Storm Between the Stars: Book 1 in the Fall of the Censor

by Karl K Gallagher

  “I have a bottle I keep in my study,” said Vychan in a low voice. “Would you like to try it?”

  A nod brought the two of them to a small room, about the size of Landry’s cabin on the Azure Tarn. A leather couch on one wall faced a desk with a comfortable chair and multiple display screens. Shelves and cabinets covered the walls. Printouts, manufacturer’s samples, models, and pictures filled all available space.

  A wave sent Landry to the couch. Vychan extracted an amber bottle and two broad glasses from a cabinet. “This has never known seawater,” he said as he poured. “There are some farming islands near the arctic where this was made.”

  Landry took the glass by the stem and sniffed. Alcohol smacked his nose. He hadn’t drunk anything that strong in years. As the shock faded he noticed the more subtle aspects of the scent. Fruit brandy, very high quality.

  He sipped, and lifted the glass in a salute.

  Vychan smiled and sipped his own drink.

  After a couple of minutes he said, “I’ve been trying to show you what Corwynt is like. What do you think of it?”

  “I like it. Despite the barbarians. Your culture is too different from what I’m used to for me to want to live here. But I’m happy to visit. You’re good people.”

  “Thank you. And of course I’m curious about your home.”

  Landry used his glass to buy time to think about his answer. He’d evaded most of the questions about Fiera, afraid some subtle error would reveal their secret. He’d drawn Vychan out about the Censorate, finding lots of tax complaints but no overt expressions of disloyalty. Still . . . he was going to have to trust somebody.

  “Fiera was in a bubble that just recently reopened. We’ve been sealed away from the rest of the human race for over nine hundred years. Never heard of Corwynt or the Censorate.”

  Vychan tossed down the rest of his brandy. “I see. That’s what you’ve been dancing around all day. Here I thought it was something boring such as finding a route around the Censorial tariff patrols.”

  “No, not that.”

  “I’ve never met anyone from outside the Censorate before. They say they rule all of humanity. They’re going to get all sorts of excited when they find your world.”

  “The inspector wasn’t excited by us.”

  “Wouldn’t be. Those boys are the dregs. Might never notice you’re unusual. But when a survey squadron finds your bubble there’ll be a war fleet along in due course.”

  “I can’t stop the survey. But I don’t want them to find out from our visit. I just want to trade and go home.”

  Vychan scratched his chin. “I’ll pass the word to not ask where you’re from. The family can hold a secret. You might stress the need not to talk about it to your crew. Just the name of the world is all right. We don’t know all the worlds in the Censorate.”

  “Good. I don’t want to ever deal with the Censorate.”

  “You’ll need to make peace with them sooner or later. It’s too big to escape.”

  “I’m going to keep a low profile.”

  ***

  The next day Landry invited Vychan to lunch at the spaceport tavern. It was far enough from East Docks to be free of Jaaphisii. The food wasn’t fine enough to attract Censorials. The slabs of vatmeat on salty bread were still better than the stored rations Azure Tarn had left.

  Landry and Marcus had just been served when the broker arrived.

  “Good day, Captain. And to you, Marcus. You’re looking better than I expected. After a beating like that my face was always many colors the next day.”

  The younger man flushed and rubbed at his face. The eyes were still shadowed despite the bruise cream he’d applied last night.

  “And how is Tets?”

  “About the same,” said Landry. “He can talk without it hurting now.”

  “A sturdy young man.”

  The waiter inquired for Vychan’s order and was told, “The same.” The broker followed on with a list of potential customers he’d contacted about Azure Tarn’s cargo.

  “Thank you, that’s very encouraging,” said Landry. “I thought of a favor I would like to ask of you.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’d like a history book. Something covering Corwynt and the Censorate back to its founding.”

  The fried seaweed chip Vychan held snapped in half, pieces sailing to the floor. “Who are you to ask such a thing?”

