Shadow of the Chimera (Reckless Faith VII), Chapter 12

Spoiler alert: This is a new entry for the 7th book in the Reckless Faith series. The prologue may be found here: https://devonai.wordpress.com/2022/12/15/reckless-faith-vii-prologue/

In the cargo hold of the Reckless Faith, Evangeline sat cross-legged on a bare mattress on the floor, eyes closed, with Amity’s staff in her hands. She was using the austere and quiet space to try to reach Aquila, as she and her friends had many questions for the Kira’To. She had no idea if her attempt at communication would work, but after further experimentation with the staff had gone nowhere, spending some time alone and in meditation seemed to be as good an idea as any.

Though recent attempts at contact by she and Vecky hadn’t been fruitful, Eva had an odd feeling that clutching the staff during her effort might be helpful. It may have been her own mind playing tricks on her, but she did find it easier to relax while holding it. The gentle thrumming of the Faith’s engines was also quite peaceful. The only real challenge was staying awake.

After what seemed like half a day, she checked her PDA, only to discover that a scant two hours had passed. She sighed, shifted the staff to one side, and stood up.

“Lights to forty percent,” she said into the air.

The room became visible to her, though she had taken care not to make it too bright. She gazed at the intricate golden patterns on the surface of the staff. They reminded of her of how she felt about a year ago, when she was trying in earnest to learn how to read Cyrillic in advance of a planned trip to Crimea. She had struggled with the alphabet, but upon realizing that the script had a Greek origin helped a lot, as she was well-familiar with the latter. It was that strange feeling in the moment, right before the revelation, that the staff seemed to impart to her: the sensation of being on the cusp of a rewarding discovery. Alas, no amount of staring at the staff would force it to reveal its secrets. For that, they needed help.

Eva exited the hold and climbed the stairs to the galley. Feeling like she needed a break from the thing, she left the staff leaning against the bulkhead, and turned to head up the stairs to the top deck. As her foot hit the first step, she heard a clear voice in her head, which she instantly knew to be a silent message only for her.

“Take me,” said the staff, in a voice that had no character or inflection.

“Damn it,” replied Eva, turning on her back heel. “I’m not leaving you behind. Besides, you don’t belong to me exclusively.”

Shaking her head at the absurdity of talking to an inanimate object, she resumed her trip to the bridge. There, she found the rest of the crew engaged in idle conversation. They greeted her, and John spoke.

“Any luck?”

“Not exactly. No contact with a Kira’To, though I think the staff may have tried to communicate with me directly. I left it in the galley, and I could swear I heard a voice that told me to hold onto it.”

“Creepy!” said Ari.

“It was, in fact. I might just be going insane. Any word from the Fox?”

“Speak of the devil,” began Dana, “they’re messaging us now. I’ll put them through.”

Vecky’s image appeared on the main screen. Her hair was a perfect mess, and she spoke with an urgent tone.

“Anachronia put out a bounty on us. We had some, uh, difficulty, on Far Reach. Cane took a round to the bicep; Penrose has got him in surgery now. He, Faen, and I are okay, though just barely.”

“You encountered bounty hunters?” asked John.

“Yes, a Captain Lesath, if that was her real name. I’m pretty sure she survived the encounter, though two of her crew did not. We’re headed back to your location now, and we’re being pursued by a single ship.”

“Understood. Let them follow, we’ll give them a nice surprise when you get here.”

“Fine by me. ETA, one minute. Kitsune out.”

The screen returned to a view of the gorgeous glow of the galactic core.

“Percheron, this is the Reckless Faith, over.”

“Go ahead, Commander Scherer,” said Dietrich’s voice.

“The Fox is coming in hot. Hold your location and drop your invisibility shield. We need a show of force. One tango reported.”

“Wilco, out.”

“Alert the Supernova and the others, same sitrep.”

“Got it,” replied Dana. “I just dropped our own shield.”

“Good. Milly, look sharp. Gunners, take your positions.”

Richter, Ari, Devonai, and Ray left the bridge. Eva assumed the weapons station that Richter had just vacated. Friday jumped in her lap, and Tycho lay down at her feet.

“Looks like I’m popular with the animals today,” Eva said.

John looked over his shoulder. “They know something’s up. Seth gave them that gift.”

Eva stroked Friday’s jet-black fur. “So, should I be worried, or what?”

“I don’t know. Just be nice to them.”

Jumping into view directly in front of them, the Fox appeared. Moments later, a familiar type of ship appeared, off their stern at a distance of about a thousand yards.

“Holy shit,” said Dana.

“I see it,” breathed John.

“Context?” asked Eva.

“It’s an Umberian Mark Seventeen. It’s what the Reckless Faith was meant to be, and Aldebaran’s former ship. None were thought to have survived. Dana, hail them.”

“Channel open,” she said.

“This is the independent vessel Reckless Faith. Hold fast and state your intentions.”

The visage of a woman appeared on the main screen. She was quite clearly Umberian, with hair down to her shoulders, and wore a generic gray flight suit. Behind her, the bridge appeared to be deserted. A garish laceration across her left cheek had left blood streaming down her face and onto her neck, with apparently no effort on her part to treat it.

