Space Knight

by Samuel E. Green

  “This isn’t working out, is it?” Gregory asked. Tenseness turned into outright hostility as Max’s men raised their weapons on the fat man. To my surprise, Gregory didn’t cower in the slightest. The man was stupid, which made him all the more dangerous.

  Gregory’s two armed men stepped forward a little, and my hand went to my sword handle. The move didn’t go unnoticed, and one of the thugs cocked his gun toward me.

  “Who’s this?” the fat man nodded at me.

  “A customer,” Max said. He indicated with his hand for his men to lower their guns, and they obeyed.

  “Looks like a Hero of Tyranus to me.” The fat man glared at me with his beady eyes. “Is that right?”

  The business end of the goon’s gun was pointed straight at me, so I nodded. “So I’m told.”

  “He’s got balls, doesn’t he?” Gregory said as he looked to the thugs standing on either side of him.

  “Had to have balls to survive Tyranus,” the one whose gun wasn’t pointed at me said with a hint of admiration.

  The flabby man walked over to me and stopped a few inches from my face. I could smell barbecued meat on his breath and see each grease-filled pore on his bulbous nose.

  “I bet you got yourself a nice assignment after what you did on Tyranus,” he said. “What ship they put you on?”

  Both thugs behind Gregory pointed their guns at me and their fingers were tickling the triggers.

  “The Stalwart,” I said, trying not to breathe in the potent air escaping through the other man’s mouth.

  “Fuck off,” Gregory said. “That isn’t funny.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Max called out. “Kid got put on the Stalwart. He said it was because of some misunderstanding.”

  “Must have been quite the misunderstanding to be assigned to that shitheap,” Gregory said, and I inhaled a waft of his meaty breath. “I could use someone of your talents among the crew. Quit the RTF and join me, and I’ll pay you 20,000 KPs a month.”

  The mouth on one of Gregory’s henchmen dropped. I didn’t know the exact value of KPs after the price hikes, but Gregory’s offer must have been the real deal.

  Gregory smiled at me. “What do you say, Hero?”

  There were a few positives to the proposition: Humanitarian missions weren’t going to earn me many Kingdom Points, and Mom desperately needed a new place to live. Every day she spent in the tenements and wasn’t brutally mugged was a stroke of luck. I’d have to find some way of earning currency.

  But the negatives were non-negotiable.

  I didn’t trust a guy who needed two bodyguards to enter an enchantry, nor would I ever do anything to dishonor my Queen or the Caledonian Kingdom.

  I chewed my lip as though I was seriously considering the offer. My mind raced as I searched for some way out of this bind. Gregory seemed to have become less hostile after he’d noticed the guns Max’s men were now holding. I figured there was no way he would try anything now. So there wasn’t really any reason not to tell the fat man exactly how I felt.

  “I say you’re rebel scum,” I said to Gregory. “I’ll fight for the Queen in the RTF until I die.”

  “Your years at the Academy have left you brainwashed. It angers me to see a young Outlander so filled with love for his masters.” The veins on the fat man’s bald scalp were pulsating, and he seemed like he was having a hard time keeping his voice level. “This service you think you owe to the petulant bitch who calls herself queen is nothing more than slavery.”

  I could have backed down then, but something inside me sparked when he called the Queen a bitch. I had given my life to serve her, therefore I’d defend her honor.

  “The gods have granted Queen Catrina the right to rule over us,” I said. “I know Outlander history. We were once a mighty people, but we devolved into a hundred warring tribes, each more barbaric than the next. Our priests prayed for change. In answer to those prayers, the Caledonians came on their starships. They united us and gave us peace.” My words quavered with anger. This fat man wanted to drag us Outlanders back to a world at war. Our people might struggle under Caledonian rule now, but it was better than our past.

  Gregory’s head turned a bright purple, and he let out a screech. “I am not a man to be refused!” He sucked air in and out of his mouth so fast and loud, it sounded like he was on the cusp of a seizure.

  “You said I’m a slave to the Queen, and now you want me to be your slave? That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it?” I was surprised by the calm in my voice. I wouldn’t give up my dream to become a knight for anything, especially not this scumbag.

