Ryk E. Spoor's Blog, page 53

Castaway Planet, Chapter 5

They had set their sights on a distant star…

 

 

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Chapter 5

 

        

The unnamed star glowed before them, a visible disk, as LS-5 came out of the Trapdoor Drive. Now the next cycle of worry begins, Whips messaged to Sakura, who gave a tense, wry grin. Finding a good star was excellent luck… but we cannot live on a star.

Yeah. But let’s take one problem at a time. He saw her shove the worries out of her mind and concentrate on trying to figure out their location. We’re already moving some with respect to the star, so if I can get any parallax at all that will give me a good idea of distance. I can sorta guess based on the likely diameter of the star, probably about one and a quarter hundred million kilometers, but it could be significantly more or less than that.

Finally she shook her head and sat back. “I’ve got a rough guess as to our distance, but it’ll take a while to refine that and get a velocity vector. At a guess, we’re maybe two AU from the star.”

“I thought the star looked a lot more than Europa-sized,” Whips said. “I mean, the size the Sun looks from Europa.”

“Yeah, that was really all I had to go on, given the uncertainty in the Trapdoor transit distance. If it’s a yellow supergiant I’d be totally wrong… but I don’t see all the gas and stuff it should be shedding if it was a supergiant, and if that’s what it was we’d be pretty much out of luck anyway, so it has to be a regular G-class.”

Caroline nodded. “Besides, if it was a yellow supergiant it would have been incredibly bright at a quarter light year distance. Trust me, it’s a regular G3.”

“Why do we have to wait to get parallax?” Laura asked reasonably. “Just do a quick jump with the Trapdoor Drive.”

“We could do that,” Whips said, since he saw Sakura looking uncertain. “But the Drive doesn’t come up and go down fast; what happened to separate us from Outward Initiative is almost certainly partly due to something trying to do a fast adjustment on the field. You’re deforming spacetime itself, after all, and that’s something you need to do very, very carefully. So… in practice you don’t want to do jumps shorter than, oh, thirty seconds or so, which since that’s going to be a full continuous jump instead of one that’s interspersed with recharging moments, that’s a minimum jump of… well over seven hundred million kilometers.”

“Oh.” Laura’s brow wrinkled as she accessed the data. “Ah. That means that even the shortest practical jump covers a distance almost as far as Jupiter from the Sun.”

“Roughly, yes,” Whips agreed. “There are special drive designs that can do shorter, faster jumps, or ways to tune these for that, but…” he gave the rippling gesture of arms and color that was his equivalent of the human’s shrugs, “I’m an apprentice. I know the theory but no way am I going to try doing that in practice.”

“We wouldn’t want you to!” Sakura agreed emphatically. “So that means we need to just let our own speed give us the parallax, and then we can deploy the Nebula Drive to get us to our target.”

Whips actually looked forward to that. The “Nebula Drive”, or more technically the “dusty-plasma sail” had been originally invented by Bemmius secordii sapiens—not his direct ancestors, but the ones who’d seeded his ancestors on Europa. Human scientists such as Dr. Robert Sheldon had theorized it was possible, but it wasn’t until an ancient Bemmius relic had been uncovered and repaired that the Nebula Drive was simultaneously reborn and renamed, a method for using ionized plasma to inflate a magnetic field to immense sizes, confining dust and gas within the field and providing the most ethereally beautiful, and low-cost, way to move around a solar system.

“Can we get closer to the star?” her dad asked. “I don’t want to worry anyone, but I know the only other long-distance capability we have comes from the Nebula Drive, and that’s sort of like a solar sail, right? So I can see how it can push us away from the star, but…”

“Remember that we’re not just sitting still with respect to the star,” Whips said. “So the real key is which direction you are orbiting the star, and at what distance.”

“Right,” said Sakura, picking up the conversation, “To oversimplify, you just point your sail so you go against your orbiting direction, and that’ll make you go closer. You can tack with a dusty-plasma sail just like a regular sail. If we can find a good-sized gas giant somewhere, we can also use the gravity assist to send us in the right direction.”

Hitomi spoke up. “And we need to find a planet to land on. So we should be looking for planets now!”

Whips was impressed with his friend’s self-control, as Sakura managed to keep a smile on her face at Hitomi’s innocent assertion. Whips didn’t need to read the datastream from Sakura to know what thoughts were going through her head. There might not be a planet to land on. Probably won’t be. Only one of ten stars like this have good planets in the habitable zone—which is a whole ocean of a lot more than they used to think there would be…

Aloud, Laura Kimei said, “Hitomi’s completely right. Caroline?”

Caroline looked uncomfortable. Whips knew that she hated doing things halfway, or out of order, or, well, just not the right way—and there was nothing “right” about this situation at all.

But she sat up straighter and nodded. “The most puzzling thing to me is that this star is just not on the charts. I checked with what I had from Earth, and if we did just drop off where I think we did, there aren’t any stars where this one sits. Nothing. If there was, the big wide-baseline telescopes in our home system would have mapped any planets in detail, especially habitable ones, even if no one actually went there. But there’s nothing. This star shouldn’t be here… but it is here, and I guess we should just be grateful it is.

“But that does mean we’ve got to do all the survey work ourselves, without a single clue as to exactly what we’re looking for or where it is.” Caroline sighed, pursed her lips, then nodded again. “We’ll need to get all our omnis linked in to the different cameras and do running background comparisons. Stars don’t seem to move appreciably at orbital speeds, so what we’re looking for are dots that move with respect to the background of the stars.” She sighed. “If LS-5 were meant for this kind of work, it could run the whole comparison by itself while we slept even without the AI, but it was just meant to follow beacons to orbits and landings and take sights only when it knew pretty well what it was looking for. And when we were looking for a nearby star, well, we were looking at the few very bright stars in the sky. Planets might be pretty dim stars, especially depending on what angle we’re viewing them at.”

“Can you program the omnis to do the comparison?” Whips asked.

Caroline hesitated, then nodded. “I have a comparison program from my studies, actually. It can be transferred. But…”

“But..?” Laura Kimei prompted.

“But… well, without any benchmarks it’s going to be really hard to know what we’re looking at. Oh, you can tell the characteristic banding on a gas giant pretty easy, but how do you know if you’re seeing one that’s closer in or farther away? We don’t even know which direction we are going yet.”

“Never mind that,” Laura said firmly. “First let’s find planets. By the time we find some, I’m sure Sakura will have gotten enough data to tell us how fast we’re moving with respect to our star and we can really start nailing things down then, right?”

“Yes, mom,” Caroline said after another hesitation.

They all acquired the running comparator program a few moments later. “I’ve picked out some bright stars as landmarks,” Sakura said. “LS-5 will use those to keep our orientation the same, so each of us has our own camera to focus on and the view won’t shift.”

Maybe a silly question, Whips sent to Sakura, but what if you’ve picked a planet as one of your landmarks?

Oh, come on, Whips, don’t you think I thought of that? The transmitted voice came with a grin-symbol, so he knew she wasn’t really annoyed. I put full magnification on each one to make sure it didn’t change size and got a partial spectrum off each using Melody’s program; they’re emitters, not reflecting the local sun, so yeah, they’re all stars.

Good. He hesitated, then, You know the odds are… not good?

Yeah, she sent back after a few moments. One out of ten chance there’s a decent candidate, and then there’s the question of the biosphere. She looked at her father, who had subtle frown lines on his normally cheerful face.

He knows—better than anyone else—what those odds are.

They’re great odds… if you’re not worried that your life’s being bet on them, Sakura sent back.

That much was true, he had to concede. Out of all of the extrasolar planets found to harbor significant life, one-half had a biosphere that was, astonishingly, compatible with Earthly (and Europan) lifeforms. Why this was true was a source of spirited, not to say flamingly acrimonious, debate between biologists and allied professions. Some held that it was simply a matter of chemistry. There were only so many easily assembled building blocks of self-replicating chemistry, and the ones that Earth and Europa were based on were some of the most easily synthesized, and so it was just likely that similar lifeforms would evolve. Others had championed the old idea of Arrhenius’ “panspermia,” that life had evolved somewhere else a long time ago and been spread through the universe by light pressure or similar phenomena. But so far no one had found an unambiguous example of such spaceborne spores.

No matter the actual source, it was true that half the lifebearing planets found had compatible biospheres—although “compatible” did not in any way guarantee it was safe, or even easily digestible. The other half… were not compatible and generally lethal. And vice versa, of course—an animal of those biospheres eating me would likely die in agony.

So… one chance in twenty, then. We beat odds like that all the time in those card games.

Sure, agreed Sakura, darkly. But if we lose this game we won’t be starting another.

Little Hitomi grew bored of the comparator fairly quickly and drifted through the air to start climbing on Whips, playing with her stuffed flying wolf along the way. Whips sighed, but tolerated it. He was bigger than everyone else, so she’d bother him less than the others. Besides, there was more of him for her to climb on. He quickly found he could keep her amused by wiggling his rear anchors gently so she had to hold on—and sometimes came off to drift away, so Hitomi had to bounce her way back, giggling.

It was still somewhat distracting, but he was able to focus on the comparator data. The running comparator would flick back and forth between images in the field of view of interest, and kept the original images as the start point while constantly updating the second image with new data. Any planets, then, would show an increasing oscillation as the images flicked between original and new images.

“One here!” crowed Akira suddenly. “Definitely moving back and forth!”

“Wonderful, Dad!” Caroline said. “Show me!” She studied it for a moment. “All right, Sakura, I’ll need our full magnification on that location for a minute.”

“Hold on… I’ll rotate us. Okay, there, we’re steady.”

The built-in telescopic optics in the forward imaging system gave Caroline a high-quality image to look at. “Ohh, how pretty!“ she said a moment later, and projected the picture onto the forward screen for everyone to see.

Whips had to admit it was quite pretty, even to his perceptions, which weren’t quite the same as those of his human friends. It was a good thing they had displays which actually emit the intended wavelengths, instead of that old human red-green-blue system; or he’d only be able to make out shapes in those displays.

In the projected image floated a slightly flattened sphere, banded with rippled stripes of startlingly bright colors. Based on what he knew of human perceptions, they ranged from bright red through purple and even some definite green, though he’d use different names for the colors back home. “That seems even more spectacular than Jupiter. What is it with all those colors?”

Caroline shook her head absently. “So many possibilities. Though I looked at the spectrum of the star, and this planet, and I’m pretty sure this system’s got more heavy elements in it than ours. So it might be a higher concentration of complex compounds in the atmosphere.”

“Well, that’s one gas giant,” Laura said. “We need to find others, presumably closer to the star. Sakura, have we gotten enough parallax to estimate distance?”

“I think so.” His friend stared vacantly into air for a moment, seeing her own display. “Um, yeah. Looks like we’re just a hair over one point two AU from the primary, which refines all my other estimates!”

“Where’s the Goldilocks Zone?” asked Hitomi, startling them.

“I’ll tell you in a second,” Caroline said, but Melody, who’d been mostly silent, interjected, “Centered at one hundred thirty-seven million kilometers.”

Caroline looked at Melody. “How –”

“Well, I’d brought up the data on calculating it earlier, so I just caught Sakura’s data and threw it in.”

“So what’s the Goldilocks Zone?” asked Hitomi.

“You remember the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears?” Sakura asked. When Hitomi nodded, Sakura went on, “Well, then, the Goldilocks Zone is the region around the star that’s ‘just right’—not too close and hot, not too far and cold—for planets like Earth.”

“Oh! That makes sense!”

“Sakura, my measurements agree with yours,” said Caroline. “If that’s the case, then Whips and Mom have the best views of that region, at least where we currently are. But some of the Zone is going to be out of sight or hard to differentiate behind the primary.”

         “Let’s allow the system to accumulate more movement,” Akira suggested, “and take a break. The bathroom’s fortunately able to accommodate a Bemmie, as they made all the shuttles from the same design, so why don’t you take a turn if you need it, Whips?”

He had been feeling that need, so he flickered gratitude at the black-haired Akira Kimei. “I will, thank you!”

The others took their turns once he came out, and in the meantime he took a long drink of water and added some salts. He didn’t say anything, but he caught Mr. Kimei looking at him with grave concern. Since Laura had the girls helping her to put a dinner together, he drifted over to Akira. “Don’t worry, sir.”

“It’s not terribly dry in here, is it?”

“Not too bad, Mr. Kimei.”

Akira Kimei shook his head. “Laura is working out a treatment.”

Whips had no doubt that Laura Kimei was trying—and probably would succeed. But… “Sir… Mr. Kimei… if we’re out here very long, we’re probably not going to live anyway. The fact that I’m drying out… well, I’ll stop needing rations –”

“Stop that right now, Harratrer!” The use of his real name made him stiffen, just as he might if his mother were there. “We are all getting out of this, or none of us.”

“Sometimes one must leave the Pod for it to survive,” he said, quoting one of the oldest rules.

“In this case, if we can’t find a world to live on, none of us will. So don’t worry about it.”

He had to admit that Mr. Kimei had a good point, so he rippled his arms in a “you win” gesture, and went over to see about dinner. He might as well stay as well as he could until they knew if there was hope… or none.

 

 

 

 

Paradigms Lost: Chapter 46

Now we come to the end of this adventure.. and the end of the snippets of Paradigms Lost! I hope you’ve enjoyed them.  If you can’t wait to read the rest, the eARC is now available at Baen Books!

 

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Chapter 46: Explanations

“I must confess, Jason, that there are a few things which remain unclear to me.”

Rebuilding Verne’s mansion was taking some time. It had also taken a lot of fast talking to keep Jeri from poking her nose too far in; even though the mansion was relatively isolated, the battle between the half-demonic things which the Colonel had employed and Verne’s household had been more than loud enough to draw a lot of attention. Now, a week later, we were meeting in the repaired living room.

