Rogue Starship: The Benevolency Universe (Outworld Ranger Book 1)

by David Alastair Hayden

  “Silkster, I’m not mad at you. I understand.”

  “You do, sir?”

  “I do. Although we should have a long talk about you being truly afraid of something. But not today. I’m too tired and have too much else on my mind.”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  “Silkster, old buddy, I have to survive until we reach the Outworld Ranger and be of sound mind when we get there.”

  “The timing might be tight, sir. Karoo is a large expanse of ruins. Even narrowing our search to logical locations, it might take days to find it.”

  “I have to make it there whole. So that I can see it, so that I can feel it. And to give the others access.”

  “Well, you have the Awake drug with you, sir. It could counter the effects long enough for you make it there alive. You’ll just need to wait till the last possible moment to take it, since the effect will wear off quickly.”

  “Good enough.” Siv nodded. He lifted the amulet and kissed it. “I coming, Dad.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Karson Bishop

  As Karson walked around the skimmer car, he ignored how incredibly ugly it was, with its faux wood panels and boxy styling. The tech he worked with was usually damaged or nonfunctional and looked it: decades of rust and corrosion, blast marks from battles, dents and cracks from accidents. As a child he had learned to look beneath the surface of a machine to see what was really there, good and bad, and then quickly understand how it worked. He had honed this skill with thousands of device restorations, repairs, and reconfigurations.

  He fancied he could do the same with people, but that delusion always died as soon as he had to interact with someone. People were mysterious, confusing, contradictory, and too often nonsensical. The only way he could really figure a person out was through long, careful study and that usually took years. Unless they did something dramatic, like Siv risking his life to save others, which made them a relatively easy read. Someone like Mitsuki, though… He might never figure her out. She was the living equivalent of advanced Benevolency tech no scientist or gizmet could decipher, like stardrives and flux loop capacitors.

  Oona, on the other hand, was different. When she had said who she was, Karson immediately saw beyond her innocent human appearance, beyond her quiet manner, and beyond her solid black eyes. Some deep instinct awakened within him, and he immediately saw the purity of her soul. She was exactly what she claimed to be, a hyperphasic messiah.

  And like a piece of ancient tech in need of restoration, Oona was filled with amazing potential that couldn't be tapped. Only…it wasn’t so much that she was broken but that her construction wasn’t yet finished. And he knew that, just like Siv, he would give his last breath if necessary to see to it that she had the chance to realize her potential.

  After finishing a third circuit around the skimmer car, tapping the body at random intervals, Karson nodded appreciatively. The build was more than solid. It was discreetly ruggedized, with reinforced panels and bulletproof glass in the windows. He popped the hood, glanced in, and whistled. He could hardly believe what he saw. He darted underneath to get a look at the frame and confirm the evidence. Smiling, his heart pounding with excitement, he rushed back into the house, hoping to catch Siv before he made it to bed.

  He caught up to Siv walking into the kitchen from the porch. Now there was a broken person Karson could understand. Siv had a constant tremor now. It was ever so slight and probably unnoticeable to most people. But Karson could spot the slightest fluctuation in a capacitor, engine, or other equipment.

  Karson felt certain they would need Siv alive to access the Outworld Ranger, but he feared Siv wouldn’t last that long.

  He had only known Siv a few days but, given time, he thought they could become good friends. He liked the way Siv’s mind worked. He dealt with bad guys and disasters the way Karson fixed machines: methodically but not hewing to some standard of perfection if the point was to just get the job done.

  Karson’s smile and exuberance faded away. He didn’t want Siv to die, but there was nothing he could do about it. This wasn’t a machine he could fix. And he had no idea how to soothe Siv’s pain or whether he should even try.

  Siv had sensed his thoughts. “You’re going to have to accept my mortality, Bishop. I know it’s rotten, especially given how much we survived only days ago, but that’s how it goes. In my line of work, a young death isn’t that surprising. Heck, your own security cog nearly killed me.”

  “Oh, that’s not what I came to talk to you about.”

  “It was on your mind, and it wasn’t hard to spot. The sight of me wiped the excitement off your face in a heartbeat. So what got you pumped?”

  “The skimmer car.”

  “Ah.”

  “Who did you buy it from?”

  “It was a custom job. A mechanic in East Gara made it for me. I told him I wanted something that looked tame but was rugged and fast for its size. Why?”

  “They converted an old Tezzin security car. It was the sort of ride dignitaries, governors, and senators used back in your era. Not all of it is a Tezzin, mind. Just the chassis and the engine, which they did an excellent restoration of. The body’s all new, though not as strong as the original. Still, it’s a lot stronger than what you’d see in any civilian vehicle, and is probably close to what you’d find on those Shadowslip extraction vans. You could drive it through a war zone and, with a bit of luck, make it out just fine.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “How much did you pay for it?”

  “About what you’d expect, I guess.” Siv chewed at his lip. “Although, the mechanic owed me a favor. A massive, life debt sort of favor. So I might’ve gotten a bit of a discount.”

  “I restored two Tezzins at work. Each one cost a hundred thousand credits—used and broken as a fart. And the chassis and the engine were all we could salvage on them, too.”