  Landry turned his palms out, hoping the gesture wasn’t offensive. “Not asking for a gift. I’m willing to trade.” He nodded to Marcus.

  His son pulled a school reader out of a thigh pocket. “This is a history of the Fieran Bubble. More than that—it goes all the way back to Earth’s pre-history.”

  Vychan frantically waved it away. Marcus slid it back into the pocket.

  The local took a deep breath with his eyes closed. When they opened he was calm again. “I must make this trade. But not here. My cousin Nia has her outing three days from now. Bring as many of your crew as you like. Speak carefully, there will be people from other families there.”

  “Thank you. We will attend.”

  Then Vychan began talking up a new vid, a disaster flick showing an arcology city hit by a crashing spaceship just as a hurricane arrived.

  Landry responded with a Fieran show about a city threatened by a volcanic eruption. Vychan encouraged him to tell more details until they were all done eating.

  “Thank you for a pleasant meal. I must contact some more buyers. You need to think on what you want for a return cargo.” Vychan followed with more pleasantries before leaving.

  Marcus started to ask a question but his father silenced him with a headshake. Not here.

  ***

  Gander wasn’t Soon’s first choice of a shore leave buddy, but no one else wanted to leave the ship after the captain’s “don’t say we’re from outside the Censorate” speech. One of the new rules was not leaving the ship alone. Shopping for navigation charts likely wasn’t Gander’s first choice for an outing but he was willing to join her to stretch his legs.

  They didn’t have any trouble finding the spaceport administration building. It was built into the wall of the city but had multiple hatches facing the port. It had more traffic than even the tavern, spacers looking variously anxious when inbound and frustrated or relieved departing.

  Soon guessed right that the center hatch would open into the lobby. Bureaucrats, mechanics, businessmen, and spacers swarmed past them as she studied the directory wall.

  “Where to, boss?” muttered Gander.

  “Publications, I guess. There’s no entries for Survey or Astrography.”

  He grunted, about as much enthusiasm as she could hope for, and followed her to the second-floor office.

  A chairless waiting area was separated by a counter from an array of desks. Only one clerk stood at the counter. Three natives were in line. Soon took her place behind them.

  She watched Gander wander off to scan the posters covering the walls of the waiting area. They all had bright red headlines featuring the words ‘MANDATORY’ or ‘FORBIDDEN’.

  Soon turned back to face the counter. The clerk wore a powder blue uniform jacket. There weren’t any decorations on it. Some of the clerks at the desks did have a ribbon or two on their uniforms.

  The clerk seemed determined to misunderstand everyone’s requests. It took multiple rephrasings and apologies for the other customers to get what they needed. Soon wondered if he wasn’t understanding the local accent. None of the clerks were the same ethnic type as the locals.

  Gander stepped back from the posters. “Soon, come take a look at this.”

  The clerk handed the local a form, waved him aside, and gestured impatiently to Soon. She spoke her request slowly and precisely. “I need a hard copy astrographic chart of this system as a backup. How much would that cost, please?”

  The clerk’s eyes widened. “How dare you. How dare you! I should have you arrested!”

  Soon was speechless. She’
d prepared for various responses, particularly being told this was the wrong department, but this was so far beyond her imagining she couldn’t respond.

  A painful grab on her arm snapped her around. Gander’s angry face almost touched her nose. “I told you not to talk to anyone!” he snarled.

  Soon couldn’t muster a reply to that either.

  Gander turned to the clerk and spoke in an obsequious tone. “I’m very sorry, sir. I should have been watching her more closely. What kind of trouble have her delusions caused this time?”

  “Attempting to obtain restricted information is a serious offense,” said the clerk primly.

  “Of course, sir. But she didn’t understand what she was saying. She just tries to imitate the real crew. Which is why we need to supervise her. I failed in my duty because I was trying to learn your local regulations.” Gander waved at the posters. “Please, sir. The captain will have me flogged if she’s punished for my neglect.”