Verne was back to his old, debonair self, black hair glistening sleekly in the lamplight, dark eyes as intense and deep as they ever were. “Firstly, Jason, how did all the people gain entrance without us knowing of them?”

“Since the house was bugged,” I answered, reaching out for an hors d’oeuvre and wincing slightly from the pain in my arms, “Ed and the others heard me come in. Then, when I said to shut down all the electrical power in the house, that took out the alarm systems. Your own personal alarms—mystical ones—weakened along with you, of course. I’d presume that they had some ability to subvert magical wards as well. And of course once the shooting started, none of us would’ve noticed an alarm much anyways.”

Verne nodded. “True enough. In my condition, I wouldn’t have noticed much, nor cared, I admit. Now, second… Lady Sylvia.”

Syl grinned from ear to ear. “It was almost worth being kidnapped by those things to see the expressions on your faces. Jason, dear, you try to take me seriously, but like so many people—men and women—you look at my gypsy facade and my crystal earrings and pendants and forget what I really am.” She paused. “So did they. They really didn’t search me at all; I didn’t resist much except to scream and struggle a bit. Then when they had me locked away …” for a moment her face had a grim expression on it, one I’d never seen before; I wasn’t sure I liked it. “… I prepared myself, and then I… left.”

“Indeed, milady. But how?”

“You trust my visions. So do I. That’s because I’m not a fake.”

I remembered Elias Klein dropping me in agony because the touch of a rock-crystal amulet burned him. I thought about what that meant.

So did Verne. “My apologies, milady.”

“No apologies needed, Verne. You saw me as I prefer to be seen; a somewhat airheaded, gentle mystic with no taste for war and a hint of the Talent. But when my friends are in danger, I’m not as gentle as I look. The truth is that they weren’t ready for a real magician, even a very minor one. And that was fatal.” She looked ill for a moment.

“It’s okay, Syl,” I said.

She looked up at me. “You’re not too shocked?”

“It’ll take a little readjustment, I guess. But not that much. You carry a gun. I’ve known that you’re smart enough not to carry something unless you were sure you could use it if you had to. So I shouldn’t have been surprised that you’d be able to fight in other ways, too. I’m glad it still bothers you, though. As long as we’re both bothered by it, we’re still human.”

Verne nodded solemnly. “Killing is a part of life at times. But it is when we come to accept it as a matter of course that we give up a part of our souls.”

“I have a few questions of my own,” I said. “Kafan, what were those words you said that made the Colonel back up?”

Kafan glanced at Verne, who inclined his head slightly. “Well, ‘Shevazherana’ is the name of that sword my Master gave me, the one Verne kept after I disappeared. It means… Dragontooth, Dragon Fang, something like that. The other word, ‘Tor’… it is the name for the method of combat that I was taught. Why, exactly, it scares demons, I don’t know, but it does.”

Verne shrugged. “It was the technique of combat used by the Royal Family of Atlantaea and their guardians. And demons had good reason to fear that family’s vengeance after the fall of Atlantaea. And the one who taught you… oh, there’s good reason for them to fear anyone who knows that word.”

All of us could see that Verne might know more, but wasn’t going to speak. I decided I’d delved into more than enough unspeakable mysteries in the past few weeks. This one I’d leave alone. “When you were fighting the Colonel, you…” I paused, “you seemed to not move, but move, if you know what I mean.”

Kafan smiled. “You mean, teleported. Yes, I can do that. In combat I can do it very quickly, to anywhere I can see or directly sense. Out of combat I can go much farther, to anywhere I have been often enough to have… well, call it a sense of what the place is really like.”

“So my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. Still, that’s a hell of a power to have.”

“And not one I recall you having to such an extent in the old days, Kafan.”

For an instant there was a flicker of that dead black look, but it disappeared, leaving Kafan simply looking cautious. “No, I didn’t, Father. But I can’t talk about why, not now anyway.”

“No problem. I do have one other general question,” I said.

“Only one? Dear me, Jason, then I must have already said far too much!” Verne said, relaxing.

I laughed. “No, seriously. You’ve often mentioned, offhandedly, things about ‘other worlds’ and how somehow magic was removed or sealed away. I guess my question is… where is the magic? And will it come back?”

He looked thoughtful. “This is not the first time I have considered that question, Jason. To put it simply, magic exists everywhere to at least some very small extent, but its focal point, if you will, is a single world. Why such a truly cosmic force should be so focused I do not know—I never studied magical theory, and the reasons behind such a phenomenon were probably only really understood by a handful of the wizards of Atlantaea.

“However, there was a link—a conduit, one might say—between that world and Earth. Kerlamion and his forces either severed or blocked the conduit. If severed, it might well act as would a similar item in the real world, spraying its cargo of power out into the ‘area,’ if one could use such a term, of the break. Where that would be, of course, is a question far beyond my ability to answer. If it was sealed, on the other hand, the power has been building up behind the blockage. Perhaps there is some maximum which is already reached, and thus the barrier will remain unless something breaches it; or, perhaps, eventually enough pressure, so to speak, will build up and shatter even the Seal placed by the Lord of Demons.”

I thought for a moment. “So, to summarize, ‘I haven’t a clue’ is your answer.”

Syl gave an unladylike snort that turned into a fit of coughing; she’d been just taking a sip of tea when I skewered Verne. As I apologized, the others finished laughing. I sat back in my chair, feeling a crinkle of paper that reminded me of something.

“Oh, Verne, I’ve got something for you.” I handed him the check.

He stared at it. “Jason, I appreciate that you wish to repay me, but we’re hardly done yet. Besides, after what I know you’ve spent, I know you cannot possibly afford this.”

I grinned. “It sure shows that you’ve been too busy to keep up with events lately, or you’d have seen the news articles on it. Verne, I’m rich now.”

“What?”

I opened up the paper. “Take a look. After the Morgantown Incident, werewolf paranoia showed up everywhere. And since there’s only one known way to detect the things, lots of people started making Wood’s Werewolf Sensors or whatever they wanted to call them, including the Feds. Well, a little pushing from the right lawyers – and the President – and the Patent Office recognized that I’d done the design work and owned the rights to every version of the thing being produced. In exchange for a real generous licensing deal to allow them any number of the sensors for government use, the Fed made sure that the private sector manufacturers coughed up the bucks real fast and either got out of the business… or started licensing from me. I’m probably going to have quite a substantial income for a long time to come.”

“Truly it’s an ill wind that blows no good, Jason. Even Virigar has brought something good out of his visit. My congratulations.”

“Speaking of those things, have they actually proven to be of any use?”

“According to government sources—who naturally don’t want to be talked about—a number of, um, ‘paranatural security breaches’ were detected through its use and related approaches. That’s one reason they’re very happy to work with me.”

“So all’s well, then.” Verne said. “It is well done with.”

“We’re not done yet,” I said. “There’s still the question of Senator MacLain. And of Kay and your daughter.”

Kafan nodded, lips tight.

Verne smiled. “True, Jason. Yet I have confidence that we will find a way to deal with these things. The Lady is with me again. I have friends. I have my son.

“Faith, friends, and family, Jason. What more do any of us need?”

 

 

 

 

 

Polychrome Chapter 19

And at last our Hero is ready to really start on his adventure!

 

 

—–

 

 

 

Chapter 19.

     Polychrome danced lightly through the corridors of the Palace, out the gateway, and laughed. For there were gathered all the people of the Rainbow Kingdom, from the smallest child to the eldest of the wise old women, all gathered to see the Hero off. Far, far away, down the Way of Light that ran from the dawn to the sunset, she could see the tiny figures of Erik and Nimbus, and the much larger shape of her father against the brilliance of the rising sun.

The crowd saw her and gave a cheer; she blushed. I don’t know why I am so popular compared to my sisters. But for some reason I am. Thank the Above that the seven of them aren’t too envious. She gave a laugh and a spin, and then leapt up to dance lightly over the assembled people, feet touching as gently as a breath of morning mist on each of the upraised hands that rose to provide her a path to the beginning of the Way.

“A good morning to you, Princess.” Nimbus said as she arrived.

“Bright sunshine and only clouds of glory, yes.” She smiled back, then said with a touch of sadness, “I only wish Cirrus were here.”

A shadow passed over Nimbus’ face, and her father looked solemn. “Indeed. He knew on what errand you had gone, and it was his greatest wish to see this day. Well, possibly his second-greatest.”

No need for this now. “Well, let us hope he watches us with the Above.”

“So we shall,” Iris Mirabilis said quietly, and then raised his voice so that it rolled sonorously over the entire crowd, “for today we begin the liberation of our brethren; today the Hero of Prophecy sets forth!”

There was a mighty cheer. We have all waited for this day, waited for long enough that even we wondered if this would ever come. She turned to Erik, whose cheeks now flamed red in embarrassment, but who stood tall and straight and faced the crowd, and she laughed suddenly. “And you look every bit the part!” she cried with delight, clapping her hands.

“What? Don’t joke with me about that, Poly.” He was trying to maintain a properly respectful and determined expression, but his voice was that of someone being presented an award for someone else’s work.

“Joke? Have you never looked at yourself?” She gestured and danced, the Music of the Spheres chiming about her in happy laughter, and called the air and warmth and light to do her bidding, formed a mirage-mirror in front of the mortal.

It was fortunate that from behind the mirage blurred his form, because the expression of disbelief would have been a comical and perhaps inappropriate sight for this particular day.

For this day Erik was dressed in the final and finest armor the artisans could create, a creation of cloud-metals and crystals of blue and gold with touches of sunset crimson. The helm was light, almost a circlet or crown rather than a helmet, but it did the older mortal a service in hiding the retreat of his hairline. His shoulders were wide, waist narrow, dark brows emphasizing the glint of blue eyes, and over his shoulder the tall hilt of a mighty sword projected. A small pack, a few other small pouches or containers about his waist, but little else to mar the clean lines of the armored figure. He’s very different than he was when I first brought him here, she thought, remembering the oddly-dressed, somehow soft-looking man who had searched for some Earthly beauty amidst the clutter of his lonely rooms. And yet, she mused, seeing how he looked at himself with wonder and then at her as though she had wrought the change, maybe he hasn’t changed much at all. Maybe he – and we – are only seeing the man who could have been there all along.

The Little Pink Bear was there as well, almost invisible in a carrying pouch at Iris’ side. Now the tiny stuffed creature climbed stiffly out and marched to Erik, who knelt down to view the Pink Bear eye to eye. “I wish you good luck,” the Bear said in his high-pitched childish voice. “I cannot see the end of your road, Hero.”

“It’s okay,” he said, so quietly that none in the crowd could have heard it. “I won’t let you down. I’ll beat them, somehow. And as long as I do that, what happens at the end… I’m okay with it.”

The little Bear bowed stiffly, and Iris picked him back up. “All of our good wishes and our prayers go with you, Erik Medon.” The Rainbow Lord stretched out his hand, and from the very end of the Way a brilliant Rainbow stretched, out and down and down and down, its end coming to rest somewhere in Faerie. Only Iris and Erik knew exactly where that was, although since she was guiding him down the Rainbow she thought she’d probably figure it out, if he didn’t tell her. “Go, and may the Above guide and protect you, your courage uphold you, and your strength never fail you.”

Erik simply bowed, apparently feeling that he had no words to say. But then he turned to the crowd and in a single movement unsheathed the great sword, holding it over his head in a single hand, the immense blade blazing in the morning sun. “For Faerie!”

The roar of the crowd was as deafening as summer thunder, as powerful and joyous as a downpour after a drought, and Polychrome felt a tiny sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. He does understand the power of his symbols.

As dramatically as he had unsheathed the blade, he returned it to its sheath with a theatrical spinning flourish and then bowed low to her. “Lady Polychrome, would you lead the way?”

“With pleasure, Lord Erik.” She waved gaily to the people, who gave another cheer, and began to dance her way along the Rainbow. Erik gave a last wave of his own and then strode after her, keeping pace with her light-footed dance with a straight-forward, almost military rhythm that lent purpose and power to even his simple exit.

It was many minutes before the cheers faded behind them, but slowly they did, and after an hour there was nothing but the gently-curving Rainbow beneath them and sky and clouds around them, with the dim mass of Earth below.

“You have the Jewel of the Bridge?”

He grinned and pulled the glittering crystal that her father had made to bring his Rainbow Bridge through the Great Barrier that separated Oz from the rest of Faerie from his belt. “Never left my side since he gave it to me.”

“Good.” She wondered if she should tell him that her father said that as long as he carried it, they could also watch him, using her father’s powers. Probably not; after all, they wouldn’t be able to do anything, only watch. “My father says that the Jewel will also serve as a Letter of Introduction to any of the true rulers of any of the Faerie kingdoms,” she said instead.

“I admit that’s a relief. I have a suspicion that despite the nice open way Faerie was depicted by Baum, some random guy walking into a king’s throne room and saying ‘Hi, the Rainbow Lord sent me down, would you care to give me some help defeating the conquerers of Oz’ might not get a completely positive reception.”

She giggled, and the Music chimed around her. “No, I think you’re right about that.” She saw him tilt his head and grin. “What?”

“Oh, the music. It’s just so neat how you Faerie have sort of a living soundtrack. Though I notice that it’s not all of your people that have it.”

She shook her head. “Only those of us with a lot of true Faerie blood. It gets fainter and fainter as one becomes more mortal.”

“Still, it’s pretty neat.” They walked along in the near-perfect silence of the sky for some moments. “Hey, Poly – something I’m curious about. You guys mentioned Cirrus, Nimbus’ second in command. If this was his second-greatest wish, what was his first?”

He would have picked up on that. She found herself unaccountably hesitant. “Well…”

“If it’s something you can’t talk about –”

“No, no… well, it’s just that…” She took a deep breath. It’s just a simple question and answer, why do you have a problem with this? “We were betrothed, and Nimbus was just saying that our wedding day might have been Cirrus’ greatest wish.” It hurt to talk about it. But not exactly the way she had thought it might.