  Gregory’s massive breasts heaved as he calmed. “Normally I wouldn’t allow someone to talk to me like you did, but I like you.”

  “You sure my boys’ guns don’t have something to do with it?” Max cut in.

  “I value bravery,” Gregory said as he ignored Max. “It’s important in the business. I’ll give you 25,000 KPs. The kind of money a squire in the RTF can only dream of. You’ll be helping your people free themselves of the Caledonian Kingdom’s yoke. So what will it be, hero?”

  “I will not betray my Queen.”

  “Fuck the Queen!” Gregory screamed. “You are an Outlander--“

  A thunderous click interrupted the fat man, and every head turned toward the sound as Max finished loading a buzz-cannon the size of a rocket launcher.

  He pointed the massive firearm at Gregory. “I’ve had about enough of you today. Get the fuck out of my shop, pig shit.”

  I’d seen the cannon’s make before. Its massive chambers would be filled with proximity buzzsaws, each one of them painted with a rune enabling them to hit their targets with precision. Rune-laden firearms were banned weapons, but I didn’t think Max gave a shit about kingdom law at the moment.

  “You’re making a mistake, Maximilian.” Gregory lifted his meaty hands and shuffled backward. Both his men had their weapons aimed at Max as they followed their boss.

  “You’ll remember I have this giant gun? That’s smart of you,” Max said. “Don’t come back here, Gregory.”

  The iron door slammed shut with Gregory and his thugs on the other side of it. Max put down the buzz-cannon. The workers cranked up their machinery again, and the choir of clangs and hisses resumed their chorus.

  “Never heard another Outlander speak of the Queen like you did,” Max said as he put down his cannon. “You earned a lot of respect from me today.” The enchanter smiled at me, and I found myself not knowing what to say. “You made our people proud in Tyranus. I hope you keep doing it, even if you’re on the Stalwart.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said.

  “It’s a good thing you’ll be leaving soon. Gregory isn’t the kind of guy to let an offer stand, or let it be refused. He’ll do nothing more than threaten me since there are plenty of other enchanters without consciences he can buy weapons from. But Academy-trained warriors? Those don’t tend to be Outlanders, or heroes to our people. You would’ve been a boon to his boss’ movement.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay? What if Gregory comes back?”

  Max grinned. “My buzz-cannon will be waiting if he or his goons darken my door again. So don’t you be worrying about me. Get your ass to the docks. The sooner you’re on the ship, the better.”

  I left the workshop, walked to the end of the street, and turned my head before I took the corner. Two unsavory looking men were lingering behind me, and they glanced away as soon as I peered at them. I didn’t recognize them from the armed thugs who’d come in with Gregory, but they were wearing similar black doublets.

  I turned into the next street, hoping they wouldn’t follow. But they did. Assault rifles hung from their shoulders, and there was a slight glow to the weapons.

  The sheer size of each level made these places within the spire look like real towns. Scrap metal buildings stood twenty meters high on either side of the narrow street. The structures balanced precariously on top of each other. A miracle of Outl
ander engineering, and our luck, prevented them from toppling over.

  I found myself constantly blinking, my eyes still unaccustomed to the UV-sunlight imitating lights beaming down from the thirty-meter ceiling. Atmospheric systems blew air through massive vents on the walls like a light breeze in some areas and a gust in others. In many ways, towns like these were microcosms of the Outlander areas on Dobuni.

  The olive-skinned people were packed closely together, buying food and other items from the stalls beside the multi-storied buildings. Families sat on balconies, and I could smell the spiced meat roasting on their barbecues.

  If the thugs stalking me decided to use their weapons, a lot of innocents would get caught in the crossfire.

  Since this place was so much like home, I figured there were probably side streets I could use to lose my tails. In fact, I recognized this square. It was a replica of the very same town center I’d been to a dozen times with Mom when I was a kid.

  I pushed through the crowd until I came to an alley tucked between two buildings. Filthy rugs hung over cables, shaping a low ceiling. More rugs draped down the sides and formed a tunnel of woven threads. The place reminded me of a labyrinth, except with blankets for walls instead of topiary or stone structures.

