Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1)

by Brian Frederico

  “How's your face?” She asked.

  Chris rubbed at the spot where Sir Slader had slugged him. Claire repaired a lot of the damage to his teeth easily but even the bruising and swelling had virtually vanished.

  “Feels a lot better,” he said. “I can hardly feel it.”

  Claire inspected it. “That was fast. I thought you'd be hurting for weeks. That was a vicious hit.”

  “I'm trying to forget about it. You seem to have settled in,” Chris said eying the books questioningly.

  “A bit, I need more space though,” she said as she continued to sort through a series of papers as unkempt as her hair and uniform. It was a few sizes too big for her, but there was no time to have it fitted. She had the sleeves rolled up, but the pants seemed to cover her feet.

  “You could use the extra space in the medical bay,” Chris offered.

  “I suppose. It's already pretty full though. Your former medical officer was lucky to have such modern equipment and quite a selection of medications. A ships' crew usually doesn't need the sort of powerful drugs you have on board and judging by the quantity left over, you either all get badly hurt on a regular basis or he was probably hooked on a few of the more potent pain killers. He wasn't that bright to begin with so I'd guess the later,” she chuckled.

  Chris frowned. No one really like Lal. He was argumentative, arrogant and certainly drank too much, but he was a former crew mate. Stuck on a ship for weeks in space at a time could create some interesting personality clashes and there wasn't anywhere to retreat to to avoid someone. The smartest crewmen learned to tolerate the medical officer in particular. The reality that Lal was helping himself to the ship's drugs wasn't exactly surprising, but Claire probably wasn't going to repeat his mistakes.

  “Have you ever thought about making all this stuff electronic?” He asked.

  “Sure, but there's always hackers or others who can break in and steal this sort of stuff. It's a lot easier to do it that way. No one ever hacked a book from a solar system away,” she said.

  Chris picked up a more massive tome with a peculiar insignia carved into the leather of the cover. Claire eyed him as he handled it. “'Alternatives to the Faith and Explanations for Human Development and the Precursor Races,'” Chris read. “That's heavy stuff.”

  Claire nodded.

  “Dangerous stuff,” Chris added. “Illegal. You know the Azuren could kill you for even knowing it existed.”

  Claire put her papers down. “Of course. It's a Black Book, the kind of the Azuren don't want their blind followers reading. It doesn't follow the Path, therefore it's 'dangerous' or 'writings of vagabonds and other deviants,'” she sniffed with practiced derision.

  “Is this the kind of stuff you've been reading for the last several years?” Chris cracked the book slowly and peered in as if its contents could sear his eyes.

  She nodded. “That one is really just an introduction to the Starfield Theory itself without its various subtheories and hypothesis.”

  “It's blasphemous,” Chris said though his voice lacked the same sort of vigor as Legate Ojressi. He snapped the book shut with a resounding thud.

  “There's nothing dangerous about it,” Claire said, her face screwed up in annoyance. “It's synthpaper and ink and it just sits there not hurting anyone.”

  “It's the ideas that are dangerous.”

  She picked up a book and waved it at his face. “Uh oh, Chris, look out! It's the dangerous idea book coming to get you!”

  Chris rolled his eyes and made to go.

  “Have you ever seen the Precursor ruins, Chris?”

  The question stopped him cold. “I've seen the pictures and the movies,” he admitted.

  “That doesn't count. They're are incredible. Huge structures, whole cities, some even under ground or built into mountain passes. The builders were so technologically advanced it blows away even our most amazing jump stations and fortresses. And we've only barely scratched the surface.”

  “The Amrahn Precursors were great builders. We know that.”

  Claire took an exasperated breath. “There were no Amrahn Precursors, Chris. The Azuren claim their predecessor Amrahn civilization was of the same physique and build, even taller in some cases. The average Azuren is still ten centimeters taller than the average human, but these cities are not build for beings of that size. They're built for humans because they were built by humans.”

