Where the ruins had come from were somewhat of a mystery. The Azuren claimed they were the holy remnants of a long dead civilization that achieved transcendence. It was an explanation of them was good enough for most humans including Chris. The leftovers of long gone societies didn't interest him.
“I haven't heard from her in a few months except that she was coming today,” Chris said. “She almost never responds to my messages.”
“Not even after you told her about your parents?”
Chris shook his head. That was nearly two years ago a few days after the cruise vessel they were vacationing on vanished as it was jumping into Barines, the system known for its impressive planetary nebula. The ship fell into the summoned wormhole, and never emerged on the other side, banished to another solar system or the vastness between galaxies. If the ship emerged whole, the passengers would face months or even years of cold loneliness as the ship slowly ran out of food and supplies. If the ship was damaged during the jump, they could have been ejected into space, or squeezed together, fused with the ship into a tight sphere. Chris preferred not to consider either fate. When a resulting search of nearby systems turned up no trace, the vessel was declared lost and all passengers legally deceased.
“I sent word about the accident. She never replied.” Chris sighed loudly and suppressed the emotions roiling under his skin. “She's not good at handling death-”
“I remember,” Nick interrupted too quickly.
Chris and Nick found a corner of the receiving area to wait for passengers to disembark and settled in silently.
“She's with us now, but whatever she's been doing is her business,” Chris said. “None of ours.”
Those first out of the ship were the spacers in grimy gray jumpsuits who secured the gangway. They donned magsuits and exited through a small hatch into the bay itself. Like tiny bugs, they clambered over the surface of the ship looking for damage from micrometeorites and other space debris, marking them with florescent paint to notify repair crews.
Once the spacers had cleared out the civilians were allowed to offload. The largest freighters like this one usually carried only cargo, though occasionally they would allow on passengers who stayed in tiny staterooms and ate whatever the crew left over. Only the very poor, stupid or desperate actually relied on the freighters like this one for transport.
A row of Averi pilgrims came first, their white-hooded heads bowed and hands folded in front of them. Their white robes whispered as they walked by and their faces were obscured by white shrouds. They carried no money, no personal belongings and said no words. They carried only their personal copies of the holy Akora in their clasped hands. Chris, Nick and the few others in the receiving area gave them a wide berth and eyed them curiously.
“She's not one of them now, is she?” Nick asked quietly.
Chris shook his head uncertainly, “No. She said she'd be here to replace Lal and I don't think pilgrims are allowed to be doctors.”
Lal, his last medical officer died playing Heuretan Roulette, a modification of the game that replaced firearms with poisoned shots of alcohol. He'd picked the wrong shot glass and was dead before the contents hit his stomach. When Chris wrote to her and mentioned the death of Lal, she immediately volunteered to replace him until a more permanent replacement could be found.
The civilians followed the pilgrims out of the ship, dragging small pieces of luggage with them. Chris spotted her blond head bobbing and weaving between people.
“Chris, hey!” She called, hurrying to embrace him. She turned and hugged Nick close and held him a bit longer and tighter. “You realize its been four years since we've last seen each other?”
“The universe has a habit sucking people away into its vastness,” Nick said without emotion then started. “Er, sorry, I didn't mean-”
“When did you get philosophical?” She nudged him with an elbow, either ignoring or misinterpreting the connection to her parents' fate.
Nick shrugged helplessly. “Blame your brother. There's nothing to do on long cargo runs and Chris likes to hear himself talk.”
The captain rolled his eyes.
“I didn't see you after you got your SESE tattoos. They don't look too bad,” she said, eyeing them warily. “Can I?”
She lifted her hand and gently brushed the glowing parts of Chris' skin tracing the pattern around his eyes and terminating at his temple. They surged a gentle green and blue, matching his eyes. “Do they hurt?”
He shook his head. “No, they're just like every other part of me. You get used to them after a while.”
“You don't have the ones on your hands like Nick,” she observed turning them over in her own. They each had long fingers, nimble and deft which made Chris a successful spacer and Claire a successful doctor.
“No, those are just for the actual pilots who like to micromanage and the engineers. I can access all the ship's systems with just these and pilot it well enough. I leave the nitty gritty stuff for the computer to deal with,” he explained then turned serious. “Look, about mom and dad, there's some paperwork you need to sign. You know, inheritance stuff and legal documents-”
“Not now,” she said.
“It's already late, and I have to see Drayton to get this contract hammered out. If we don't get a contract soon, the crew is going to go mad. I don't want to sound uncaring, but we need the money,” Chris pleaded frowning.
“I'm not ready, there's just too much going on right now. We'll deal with that later, okay? Let's go.” Claire stepped to the side and waved a device towards the ship. A hovering platform hummed forward and followed her. It was a dumb piece of machinery programed to follow the signal in the device with just enough avoidance systems to prevent it from committing mass murder in fulfilling its hauling job. Claire had it loaded up to her chest with assorted boxes, cases, and baggage. The platform followed them quietly as they maneuvered out of the receiving area and down the corridor.
“No wonder you booked your flight on a freighter,” Nick said sardonically.
“Are we going to have room for all that on the Cleod?” Chris asked.