  A puzzled expression crept across the clerk’s face. “Why would you have an insane crew member on your ship?”

  “Well, sir, a ship’s entertainer doesn’t need a sound mind, only a sound body.” He waved a hand at Soon’s torso.

  She bit back an indignant reply. Whatever was going on Gander understood it better than her. She held her complaints for later.

  “You outworlders and your disgusting perversions,” said the clerk. “I should never have left home. Go on, don’t let me ever see either of you again.”

  “Yes sir, thank you, sir,” said Gander.

  Soon struggled to keep her feet as Gander hauled her out of the room. In the hallway she started to ask what the hell happened, but he hissed her into silence. That continued through the elevator and lobby.

  Her first lungful of outside air felt like breathing soup. It was still a relief to be out of that building. Gander let go of her arm. Soon rubbed at the sore spot.

  “Sorry to be rough on you,” he said. “I wanted to get out fast.”

  She nodded. Bits of the encounter flashed through her mind. Most made no sense. But one piece—“Did you call me a whore?”

  “I did. Which saved you from being arrested for soliciting classified information, bribing a Censorial official, and probably resisting arrest. They always like adding resisting arrest. So say thank you.”

  “Thank you, Chief,” Soon said meekly.

  “I read the poster prohibiting the sharing of notes on space travel or observations of stellar phenomena. Sorry I don’t read faster.”

  “Thanks.”

  They walked a bit farther from the administration building. “Why would they restrict charts? They’re not blockading or patrolling. We could explore the routes ourselves. What’s the point?”

  Gander shrugged. “Bureaucratic bullshit. Keeping out everyone without the gumption to do their own survey. Hiding something off the main routes. Maybe all of those. Who knows?”

  “And trying to find out would get me arrested.”

  They approached the intersection between the lane toward the tavern and the one back toward Azure Tarn.

  “I think I owe you a beer,” said Soon. “Or ten beers.”

  They stood at the corner for a long moment, contemplating what could go wrong in an ordinary transaction at the tavern.

  Gander wiped sweat from his forehead. “Tell you what. Sweet-talk the captain into buying a keg for the ship.”

  She nodded. They turned toward the ship, walking slowly to not overheat.

  ***

  Soon’s misadventure discouraged further expeditions. Picnicking in the shade of the ship was enough fresh air for most. Vychan set up an account for deliveries, providing food good enough to eliminate one of the traditional motives for going ashore.

  The crew watched a new freighter land. It was an unfamiliar design, flat-bottomed with an oval layout. Marcus’ attention drifted back to the city. The sun was high enough to shine through the upper levels. He could see trees silhouetted at one corner.

  “We really need to find out what it’s like in there,” he said.

  “In what? The jail cells?” said Betty. Several crew laughed. Soon didn’t.

  Marcus persisted. “There have to be market opportunities. The kind of stuff a local wouldn’t notice.”

  “And traps a local wouldn’t notice,” said Gander. He’d shrugged off praise of his rescue, attributing their escape to the bureaucrat’s desire to not do extra paperwork.

  “So we start out cautious. Just walk around and look. Don’t talk to anybody.”

  The first mate was the senior officer outside. She frowned at her son. “Don’t go alone.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Alys.

  That didn’t cheer up the first mate. But when Marcus said, “Permission to go ashore, ma’am?” she nodded.

  ***

  Marcus decided “yes” and “thank you” didn’t count as talking to anyone when a freight floater offered them a lift into the city.

  “Spacers?” asked the driver. He was more tanned than most of the locals but didn’t have the burnt-dark skin of the Jaaphisii.

  “Yes. It’s our first time here,” Marcus answered.

  Alys just nodded.

  “Truly. Then go see the waterfall. Second top.” He halted the floater as it emerged from the access tunnel.

  “Thank you, we will.” The two spacers hopped off and returned the driver’s wave as he sped away.

  Alys asked, “What’s second top?”