He blinked, looking both startled and shocked. “You were engaged to be married? I didn’t… Holy crap, I’m sorry, Poly, you never told me this guy was someone you were in love with! I mean, you never showed how upset you must’ve been…”

Now she felt really uncomfortable. “No, no, Erik, it’s… not quite like that. I liked Cirrus, really, I did. And I’m sad he’s gone, he was very sweet. Very kind, and a very good warrior and a good friend, and I’ve said a lot of prayers for him over the past year. But… I wasn’t in love with him. Father simply felt that it was time for the next generation to begin.”

“Hmph. I didn’t think of Iris as a sexist pig.”

“A what?” For a moment she couldn’t even understand what he was saying, then she managed to dredge sense out of it in the context of some of her other conversations with Erik over the last year. “No, no. It’s policy, Erik. If I was a boy, he’d have chosen one of the court ladies. Nimbus was his first choice, actually, but Nimbus refused – and by the morning mist did that make things uncomfortable for a while.”

Erik’s expression was unreadable, though he had an odd smile for a moment. “I would think it would be. That’s a real ‘offer you can’t refuse’.” Again, as with so many things, it was clear he was referencing something she had no background for. “Nimbus doesn’t look crazy, so what was his reason for refusing?”

“He said that his responsibility was to serve the Rainbow Lord, and that if he married anyone he’d have two people to serve.” Privately, Polychrome thought that the reason was simpler: he didn’t want to marry anyone for anything but love, and not being a prince or princess, he didn’t have to.

“So you don’t get to choose?”

She shook her head. “It’s not common.”

He was silent for a while, occasionally glancing at her with that same hooded look. The glances did give her another subject to talk about, though. “You know, you were right. You do look much better without those glasses. I’m glad father was able to do that for you.”

“Oh, you have no idea what that means to me!” he said with a clearly relieved expression. “I’d tried to have them fixed back home, but the treatments we had… well, they told me my eyes didn’t qualify. Which reminds me…”

He withdrew the thick-lensed glasses from the pack he carried and stared at them. “I’ve wanted to do this for forty years.”

With a sudden violent motion, he hurled the glasses into space; they disappeared into a nearby cloud, then reappeared beneath them, a tiny speck plummeting to an unknown doom. Erik gave a whoop and leap of joy. “HA! Abayo, you stupid pieces of glass!”

She laughed at his joy. “You really disliked them that much?”

“As I said, you have no idea.” He grinned. “When I was a kid, people made fun of my just HAVING them. And in practical terms, they were just a pain.” He strode on, still smiling. “And for this sort of situation… they were kind of a symbol.”

She danced along, an answering smile on her face. “I’m glad.”

Erik looked at her face for a moment, his smile brighter.

She became aware that for some moments they had simply continued moving, looking at each other in silence. That’s dangerous, she thought, and wondered what in the name of the Above she meant by that. Still, she felt it was terribly important she say something.”So for once a mortal knew where the Rainbow would end before the Rainbow Lord, I understand?”

“What?” He seemed distracted for a moment, then nodded. “Oh, yes. Yeah, I had to decide where I was going to start. So much time, so little to do – wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it.” That slightly-lopsided grin again. “Fortunately, the prophecy clearly tells me where to go. ‘Across the sky and sea, wisdom he will seek’. Follow that path, and I’ll also get the companions and the means to cross the Deadly Desert.”

She paused in the dance to stare at him. “From that line, you know where you’re going?”

He laughed. “From that one and the ones following? Most certainly.” He looked down. “And it looks like we’re almost there.”

Below were bare, rocky hills, mountains rising to the south and west; she seemed to recall seeing the ocean as they were descending, off to the East, which would mean the great Nonestic Ocean. One of the coastal countries. Can’t be sure yet – I’ll look more carefully when I go back up. “Be careful. The last part of the bow is… tricky for a mortal.”

“You forget who you’re talking to.” He grinned, and she noticed that he was simply setting his feet down a little harder and creating miniature steps, notches in the normally impervious mystical substance of the Rainbow. In a few more moments, he stepped to the ground, the stones crunching faintly under his feet. “Well… I guess… this is goodbye.”

“Yes.” She found herself unable to say anything else, yet not quite able to just start dancing back up the Rainbow. “Will you… do you think you’ll be all right? Will you be able to find your way… get across the Desert?”

Oddly, he did not answer right away. Instead, he asked, “Poly… I know I have to cross the Desert on my own, even without these companions I’m supposed to find. And I might not live through that. But… if I do… If I get to Oz…” He took a deep breath. “Will I see you again on that side, before the battle that… well, will probably be my last?”

She laughed, but for some reason his words, spoken so low and earnestly, caused an ache inside for a moment. “Father wanted me to stay safely at home. But I told him that if he didn’t let me go with Nimbus and the others, I’d find my own way there without him. I saw everything fall, Erik. I’m not going to stand back and not even be there when everyone else is fighting. I’m going to be there. You’ll see me there.” She laid her hand on his. “I promise.”

His eyes lit up, gaze locked on hers and she felt a strange shiver go down her back as he gently put his other hand on hers. “In that case, Lady Polychrome… there is nothing I cannot do.”

With an extravagant bow over her hand, he turned and walked to the East.

 

 

 

Paradigms Lost: Chapter 45

 

Jason had one more idea to try…

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 45: That Future is Past

Morgan opened the door, startled as I pushed past him without so much as a “hello.” “Master Jason… ?”

I looked around, shrugged, jogged into the living room and climbed up on a chair. Verne was in that room, staring at me curiously out of hollow eyes set in a leathery, lined face and framed by pure white hair. “J… Jason,” he said slowly, as I mumbled a curse to myself and dragged the chair over a bit, “what… are you doing?”

“Maybe making a fool of myself.”

I reached up and unscrewed one of the bulbs from the fixture and pulled the fixture itself towards me. Everything looked normal …

The other lights on the fixture went out. Morgan stood near the switch. “Perhaps, if you are intending on tinkering with the lighting, you may wish the electricity off, sir.”

“Thanks, Morgan.” I said absently. Pulling out a small screwdriver, I unfastened the interior baseplate of the fixture.

There. Underneath the base. I didn’t know what it was… but in essence, I did. “Morgan, you said it. Kill the electricity—all the electricity in the house! Now!”

“Sir… ?” Morgan only hesitated for a moment, then hurried off towards the basement and the main breakers. I switched on the flashlight; a moment later the house was plunged into darkness.

“What… what is going on, Jason?” Verne asked.

“I was right all along, Verne,” I said. Morgan entered; he had a much larger portable light. “You might even want to shut off that light, Morgan. Go with candles, unless you bought that light in the last few days.” I turned back to Verne. “It wasn’t magic. It was technology that was killing you. Every one of your lights, and maybe even some other devices, is fitted with a gadget that turns ordinary light into the kind of light that hurts you; my guess is it’s managing to get filaments to spike high enough temperatures to radiate UV somehow, along with everything else; cuts their lifetime down a lot, but they only need this to work for a few months. In the short term, it can’t damage you, but with enough exposure …”

“… yes.” Verne said slowly. “It… it becomes like a slow cancer, eating away at me. But even in the day, when I sleep in darkness?”

“Probably a device in those rooms does the same thing. If, as I suspect, it’s not just one wavelength of light but a combination of them, it probably can’t do enough in darkness to continue hurting you during the day, but it could slow your recovery so that you’d always be getting damaged more than you were healing during your rest. Especially if the really critical wavelengths are combinations of ultraviolet and infrared.”

“How did you know?”

“There were a lot of clues, but the biggest one—that didn’t register until almost too late—was that the few times you were outside of your house you actually started to look a tiny bit better. But when you and Sylvie couldn’t find anything, I was stumped… until I remembered that coincidence is damn unlikely.”

We both thought for a moment. “I must confess, Jason, that I don’t quite understand.” Verne said finally. His voice was slightly steadier already, testament to the tremendous recuperative powers that were his, and I started to relax slightly. It looked like I might be right. No, I knew I was.

“Take both your stories. Let’s say that they’re both true. Well, to kill you, someone would have to know what you are, exactly. Maybe one of your old enemies, right? Who else would know precisely how you could be killed subtly, without alerting everyone for miles around? But this happened just as Kafan showed up, so that’s not coincidence either.

“So what if the lab Raiakafan escaped from was being run by the same people who were your enemies, Verne?”

“Impossible,” Verne breathed. “After all this time …”

“But it would explain everything. And there’s evidence for it. Raiakafan himself—if your enemies didn’t have a hand in this, how else? You survived all these years, they certainly could have. And another thing, one that’s bothered us both for quite a while: Klein. Where the hell did he come from? Only another vampire—of the kind made by one of your enemies, note—could create him. And what did he do? He set you up, that’s what—tried to get you killed off! Somebody knew where you were, and what you were! Somebody who knew that converting Klein would give them a weapon to entrap you, and they damn near succeeded. If Virigar hadn’t shown up, I suspect there would have been another attack on your life.” I took another breath, continued, “And look at the timing. Klein showed up sporting a new set of fangs, if my calendar’s right, a few weeks after Kafan whacked the good doctor. They knew who Kafan really was, and they knew where he was coming.”

“Very good, Mr. Wood.”

I knew that voice. “And Ed Sommer’s business started about the same time. Funny thing, that, Ed. Digging into your background produced some fascinating blanks.”

Ed was holding a large-caliber gun—.44, I guessed—pointed at us. While ordinary bullets wouldn’t hurt Verne and probably not Morgan, either, none of us expected that he would be using ordinary bullets. For me, of course, the point was moot; if you fired a wad of gum at the speed of a bullet it’d still probably kill me. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, Jason. If we hadn’t been watching the house constantly the past couple of days, you might have blown the whole thing. We wanted him,” he nodded at Verne, “to go unconscious before we actually moved.”

“How very convenient for you that I happened to decide on remodeling at just the right time.” Verne tried to deliver the lines in his usual measured and iron-sure way, but his weakening had gone far past the point that a mere effort of will would banish it.

“Convenient, but hardly necessary. Morgan, down on the floor. Once we’d tested to make sure that our precautions rendered us invisible to your casual inspection, the installation could have been made at any time. More dangerous and risky, but no major enterprise is without risk. And after we began remodeling, the whole house was wired in more than one way. It would have been a lot easier if our… subcontract that sent Klein over had worked out, but hey, measure once, cut twice, right?” He smiled. “We learned a great deal recently. It does bother me about Kafan’s new identity. Why anyone would take that much interest in this case is a matter for concern. But not for you.” Ed shifted his aim directly to Morgan and, to my horror, began to squeeze the trigger.

Weakened and sick Verne might have been, but when it came to the life of his friend and oldest retainer all his supernal speed must have come back. There was movement, a blur that fogged the darkened air between Ed and Morgan for a split second; then Ed Sommer was hurled backwards into the front stairwell with an impact that shook the house. The gun vanished somewhere in the darkness.

Then the lights came on. There must have been more of Ed’s people in the house. Caught in the light again, I could see Verne sag slightly.

From the ruined wood there came a curse, but that wasn’t the voice of a human being. A monstrous figure tore its way out of the wreckage, a hideous cross between man, lizard, and insect. Humanoid in form, scaled and clawed and with patches of spiked, glistening armor from which hung the tattered remains of Ed’s clothing. “A good final effort, Sh’ekatha,” the Ed-thing hissed. “But foredoomed to failure.”

While it was focused on Verne, I had time to draw my own gun. Its gaze shifted towards me just as I got a bead on it.

BlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlam! I emptied a full ten rounds into the monstrosity. The impacts staggered it, battering at critical areas until it toppled backwards. “Run!” I shouted. Verne and Morgan were already moving, and I ejected the magazine and slammed in a fresh one as I sprinted after them. A single glance had sufficed to show me that the bullets hadn’t done any notable damage. “Just once I’d like to find something I can shoot and kill, like any normal person!”

Verne staggered down the basement steps, to be caught by something indescribable that tried to rip him apart; Morgan intervened, shoving the interloper through a nearby wall with unexpected strength. “Keep going, sir!” he said over his shoulder as he kept his attention on his adversary. Distantly we could hear other things smashing; the rest of the household must be under attack now as well!

“Damn you, Jason!” I heard a distant voice roar as we pried open the door to the Heart. “This was supposed to be a subtle operation!” Massive feet thundered down the stairs behind us.

The door swung open; I shoved Verne through and stepped through myself, pulling the door shut as a huge shadow rushed towards me. Just before it reached us, though, the door swung shut and I twisted the lock. The impact on the other side shook rock dust from the tunnel ceiling.

“It will not stop him for long, Jason,” Verne forced out.

“A little time’s better than none.”

I’d seen the Heart only once before, as a sort of postscript to Verne’s story; here, as before, things seemed quieter; like a summer forest in midafternoon, lazy, sleepy, silent. In the center of the large cavern, a perfectly circular pool of pure water shimmered in the light, blue as the vault of heaven. At the far side, a squat obelisk of black obsidian. The Mirror of the Sky and the Heartstone. Hanging on that far wall was some kind of sheath or casing.

I became aware I was gasping for breath, realizing only then that Verne hadn’t really been running; that I’d been dragging him along instead. Even here, in the place most sacred to him, he had no strength any more. Technology was winning the battle.

A rending, shattering sound echoed down the corridor as I dragged Verne to the pool’s far side and dropped him to rest against the obelisk. Slow, measured footfalls clicked down the tunnel. The snake-headed monster that had called itself “Ed Sommer” entered the room, smiling at me. “Too bad about you, Jason. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I didn’t say anything; I couldn’t afford to waste my breath.

“Tired?” it asked cheerfully as it continued towards me. “Well, it will be over soon enough.”