  “You've seen the ruins then. For yourself?” Chris asked hesitantly, suddenly afraid where the conversation was headed.

  “Of course. My whole team of Starfield Theorists has been exploring some of the hidden ruins around the Fringe where they are still protected from the Azuren. We've uncovered whole cities that go back thousands of years and every bit of evidence suggests the same thing: There was no Amrahn civilization. The Precursors were all human before the Azuren destroyed them and took over.”

  Chris held up his hands. “Wait a minute. Your team? You've been with those Theorists that whole time? I thought you were a tour guide?” He could feel his face flush and he was sure his spacer tattoos were glowing fiercely. They seemed to burn his own skin in their heat.

  Her brow narrowed not impressed with the display. “A tour guide?”

  Chris felt his world start to spin. “They're dangerous people, Claire. Vagabonds! They bombed an Azuren convoy in Goteborg, you saw what happened!”

  “I saw an Azuren legate murder an innocent man,” she replied hotly. “Even if he was responsible for the bombing, it pales in comparison to the atrocities of the Azuren. Do you even know what the Starfield Theory is?”

  Chris hesitated, unwilling to admit ignorance or curiosity.

  “Everyone knows there was a civilization that inhabited this region of space before humans settled them, right? The Azuren tell us the Precursors were a race called the Amrahn who worshiped a formless goddess called Amrah. At some point the Amrahn reached some sort of divine epiphany and ascended to their afterlife, leaving behind these worlds for a new race to develop. Humans reemerged and the Azuren are supposed to be their caretakers to help them achieve ascendency as justification for controlling every aspect of human life. Right?”

  “Okay.”

  “The theory tells us that the ruins were not part of some Amrahn race. They're human ruins. There was a human race that lived here long ago that met some sort of calamity that threw them back into the Stone Age. Colonies collapsed, ships were stranded and society came to an end.”

  “That's ridiculous.”

  “Is it? Then why do we find human remains in the ruins? Why do we find evidence of chemical and biological agents that could explain the collapse of society?”

  “Plants?”

  She scoffed.

  “If all of them is fake then how do you explain the Azuren?”

  “We think they're genetically engineered humans. Maybe they were scientists who altered themselves and launched an attack on the human civilization. Maybe they were colonists on a planet somewhere after the collapse who altered themselves to survive and gradually found other pockets of human settlements that made it through. We don't know the details, but they are most certainly not a separate race from humanity.”

  “It's not possible.”

  Claire frowned. “Then see it for yourself. The Azuren have lied to you because that's the only way they can keep control of the human kingdoms. They try to hide their crimes behind false religions and a faceless goddess and kill anyone who tries to disagree.”

  “But why do you believe these things then? Regardless if it's true you're putting your life in danger.”

  “Because it's what's right. The Starfield Theory is all about humanity finding its own way in the universe as it was before these Azuren assumed control. Look out at the stars from any of the windows on this ship. A glorious human empire once claimed them all and then the Azuren destroyed it. Without them humanity can achieve great things once again.”

  “Through violence?”

 
; Claire winced in a way only a twin would catch. “Admittedly there are elements in the Theorist philosophy that argue for the use of force against the Azuren. They are called Praxis and they believe in taking an approach to the Azuren that calls for their extermination and the deaths of any who support or promote them.”

  “Are you like that?” Chris asked before he could stop himself. He realized it would hurt her, but he needed to hear the answer for himself.

  “No,” she said firmly. “I didn't become a doctor so I could hurt people. I'd never hurt a living soul. I'm part of the Pedant faction. We research, we write and we talk. We convince people that we're right and we don't do it at gunpoint.”

  Chris slumped down on a stack of books shaking his head in disbelief. “It doesn't matter. You're taking your life in your hands by doing this.” He took in all her books with a swipe of his hand. “This puts you in danger. And it puts us in danger because it's here. They could execute my whole crew if they found even a single page of this blasphemy on board.”

