Blood Siren (Chronicles of the Orion Spur Book 1)

by Michael Formichelli

  “It’s nice. Spartan, yet comfortable. I like it.”

  “Maybe I’ll build it for real some day when I retire. The outside won’t be the same, though.” Khepria seemed lost in thought for a moment.

  “Unless you built it on the planet where you got the scenery from.”

  She shrugged. “What time dilation factor do you want for the trip?”

  “Synchronize it with Baron Keltan’s craft. We might as well be on the same time schedule.” Nero rubbed his chin.

  “You know, time is not really affected. This is just our perception of time passing. Time in the physical world passes normally. If something happens outside the ‘net, we will still wake up at the same time, sir.” Khepria’s silver ears twitched.

  “She has you there, Nero.” Prospero’s voice seemed to emanate from the walls.

  Khepria hunched over and giggled.

  “Thanks, buddy, I knew that, and now I’m remembering why I prefer standby mode to spending time in the Cyberweb. You’re insufferable,” he said.

  Khepria bit her lip, clearly restraining herself from making a comment.

  “I am insufferable only to the stupid and those without a proper sense of humor,” Prospero said.

  “Fuck you.” He ground the words out with careful emphasis. He felt Prospero’s amusement like the aftermath of a bad meal.

  “I’ll connect us to the baron’s vessel,” Khepria said with muted amusement.

  She twisted her wrist upward and a fist-sized yellow cube with tiny orbiting, electric-blue spheres appeared above her hand. The word “connecting” appeared above the construct before the entire image resolved into the bare head and milky shoulders of Heiress Cronus.

  “And you are?” Heiress Cronus met Agent Khepria’s gaze in challenge.

  “Agent Sorina Khepria, Confederate Space Authority.”

  “And you are bothering me for?” Heiress Cronus’ lips pressed tightly together.

  “I had a request,” Nero said.

  The heiress’ image rotated to face him. “Praetor Graves, ah.”

  “We’re in position to protect you as requested by Baron Keltan. And—”

  “And?” The heiress’ tone was sharp. As was the case when she and Heir Mitsugawa came to the Keltan arcology this morning, she didn’t show the least bit of fear most of the others of her class did when confronting him. He respected that, but found it puzzling as well.

  He frowned. “And I was thinking it best to sync up our time dilation factors for the trip to the Keynesian Fortune.”

  Heiress Cronus looked puzzled. “Why?”

  Nero felt Prospero’s amusement grate against the fringe of his senses again. “I felt it best.”

  Heiress Cronus frowned. “Not good enough. You are here to tend to our security; it does not involve sharing our reality. Pass the time in your own way, Praetor Graves.”

  The image of Heiress Cronus vanished.

  “Well, she’s a sweet one,” Agent Khepria said.

  He stared at the empty space where the image had been and licked his lips. “I guess so.”

  “I told you so,” Prospero said.

  “Shut up.” His voice lacked its usual force.

  Agent Khepria waited several seconds before speaking again. “My monitoring programs are running, so how about we do something to pass the time?”

  He looked up at her. “She disconnected an Abyssian.”

  “Do you like archaic weapons?” she asked. The room around them shifted, and they were standing in a large rectangular stone hall with burning torches providing the light.

  Nero blinked and looked around. “I’m not sure. What is this?”

  Khepria smiled devilishly. “A game I think you’ll like.”

  A rack of medieval weapons appeared between them. His eyebrow arched upward.

  “En garde!” Khepria said, racing forward towards the array of steel blades.

  Chapter Five

  Matre’s Glory System

  41:0:20~41:0:45 CST (J2400:3021~3052)

  Though still too far for the yellow-white star of Kosfanter to be more than a speck in the sky, the space just inside it’s termination shock, where the solar wind met the galactic media, was in near constant flux as it teemed with FTL starships coming and going from the capital system of the Confederation. There were times of the year, particularly during the days leading up to a Barony session, where the volume of starships was so high that the sky seemed to ripple continuously as though the entire system was under water.

