency has occurred. Please make your way to the surface in an orderly fashion. You are responsible for your own safety. However, if you wish we have many personal shopping assistants available to alleviate your security concerns.”
I realized I was still standing in the aisle. I ordered my mask to slither over my face to escape the ear-shattering siren, and gave a relieved sigh when my HUD lit. The pain receded immediately, though I could still hear the muffled pandemonium.
“Guardian, get me a holo up that includes my current location, relative to the Inura’s Grac
e.” I forced a calming breath as the klaxon continued. The holo with the Vagrant Fleet and the Inuran trade moon returned.
A pallid glow began to build in the Great Ship’s enormous spellcannon, and then discharged. Mute horror robbed me of all reason as that terrible writhing beam slammed into the trade moon, right on top of our current location.
Were they shooting directly at me?
4
The entire courtroom shook, and those not already sitting were dashed to the floor or into the metal chairs. Blackness smothered the chaos, for a moment anyway, as the power failed.
Then it snapped back on, and exposed dozens of confused people climbing to their feet. Almost all clutched bleeding wounds from where they’d struck metal or stone.
At least the klaxon had stopped.
Miri shook her head and had an unfocused look to her gaze, but seemed to be recovering.
“Guardian, what kind of weapon just hit the trade moon?” I demanded as I drew my pistol. “Why are we still alive? It was right on top of us.”
I wasn’t the only one prepared to defend myself. Weapons were coming out all over the room. Definitely not the kind of courtroom I was used to, though I noticed that not a single person fired. Hadn’t Miri said something about turrets?
“The beam contained tens of thousands of spirits,” the Guardian’s voice echoed over my internal comm, even as the holo updated to display a tide of grey dots engulfing the entire surface of the moon. “I suspect the majority are wights, but there were more powerful souls toward the center of the beam. I would advise caution. This assault will quickly become global, and their numbers will only grow. You are at the very center of the blast.”