As long as he was moving slowly, with full control, I didn’t have a chance. “At least I know you’re not going to survive me by much, Ed or whatever your name is.”

The slit-pupilled eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I found the location of your laboratory tonight. My TERA-5 got lucky and matched patterns. And if I don’t send the ‘no-go’ code within a couple of weeks, the system I stored the info in will dump the location and all the info I have on the lab’s operations into every intelligence agency and scientific forum on the planet. It’ll be a lot easier to pry the kid and the mother away from a bunch of squabbling agencies than from one group of demonic crossbreeds with a unified purpose.”

The lie worked; it fit perfectly with what they knew of my capabilities, and if I had found the location, was precisely what I would’ve done if I had no other choices. The giant figure charged forward. “I’ll have that code out of you if I have to rip it out of your heart!”

Jesus he was fast! Fast as Klein! But with him charging, everything changed. I jumped up onto the Heartstone and lunged to meet the Ed-thing just as he leapt towards us across the Mirror of the Sky.

The impact stunned me, and I felt at least three armored spikes go deep into my arms, but I held on. My momentum had mostly canceled his, and the two of us plummeted directly into the deceptively deep pool below.

A detonation of leaf-green light nearly blinded me as the entire pool lit up like an emerald spotlight; surges of energy whipped through me and I came close to blacking out. Boiling water fountained up and I was flung outward to strike with numbing force on the altar, shocked, parboiled, and aching. Electrical arcs danced around the edge of the water, then spat outwards, shattering the lightbulbs across half the room. A roar of agony echoed from the depths of the Mirror of the Sky. Then the boiling subsided, the eerie green light faded away. Blinking away spots, I looked down. A few pieces of spiky armor, bubbling and dissolving away like Easter Egg dye pellets, were all that remained.

“One more guess confirmed.” My voice, not surprisingly, shook. I reached down and retrieved my gun from where I’d dropped it near the Heartstone.

Verne gave a very weak chuckle. “If they were my enemies, they would be the very antithesis of the power I wielded. Yes?”

“I hoped so.”

Another voice spoke from the entranceway. “And you were quite correct.”

I felt my jaw go slack as I looked across. “Oh… oh damn. You’re dead.”

In the bright lights that remained, the Colonel, resplendent in his uniform, walked towards us. “As is oft-quoted, reports of my death were greatly exaggerated. Kafan, poor boy, didn’t realize precisely what I was, so he only damaged my body. As you learned,” and suddenly, without any visible pause, he was there, taking the gun from my hand with irresistable force, “ordinary weapons are rather useless against us. Tearing out my throat was an inconvenience, easily remedied. But it seemed more convenient to appear to die and hope he’d lead us to the other two children, rather than just keep fighting him.” Despite all my struggles, he picked me up and tied me up with rope he had slung over his shoulder. A casual kick from him sent Verne sprawling. “Now we can fix things. Pity about Ed, though. Rather promising in some ways, but a trifle dense. If only I’d been a moment sooner… good bluff, boy. But your mind is a bit transparent.” He set me down on the Heartstone and groped under his uniform. “Now where… ah, there it is.” His hand came back into view, holding a long, sharp, crystalline knife. He smiled.

I couldn’t maintain my usual facade of confidence here. I swallowed, tried to speak, found that my throat had gone completely dry.

“Don’t bother trying to speak. You see, a ritual sacrifice on this stone will negate its very nature, ending the power of this shrine, which is quite painful to me, and in his weakened condition it should also destroy the priest. So you, by virtue of your very bad fortune, shall be the one through which we cleanse the world of the last trace of Eonae and her nauseating priests.”

“So why are you bothering to tell me?” I managed to get out. “Just a melodramatic villain with a long-winded streak?”

He laughed at that, a cheerful sound all the more macabre because it was so unforced and honest. “Why, not at all; a purely practical reason, I assure you. You see, fear, despair, and the anticipation of death are part of what strengthens the ritual. They are antidotes to life and endurance and all the other things that this shrine represents. The more I allow you to muse upon your end, the more you see your friends weakened and destroyed, the stronger my final sacrifice will be. If it were just a matter of killing you, I’d have had you shot from behind weeks ago.” The blade rested on my Adam’s apple, pricking my skin coldly. He drew a line down my throat. I felt a warm trickle of blood start. “And your little seer friend, the girl… she, also, has a part to play in this.”

“She’ll see you for what you are, and get away.”

“I think not. We had her caught earlier this evening, actually. I was anticipating the priest’s incapacitation this morning.” He raised the knife, brought it towards my right wrist.

A blurred motion swept past me, taking the Colonel away in that instant. A confused set of motions later, the Colonel and the blur separated and stopped.

The Colonel regarded Kafan with tight-lipped amusement. “I must confess I didn’t expect you quite yet.”

Kafan answered in Vietnamese; the two squared off. “What do you hope to accomplish, boy?” the Colonel asked. “You failed the last time. What is the point of fighting me again?”

I began wiggling my hand towards my Swiss Army knife. If I could just get it out…

“This time you’re not coming back,” Kafan growled. He and the Colonel exchanged a blinding flurry of blows and blocks, neither of them touching the other.

“Really?” the Colonel said. He swept Kafan’s feet out from under him and hammered the smaller man’s face with his elbow. Kafan barely evaded the next strike and rolled up, throwing a punch at the Colonel that left a dent in the wall. They circled each other, Kafan spitting out a mouthful of blood as the Colonel’s grin widened, the teeth sharpening. “And why is that?”

“Because now I know what I am.”

The Colonel hesitated fractionally. Not quite as much as Kafan obviously hoped for, but even so Kafan’s instantaneous lunge nearly decapitated him. As it was, the Colonel’s preternatural speed pulled his head aside barely in time, Kafan’s claws scoring his cheek with five parallel scratches. “Feh! Kr’lm akh! What difference is that, boy? So you were meant to be a Guardian! Without the Goddess behind your power, what are you but a simple thug, one whose blows are nothing more than stinging sand?” I’d hoped his words were boasting, but seeing how those five cuts were already closing up, even as he spoke, I realized that the Colonel was only speaking the truth.

Kafan returned the Colonel’s grin, with interest, his form fully changed into a tailed, fanged humanoid. He straightened slightly and brought his arms into a strange, formal stance. “I don’t need the Goddess behind my power. All I need are two words, given to me by the Master who taught me.”

The Colonel tensed.

“Tor.”

At that word, the Colonel stepped back.

Not fast enough. Two slashing movements of Kafan’s hands, too fast to follow, ripped aside blocking arms as though the Colonel hadn’t even tried, and a third strike against the uniformed chest sent him flying into the wall with a combined sound of shattering stone and breaking bone.

While the Colonel slowly rose, bones forcing themselves back to their proper positions and healing in moments, Raiakafan sprinted to the section of the wall nearest me. “And Shevazherana,” he said. He pulled the sheath from the wall and drew the immense, squat-bladed sword from it.

The Colonel’s eyes widened. His form began to shift and he leapt away, towards the exit.

Raiakafan stood there, impossibly having crossed the room in the blink of an eye. “No escape for you, monster. For my father—this!”

The first slash took off the changing form’s right arm. It screeched and tried to stumble backwards. It ran into something, spun around to find itself facing… Raiakafan again. “For my children—this!”

The other arm flew off in a fountain of red-black blood. Screeching in terror, not a trace of humanity left on its bony, angular form, the thing flapped feeble wings and flew upwards, away from the implacable hunter. A hunter who disappeared from view while both the monster and I stared at him

And once more the creature that had been the Colonel rebounded from something that had appeared in its path. Falling along with the stunned demon, Raiakafan shoved it downwards so it landed prone on the grassy floor of the cavern. “And for my wife.”

The great sword came down once more. In a flash of black light, a flicker of shadow that momentarily erased all illumination, the thing dispersed.

A pile of noisome dust sifted away from Kafan’s sword, dust that slowly evaporated and turned into a smell of death and decay… and faded away to nothing.

“Get up, Father,” Kafan said, helping Verne up. “It’s over now.”

I staggered wearily to my feet, feeling the warm trickle of blood down my arms. “No. Not yet. They’ve got Sylvie!”

Kafan cursed in that ancient tongue. “But where?”

“Only one guess. If she isn’t being held in a van or car nearby, she’s got to be at Ed’s place. At least, I hope so. Because without the Colonel to tell us, it’ll be a long hard search if that’s not where she is.” And I couldn’t afford to think about that.

“Is it not… possible that he was bluffing?” Verne said weakly.

“Do you think he was?”

Verne didn’t answer; his expression was enough.

“Neither did I. He wouldn’t bluff that way. He was smart enough to set things up ahead of time.”

Kafan looked at me. “You’re not in any condition to fight.”

“Don’t even think about keeping me out of this. Who else are we going to call?”

Somehow we got to the top of the stairs. Morgan, with his usual imperturbable expression denying the very existence of his torn clothing and bloodied form, smiled slightly as we emerged. “I’m glad to see you’re all still alive.”

“Can you drive, Morgan?”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Certainly, Master Jason. I presume there is some urgency?”

“If any of these monsters are left, they’ve got Syl.”

Morgan snatched the keys from my hand and half-dragged me along. Verne was moving somewhat easier, but it was plain that neither of us was up to a fight with a half-dead Chihuahua, let alone a group of demonic assassins. The fact that neither Morgan or Kafan said anything told us that they knew that we’d never allow ourselves to be left behind.

The drive across town was excruciatingly slow. It seemed that every block was ten times longer than it had ever been when I drove along it before. We entered Morgantown’s main district, crossed through, and continued. Though only fifteen minutes had passed, I felt as though precious days were passing. Syl. How could we have left her unguarded?!

Ed Sommer’s house was lit up like a full-blown party was going on inside. The fence around it looked normal, but I could tell it was stronger than it appeared… and electrified, too. A contractor like Ed wouldn’t have had trouble installing all sorts of bad news for intruders.

“Hang on, gentlemen,” Morgan said.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Going through the gate, of course,” he said calmly, as the engine on Verne’s limousine roared and we were pressed back by acceleration. “Without being in suitable combat condition, our best chance is …”

With a rending crash, the limo shuddered but tore through the gateway.

“… total surprise and uncompromising speed. Prepare to attack.”

We dove out of the limo, expecting a counterattack momentarily. The front door of the house popped open. Arms screaming in pain, I still managed to bring the gun up, sighted on the target—

—and dropped the gun immediately. “Don’t shoot! It’s SYL!”

Sylvia emerged fully from the doorway, stepping gingerly over the limp body of a demonoid as she did so. As I raced up the steps and embraced her, she smiled and said, “I see you missed me.”

The events caught up with me, and I nearly fainted. Syl caught me and supported me, helped me towards the car.

“We should hurry, Master Jason,” Morgan said. “There may be others pursuing her.”

“There aren’t,” Syl said with calm certainty.

 

 

Castaway Planet: Chapter 4

They were looking for a star…

 

—–

 

 

 

Chapter 4

         The stars shone out again, and she sat forward. “Coils recharging. Doing a full survey of the sky again…” She tumbled LS-5 once more around its axes. “Generating full sky view… okay, everyone, start looking. I’m blinking our virtual displays between the first panorama we got and this one. I’m sending different areas of the sky to—”

“Got one!” sang out Caroline. “Brightest star in our sky just jumped a beautiful, beautiful big fraction of a degree! Measure that arc, Sakura!”

“It’s… about an eighth of a degree,” she said after a moment, feeling a smile spreading over her face. “That’s less than a light-year off, right?”

“About zero point two seven light years, I think, which given the brightness means we’re probably looking at a G-type star!”

G-type star. She heard the words with a tremendous lightening of her heart. That was the best possible candidate for a world they could live on.

She heard both her parents let out their breaths in a sigh of relief. “That’s wonderful, Caroline, Sakura,” her mother said. “But let’s not jump the gun. See if any other stars move.”

No one else spotted any that they were sure of, and by the time they were done, the second jump had begun. After another tense-yet-boring wait, Sakura repeated the maneuver and started the comparison running abain. This time, Hitomi spotted two more that she thought moved. A close comparison showed that she was right, but the movement was small compared to the now very noticeable movement of the first star. One appeared to be a red dwarf about three light years out, and the other a brighter star five light years away.

That was enough for her mother. “All right, then. Sakura, cancel those other jumps and get us headed towards that star, okay?”

“Yes, Mom—I mean, Captain.” She felt much steadier this time as she set the course. “Given that we’re this close and moving as fast as we will be, I don’t need to do a fancy navigation calculation. Just point the nose at our target and drop out to adjust our course maybe once a day. We’ll be about -there in a little less than four days.”

“That’s just fine, honey. Hold off on the jump for a little bit. Everyone, unstrap for a moment so we can all talk together,” said her mother.

The others unsnapped quickly. It took Whips a little longer to release all his hold-downs.

“First… all of you, come here,” Laura said. She reached out and hugged little Hitomi to her, and gestured the others close.

Then her mother looked up as the family gathered, straight at Whips. “You too, Harratrer.”

She could sense a momentary protest that he was too old to need special treatment. “Come here, Whips,” she said, and heard her voice waver. “You’re our family too.”

The patterns that rippled chaotically over Whips’ skin showed that he, too, was close to the equivalent of tears. He drifted over to the others and wrapped all three arms around the Kimei family; Sakura and the others gripped his arms and hands, and even though he was so very different… it was still exactly like a hug from their own family.

For a few moments they all hung there, not moving, just accepting that for now, they were together, and a family, and safe.

         Mom smiled finally and spoke up. “That’s right. We’re all here, we’re all alive, we’re together, and no one’s hurt. Right?”

Hitomi nodded, brightening. Melody, eyes still huge and frightened, also nodded. She’s smart enough to know we’re not anywhere near safe yet.