  From the swirling patterns on the rugs, I gathered it served for a Wayfarer commune. I’d never met one of the traveling people before, but I’d heard disturbing stories about their magic, so I didn’t think my chances were any better in the alley than out on the street. I could get lost and miss the Stalwart. Or worse, I’d become the character in a fable about not venturing into Wayfarer communes.

  I nestled myself between the two foundation pillars of a workshop so I couldn’t be seen from the marketplace and opened my belt’s interface. A few flicks of my wrist and I was looking at the dock’s itinerary for outbound vessels.

  RTF Stalwart: Departure 20:00

  I had about seventy minutes to get to the docks. Duke Barnes was relying on me now, so missing my ship could mean something worse than the Deira Outpost. I couldn’t think of anything worse, but I was sure the duke could.

  The carriage ride to the docks would take at least twenty minutes, and I couldn’t take the shortest route to the spire’s elevator without crossing paths with Gregory’s thugs. I created a countdown to display on my belt so I wouldn’t lose track of time.

  Yelling from the market drew my attention. I looked up and saw the thugs, along with the two men who’d been with Gregory. All four were raising their guns in the air as the people on the streets moved aside, either fleeing into buildings or cowering beneath canvas stalls.

  The thugs were moving through the streets, inspecting every stall they passed. They mustn’t have seen where I’d gone, but the crowd was quickly thinning. I couldn’t go back out onto the street without them noticing me.

  Without another option, I lowered my head and entered the rug tunnels. There’d have to be a path through to the other side. I inhaled the thick air, and my nostrils filled with the sickly smell of incense and drugs.

  Most of what I’d heard about the Wayfarers had been from Mom. They were a mystical people who used potent incense in their religious rituals. Most of the time those rituals ended with bloodshed. Supposedly, the heavy smoke opened their minds to another world.

  A hallucination was the last thing I needed right now.

  I continued through the tunnel, ducking to avoid the hanging carpets. There were a few Wayfarers seated along the way, drinking from clay bowls. The liquid inside the vessels shifted colors, and I assured myself what looked like blood probably wasn’t.

  “Do you know where the exit is?” I asked them as I checked over my shoulder for the four men trying to find me. The colors of the rugs started to blur together from whatever drug was in the smoke.

  The dark-skinned men grinned at me but didn’t say anything. Their drooping eyelids barely covered bloodshot eyes. I was about to ask them again when their faces contorted and pinwheeled. The turbans on their heads uncoiled, and forked tongues poked out of their hissing mouths. I shook myself out of the beginnings of delirium and forced myself to carry on.

  As I plunged deeper into the commune, I glanced down at my prot-belt. The countdown’s numbers were crawling across the display like worms. My heart was racing, and sweat soaked my shirt beneath my cuirass.

  My feet plodded along, and the ground started to feel like cushions beneath my boots. I held my hands in front of me a few times to make sure they hadn’t ballooned out; the smoke I was inhaling made my fingers feel like giant sausages. The thought of food made my mouth water, and I forced myself to think about getting to the harbor. I’d never become a knight if I chewed off my fingers because of a drug-induced delusion.

  When I’d almost totally lost myself to this maze of blankets, I heard a female voice call my name. I thought the smoke was messing with my head again, but then I heard my name a second time. The gravelly voice belonged to an elderly woman. The haze grew thicker as I followed the sound, and before long, I could no longer see in front of my face. But I could still hear the voice.

  “Hello, Nicholas.”

  The haze vanished with a gust of wind, and I was standing in front of a gray-haired woman wearing the turquoise robes of a Wayfarer. A wire crown rested atop her silver hair, and her white eyes were without pupils.

  “Sit,” she said.

  Enraptured by the strangeness of this situation, I obeyed. I crossed my legs and stared into the woman’s milky eyes.

  A metal jug sat between us, and she held out her hand. “Drink. It will clear your head of the mind-balm.”

  From the way my head was swirling, I couldn’t imagine feeling any worse if the jug contained poison. So I drank until I’d drained it. Within a few moments, I was thinking straight again.