  She snapped to her feet like an animal of prey. “It's no different than what you're doing. You're smuggling people, escaped prisoners of war, on a ship with an illegal jump drive that allows you to circumvent the Azuren and extend a war that by all rights should be over!”

  Chris raised his eyes slowly, his brain searching for a flaw in her argument. “This is different.”

  “How? Because my disobedience is spiritual and yours in practical? What does it matter in the end. You're no different than me.”

  Chris stood and had a hand on the door lock. “Why did you come back then? You ignored me for five years and suddenly here you are. It's not to drag me into your Theorist stuff is it?”

  “I wasn't ignoring you. I saw all your messages. I couldn't respond because if I did it would give away my location and make me and my team targets for the Azuren and their mercenary hunters.”

  “That doesn't really answer my question.”

  Claire took a deep breath and seemed to ponder her next words carefully. “You believe the goddess Amrah has a Path set for you? One that you walk when you follow her will and stray from when you don't.”

  “I suppose.”

  “When you started engaging in piracy and associating with scumbags like Lal and Drayton I had to do something. I saw you going down the wrong path. It's not your soul that's at stake, Chris, it's your humanity. I came here to help you.”

  Chris shook his head. “I think it's me that needs to help you. You've got yourself into this...” he waved his hand around at her possessions. “...stuff and you don't know the danger you've put yourself in. I have to protect you, but I can't do that from the Azuren and not if you insist in risking your life for some synthpaper and ink.”

  “I don't need your protection, Chris. I managed just fine on my own with the other Theorists,” she said in stoney indignation.

  Silence descended on the room. He became very aware of the ship then. He felt the floor rumble slightly as the engines pushed the vessel through space. The pipes and ducts that ran through the ceiling creaked and popped. The light from Chris' tattoos danced around the small room in red and green light.

  Claire looked away and bit her lip.

  Chris' words went unspoken, but they echoed in his mind as he was sure they echoed in hers.

  Then why don't you go back?

  “Just get rid of this stuff, okay?”

  “What's really bothering you, Chris? You didn't come in here to lecture me about books and Azuren religion.”

  Chris took a deep breath. This could be a bad road, but it's already on the table.

  “You didn't come to mom and dad's funeral,” he said at last. “You didn't even write back to acknowledge the fact they died. You don't care about this family which is why you took off without a word. You were only looking out for yourself.”

  “Chris, I didn't-” her face fell into shock even as he interrupted her.

  “It makes me wonder why you really came back. What's here that is so valuable to you and your cult friends?”

  “Nothing, I came back because you needed me!”

  “I'm not convinced.”

  “You're impossible,” she sneered at him, her normally pretty face cast in a mask of hate. “Get out.” She added coldly.

  Chris left her quickly and hurried to the engine compartment to check on the drive status. In the back of his mind it didn't matter if the drive was ready now or a hundred years from now, his problem would only follow him as the sound of his sister's tears pursued him down the halls.

  Archduchess Salena Teton-Sten

  Duchess of Danvers, Archduchess of the Magdeborg Commonwealth

  21 February, 23,423

  Sten Palace, Magdeborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

  ______________

  Archduchess Salena Teton-Sten. I rather like the sound of that, Salena thought, smiling.

  She also liked the way the Commonwealth's throne felt. Powerful. The trait an Archduchess is supposed to espouse.

  The Commonwealth throne room was rather sparse as throne rooms went. It was rectangular in design with vaunted ceilings and lined with ornate columns. In alcoves stood manikins dressed in full plate and mail armor though in formal occasions they were replaced by humans. Stone doors blended into the walls and led to chambers and passageways meant only for the royalty. Huge bulletproof and energy-diffusive windows wrapped around the upper layer of the throne room, allowing in Magdeborg's bright sun.