  Siv’s eyes widened, then he smiled. “I paid him twenty thousand.”

  “Twenty thousand?!” Karson staggered back a step. “You only paid twenty thousand?!”

  Siv laughed. “Given what I asked for and the size of the favor, and the fact that he ran a chop shop on the side, I’m not that shocked. It was probably very hot with the cops looking hard for it. Converting it into an ugly family sedan and paying me back was just the opportunity he needed.”

  “Well, it’s brilliant.”

  Siv patted him on the shoulder and headed toward the hallway leading toward the third bedroom. “I’m glad you like it so much. Now, I’m off to get some sleep.”

  “Wait, you don’t understand. This car… If I had the parts and time, I could boost the engine speed by at least fifty percent, along with its altitude capability. And, depending on the degradation in the wiring and electrical components, I might could even restart its shimmer veil, maybe even the force fields too, although those tend to be persnickety.”

  Siv spun around. “It…it has force fields and a shimmer veil?! How? I looked that car all over when I bought it! I’ve cleaned it twice, and performed maintenance on it once. Even Silky didn’t realize there was something more to the car.”

  Karson smiled. “The components were built into the frame so they’d never be exposed to danger or the elements. And you can’t detect them with a basic scan, so if you weren’t suspicious…”

  “I had no reason to be. We only scanned the software and searched for trackers.”

  “So…I guess I’d better get to it.” He scratched his chin. “Of course…this is more work than I can manage in a night. Assuming all possibilities are open, what should I prioritize?”

  “I’d say go for whatever you think you’re most likely to have finished by morning, though I’d think more speed would be best. I doubt the shields on it are very powerful.”

  Karson shrugged. “They’re the equivalent of what you’d find on a starfighter, if a little less efficient.”

  “Shit! Get the force shield up if you can! Wire in extra power packs if you
need. I’ve got a half-dozen P3’s stashed in a closet in the garage, along with a P2 and a bunch of P4’s.”

  “Your level of preparedness is amazing.”

  “It’s easy when you’ve got lots of free time and disposable income.”

  That was definitely true. The small P4 power packs were five hundred credits each, and a recharge at a flux loop capacitor station on Ekaran IV would run fifty to a hundred credits.

  “I’ll tell Seneca to assist you in any way he can, once he has packed all the provisions,” Siv said.

  “Tools?” Karson asked.

  “In a crate in the basement. You should find everything you need.”

  “An entire set of tools packed in a crate? You planned to retire here and tinker on the cogs, didn’t you?”

  “It was one dream I had. The other was to become an archaeologist like my dad. I was even going to explore the wastelands first, just like he did.”

  “Sounds nice,” Karson said.

  “Bishop, I want you to have my cog collection. So if you ever make it back here, they’re yours. Silky is filling out the paperwork as we speak.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “I’m leaving the house behind to a family I care for. The cogs might be worth a lot of money to them, but they wouldn’t appreciate them like you would. Consider them yours. Do with them as you wish.”

  Karson wanted to thank him, but all he could do was stand there with tears welling in his eyes as Siv slouched away.

  Karson opened the crate of tools in the basement. Every small tool he used at home or at work, he found in that crate. All brand new, and still packed in bubblewrap. According to the shipping date on the receipt, the tools had sat here untouched for three years.

  Poor guy. How many houses did he own? How many cars? How many cogs and tool sets and projects? How many bits of the world he’d lost did he cling to? Karson didn’t discount that Siv needed safe houses and specialized gear for his line of work, but he certainly questioned why he needed that many.

  Karson scanned all the cogs carefully, to see what he had to work with. None of them were going to save them in a firefight, that was for sure. But their parts could certainly come in handy for repairs. He picked out the most damaged models and examined them more closely. Then he dug through the boxes of parts, noting the things he might need now, and a few things he’d take along with them just in case.

  He nodded appreciatively. He could work with this. He stripped a few choice pieces out of three cogs, frowning regretfully as he did. Then he piled those parts, along with some of the spares Siv had lying around, into a pile beside the box of tools. Having restored two Tezzins already was a huge advantage, since he knew everything he’d likely need.

  The box was too heavy for him to carry, so he just grabbed a few basic tools. He’d get Seneca to bring up the rest.

  Karson hurried back to the garage, slid under the car, and got to work. All his problems…the dangers they were facing…meeting a hyperphasic messiah…Siv dying…all of that faded away as he gave himself over to his work, devoting himself to the purity of the mechanics.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Oona Vim

  The cosmos thrummed, a universal heartbeat, a pulse of existence. When the cosmos inhaled, stars died. Galaxies…people…entire civilizations perished. When it exhaled, new stars were born and life began anew. The universe constantly ebbed and flowed, only it happened so slowly that no one could ever take it all in.

  Oona felt the echoes of the breaths that came before, ripples through time and the many dimensions of space. Her mind rode along the current breath. Was the universe exhaling now, or inhaling? Being born anew or dying? Was there any difference?

  It was all meaningless, and yet that was meaning itself.

  She breathed in. She breathed out. She could know no more than her own breaths.