  Stars distorted into blurry arcs of light as the terminal end of the Einstein-Rosen Bridge opened up into the system. It rippled and shimmered for several minutes before the Keynesian Fortune spat forth from the distortion in a burst of ghostly-blue Cherenkov radiation as though ejected from the mouth of some monstrously gargantuan beast. The craft, nearly a kilometer long, was hammer-headed with a long neck of reinforced ceramic-steel projecting from a fat body like a half-eaten pie with the rounded-end facing aft. Its dark-gray skin was studded with a plethora of blinking yellow lights and perforated by the linear electric glow of thousands of self-repairing polymer windows. Much like its FTL brethren, the Keynesian Fortune had no glowing-yellow relativistic turbines or any other obvious means of thrust. Its sole purpose, projected through its design, was to open and travel through Einstein-Rosen bridges.

  Her pilots checked the local traffic around their emergence point to ensure they wouldn’t slam the ship into any like-mass object, and then activated the communications up-link to Kosfanter’s system-wide network. Although boosted by relay satellites, it still took the signal four hours to reach the planet and another four to return. It wasn’t until they had their approach vector and landing clearance that Cylus’ shuttle, accompanied by the Akanda, made the twenty-nine day trip down to the planet surface.

  Sunlight sparkled off of the sea, dancing like electricity among the wave crests. Patterned webs of light mirrored the dance on the marble facade of the massive structure dominating the landscape. The Barony Building was located on the inner-northern side of the massive atoll upon which the capital city of the Confederation, Ikuzlu, was built. Constructed to impress upon the people the power of the legislative body contained within, its smooth marble surfaces were gilt with gold, platinum, and precious stones of all kinds. It was considered by most architects in the Confederation to be grander and gaudier than all other structures in the ring shaped city including the Palace of the Just, home of the Premier.

  A hot tropical breeze blew through the tall windows carrying the smell of brine and fish across the Barony floor two days after their arrival at the capital. Cylus crinkled his nose and pretended to blow it into a white silk handkerchief to get a break from the stink in the air. After the long journey from Sol, and many hours of pondering just how horrible this might be, the stench of the tropical wind produced a churning in his stomach like an exploding star. He hoped that the environmental aegis around the city was still filtering out the less desirable gasses from Kosfanter’s atmosphere. The xenon concentration alone was high enough to anesthetize a human to death.

  The Barony chamber was a barrel shaped structure whose lower portion was built as a cavernous amphitheater. Each individual barony had its own section of seats boxed off by waist-high polymer-glass dividers. Filled, as it was now, the white bench-seats of the boxes became a collage of color. Blue-skinned Cleebians, mottled Galaenians whose skin shifted constantly to match the colors of their surroundings, and chlorophyll-green Isinari dominated the west side of the oval. Across from them the pointy ears of the Relaen twitched in the air like fleshy grass in a stiff breeze. Outnumbering them all, Cylus’ own species was like a sea of hairy heads filling nearly half of the circle.

  He sat beside Sable on the third tier in the chamber. Three empty seats in his section occupied the space on his right. If his family was still alive those seats would be filled with his siblings or his father’s guests.

  “Still can’t stand the smell here?”
Sable asked.

  “I’m mystified as to why they haven’t closed the windows and started the environmental regulators yet,” Cylus said. He fanned himself with his hand. The high collar of his beige and gold suit that Sable had insisted he wear for the occasion was already soaked with sweat.

  “You know, it smells nearly the same on my home world,” Sable said.

  “Why do you think I never visit you?” he retorted.

  Sable waved his hand dismissively in the air.

  He was dressed in his finest kamishimo, with a gold trim along the edges of its kataginu-jacket and around the Mitsugawa symbols over the exaggerated shoulders. He didn’t look nearly as hot as Cylus felt, though. He had an unpleasant suspicion that Sable had demanded he wear the dress outfit just to watch him sweat. Bad enough that he had been dragged here against his will, now he had to endure Sable’s sadistic temperature games as well.

  Cylus looked over at Sophi sitting beside her mother and aunt on the other side of Sable in the adjacent section reserved for House Cronus, and thought that she must be sweltering in her forest green robe. He decided to blame Sable for that as well, though she probably would have been here anyway without her half-brother’s asking. Sitting beside her, Aurora and Hephestia had on translucent dresses of silver and blue that shimmered like they were made of millions of tiny pearls. The dresses looked airy, and Cylus felt a pang of sympathy for Sophi, whose condition prevented her from wearing anything like them outside of cyberspace.