         “Right!” said Sakura; her attempt to sound confident and ready didn’t fool Whips, she was pretty sure, and probably not her parents.

“Of course, Mom,” Caroline agreed.

“Exactly right,” Dad finished. “I won’t pretend we’re not in trouble—not even to you, Hitomi. But we could be in much worse trouble.”

“We’re already trying to figure out where we are, and where we have to go,” Mom said decisively, letting go, and allowing the others to slowly drift back to their seats. “I’ve never heard of a Trapdoor Drive failure before, but then I suppose if it happened it would be hard to get news of the failure. Is it possible we’re somehow near our destination?”

“I wouldn’t expect so,” Whips said slowly. “I mean, I’m just an apprentice right now, but I’ve been studying real hard to understand all the key engineering stuff. We were only halfway there. I don’t know how it’d be possible for us to jump the rest of the way so fast. If ‘fast’ is a reasonable term, I’m still finding the swimming really hard with understanding relativity and such. Still, it looked like the field just … deformed and dropped us off. We’re still probably about halfway to our destination.”

“But space is pretty much empty,” Melody said, her voice trembling a little but her tone going to the lecturing one that she liked to use whenever showing off what she knew. “And our destination was EC-G5-4-100-11 Tantalus, which doesn’t have any stars I know of right along our route.”

“Can we tell if this is the right star?” Akira asked.

Sakura thought, then shrugged. “How? If we get close enough or we find a planet we might be able to tell. LS-5 doesn’t have any spectroscopic software on board.”

“My omni does,” Melody said.

A ripple of stroboscopic surprise washed down Whips’ body. “Why in all the oceans would you have spectroscopic software?”

“I was playing with chemical analysis packages,” Melody answered defensively.

“It’s all right, Melody; he wasn’t saying there was anything wrong with it, he was just surprised. As am I,” Caroline said, “but if you’ll let me access your omni we might be able to use it.”

Melody gestured vaguely in the air, and her omni-personal communicator, database, toolkit, entertainment center, and more in one—generated a green light. “Go ahead.”

“From the designation,” Caroline said, “we know that Tantalus’ primary is a G-5 star and Tantalus itself is the 4th planet out from the primary. So the first thing to do is to find out what type of star that is.” She looked at Sakura. “Which camera input should I use?”

“Umm… Hold on a minute.” Where are the specs on all these things? Oh, there’s the info tags… Okay!

“The forward nose camera is continuous spectrum sensitivity from deep infrared through far UV—that’s between about twenty-four microns down to two hundred nanometers,” she said finally with relief. For a moment she had wondered if in fact there were any full-spectrum, unfiltered cameras available. She refined the alignment of LS-5 and made sure the target star was centered. “There you go, Caroline.”

“What’s the camera designation?”

“Sorry. It’s simply designated as camera Alpha in the main systems.”

“Okay, I have the input stream. Melody, direct your spectroscopic app output to my omni, okay?”

“Okay.”

A few minutes passed, then Caroline sat back with a smile. “Based on emission spectrum and apparent temperature, I’m reasonably confident—though not certain, because these aren’t ideal conditions—that we’re looking at a G-3 main sequence star. So it’s not Tantalus’ system, but it is, at least, the type of system we’d like to be in.”

“The Sun’s a G2, right?” Whips asked.

“That’s right,” Sakura answered, glad she knew some of this. “A G3 will be just a little tiny bit cooler and smaller than the Sun, I think, but we won’t notice the difference.” If there’s a planet to land on, anyway.

“Well, in that case,” Akira said, “I think it’s time to get things started and for me to get out some food. It’s past lunchtime, after all. Hit the jump, Sakura.”

He looked apologetically at her friend. “I’m afraid… we don’t have very many rations for Bemmies, Whips.”

“I didn’t expect you would,” Whips said calmly. Sakura bit her lip. The European Bemmies weren’t obligate carnivores, but they did need a lot more protein—of the generally animal sort—than anything else. The more “balanced” human rations wouldn’t be terribly good for Whips, and he’d have to eat a lot more of them, even in proportion to his size. How long would their supplies hold out?

“We’ll have to make do,” her mother said. “I know they’re not ideal for you, Harratrer, but we have I think three months’ supplies. Even with you onboard, we should be able to keep going for two months, and that should be more than enough now.” Unspoken was the fact that immersion issues might become acute long before then.

“Thank you, Dr. Kimei.” Sakura could tell that Whips’ formal-sounding voice hid much more relief and gratitude.

They’d found a good star. The drive was working. Maybe they’d get out of this after all.

        

 

 

 

 

Castaway Planet: Chapter 3

Well, things had gone rather pear-shaped, as the British might say…

 

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

Sakura clamped her jaw shut to keep from screaming as LS-5 whirled into the void. She gripped the arms of the pilot’s chair convulsively. She heard herself muttering, “Oh my God, oh my God…” and her mother and father both whispering something that sounded very similar.

The whirling, dizzy, uncontrolled spin lasted only a few moments; automatic stabilizer jets fired momentarily and then cut off. She felt the odd floating feeling of microgravity; over the private channel she heard Whips’ own half-formed prayers to Those Beyond the Sky.

For a few moments, no one moved; finally her father spoke. “My God, Laura, what happened?” Dad’s voice was filled with the same disbelieving horror welling up through Sakura, filling her with cold shock. Whips’ electronic link had gone blank, the loss so great that he wasn’t even forming thoughts she could understand.

Her mother was silent. Hitomi was sobbing, the cry of a child who doesn’t really understand, but knows something terrible is happening.

Then she felt a stirring in her best friend’s link. Are you okay, Whips?

I… must be. Panic is useless. His determined statement of that fact gave her a lifeline to hold to, and she sent him a smile that firmed his resolve. I am a descendant of Blushspark herself, child of the Seven Vents, the people who dared the chance to become part of both worlds. I must get a grip, as you would say.

Whips spoke aloud, answering Dad’s question. “The light… looked like a malfunction in the Trapdoor Drive,” he said. “When a ship does the drop into the Trapdoor space, you’ll often see a flash of about that color.”

“So… what, parts of the ship were dropping and others weren’t?” Laura asked, her voice frighteningly casual. Her mother was scared. The thought almost made Sakura panic again. Her mother simply did not get scared by anything.

“I guess so.” Whips squeezed his three hands together nervously. “A field instability—the field’s usually kept larger than the ship by a fair distance, but if something went wrong… I guess it could cause the field to dip down below the outer edge of the habitat ring.”

“Are we going to die, Mommy?” Hitomi asked tearfully.

“We are not going to die!” Laura snapped, and Sakura winced at the underlying near-panic in her tone.

I’m in the pilot’s chair. I should do… what a pilot does. She bent over the displays, searching. “I don’t see any other shuttles. LS-5, are you getting other beacons?”

There was no answer. “LS-5, respond!”

When the AI remained silent, she turned her attention to the displays on the board. Oh… no. “Mom… the AI’s offline. And there’s medical alerts –”

“What?” Her mother had the expression of a doctor discovering their patient had unexpected terminal cancer.

“What is it, Laura?” Akira demanded.

“Radiation. Huge spike, I’ve never seen anything like it. The diagnostics say it was a mixture of the common types plus some particle bursts that I don’t even know.”

“Does that mean we’re going to die?” Hitomi’s voice was almost a whisper.

Sakura saw her mother pause before answering. She’s checking. This is what Mommy does.

Then she smiled and shook her head. “No, Hitomi. It was bad—very bad—but LS-5 shielded us from the worst. We didn’t get a lethal dose, and I’m already directing our medical nanorepair. We all might get a little sick in the next few days, but we’ll be okay.”

Hitomi relaxed visibly, and so did Sakura. She knew her mother wouldn’t sugar-coat anything like this, so saying it was all right meant that it was, indeed, all right. But…

“Mom? What about Whips?”

She smiled. “His pod knows you spend lots of time with us, so his doctor gave me the data and access codes to his medical nanos too. He’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Dr. Kimei,” Whips said. “I think the radiation explains the problem with LS-5, although I’m not sure why our other systems are working.”

“Trapdoor radiation surge,” Melody said.

Sakura sensed the Bemmie equivalent of a headslap of course! from Whips, but no one else seemed to understand. “What do you mean, Mel?” asked her father.

“The Trapdoor Drive creates a surge of subatomic particles when it’s used,” Melody answered, in the tense, focused tone that she always had when she was thinking to keep herself from being nervous. “That’s why the ship always stops talking whenever you’re preparing for drive activation or deactivation; the particle flux isn’t dangerous to us but disrupts the quantum channels the AIs use.”

“She’s right,” Whips confirmed. “I should have thought of it myself. And the malfunction must have caused the dangerous radiation surge; we were sitting on the Trapdoor interface. But I’m surprised you’d know that, Mel.”

I’m not, Sakura thought. She’s the family genius—heard Mom once say to Dad that Melody might be smarter than both of them put together.

         Melody looked pleased, even though still worried. “I studied up on it when I knew we were leaving.”

“Whips, can you get the AI back up and running?” Laura asked.

Sakura saw the rippling pattern of hard thinking on her friend’s skin. “I… don’t think so,” he said, finally. “I’m not nearly finished in my training, and anyway the only way I think might work we can’t use right now. We’d have to shut down all associated systems and extract the cores, then do a clean memory restore. We have a memory backup onboard in the central repository, I think, but the other part means shutting down most of LS-5.”

“Can we handle things without the AI?” Akira asked after a moment. “Shutting down LS-5 and living in our suits may be necessary.”

“There’s still a lot of basic redundant automation in the systems,” Sakura answered, looking at her readouts again. “Exterior comms aren’t working—I think some of the antennas got fried or something—but all the interior systems seem to be okay, and most of the sensing systems are still running.” She halted, staring at the readouts, and felt as though an ice cube were sliding down her spine. “Oh, crap.”

“What is it, Sakura?” her mother asked tensely.

“The piloting and navigation. The automation there is based on the same kind of quantum-channel circuitry as the main AIs, and it was up and running for the drill.”

“My God,” said Akira in a soft voice. “Does that mean we’re dead in space?”

Sakura flipped the controls from Auto to Manual Control. Please, if there’s anything listening… She gripped the joystick and pulled.

LS-5 immediately spun smoothly about its axis, and Sakura felt a relieved smile spreading over her face. She did a quick, sharp test-fire of one of the rockets, and then ran through manual checks of the other systems. “No, Dad. We’re not dead in space. The manual controls are all operating, and systems all check out.”

“Can you run it all?”

She swallowed, then sat up. “I… I guess I have to, don’t I? I’ve got the basics down—the sergeant said I was doing really well. And… well, I think I can pilot LS-5 with Whips to help and Caroline to work with us to figure out destinations and courses.”

Laura looked to Whips. “What is your honest guess as to how long it would take to get the AI back up and running, if we try that? That would bring back our automation, right?”

Whips’ arms curled backward in a momentary defensive posture. “Um, Dr. Kimei, I… I’m not sure we can get it back up at all. I’m just learning, still, you know! If I tried… well, several days, at least. If it worked. And it’s possible I’d mess something else up while I was doing it.”

“Mom, Dad,” Caroline said after a moment, “I think we’d better stick with what already works. If Whips tries and breaks something by accident we could be royally sc… er, in a lot of trouble.”

Laura looked uncertainly at Sakura, and there was suddenly a private channel. Sakura? Honey, this will put a lot on you. Are you really okay with this? Do you really think you can do it?

Mom was being serious, and that meant she had to be serious too. The controls and readouts suddenly looked bigger, more intimidating, and it sank in that what Mom was really saying was we’ll all be depending on you to do it right.

Sakura took a breath and made herself really think about it. Look first, jet later, Whips reminded her. Not the time for your usual charge-forward, Sakura.

I know, Whips. Don’t nag. Still, she knew he was just reminding her of her own worst failing, and she couldn’t argue with him. She considered all the controls, everything she’d have to do—if they could survive at all, something she didn’t want to contemplate. It was terrifying.

But at the same time, part of her was excited. At most she’d expected to get a solo shuttle flight many months from now, with the automatics handling most of it and the sergeant, or another pilot, hanging over her shoulder. This was scarier… but it was real. She, Sakura Kimei, would be the honest-to-God pilot of a real spaceship.

Whips? she sent. Can you keep everything else running?

         Everything that’s not damaged now? Yes. I can.

She looked over at Caroline, who met her gaze, frowned… and then smiled and nodded.

Relief burst in on her. Yes, Mom. Me and Whips can run this little ship, I promise.

“All right, then,” Laura said decisively. “It’s not the way I’d have wanted Sakura to get her real flight experience, but I guess it’s our best choice.”

         “Yay!” Hitomi said happily. “Does that mean you’re the Captain, Sakura?”

That caused a faint chuckle around LS-5‘s interior. “No, Hitomi, Mom’s the Captain. Dad’s the First Officer. I’m just Navigation. Whips is Engineering, and I guess Caroline’s sciences or something.” She looked over to her mother, who was smiling fondly at Hitomi. “So what next, Captain Mom?”

“Mom or Captain please, the two together are just silly.” Laura looked out the viewport. “Can we get any comm beacons?”

“No, sorry, Mom. Remember I said most of the comm system’s down. Just internals.”

“Can’t you use the other scanning systems?”

“Maybe.” Sakura thought a moment, then after poking around in the controls was able to check out the infrared and radar scans. “Radar’s still working—don’t know why, that’s an RF-based system too. Umm…”

After a few minutes, she shook her head. “I’m not getting any radar patterns that look like other shuttles, no IR glows, either, at least nothing nearby.”

“There might not be anyone else,” Whips said bluntly. “I… wasn’t looking carefully, but can’t we play back the recording of those last seconds?”

Laura looked at him. “I’m sure we can… but why?”

“Because I don’t think I saw any other of those Trapdoor flares. If I’m right that means that we’d be the only ones who fell off, so to speak.”