  Was her dad okay?

  She flinched as that thought knocked her from her meditative state. Her eyes flew open. She sat on a cushion below a window with the curtains pulled back. A trail of moonlight danced across the shimmery fabric of her robe. Sleeping in the bed behind her, Kyralla snored ever so softly.

  Oona had learned to tune out Kyralla’s breathing long ago. Yet anytime she wanted, she listened in, feeling comforted that her big sister was right there with her.

  “You will always have each other,” their dad had told them many times. “And I will be there for you so long as I can.”

  His face appeared vividly in her mind. Then a darkness swept through her thoughts and emotions. A premonition, or childish fear? From time to time, she had true premonitions. But it was difficult to tell the difference, especially when she was already anxious.

  Most of her innate abilities were vague like that. On a few occasions she had seen ghostly images and figures she couldn’t explain. And a woman with an ethereal voice and a strange, melodic accent whispered softly in her dreams at night. Her words were critically important, yet Oona could never remember them, if she even understood them to begin with.

  She stood and paced around the room, trying to push her father from her mind.

  Uncle Pashta took his place. She remembered the last time she had seen him, two nights ago when they had dined together on the terrace. A soft breeze had whirled through the trees, playing the wind chimes. The fish had been chewy, the pasta underdone, the sauce as thin as their conversation. He had shown no signs then of betraying them. Or at least none that she had noticed, and she should have noticed. Sensing emotions and whether someone was telling the truth were the only reliable abilities she had. If they had failed her so badly…

  No. Doubting herself didn’t do anyone any good. Something must have happened after dinner or maybe the next day. Despite being a bit creepy, Uncle Pashta’s devotion to the Benevolency, and to what she represented, had been true. What could have made him betray them?

  The image of his ship exploding in a fiery ball over the city rose unbidden in her mind. Even if he had betrayed them, he hadn’t deserved death. Neither had the men sent to capture her. She wasn’t worth all this trouble…she wasn’t worth these deaths.

  And now Siv would die for her too.

  Siv, a guardian and a friend. Siv, whose amulet proved there was a connection between the starfaring Ancients and the Benevolence. She’d always felt there had to be. But years of reading scientific texts on hyperphasic technology and archeological papers on the Ancients hadn’t turned up anything. Then Siv dropped into her life and gave her…if not answers, then hope that the answers existed.

  And she was only going to get to know him for a few days. It wasn’t fair. He took it in stride though. Siv wasn’t nearly as afraid of death as she would have expected…as she would have been in his place.

  Some days Oona thought the weight of the universe might crush her. And some days she felt certain it would. The only thing worse than a terrible responsibility was not understanding it. She was a hyperphasic messiah. She knew that to the very core of her being. But to what end? What was she supposed to become? How could any one person, no matter how special, restore the Benevolence? Was that even possible?

  She had spent hours upon hours meditating about her nature, coming to grips with the awakening that lay before her. Only one other had survived that process, so far as anyone knew. And she was nuts and now ruled over a thousand star systems.

  Oona feared death. But more than anything, she feared madness.

  She took a deep drink of water. She should’ve gone straight to bed. She had thought a half hour of meditation to clear her mind would help her rest better, but it had only made things worse.

  “Artemisia, any word from my father or news from Titus II?”

  “None, madam. But the connection is down again, has been for an hour now. I have no idea when service will return, and there will likely be a delay once the infernal machine I’m linked to finally boots back up.”

  Siv had insisted, for security reasons, that they route their chippies’ conn
ections to the outside world through a primitive desktop terminal. Unfortunately, the terminal was malfunctioning and its connection kept slowing and timing out.

  “I can’t take it anymore. Scan for news using direct access to the net.”

  “Madam, Silky was most passionate about the need to maintain security by routing our connections through the terminal.”

  Oona took a deep breath and nodded.

  She crawled into bed and scooted up beside Kyralla. Miraculously, she fell asleep almost instantly.

  She woke with a start, an image of her father in her mind. His face was broken and bloody. Struggling to breathe, he cried out for help.

  Oona sat up in bed, heart racing. This was a premonition. She knew it.

  “Artemisia, open a direct comm channel to my dad.”

  “Silky said to—”

  “I don’t care. Just do it. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, madam. Connecting to Bei Comm-2…sending a request…”

  Most people couldn’t directly access a comm-loop. They had to connect through the galactic internet. The net was reliable and instantaneous on a planet, but slow to connect to other worlds. In the Age of the Benevolency, there had been enough echo space stations to keep every human planet within the galaxy in near constant contact with one another.

  Now, with over eighty percent of the echo space stations knocked out by the Tekk Plague, there was alway a delay. On Ekaran IV it was minutes to hours, depending on how much bandwidth official planetary and mercantile business was taking up.

  Oona could only access a direct line because her father Galen was an ambassador for the Terran Federation.

  “Madam, I’ve gotten his voicemail. Do you want to leave a message?”

  She could ask him to contact her as soon as possible. But she really shouldn’t risk another direct communication. Even this was once too many, but the sound of him crying out for help still rang in her mind. She’d had to try.