  “Don’t know. Let’s wander until we see a waterfall.”

  She sighed and followed him across the park.

  It was a playground for the children of East Docks and the other town units surrounding it. Grass was interrupted by enough trees to climb on but not enough to keep a mother from seeing where her kid went.

  Reflected sunlight poured through the gaps between the structures. The one overhead was painted light blue on the bottom with fluffy clouds for variation. Marcus traced the lines of the building. Each corner of the one above was supported by one of the lower structures.

  “C’mon, I see an escalator.” Alys pulled at Marcus’ sleeve.

  The escalator was farther away than she’d thought. The steps were square, wide enough for four strangers or many friends. A flat approach let them step on and adjust their position to be clear of the red stripes. It carried them along the corner of East Docks.

  The pine forest painted on the building was more detailed than Marcus had realized. A cardinal sitting on a branch was taller than he was. He could distinguish individual feathers. Was it all that detailed, or just where people could see? he wondered.

  At the top the view changed from the painted bottom to the true nature of the structure. It had an open frame, not painted walls. Shops declared themselves with bright paint. Throngs of people crowded the central aisles.

  “It’s a mall,” said Alys. “Or a bazaar or something. Let’s go see what they have.”

  Marcus hung back. “I’d rather come back when we know the place better. Crowds can be trouble.”

  He turned to study the level. A belt of trees lined the windows, making a gap between the outer wall of the arcology and the blocks holding the people. None of the other structures in sight had the open frame of the bazaar. They were solid walls like the ones below, painted with nature scenes. One had the crowded foliage and bright birds of a rainforest, the other an open savannah. Windows and balconies were painted to match the murals, sometimes invisible until they were at the right angle.

  Marcus and Alys followed a walkway around the perimeter of the bazaar. The open side let them look down at the painted wall receding downward until they were walking over the park. Then another residential structure rose up to support the corner of the bazaar.

  He looked up. The building supported by the bazaar wore a mackerel-scale cloud pattern on its base. In the gap between that structure and the next he saw interlocking stacks of them rising to the top of the city.

  A local passed them
towing a stack of boxes balanced on a floater. He nodded to the couple. Marcus returned it.

  “Ardal, that’s it,” said Marcus.

  “What?”

  “The name of the interior structures,” he said, waving at the one they were walking past. “That’s what Wynny called them.”

  “Who’s Wynny?” snapped Alys.

  “The broker’s daughter. She showed Tets and me around the first night. Sharp kid. Going to be a real wheeler-dealer when she takes over the business.”

  “Is she pretty?”

  “I guess. Has the local look—oval face, long black hair.”

  Alys looked like she’d tasted something sour. “Might want to pull your history books out again. Lots of explorers got in trouble by being too friendly with the natives.”

  Marcus laughed. “It’s not like that. Nobody’s going to pay any attention to me when Tets is around. She even got to see him show off his muscles brawling.”

  She picked up her pace, leaving Marcus behind.

  He stared at the braids wound on the back of her head, wondering what he’d said wrong.

  Oh. I guess she is sweet on me. He’d wondered how serious her flirting was. Serious enough that being called a ‘nobody’ for paying attention to him offended her.

  Marcus jogged to catch up with Alys. He grabbed her elbow, pulled her around to face him, and pressed his lips to hers. “Hey. My only interest in the natives is to find out what they’ll buy so we can take a fortune home. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Alys gazed into his eyes, her hand resting on his bicep. A flush pinked her cheek.

  As they started walking again Alys snuggled into his side, sliding her arm around his waist. Marcus put his arm over her shoulders.

  He’d meant the kiss as an apology, but it seemed to mean more to her. He’d been trying not to let things go too far. His father’s lectures on fraternization were sprinkled with stories of shipboard romances gone wrong. Marcus resolved to be more careful.

  They stayed in the embrace as they went up the next escalator. The walkway around the third-level ardal widened out into a viewing platform a third of the way along the side.