“Or,” Sakura said slowly, “that if there are any others they’d be somewhere else along Outward Initiative‘s path, dumped whenever the instability reached their area of the hab ring.”

Hitomi brightened. “So once they realize what happened, Outward Initiative can just come back and pick us up, right?”

Sakura winced, and she saw her mother close her eyes before turning to face Hitomi. “I’m… afraid not, honey. If it’s just us, well, they still probably lost a big chunk of the hab ring. There’s going to be a lot of damage to the ship and they won’t dare stop. They’ll have to get to the nearest colony and get repairs, even if they think we might have survived.”

“And with our comm systems out…” Sakura swallowed, but made herself go on, “well, with them out, even if they did come back there’s so much space for them to look through that they’ll probably never see us.”

“And if our comms are out, the same is almost certainly true for anyone else who escaped, so if there are others, we may never see them, and they may never see us,” her father pointed out. “The important thing is to determine what we do next. Are we equipped for a system survey?”

Sakura checked, but got the answer she expected. “Sorry, Dad. No, there’s no survey software installed. No reason to have any. LS-5 is really meant as just a shuttle between orbit and ground and vice versa, and maybe a small ship for moving around a known system. Even in a lifeboat context, it’s assumed we’re in some inhabited system. Surveys are done by big ships, usually.”

She sensed her Bemmie friend suddenly close off, as though he’d had a terrible thought. His next words brought that thought out for everyone to look at.

“Sakura… most of space is… well, very empty. If we’re not in a solar system…”

She saw her mother’s eyes widen, and Caroline’s too; they both understood the implications. “It’s not that bad… I think. The Shuttle’s got its own Trapdoor Drive, so we can go FTL… in hops, because we have to charge the loops to run it—takes more power than the reactor can generate by itself. So… in effect it’s about a third the speed of a regular Trapdoor.”

“So that’s about… what, twenty-five times the speed of light or so?”

“A little more, but yeah.”

Her mother frowned and looked towards the back, and Sakura suddenly understood what she was worrying about. Whips. His people were amphibious, and he had to immerse in water fairly often for his skin and other biological functions. She knew that wasn’t necessary every day, but…

“Honey, let’s say we get to a good solar system. How long will it take to go from, well, wherever we get in the system to landing?”

“Depends on where we come out of Trapdoor,” her sister Caroline said. As a planetographer, Caroline had a good grasp of distances and times in solar systems. “Could be only a few days—long enough to get a good look and choose a landing site—or could be several weeks, maybe over a month.”

“A month.” Mom shook her head. “And each light year will be a couple of weeks, roughly, at the speed we can reach in LS-5. Then… we really have to hope there is a solar system within one or two light-years. Normally two weeks is pushing it for a Bemmie. I’ve got some ideas on how to stretch that—there are recommendations in the literature—but I don’t know if I can stretch it more than two months.”

Sakura tried to hide her dismay. The chances weren’t great that a star was that close. They weren’t terrible—maybe one in two or three—but still, not certain. And even if there were stars nearby, they might not have good planets. And even if it weren’t for Whips… there’s not all that much food on board, especially since Whips’ll eat more than one of us. We’ve got a nuclear reactor with power for years, but our supplies won’t last that long. She glanced at Hitomi—staring back with wide, terrified eyes—and Melody, gripping her seat’s arms so tightly the knuckles were white—and then at her mother and took a breath.

“First thing to do is find out where the nearest star is, I guess,” she said. “I mean, if we are in a solar system, no problem. Everyone keep an eye out.”

Her hands tried to shake, and she paused and took a breath before she reached out to the controls again. Simple. Just a full look around. Methodical, careful, controlled, just like in training.

The gyros and stabilizers could be used to spin the ship without having to use any of the limited reaction mass, so she used that, carefully rotating LS-5 around its axes so that all portions of the sky slowly drifted across the forward field of view.

Stars swam by, and everyone in the ship watched tensely. The beautiful river of light that was the Milky Way pinwheeled around them. Bright stars, dim stars, stars with a hint of red or yellow or blue or pure white shone unflickering against the absolute black of space.

“Anyone?”

The others shook their heads. “I saw some pretty bright stars,” Whips said, “but nothing that looked like it had a disc. At a light year away, I think the Sun would only look like a bright star –”

“Magnitude about minus three,” Caroline said. “So yes, even if we’re close to a good star, if it’s even a large fraction of a light year away, we won’t see it as a disc. And without knowing what kind of star I’m looking at, I can’t make a guess as to how far away it is.”

Sakura knew what she meant. Given how much stars varied in their actual light output, a really bright star could be a tiny red dwarf just a fraction of a light year away, or a supergiant star hundreds of light years off.

“But…” Caroline continued, smiling, “we don’t need to worry about that. Sakura, just charge up the Trapdoor Drive and give us a few hours hop in any direction.”

Sakura laughed, feeling some slight relief. At least we can find out how bad we’re screwed. “Parallax, right?”

“Right. Move only a little ways and we should be able to see movement of a nearby star against the background of the others. You recorded the whole globe of stars around us, right?”

“Yeah. And really, only the very bright ones matter, I think—over first mag, probably.”

“I’d guess you’re right. That’s only twenty or so back home, probably not much more than that here. We can track that pretty easily.”

“Okay, then—can I do that, Mom?”

Her mother smiled. “Of course you can. ‘Make it so’, navigator.”

Sakura heard the first chuckle since the disaster go around the cabin. “Aye, Captain!” She turned back to the controls. “Unsealing Trapdoor Drive controls. Drive shows green. Coils charged.”

Despite the desperate circumstances, she felt a thrill go through her. Her first solo flight… and she was doing a hop in interstellar space!

“Since we have no idea which direction we want to go, I’m just jumping the way we’re pointing. Set for four hops, total distance a few light-days. We’ll check the big stars after each hop, while the superconductor storage coils are charging. Okay?”

“Sounds good to me, Sakura.”

She found herself holding her breath as she reached out and touched the activation button.

Without a bump or jolt, the universe outside disappeared, and the Trapdoor Drive sent LS-5 hurtling on its unknown course. “Trapdoor Drive activated! We’ll be under drive for… about one hour and ten minutes.”

This is going to be the longest hour ever.

        

 

 

Paradigms Lost: Chapter 44

Jason has to do a bit of political outreach…

 

 

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 44: Paternity and Possibility

“Senator MacLain?”

The voice on the other end was as distinctive over the phone as it was in public address or on television: precise, educated, a pleasant yet cool voice that carried both authority and intelligence—it reminded me somehow of Katharine Hepburn. “This is Paula MacLain. Mr. Jason Wood?”

“Yes, ma’am. I don’t know if you know who I am—”

“Young man, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be speaking to you.” There was a tinge of humor that took any sting out of the words. “In any case, a senator for New York who wasn’t aware of everything having to do with Morgantown, in these days, would be a sad example of a legislator, don’t you agree?”

“I certainly do, Senator. And I certainly didn’t mean to imply—”

“Don’t concern yourself with my feelings, Mr. Wood. I know when offense is meant and when it isn’t. Now that you and I have finally managed to connect, let’s waste no more time. What can I do for you? You were intriguingly uninformative to my staff.”

I took a deep breath. I’d decided to go for the most honest route I could, while trying to tapdance around the more dangerous areas. “Senator, a few weeks ago, a man walked into my office, asking me for help in locating his family. To make a long story short, he originally comes from Vietnam. And the descriptions of his two children, and pictures made from those descriptions, match those of your adopted children in every particular.”

There was a long silence on the other end; I’d expected as much, given her history. Finally, “That… is quite remarkable, Mr. Wood. Am I to presume that you would like to find a way to confirm that they are, or are not, your client’s children? And that he would subsequently want to obtain custody of them, if they are indeed his children?” Her voice was carefully controlled, but not perfectly so; she wasn’t taking this as calmly as she’d like me to think.

“Basically correct, Senator. But we also don’t wish to distress the children overly much, either by giving them false hopes or by forcing them to leave a stable home. What I was hoping was that we could permit someone you trusted to take a sample for genetic comparison and do a paternity test on them.”

Senator MacLain was known for her quick decisions. “That much I will certainly do. But I must warn you and your client, Mr. Wood: I will never relinquish custody of my children unless I am absolutely certain that they will be happy and well cared for, regardless of who is the blood parent. I love them both very much.”

I nodded, though she couldn’t see it. “Senator… Ms. MacLain… we expected no less, and to be honest if you felt any differently you wouldn’t be a fit mother for them. It’s not going to be easy either way, but I assure you, I feel the same way. I’ll make that clear to my client.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Wood. And I appreciate, now, the trouble you went to to keep this all confidential. Let me see …” I heard the sounds of tapping on a computer keyboard, “Ah. If you would be so kind as to have the sample sent to Dr. Julian Gray, 101 Main, Carmel, New York, he will see to the comparisons. I have no trouble with your obtaining the samples for him; falsifying genetic evidence would seem a bit beyond anyone’s capacities at the present time.”

“Indeed. Thank you very much for your time, Senator. Good-bye.”

Maybe not beyond anyone’s capacities, I thought as I hung up the phone, but certainly beyond mine.

The invoice for the State Police job finished printing, and I tore it off and stuffed it into the package along with all the originals and enhanced versions. Sealing it up, I affixed the prewritten label and dumped it into my outbox.

So much for the simple part of my current life.

It had taken a couple of days to install my newest machine, a Lumiere Industries’ TERA-5. Without Verne’s money, I’d still be looking at the catalog entries and drooling and thinking “maybe next decade.” Now that it was up and running, I’d given it the biggest assignment I had: sorting through all the recent satellite data that I’d been able to find, beg, borrow, or… acquire, and look for various indications of hidden installations. So far it had given me at least twenty positives, none of which turned out to look at all promising. I was starting to wonder if there was a bug in some section of the program; some of the positives it was giving me were pretty far outside of the parameters of the installation as described by Kafan. There was one that might be a hidden POW camp—I’d forwarded that to one of the MIA-POW groups I knew about. Never thought those things really existed any more, but maybe there was more than hearsay behind all the rumors.

The TERA-5 was still chugging away at the job, meter by detailed meter on the map, but this was going to take a while even for the fastest commercially available general-purpose machine ever made. A specifically designed machine for map-comparison searching would be far faster, but not only would it be lots more expensive, but it’d be next to useless for anything else; there’s always a catch somewhere. I preferred to wait a little longer and have a use for the machine later on as well. My only consolation was that I could bet that only an intelligence agency had better equipment and programs for the job.

Of course, with the situation with Verne, I didn’t know what good this was going to do. Without Verne, we’d be pretty much stuck even if I did know where the installation was. I looked sadly down at the thick document lying on my desk. Verne’s will. Morgan as executor, Kafan and his family as major heirs, and, maybe not so surprisingly, me and Sylvie figuring prominently in it as well. This aside from numerous bequests to his efficient and often nearly invisible staff. The sight of it told me more than I needed to know. Verne knew his time was up.

My friend was dying. It hit me harder than anything all of a sudden. I collapsed into my chair, angry and sad and frustrated all at once. He’d been the gateway through which a whole world of wonder opened up for me, and he’d said I’d helped him regain his faith. It wasn’t fair that it end like this, him wasting away to nothing for no reason.

And there was nothing I could do. Yesterday night he’d shown us all the secrets of his house… “just in case,” he said… but we knew there was no doubt in his mind. The place he called the Heart, built out of habit and tradition, only recently having been used by him for the purposes that it had existed… once more to become an unused cave when he died. All his papers and books and even tablets, here and elsewhere.

He’d found his lost son, I’d found his son’s children, and for what? He wouldn’t live long enough to see them reunited, he’d barely lived long enough to be sure it was his son. Dammit! I slapped at the wall switch, killing the lights as I turned to leave.

Then I froze.

I remembered what I’d said to Verne months ago, when Virigar first showed: “I don’t like coincidences. I don’t believe in them.”

What if my idea was still basically true?

There was just one possibility. I switched on the lights again, spun the chair back around and switched the terminal back on. It was a crazy idea… but no crazier than anything else! Just a few things to check, and I’d know.

It took several hours—the data was hard to find—but then my screen lit up with a few critical pieces of information. I grabbed my gun, spare magazines, a small toolbox, and a large flashlight and sprinted out the door.

 

 

 

 

Polychrome: Chapter 18

Iris had said he had some sort of final task for Erik…

 

 

—–

 

 

Chapter 18.

     I felt the chill of the morning deep in my bones as I awoke. I never liked camping as a kid, and I don’t like it any better now. Who was it who said that adventures were unpleasant things happening to people a long way away?

I dragged myself out of the little tent and onto the remainder of the little shelf of rock I was on. I wasn’t sure of the point of this little exercise, but you generally didn’t argue with Iris Mirabilis. I got out the little folded picture of a campfire he’d given me and shook it four times as instructed – once to each of the four cardinal directions.

As I finished the fourth, the picture shimmered in front of me and suddenly there was a blazing little fire on the stone almost at my feet. I jumped a bit. I’d pretty much expected that, but having it happen… even after all the time I’ve been here, it’s pretty startling, especially if it seems to be me doing it.

I carefully didn’t look very far around as I cooked up a simple breakfast and ate. Then I washed up as best I could with some water on my face and hands, and packed up everything. Pack settled, I took a deep breath and looked up.

Caelorum Sanctorum towered over me, a titanic mass of cliffs and ridges and slopes that seemed to go upward forever. For a moment, the lazy, sour-faced part of me just whined, because it didn’t look as though I’d made any progress in the last few days.

I glanced behind me. I almost regretted that, because while it did demonstrate that I’d made progress, I damn near got dizzy enough to fall off. Below me the mountain dropped away and away and away, ten thousand, fifteen thousand, twenty thousand feet, more? I had no idea really how high I’d come, or how much farther I had to go. Iris apparently thought I could make it in five days, or maybe he just wanted to see how long it took me to give up.