“You'd better. I'm not leaving my books on station,” she insisted then leaned in to whisper, “Some of them are priceless originals and first editions. I could pay for a hundred round trips to the Fringe with just one box.”
“Spacer pilots aren't real keen on books,” Nick pointed out, scratching the dark stubble on his chin. “Most of the academic types have been fleeing the front line of the war. I'm surprised Goteborg University is still staffed.”
Despite the threat of Dominion invasion, the twins' alma mater had remained in session. Both had attended on scholarships from the Commonwealth government. Nick had gotten himself a full ride due to his grades and proficiency in star ship astronautics and technical maintenance. He served as the ship's chief engineer in addition to first officer and had extensive SESE tattoos to his face and hands so he could maintain a better connection with the ship and its systems for maintenance.
“Probably because the Evers are paying the professors to stick around,” Chris replied. “They're pretty confident they can hold off the Dominion.”
“The Azuren haven't allowed the war to continue, yet,” Nick said. “Not until the Sørensens appoint a new Archduke. The Evers have more time to prepare their defenses.”
“When will people stop putting so much faith in the lieges?” Claire asked hotly. “The Azuren control the war and they'll let it go on for as long as it benefits them. We mean nothing to them.”
Chris cleared his throat and gripped her arm. “Watch your words. There's an Azuren Legate here and a small army of Averi. Not to mention the pilgrims. Just because they're silent doesn't mean they don't have ears.”
“And eyes,” Nick added, indicating their company. “The attack on the Averi ship last week has them on alert.”
As if in response, red lights in the corridor flashed and a voice came over the entire station's address system demanding all
residents report to the bay floor for an important demonstration from the Legate. Chris and Nick exchanged worried glances.
Chris keyed the MacCleod's private hangar coordinates into the platform's route.
“My books,” Claire protested, reaching for the platform.
“They're fine,” Chris said, grabbing her arm again pulling her not-so-gently towards the hangar floor.
Crowds began to cluster on the ramps that crisscrossed the hangar bay. Ship traffic had been stopped and the great doors closed. The bay was flooded with oxygen and made habitable. People slowly stepped out onto the vast floor.
“Does this happen often?” Claire asked, trying to keep up with the two spacers.
“No,” they answered simultaneously.
Nick added, “They hold their weekly sermons in the bay, of course, but only when the Azuren want to make a statement do they interrupt everything and shut down the station. Looks like you caught one of the last ships in.”
Claire frowned deeply and pulled her gray jacket tighter about her and followed them closely. They passed rows of offices and firm headquarters. There were more people in the halls now, sporting all sorts of uniforms from House Evers soldiers to businessmen and Garda maintenance personnel. The vast majority of them were spacers and ships' crew who were looking to kill time while in station. They were a surly crowd, impersonal and cold like the space ships they flew. All of them possessed glowing SESE tattoos, bright greens, blues and reds and every color in between which allowed them to access and control the entire ship through the complex webbing structures. The more tattoos they had, the longer they'd survived doing their jobs so many wore them as a sort of status indicator. Some did it to mock the nobility, so obsessed as they were with the titles and honorific that they denied to the lower classes like the spacers, and fashioned themselves Star Lords, but only in secure company. They preferred to keep to themselves, often gathering in bars or in the station's hallways to speak quietly and glare at those who intruded on their domain. Many areas around the bottom of the station and around the shipyards were spacer territory and unwelcoming to those not invited. Despite their numbers and their traditionally inferior status, mutinies among spacer crews were rare. As long as the ships' captains paid the spacers well there was little complaining. On top of the influence of wealth, the spacers were a fervently religious crowd and Amrah did not smile upon those who strayed from The Path by committing violence. Of course, there were exceptions to every rule.
In a separate section of the station, far away from the human commotion, the Azuren maintained an embassy with Goteborg's ruling noble House Evers. The Azuren kept most of their military assets, which were fairly considerable, at the star's zenith stargate, while their diplomats remained at planetary stations like Garda. They kept strong ties with the royal Sten family at their embassies at Magdeborg, but they also maintained relations with each of the vassal houses. The Azuren were careful to ensure no state became powerful enough to tip the balance of power, but they also made sure no internal unrest threatened civil war. They kept their fingers in everything, pulling or pushing here or there to maintain balance and order.
This was also accomplished through weekly sermons in the service of the Goddess Amrah meant to placate the masses. The hanger at Garda was used for just these purposes. It was easily five kilometers across and half as much high, so closing it was an equally massive undertaking. Typically it was a maze of catwalks, ships, berths and access ramps and hatches. Today, it was packed with people and machinery. Ships and whole berths had been moved to the sides to make room for a raised platform that dominated the floor of the hangar. Normally, there was a near constant stream of ships entering and exiting the station. The series of locks that allowed for that all had to be sealed and secured to allow people out on the floor of the hangar. Thousands of soldiers, maintenance workers, spacers, crews and executives crowded around the platform staring at the half dozen individuals on top. By going through such efforts, the Azuren were making a statement loud and clear.