  Sophi seemed to sense his gaze and leaned over to put her hooded head by her brother’s chest. “You really should have joined us during the trip, Sable.”

  “What? On your virtual beach? No thank you, I was fine in my training hall,” he whispered.

  “Don’t you want to spend time with us? We missed you,” Sophi said to her brother.

  “On the last trip you two spent most of your submersion time in bed. I’ve already learned to avoid you two in the real world because of your shared propensity for that. I don’t need you spoiling my dreams too.”

  Cylus chuckled. He could feel heat rising on his cheeks. “Sorry, Sable. You know how it is.”

  “All too well,” Sable said.

  Sophi hit her brother lightly on the arm. “You’d be more understanding if you let me set you up.”

  Sable’s dark eyes looked downward. His face took on a rosy hue. “The last time was quite enough, thanks.”

  Cylus’ eyebrow rose. “Did I miss something?”

  “It was a few months ago, before we set out to meet you on Sol-three. I tried to set Sable up with one of the girls I’d met in the Cyberweb.” Sophi’s tone was far too amused for this story to have a pleasant ending.

  Cylus winced.

  “She was a Volgoth,” Sable muttered.

  “Volgoth have male and female sexes. She still counted as a girl.” Sophi’s eyes gleamed.

  Cylus accessed the planetary Cyberweb’s database of alien species. The query ‘Volgoth’ brought up a humanoid creature covered in dark fur with crystalline horns, more joints in its legs than a human, strange four-digit hands, and a snout. The file also noted that they were primarily subterranean, and one of the slave races of the Orgnan Empire. Those on Kosfanter, the file stated, were either there to be menial laborers for the Orgnan Embassy, or were part of a small, but free population of refugees.

  “She was perfectly nice, don’t misunderstand me, Cy. I did enjoy the bath, but she barely spoke any Solan.” Sable was blushing furiously.

  Sophiathena’s laugh cut through the air, drawing the gazes of several barons. Clearly, she hadn’t intended the date to be a serious one. She found the greatest amusement in some of the cruelest things sometimes. Cylus wondered how she could be so kind to him, and so mean to others at the same time.

  “Sophi, that was unkind.” He frowned.

  His words cut her laughter short. The smile slowly faded from her milky white face. “Well, perhaps a little. You should have seen the look on Sable’s face when he got back, though; priceless.”

  “This is not an appropriate conversation for the Barony,” Sable said stiffly.

  “Sorry,” Cylus muttered.

  Sophi chuckled and withdrew back to her own box.

  “I’ll bet you one hundred ConSovs that this rather unpleasant air is Zalor’s doing.” Sable gestured at their enemy on the floor below.

  “The smell is killing me, as is the heat.” Cylus stuck a finger in his collar and pulled, trying to get some air in. The hot, wet atmosphere did little to help his already sweat-slicked skin.

  “Stop whining, Cy. They’ll shut the windows once the session begins,” Sable said.

  “I’d like to think that, but then, I’d like to think that I wasn’t actually here either.”

  Sable frowned. “You’re the one that let Zalor goad you into coming here.”

  “Don’t remind me.” He groaned and looked down at the Barony floor to avoid Sable’s accusing gaze.

  Baron Revenant was already standing on the petitioner’s dais near the center of the oval chamber, scanning through documents on the reader built into the podium. He was dressed in a white suit with a high collar, the silver pins of his corporate logo gleamed like stars on his lapels. His hair was pasted to his skull and held tightly behind his head in a short braid with a gold clasp. The lines of tension in his boney face were visible even from where Cylus sat.

  “He doesn’t want to be here, good. At least I’m not the only one,” he said.

  “Maybe he’s only pretending that he doesn’t want to be here. He’s as slippery as a dead fish and I think he’s stalling. Look, my father’s ready.” Sable gestured with his head.