  “How do you know my name?” I asked as I looked down at my belt. The timer read 42:46. I almost choked. The blanket maze had swallowed almost thirty minutes of my time.

  “I know many things,” the woman said, and she gasped as I stood. “Where are you going? You cannot leave yet. The telling is incomplete!”

  I pulled aside one of the rug walls with a finger and peered into the next room. There were two Wayfarer men seated around a smoking pipe, and I slipped it shut again.

  “Where is the exit?” I asked the old woman. “I need to get to the elevator.”

  “I will tell you if you sit back down. I must complete the telling. I have already opened myself to you.”

  I knew a stubborn person when I saw one. She reminded me of Mom, except this woman’s wrinkled skin was a few shades darker and she had bright red hair. If hearing her out would mean getting out of this maze and to the elevator, then I’d have to do it.

  I sighed and sat in front of her with my legs crossed. “What’s a telling?” I was curious, even if I could see the timer blink away the seconds.

  “You’re about to find out.” She touched my hand, and a foreign presence entered my mind. Ethereal fingers rifled through my memories as though they were inside old-fashioned filing cabinets.

  I realized what this woman was, and my mouth went dry. A diviner. Normally anyone who showed signs of this incredibly rare gift was taken into the Arcane Institute and trained for Caledonian Kingdom service. If their abilities couldn’t be harnessed and controlled, they were killed.

  This woman must have been unknown to the kingdom because she was hidden within these strange rug tunnels. I’d never seen any Wayfarers at the Academy or any of the other kingdom-operated training facilities. Maybe if any Wayfarer displayed a penchant for magic, they were deemed too troublesome and dealt with.

  I’d often wondered the extent of a diviner’s power, and now I was about to find out.

  As the woman’s projection maneuvered through my memory banks, I saw fragments from points along my life and experienced a multitude of emotions with each one.

  A tear-shaped amulet that was all I recalled of my father flashed before me. I longed to see hi
m again; if only to tell him goodbye. My sadness deepened when an image of my mother appeared. Her uncontrollable sobbing as she lay on her bed could have been taken from a hundred different nights after my father left for his final mission.

  The vision swirled until I was in my room at Mom’s apartment, accepting a message from the Academy. My heart filled with joy, and I could feel myself smiling.

  My emotions took a sharp turn when I was at the Academy’s Great Hall. Ludas sat beside me, and when he’d discovered where I’d come from, he called me Poor Boy. I’d laughed at first, thinking his opinion would change once he got to know me. Memory after memory of the Academy flickered in quick succession, and all of them involved the moniker Ludas had branded me with.

  All except my memories of Alice Jones. After completing her Novitiate at the Arcane Institute, she’d transferred to the Academy. On the morning I first met her, the mage walked into the male dormitories by accident, and her entire face bloomed to a bright red. I escorted her to the female wing, and she’d asked my name. From then on, she only called me Nicholas, never Poor Boy.

  My heart leaped in terror as the image of a juvenile Alice morphed into the Grendel rift on Tyranus. Tears flowed down my cheeks when Alice died in my arms.

  Then came a feeling without a memory. Only blackness. Light pierced the darkness, and suddenly I was outside of my body. I watched my atoms tear apart and float through a new dimension, only to recompile on the Academy’s starship.

  Shame. All I could feel was intense shame. Was I a mutant? Was I responsible for the dead on Tyranus?

  “Power has taken residence inside your soul,” the diviner said aloud, tearing me from the peculiar recollection of my past. “A . . . mutation.”

  I almost choked as she said the word. Had she confirmed the very thing I feared? Did she know I was a mutant, and the rift malfunction caused by a mutation event had been my fault?

  “You think yourself responsible for the deaths of your classmates.” The diviner shook her head, and something like sorrow darkened her face. “The past is done, my child. The future, however, is not yet set in stone. You must tread carefully for there are those who would seek to use your gifts for their gain.” The woman tilted her head, and her presence was torn from my mind. My whole body shivered like I’d been thrown into an icy wasteland.