Chris buttoned his coat more tightly and straightened his captain's insignia. He might as well look presentable as he was representing both his corporation and himself. There would be many potential clients and future employers present. Even though they'd be mostly drawn to whatever the Azuren were doing, they were businessmen at heart and they would always have an eye open for deals, evaluating potential contractors and watching for profit opportunities. The Azuren would probably never be able to put on a show grand enough to end that sort of behavior.
Despite some of the high level officials present, the vast majority were spacers, ship crews and station personnel. Several thousand had already gathered and were clustered in groups according to their corporations or military units. A few confused travelers huddled in clumps or wandered nervously, suddenly afraid to be found alone.
A platform had been raised from the floor of the hangar consisting of two levels. As they neared the platform, Chris could see five individuals dressed in white robes and one other dressed in black and restrained by two of the white clothed figures. He did not struggle, but kept himself fully erect, his face frozen in a mask of confidence. He wouldn't have moved even if there was no one there to restrain him. The tallest of the white-clad figures stood at the center, towering over the others by at least twenty centimeters. His face was pale white, almost translucent and his hair was a similar unnatural color.
“Azuren,” Claire whispered.
“That's the planetary legate Ojressi,” Chris pointed to the big pale man on the highest platform.
He had seen the Azuren on a few occasions as a child when they visited the sacred Arkships on the planet's surface. Ojressi was apparently more religious than most other Azuren and he made a point to regularly attend services in the hangar. Attendance was compulsory for station residents, but Chris and his crew were often on contract and jumping between solar systems so he managed to avoid him. Once the Azuren had tagged the MacCleod for inspection and impounded his ship and detained his crew as they investigated his cargo of highly sensitive electronic equipment. The Averi in charge of the inspection team notified the Azuren legate at Haberton that the goods looked stolen. Legate Ojressi interrogated Chris and Nick intensely and threatened them with imprisonment on Azuren penal colonies or even execution if the goods were determined stolen from the Azuren. After some time, Talakonis apparently lost interest in the matter, finding some drama more juicy for his attention, and concluded the cargo was legal. Thankfully, they had not run afoul of Averi inspections since.
Except for worship, the Azuren generally avoided being seen in public which made their appearance all the more intimidating; they possessed a sense of awe that followed them like a bubble. A certain aura of power, authority, and a healthy dose of dread emanated from Ojressi as he stood watching people crowd closer. Chris felt a series of shivers run down his spine as if Ojressi was looking directly at him, his piercing blue eyes scrutinizing his soul. His knees shook slightly as excitement and fear settled in him.
The four other white-clad men and women were shorter and their features were darker. They were not Azuren, but human laypeople who entered the Amrahn religious order. They were called Averi by the Azuren after the spirits who helped Amrah in her struggle to protect her people. The humans had other names for them, most of them derogatory. Some entered the ranks of the Averi because of their religious convictions, though others joined simply because the life of an Averi was considerably better than that of the average human. They never experienced hunger or unemployment and were safe in Azuren protected stations. The Averi managed much of the clerical and religious duties, deferring to the Azuren only when an issue superseded their authority. Most interactions the humans had with the Azuren apparatus were with their human underlings.
The Averi also served a much darker purpose. Those who survived the training were deployed in their armies and their intelligence branch. Though the Azuren rarely went into combat themselves, the Averi w
ere feared through human space. The sort of technology the Azuren could field simply overwhelmed anything the human states could imagine.
“I wonder what their prisoner did,” Nick said indicating the shackled man.
“Some sort of criminal or fugitive. Maybe he was involved in the bombing that killed those Averi last week. They probably found him in one of their inspections,” Chris said, feeling a shiver run down his back as he recalled his own brush with the Averi.
“They're traitors,” Claire said loudly. “They're just Azuren collaborators who turned their backs on the rest of us-”
Chris shushed her and snapped. “You don't learn very quickly do you?”
“I'm just saying-”
“You just saying things is going to get you on a platform just like him,” he pointed at the prisoner. Chris' tattoos shimmered a frustrated red hue before oozing back to calmer blues.
She glowered angrily and crossed her arms over her chest insolently.
“Over here,” Nick said dragging the twins around to the left. He'd spotted two other gray uniforms bearing the Drayton logo. He pushed through the crowd, finding his crew members speaking and gesturing at the stage. One of them was his navigator and pilot, Chen Guanxin, a native of the neighboring Boreas Confederation. Chen's face was crisscrossed with the same glowing blue and green SESE tattoos as Chris, but covering most of his face, hands and arms. He was as hardcore a spacer as they came. Next to him, and looking surly, was his chief technician Kerali, a subject of House Evers like himself. Her tattoos were not as extensive as Chen's as she was a recent addition to the crew.
“What's going on?” Chris asked the two spacers.
Chen pointed. “See that man? The one in black? The Azuren caught him trying to smuggle his way to Hidelborg. Rumor says he's a Starfield Theorist.”
“Hidelborg? That's Lord General Damien's fief. What's a Theorist doing there?” Chris asked.
Claire shook her head, “Hidelborg is home to a fairly large sect of Starfield Theorists, at least that's what rumors say. They avoid the large stations because they're afraid exactly this would happen. I don't know why any of them would get this close.”
Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) Page 3