Well, I’m not giving up. Not after all that training, and not after I’ve come THIS far.

I made sure everything was secure, and then stepped up to the rockface. I found a handhold, pulled myself up, set my foot on a little ridge of stone, reached out, pulled up.

Focus. I’d freeclimbed when I was much younger – a stupid, stupid hobby that I’d often looked back on with a combination of wistful memory and wincing recognition of how easily I could have died. I’d found anything I could climb and gone up it – alone. Without any equipment. Without help. Sometimes a few hundred feet in the air, alone, doing it for as far as I could tell just the sheer adrenaline thrill of ALMOST getting killed.

And now I was doing it again… at least two orders of magnitude worse. Well, okay, this time someone else wanted me to do this stupid thing, and I did have a little equipment. I took one of the safety spikes from my pack and slammed it into the stone, tied my rope on carefully. Hmm. No handholds here at all.

I’d reached one of the sheer sections of the mountain, shining gray-white like polished cloud in the slanting sun of morning. It looked as smooth as a morning fog even close up. In fact, I realized with bemusement that it was smooth enough to have a dim reflection of me in it.

“Well, not much longer.” I reached up and focused, and the stone suddenly gave under my fingers like butter.

Too much. I took a handful of it away without thinking. I tried again, this time remembering the exact procedure I’d perfected over the past couple of days. This time I ended with a scooped-out handhold with a perfect grip.

The entire mountain was of course an impossibility. It was also more than ever clear, now that I could look out over things, that I wasn’t exactly in the same world that I’d been born in. Here I was above the ground at what must be, by now, over 50,000 feet, but the sky was only a little darker blue, and while it was pretty brisk right now it was going to warm up later – and I could still breathe. This kind of thing would be pretty obvious on satellite view, so we were in the parallel, different universe of the Faerie for sure.

So here I was, climbing a mountain of solid cloud. One that I could scoop out like soft butter if I wanted, or walk on like it was stone. That wouldn’t save me if I fell, though, not from this height. Oh, sure, if I focused it’d be like butter, or even water, instead of stone, maybe even cotton candy, but if you hit anything at terminal velocity… well, there’s at least two reasons you call that “terminal”.

So, I thought, why the hell is he risking his hero doing this mountain-climbing stunt?

I gave myself another handhold, pressed on. Iris Mirabilis was hard to figure. When I first met him he greeted me in a friendly-enough fashion – aside from that lightning-ball stunt – but I’d at first gotten the impression he didn’t like me much. That had changed in the last few months, and I just didn’t know why, which bothered me. I’ve always been used to people not liking me, and other people liking me, but it’s not often that someone would change their opinion without my understanding what I’d done to manage it.

Still, that wasn’t going to help me with the business at hand. I settled down and started climbing for real.

It was a few hours later that it happened. That’s always the worst point – you’ve been going long enough that you’ve got a routine, you’re starting to get really tired, you’re thinking about maybe getting lunch, something like that and then –

I squeezed too hard, lunged up a bit too much, and suddenly hand and foothold broke off under me.

I plummeted downward like a rocket; gravity, at least, worked just exactly the same here as it did back home, something for which I really was not grateful right now. I grabbed for my rope, held it in my gloved hands, tried to time it so I could slow myself gradually rather than –

I mistimed it; all my weight slammed onto the rope, and the safety spike popped out of the cliff like a rotten tooth. “Ohhh crap,” I heard myself say in a sort of “Hellboy” tone.

After the momentary pause I was heading back down fast, and the recoiling rope caused the spike to bash me insultingly in the head. This did, at least, remind me I had other spikes.I pulled two from the belt harness I periodically replenished, gripped them tight, and hammered down.

With my mortal will focused on the spikes, the metal tore into the stone easily. My arms screamed protest at the impact, though, because it was like trying to hold a blunt knife straight as it tried to cut through a moving couch. The noise was incredible, a screeching wail of stone and steel with sparks showering like a fountain from the point of impact. I saw the spikes wearing away, bending —

—I released those two, grabbed two more, slammed them in, and –

W H A M!

 

Slowly, I picked myself up. “Well… I’m alive. That’s a good thing on my checklist, I think.” I was in a ten-foot deep miniature crater, and by the way the wall on my lefthand side was cracking, I suspected there wasn’t much rock that way. I carefully stood up and pulled myself gingerly upward. As my eyes cleared the edge, I cursed.

I had just landed on – well, mostly through – the ledge I’d camped on.

Most of the morning had just gone to waste.

I took a few minutes to cool down, because my first impulse was to just tear my way up the mountain with bare hands as fast as I could go – something which would undoubtedly quickly end with me falling again without anything but the bottom to break my fall, and me.

But once I had my emotions under control, I began to climb with a calmly infuriated energy. I was sick and tired of climbing this apparently unending mountain, but I was not going to let it beat me. Grip, control, pull, step, grip, control, pull, step, up and up, every few hundred feet another spike, grip, control, pull, step…

I felt my stomach growl, paused, hung myself on a couple of spikes and ate a sort of compressed granola-type thing Poly had given me. I did finally have a smile at that, because some trace of her perfume lingered on it somehow, storms and flowers touching my nostrils. Then I went back to climbing. Dig handhold, grip, control, pull, step…

Suddenly I reached up and there was nothing there. No, wait, there was, but inward…

I pulled myself up once more, shoulders and hands and neck screaming, and saw a much shallower slope, a ridge running straight to the peak of the mountain, and – standing precisely on the peak – the immense figure of Iris Mirabilis, looking somehow small against the vastness of the mountain. Despite my exhaustion – I realized now that it was evening, the sun setting and casting a rich rose over Caelorum Sanctorum – I rose to my feet and trotted the remaining few hundred feet to the peak.

It was cooler here, but still nothing like the sub-arctic unbreathable chill of near-space I’d have run into on Earth, that I’d almost died in the one time I lost contact with Poly on the way here.

Iris looked down and smiled as I reached him. “Well done. The evening of the fifth day, and you stand on the peak of the Mountain.”

“You seem to have hitched a ride on a ski-lift or something. I didn’t notice you climbing.”

He laughed. “I climbed this mountain more than once in my youth, and in some wise it is a harder climb for me than you.”

Looking at his heroic frame, I grinned back. “I suppose it might be, at that. So, no offense, but what the hell was the point of my spending five days clawing my way up this impossible mountain?”

He looked serious – not grim, as he had with other questions I’d posed on occasion, but grave. “There were many points, in fact, to this apparently purposeless challenge. The simplest, and most to the point in our ultimate purpose, was to see you alone, set a task that you were not forced to complete – that you could choose to abandon at any time, or could simply fail at without direct consequence, and a task which presented no little risk to you. It is in my mind that when first you came here – even had I been able to grant you in an instant the skill and strength you now have – you would have given up that climb long ere you reached the summit. Would you say I was wrong?”

I thought on that for a few moments, gazing back down towards the Rainbow Fortress, a tiny toy castle so far away that in the fading light it was hard to make out at all. Finally I sighed. “No… no, I’d say you were right. I’ve had a lot of projects I started and gave up on after a while.”

“But not this? You hold our fate in your mortal hands, Erik Medon. What guarantee have we that this is different for you?” Despite the words, it wasn’t an accusation, or even a demand. It was, to my surprise, simply a question.

I looked up at the Rainbow Lord; his face here was … different than in the Throne Room or other parts of the castle. He was no less impressive, no less powerful, but I saw lines of worry and care which I had never noticed before. “I wish I had a guarantee for you. All I can say is that…” careful, Erik, careful… “… the realm of Faerie, the land of Oz, and all these things are part of my soul in a way nothing else is. For years those were my favorite stories, and in some ways very privately so, because I never met anyone else who knew them all until I was much, much older. Baum’s stories … they’re one of the top five things that shaped my entire life, and finding out that they’re real… there are no words, Iris Mirabilis. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to speak and write, but I have no words to say what this place and… its people mean to me.”

He allowed a faint smile to touch his face, and I thought for a moment I saw a slight gleam in his eye that I couldn’t quite read. Then he straightened up.

“Fairly spoken, and true. We are forced to rely on your heart and your head, Erik Medon; an unlikely hero you seemed when first you arrived, as you yourself admitted, yet much has become clearer to me since that day.

“Another reason I had you climb Caelorum Sanctorum is that here – and here alone – can I be absolutely certain that I speak to you with none other to hear. While I believe my castle is secure, while I have done all that can be done to maintain the secrets of my house, I know full well I am beset by enemies of surpassing cunning and power perhaps vaster than my own, who were able to fell the greatest of the kingdoms of Faerie.”

“So while you’re probably right, you’re still not going to take more chances than you have to.”

“You have the right of it. Truth be told, I would have had you brought and trained here, were it possible, that it be utterly impossible for any eyes save my own to know who and what you were.”

I looked around the peak. The top was actually quite broad, with the literal peak – the highest point – a couple hundred yards away, a miniature mountain itself about sixty feet high and a few hundred wide. “Why couldn’t you?”

“In a moment,” he said, postponing that answer.

“Okay, then why did you want to have me up here where no one else can spy on us?”

“Because there are a few things I must say which cannot be said in my throne room, regardless of their truth.” He dropped to one knee in front of me – which still left his head well above mine. “Erik Medon, I must apologize to you. I have committed – and must continue to commit – a grave wrong upon you.”

“Er… how do you mean that?”

“In two ways, if I am to be honest. Firstly, even now – a year after you arrived – there are elements of the Prophecies which I have not told you, and cannot. Even though it is possible that they may have some vital key to your survival.”

I’d known there were some things he was probably still holding back, but that was a new, and unsettling wrinkle. “You’re saying that the other material in the prophecy – the stuff you haven’t told me yet – might be something that could save my life?”

He considered, then nodded slowly. “It is… possible. Not certain, not, perhaps, even probable, given what I now know about you and the other aspects of the Prophecy. And of course you and I are both aware of the terrible dangers of acting too overtly on Prophecy unless it is absolutely necessary.”

Yeah, the classic Evil Overlord Mistake: someone makes a prophecy that a certain baby will be your downfall, so you run out and kill off all the babies that meet the spec, except naturally you miss just ONE of them, and she grows up being trained for vengeance upon the baby-killer. If you’d just left things alone, she’d have grown up to be a farmer. “Yeah. I know. But … that’s still pretty hard to just ignore.”

“And thus I must beg your forgiveness. For as I understand the Prophecy, I have no choice but to withhold this information.”

And maybe get me killed in the end… but that’s part of the risk of any hero-ing. I shook my head, then laughed a bit. “You’re forgiven, I guess. You’re the King, and you have to make the call as best you can.”

“I thank you.” He did not rise. “And in the second case, I wrong you in the simple fact of your presence. I – not Polychrome, though she was my agent and, she has said to me, blames herself for this – I called you forth from your world, brought you here to my castle, and I have had you forged into the best weapon that could be managed, all to protect my people. This is not your war. Even if there is, as you and I suspect, a connection between your world and mine, it is … unfair that you be drawn from your world in a single day, lacking time or knowledge, and set on this course. I feel it was necessary… but still I am ashamed that I, Iris Mirabilis, must hide myself behind a True Mortal and pin the hopes of my kingdom on one who owes me no such service… especially as we both know the probable end of that service.”

No wonder he didn’t want to say this in his throne room. He’s implied some of this, but no King can afford to be caught doing this kind of abject apology.

But it occurred to me that he was also right. I was owed this apology. But, as I looked at his bent form, not like this. If he’s being honest, he deserves honesty.

“Iris Mirabilis, stand up.”

He saw the expression on my face, and stood, a questioning look on his own.

“Understand something, please, and perhaps it will remove your need for any apology.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m not doing it for your kingdom. I’m not even, entirely, doing it for Oz. I’m doing it for…”

He raised a brow at my hesitation. “Yes?”

In that moment, a part of my courage failed me. I finished the sentence, “… for myself. For my own dreams, for my own spirit.” Which was true, as far as it went. But it did not quite go far enough, and perhaps I should have… but I could not bring myself to state the unvarnished truth facing Iris Mirabilis here, alone.

For a moment I was sure that he knew exactly what the real ending of that sentence would have been. His violet eyes seemed to burn through my own straight into my brain, and I was suddenly very aware that it would take very little effort from him to send me falling to my death, training or no.

But whatever he knew or suspected, he said nothing; instead he straightened. “Then… no apology is needed, I suppose. I have given you an honorable route to achieve your own goals. So be it.” He turned towards the other side of the mountain, away from the Fortress. “To answer your other question, because this mountain is sacred to us.”

Caelorum Sanctorum. No surprise there, at least not entirely. “So no training field on top of the Mountain of the Heavens.”

He smiled very faintly. “No. That would be… not wise.” He looked outward. “Erik Medon, you go to fight for all Faerie. I felt… it was only proper you stand here, where no mortal has in… millennia, at least. The Above watch us. Sometimes, rarely, they give us a sign. But even without a sign, this is a sacred place and one of great import for those who begin on such a journey.”

“The Above and ‘they’… so it’s several gods.” I was still unsure what to think of the whole god thing, but if even Iris took it seriously…

He gave a surprisingly open smile. “Several indeed. And hard to know the truth of them it is, as hard perhaps for us as knowing the truth of Faerie is for you. Yet –” he broke off. “Look! Mortal, look there. Do you see?”

The deep vault of the sky here was a deep cerulean blue, with only a few wisps of high cloud. But in one of those wisps, for a moment, something flashed. At first, it seemed to be just a sundog, the phantom rainbow glow from ice-crystals. But it bloomed and deepened, and for an instant of time that seemed as brief as the moment between life and death, and as long as eternity, I saw into that spectral realm, streets that glittered with gold and emerald, a mighty palace that seemed made of great beams of wood set in a pattern almost familiar, and – in a fraction of that timeless instant – figures of untold majesty.