  Cylus followed his friend’s gaze down to the podium opposite Zalor’s. Baron Mitsugawa wore a spotless black suit with a chrysanthemum pinned to the lapel instead of the Taiumikai style clothing that Sable wore. His long hair was oiled and put up in the traditional cue. He looked serious, yet relaxed, and a little bored. Yoji would never let real boredom show in public, it was a sign of uncultured rudeness to him. Cylus knew he was putting on a show to embarrass his opponent.

  “How long do you think this is going to go on for?” he asked.

  “Who knows? I’m sure Zalor is not eager to begin the session where he’s about to be brought up on charges. I’m sure it’s going to be soon, though even his pet is getting bored now,” Sable said.

  Cylus looked down and across the floor to the Cosmos Corporation box. Zalor’s striped creature was shifting in her seat and yawning in a mockery of the human gesture. It looked to its master most often, but also glanced to House Altair’s box behind it from time to time. House Altair ran the Agro-Worlds Corporate Barony, an entity that handled most of the terraforming, colonization, and agricultural needs of the Confederation on the frontier. It was widely known that Baroness Altair was an old flame of Zalor’s, just like Heiress-Representative Cronus once had been. It was suspected that, unlike the latter, Baroness Altair had never really rid herself of Zalor’s influence in her affairs.

  Cylus gave a long look at Baroness Altair in her seat. She looked just as uncomfortable as he was.

  “What’s going on with the baroness?” he whispered.

  Sable stared for several moments, then leaned over and conferred with his sister in the adjacent box. “Sophi says Zalor’s been buying up stock in Agro-Worlds Corp in huge amounts. Maybe she’s nervous he’ll buy her out?”

  He shrugged. He hadn’t paid close attention to the markets in seven years, he left that task to his employees. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  The buzzing of the window motors shutting the glass panes caused him to jump. He looked up at the golden dome above them and watched the glass circles slide into place. A moment later cool air began to circulate through the room.

  “I think we’ll get started now.” The acoustics of the chamber carried Baron Revenant’s voice to all ears.

  “At last,” Yoji said.

  A few of the barons ch
uckled, Cylus joined them.

  “Barons and baronesses, welcome to the three-hundred-eighty-second session of the present Barony. Today I stand here upon the petitioner’s podium to continue to press you for my motion to be carried this afternoon. I know we have been many days in debate without resolution on this issue, but the time has come for those elements still in doubt to find their resolve, and vote ‘yes’ to increased military spending so that Premier Dorski can end this war once and for all. I move for an immediate vote.” Baron Revenant wore a particularly smug smile as he let his words hang in the air.

  Yoji cleared his throat. “Excuse me Speaker, but we cannot vote until we resolve the matter of my objection, as you well know.”

  Baron Revenant inclined his head. “Indeed, Baron Mitsugawa, I was just getting to that. I move for an immediate vote on—”

  “Speaker Revenant, excuse me once again, but I would like to make a short statement,” Yoji said.

  It was clear that Baron Revenant was intent on not letting him speak, but Cylus had never seen Baron Mitsugawa allow someone to bowl him over. Yoji was widely regarded as the unofficial leader of the opposition to Baron Revenant’s near-total domination of the government. Over the last twenty years it became widely known that even the fearsome Zalor Revenant could not break Yoji’s will. Cylus couldn’t remember a single instance where Zalor had ever gotten Yoji to back down. It must be infuriating for a man like Zalor to be so often defied.

  The thought brought a smile to Cylus’ lips.

  Again, Baron Revenant inclined his head. “Very well, I yield the floor.”

  Baron Mitsugawa bowed formally. “Honored barons and baronesses, you all know my position on this aging argument. It is not that my supporters and I are against funding for our military. It is not that we are against giving our troops what they need to triumph against the deadly enemy pounding on the gates of our Confederation, no. Barons and baronesses, that is not our goal. What we find objectionable is the flagrant disrespect for our sovereignty’s treasury that this proposal reflects. Should this vote carry, it would deplete the Confederate Treasury of all but two percent of its total value. When the general contracts renew next year they will exceed the taxes collected by over a hundred times that. We will be sending our nation into the slippery slopes of endless debt as our great sovereignty is forced to borrow its operating funds from other sources.”