  The ceiling was the intended centerpiece of the room. Painted by Antolio Berschi, an ancient renowned Commonwealth artist, spread out from the center of the ceiling like a ringed supernova. In the center ring, above the throne itself were painted the stylized winds which often represented Amrah's influence in all manner of art. Circling out from her in concentric circles were the ruins of the Precursor civilization, wrecked buildings, abandoned space stations and the remnants of a long dead race. In the next circle were the Azuren, represented by the Arkships, surrounded by the holy Akora passages. In the next circle was the human race with their castles, ships, weapons of war and of course, images of them praying in the direction of the inner rings. The final ring was somewhat of a mystery. It was black, dotted with red, yellow, orange, white and blue marks. Four spokes, one at each cardinal point, lead inward, uniting it with Amrah's center ring without piercing it.

  In all its complexity, no two scholars were able to agree on its meaning. Something about uniting all the rings together, or perhaps the spokes implied Amrah encompassed all of them. Berschi was a recluse in his time and little information actually existed on him. Some even suggested he never actually existed. Berschi was an idea, a combination of the works of many individuals or some such nonsense. Salena tried not to think about the symbolism, even though it nagged at her mind and literally sat over her head.

  The throne in which she took such comfort was as much a work of art as it was a practical device. In its surface was chiseled ornate images from the history of House Sten. It described the formation of the family one thousand years ago. The backrest of the chair was carved in the shape of the Sten crest, a sword laying across an open book. Salena found that, due to her height, the tip of the sword appeared to be extending out the top of her head as if she had been pierced by it. She would have to order it shortened.

  Historically, Archdukes and Archduchesses rarely used the throne for anything more than formalities. Most used it to make statements ex cathedra for the population as she had done the day before announcing her ascension and the trickery of the Sørensens. This was also the room used for receiving – and intimidating – diplomats which she was sure would happen frequently in the coming days.

  Magnus' invasion had been well planned and executed. The Sørensen command structure was in complete disarray and had obviously not been expecting an attack. Even when Salena's fleet emerged at the stargate, the Sørensens appeared unconcerned. It wasn't until the fleet ignored halt orders and demands for communication did the S�
�rensens jump into action. Lord Dietrich Sørensen had been trying to get his house in order, putting units in the field and begging allies for help. But none came. Most of House Sørensen had either been destroyed or surrendered except for a small force that fought Magnus to the death in the streets. The urban conflict unfortunately resulted in the loss of civilian life and property damage. If they had simply surrendered, the civilian casualties could have been avoided, Salena thought. In the end, it worked in her favor. The people would blame the Sørensens for the destruction. Despite their weakness, the people could occasionally be used as a weapon, too, when properly tempered and sharpened.

  After crushing the Sørensens in the field, House Teton troops stormed the capital, catching most Sørensen units off guard and were able to win the palace, space port, and other military installations without a major fight. It had lasted only a few hours, even shorter than she had anticipated. Despite its brevity and relative peacefulness, the order of power in the capital and across the Commonwealth would be severely shaken. Interested parties would emerge to scout out the new political landscape once they realize the shooting had died down. She would be ready.

  There are still plenty of unknowns, including my dear uncle, she thought with a deep frown. Conrad Sten and his House Guard situated high in the mountains outside of the city remained there during the fighting. They had observers watching the battle, but they made no moves to interfere. Conrad had managed his fief for decades, always in service to the Archduke.

  Cassandra had been spot on. Conrad refused to come out of the mountains to fight beside the Sørensens. The Guard was a small unit of Sten and Sørensen blood relatives for the most part, but they were expertly trained and possessed excellent combat technology. Their involvement in the fighting would have resulted in more deaths, but Magnus would have overcome them in the end. What it meant now was that Conrad was a wild card and would need to be dealt with eventually.

  Meanwhile, Magnus' troops were busy cleaning up the Sørensens who had fled into the countryside. They'd go to ground, likely exploiting caches left for just such an event. She had heard stories of the extensive Sørensen defenses as a child. She'd already installed curfew orders for the city, keeping civilians indoors and out of the streets would limit further casualties and helping authorities identify rogue Sørensen elements. But with Thaddeus Sørensen dead the Sørensens had little to offer in resistance in the city.