Then it was gone. But I had no doubt what I had seen. “That… those buildings, the way the roofs angle…” I could barely bring myself to even try to say it; I felt a bone-deep chill of awe and disbelief, in some ways stronger than that I’d had when first I met Polychrome.

“And so I know you, Erik Medon, know your heart by what you have seen; not that you have seen it, but by what that sight is to you.” He nodded slowly, seeming almost as affected by the sight as I. “Perhaps you do have a warrior’s heart within. But whatever the meaning, they have given us a sign. They are watching. I shall hope this means we have their blessing as well.”

“But… does that mean… are you…?”

“There are questions best left unanswered, Erik Medon,” he said quietly. “Take that to be whatever answer you prefer. You saw … what you saw. It is a sight given to few enough of my people, and even less often to yours.”

I nodded slowly. I wasn’t going to get that answer. But as he summoned his Rainbow to take us, I could not help glancing back and thinking of the Rainbow that bridged heaven and earth, and the god who watched over it with a horn, seeing all upon which he fixed his gaze… and look up at the massive figure leading me to his palace, and wonder.

 

 

 

Castaway Planet: Chapter 2

So, it was just one more drill in a series of drills…

 

 

——

 

 

Chapter 2   

         Laura smiled as she dropped through the entry hatch to see that her husband, Akira, had just finished strapping Hitomi into her crash seat. The seven-year-old was behaving very well, clutching her winged-wolf plush and pretending it was flying back and forth in front of her, but otherwise sitting still. “You made good time,” she said, giving Hitomi’s inexplicably blonde hair a ruffle and kissing Akira on the cheek as she passed.

“Hitomi and I were taking a break in the exercise room,” Akira replied, making sure his own long, black hair was firmly tied back, “so we were not far away.” He glanced back to their second-youngest. “Melody, tighten your restraints.”

“Daaaad,” Melody protested in the tone of put-upon children everywhere, “it’s a drill, not an emergency, and the straps squeeze too much.” She looked appealingly at Akira, her face and hair looking like a miniature mirror of her father’s Japanese features.

“Don’t argue with your father,” Laura said firmly. “The point of a drill is to do everything right all the time, so that if a real emergency ever does happen, you don’t have to think about whether you’ve done it right when it counts; you just do.”

She finished locking down her carryon. “We’re still two short. Outward Initiative, this is Laura Kimei. Where are Caroline and Sakura?”

The omnipresent AI that ran the starship Outward Initiative responded immediately. “Caroline is very nearly at your assigned shuttle. Sakura was in cross-corridor E-3 and will arrive in a few minutes.”

Laura nodded, and tried to ignore Melody’s predictable grumbles. Sure enough, Outward Initiative had barely finished speaking when Caroline dropped precisely through the center of the entranceway, landed, and walked to her location, locking down her own carryons with perfect, practiced motions. “All ready, Mom,” she said, sitting down and locking in.

At least one of my children is organized. Though sometimes a bit much for her own good.

Laura sat down and strapped herself in, bringing up the telltales for the shuttle on her own iris displays. She couldn’t pilot such a ship—few people could, and of her family the only one who had any idea how such a ship flew was Sakura—but she knew the check routines.

Landing Shuttle LS-5 was one of over one hundred similar shuttles, spaced evenly around the spinning habitat ring of the giant colony ship Outward Initiative. The “Trapdoor Drive”, which was how the ancient Bemmie word for the faster-than-light device translated, may have reorganized a lot of views of physics, but it hadn’t given them the ability to generate gravity on demand, so habitat rings still spun, and probably always would. For a lifeboat, this was convenient; to launch away from the main ship simply required detaching the links and centrifugal force would hurl LS-5 away from Outward Initiative.

LS-5 was already loaded with most of the cargo the Kimei family was bringing with them to the colony on Tantalus (formal designation EC-G5-4-100-11)—medical equipment and supplies, biological research and analysis systems, and the most current 3D manufacturing systems which would produce just about anything given the right materials as input. They were lucky they got one all to ourselves, given that there were over a thousand colonists on this mission.

No, she corrected herself. Not luck, just supply and demand. The only luck is that they needed both doctors and biologists, so we got double priority for me and Akira.

Sakura suddenly plummeted through the hatch and instantly ran toward the pilot’s console, dragging her carryall bag with her. The console wouldn’t actually be active except in a real emergency, but Sakura had argued that if there was a real emergency, it only made sense to have the only person with any flight training already sitting there. “Hi Mom, Dad, drill number one thousand six hundred twenty seven can now complete! And look who’s with me!”

“It’s only drill number thirty-seven,” Caroline corrected Sakura. “We do one drill a week on average and we’re almost halfway to Tantalus. And what are you doing here, Whips?”

Laura saw Whips’ arm-tendrils curl inward nervously. “Well, Sakura said the regulations claimed I should go to the nearest designated boat, and…”

“And she was perfectly right, Harratrer,” Laura assured him, using his official human name; the tendrils relaxed. “Just get your tie-downs on. Outward Initiative, let Harratrer’s pod know that he’s with us during this drill.”

“They have been informed,” Outward Initiative replied. “Proceed to Phase II of drill.”

Melody sighed from her seat. Some drills ended once Phase I—getting to the lifeboat—was completed, but with Phase II—actual preparation for launch—being tested, there was no getting around the need to finish strapping in properly. “What a pain…” she muttered.

The display in front of Laura was a “reality overlay” that included status telltales as well as enhancing key images in reality. She could see everyone’s medical condition and current location status, but there was still procedure to follow. “Everyone settle down, we’re doing count-off. Laura Kimei, here and secured. Nothing to report.”

“Akira Kimei here and secured,” her husband said immediately. “Nothing to report.”

“Caroline, here and secured. Nothing to report,” the seventeen-year-old said quickly.

“Sakura, here and secured! Nothing to report!” said the irrepressible black-haired girl from her pilot’s seat.

“Melody, here and secured,” came the bored voice of the ten-year-old in the seat behind her. “The straps dig into me. Otherwise nothing to report.”

“Hitomi and Skyfang!” announced Hitomi proudly. “Ready to fly!”

“Harratrer of Tallenal Pod, here and secured,” said Whips in his usual calm, slightly buzzing tones. “Nothing to report.”

“All present and secured. Pilot’s station, report status.”

She could see Sakura straighten with pride. “Pilot Station reporting! Launch systems… green, on standby. Autopilot and AI Support, green, on standby. Maneuver rockets, green, all self-checks complete. Life support, all green, fully supplied. Cargo integrity, all green. Nebula Drive, green, seals intact, updates complete. Emergency Trapdoor Drive, green, seals intact, updates complete. Nuclear reactor, all green, on minimal operating level. Atmospheric jets, all green, secured and sealed. Variable configuration actuators, all green. Sensor systems, all green. LS-5 ready for launch, Mom.”

Laura smiled at the last word. Not quite the formal tone preferred, but she’d checked off all the vital systems. Laura could, of course, see all of that on her displays, and in fact the operation of LS-5 would be done entirely by the onboard AI if a real emergency occurred. All AIs except the main shipboard AI were kept shut down at most times, of course, because the colonists would be on a world with minimal automation aside from whatever they brought with them.

“Good,” she said, then went on with the procedure—it was her turn. “Medical station—all crew and passengers show green.” Not surprising, of course; not only did she track her family’s health, and that of over half the colonists on board, regularly, but modern medical treatment combined with the standardization of medical nanotech implants had virtually eliminated poor health for those who didn’t simply abuse their bodies to the limit. It won’t be long before doctors become completely obsolete, she admitted to herself. And honestly? I think I’d be okay with that.

The simple check procedure done and everything on LS-5 showing green, Laura relaxed back into the secured chair. There was nothing to do now but wait while everyone else finished checking off and the usual wait to cycle through the launch sequence as though they were actually doing an evacuation. This week, unfortunately, the sequence was starting from the last shuttle and counting down, which meant they’d be waiting a while.

She activated the nose cameras, giving her a view of Outward Initiative. As the whole ship spun, not just the hab wheel, there was no relative motion, so the great ship’s forward section, silver with multiple patterns of other colors from the logos and flags of its builders and supporters, glittered unmoving and stark in the exterior floodlights against the utter, unrelieved blackness of the… not-exactly-space that was generated around them by the Trapdoor Drive. Three kilometers long and well over a kilometer wide, Outward Initiative was one of the larger human vessels operating today—though not quite the largest.

She could never look at that sight, of the impossible-black space and the brilliant starship, without thinking on what it meant that she could be here, with her family, traveling at eighty times the speed of light to another star. Barely two hundred years ago, we were still stuck in our own solar system, all alone in the universe… and then it all changed.

Changed, when Dr. Helen Sutter discovered an alien skeleton in earthly strata sixty-five million years old. Changed, when NASA and the Ares Corporation discovered an ancient alien base hidden within the Martian moon Phobos, and another on Mars itself.

And changed forever when Dr. Sutter, trapped beneath the ice of Europa, discovered that the aliens had left behind one last, incredible, wonderful legacy: a new, intelligent species that turned out to be as curious and eager to learn as any human being ever was.

Laura smiled and glanced back, seeing everyone—even Hitomi, for a miracle!—sitting quietly. Melody’s slightly-glazed look showed she’d brought up one of her immersive games to pass the time, or maybe one of the interactive books she liked. Whips was relaxed, his three-sided form rounded slightly from the pressure of the artificial gravity, and the rippling patches of light and color on his sides showed he was in a good frame of mind.

Her husband caught her eye and smiled and winked. He’s still as gorgeous as when I met him, she thought. Akira Kimei was dancer-slender, delicate featured, with black hair so long he had to pay constant attention to controlling it whenever he might be entering a low-gravity area—a bishonen even at the age of forty-three.

She winked back. Of course, being forty-three now is a lot different than it used to be; I’m forty-five but I haven’t aged that much since I was in my early twenties. With average lifespans over a hundred and seventy-five, “old” had been redefined quite a bit.

Sakura’s wireless link was active, and Laura smiled. Sakura never stopped talking even when she had to be quiet. Sometimes she was a bit sorry for Whips, but the Bemmie adolescent and Sakura had been best friends for years, even before they applied for the colony trip. She supposed he’d gotten very good at listening along the way.

         She gave a satisfied sigh and settled back.

Alarm klaxons suddenly screamed, and as her stunned mind tried to grasp what that meant, the pressure door to the hatch slammed shut and locked.

“Oh, my God…” Sakura said, and Laura heard fear in the usually fearless voice.

Stars bloomed into existence around them; Outward Initiative was—incredibly—no longer in the Trapdoor Drive mode.

No, her horrified mind said numbly, It’s worse than that.

For one splintered fraction of an instant, she saw something in the displays that was utterly impossible; a ghostly shimmer of structures below them, as though part of Outward Initiative was here, with them, and the rest… not.

Even as she saw that, even as Sakura’s shocked gasp was dying away, there was a thud and a virulent flare of green-white light, and LS-5 was suddenly spinning away, uncontrolled, free-falling, lights momentarily flickering and threatening to send them into darkness. With only fragments of metal and composite following it, LS-5 hurtled away into the emptiness of interstellar space.

 

 

 

 

Paradigms Lost: Chapter 43

Jason had made a deal that made him nervous…

 

 

—–

 

Chapter 43: Beware of Spooks Leaving Gifts

I stared down at the disk in my hand. The fact that it contained possibly treasonous information made it seem as heavy as lead. But, unfortunately, it wasn’t the worst of the things I had to deal with. My date with Sylvie last night, our third “real” date, had been bittersweet at best. We were happy to be together finally, but another fact overshadowed our enjoyment: despite three days of careful work, Syl, Verne, Morgan, and their few other trusted contacts had turned up precisely nothing. My “brilliant idea” was a washout, and Verne was worse than ever. Once in a while he seemed to improve slightly for a few hours, but it always came back. No mystical influences alien to the house. No mental controls on Kafan that they could find. Nothing.

I sighed. Syl wasn’t coming over today—the Silver Stake had three shipments that needed to be classified, and she didn’t want to be faced with Verne right now anyway.

I glanced at another envelope on my desk, one which in any other circumstances would be causing me to call up Syl for champagne and a very, very expensive dinner out. But even it barely gave me a momentary smile. I sighed; putting the CD into a protective case, I put the case into my backpack. Time to send it off on a delivery.

As I opened the front door, I saw a package lying on the doorstep. I picked it up, noting that it had no mailing stamps, no return address, nothing.

Belatedly it occurred to me that being in this business I might expect to start getting mail bombs soon. Well, if it was a bomb, it certainly wasn’t movement activated. I hefted it a couple of times; light, not much more than paper in here, if anything. There could still be enough plastique in it to do serious damage, though; it didn’t take much high explosive to do a number on you.

I shrugged. Not likely to be a bomb; what the hell. I ripped it open.

No explosions. Looking inside, I saw another envelope and a sheet of paper. It was a note:

Jason, you have the god-damned devil’s luck. Here are the IDs. Destroy the disk. Since I know you’re too damn curious for your own good, I’ll tell you that somehow whatever you’re up to got the attention of one of my bosses and they caught me. Instead of shutting us down, he told me to make the IDs. Must be personal—he told me not to even mention this to the other members of our, um, group. So this one’s free. But I’d worry, if I were you. If even HE thinks you’re involved in something important enough to let you off a felony charge without so much as a warning, you’re playing with nukes, not fire.

Jammer

I stared at the package, then opened the envelope. Birth certificate… passport… driver’s license… Jesus, even documents showing he was proficient in woodworking and construction (about the only salable skills I could find) and a Black Belt certification from Budoukai Tai Kwan Do in California. I looked closer. That was a genuine passport, seal and all.

Who were these people? And what the hell had I gotten myself into now?