“Reckless Faith,” she began, “this is the Antares, Captain Lesath speaking. You, the Fox, and those three other ships are ordered to surrender, as authorized by 49 GLC 173.185, to a legal corral.”

“You’ve got giant, clanking brass balls to make that demand, outnumbered six-to-one. Do you not see what you’re up against? I’ve got an alternative proposal. Scan my ship, and tell me what you see.”

Lesath replied, after a moment. “Your ship’s energy profile registers as an Umberian Mark Seventeen.”

“That sounds like a pretty good conversation starter, don’t you think?”

“So what? After this much time, anyone could have gotten their hands on such a ship.”

“Yeah, but does it match yours in appearance? Curious, to say the least.”

“Quit being evasive and get to your point.”

“Have you received any word on what happened with Umber and the Zendreen invasion?”

Lesath scoffed. “For fuck’s sake, you are annoying. It might as well be ancient history at this point, what does it change between us?”

“So I’ll take that as a no. Captain Lesath, Umber has been liberated, and the Zendreen have been utterly wiped out. Now, I’m guessing you’re at least two generations removed from that imbroglio, so we’d be happy to update you.”

She took a deep breath. “I do have to wonder why your ship has the energy signature of a Mark Seventeen, while completely different in appearance. Since time isn’t at a premium right now, I’ll listen to your explanation.”

John gave her a summary of how the Faith came into existence, their adventures in the Tarantula Nebula, and the ultimate defeat of the Zendreen. Lesath drew a white handkerchief from her pocket, and began to dap it on the wound on her cheek.

“That’s quite a claim,” she said, wincing. “More likely, you’re an opportunistic thief, you and that other ship alike. I still don’t understand why you think this changes anything between us.”

“Come on,” said John, shaking his head. “You’re clearly outnumbered, and I’m extending you an olive branch. You can be skeptical about our story, but the truth is that we have no reason to fight. Let me ask you, does your ship have a replicator?”

“Yes.”

“Really? Then why are you taking on bounties? You can just replicate as much fungible material as you want and live your life in luxury.”

“We all need a reason for being.”

“True, but consider this: our replicator is working just fine, and whatever the Anachronian bounty is, we’ll double it, with whatever valuable metals you’d care to take. Captain Lesath, we should be allies, unless you ultimately hate Umber for however you ended up out here.”

Lesath stared off to the side. “This was my father’s ship.”

“Nobody would blame him for making a run to the core galaxy. The Zendreen were an unstoppable force. If not for that one probe making it to Terra, they would probably still have a stranglehold on Umber.”

“If what you say is true, then you’d be big damn heroes.”

John smiled. “We’d think so, except the rest of the galaxy has proved to be exponentially more dangerous than the Zendreen ever were. And yet, we’re still here.”

“What’s your purpose here? What did you do to piss off Anachronia enough for them to post a bounty worthy of a comfy retirement?”

“We’re here looking for information about Banshees, also known as Chimeras, as well as the Sortarii.”

Lesath looked pale. “Is that all? For a moment there, I thought you were going to propose something impossible.”

“Most people thought the liberation of Umber was impossible. We can fund your retirement, Captain Lesath, if that’s what you really want. All we ask in exchange is what you know about those two things.”

She seemed like she was about to burst into tears. “Do you have a decent surgeon?”

“Yes. If you have need of advanced medical care, we can help.”

“My first mate, Sargas, was grievously wounded during the fracas in New Haven. He’s holding on by a thread. If you can save him, then I’ll consider taking your payment.”

“That’s up to Captain Kitsune, it’s her ship with the doctor and the surgical bay.”

“Then I’ll power-down my weapons and ask her. Lesath out.”

The transmission terminated. John called the gunner crews back. Eva gave up her seat to Richter, and sat down in one of the jumpseats at the back of the bridge. By the time this had happened, the Fox was already headed toward the Antares, presumably to dock.

“I hope we just formed a new friendship,” began Christie, “despite the violence that preceded it. I also hope Lesath has some information we can use.”

John nodded. “That would be handy. If not, we’re stuck traveling to the next star system to continue our search. In fact, with the Anachronians on our asses, we may want to choose one a hundred or more light-years from here regardless. I wish we knew how large the Anachronians sphere of influence is.”

“Every shuffler in this entire spiral arm could be looking for us,” said Richter. “Another good reason to try to hire Lesath to our side. A Mark Seventeen would be a great addition to our little lost band of travelers, should we have to fight some bounty hunters.”

“I should be over there assisting Penrose,” said Christie. “I’ve been inside his head, I know what he knows.”

“You’re right,” replied John. “Milly, get us over to the Fox, on the opposite side from the Antares. We could have a lot riding on the survival of Mister Sargas.”

__________

Shang Fuyue calmly strolled down the concourse on the Anachronia VI space station, observing everyone, and interacting with no one. He occasionally stopped to adjust his outfit, which he didn’t like, but it was entirely necessary for him look the part of a normal spacer. It wasn’t that his shirt, pants, boots, and jacket didn’t fit – they were fine for his body – only that he much preferred simpler garb. He was also without any of his physical weapons, not just due to the fact that they were prohibited on the station, but also that he was hip-deep in Anachronians, the sworn enemy of his kind. Such a state wasn’t personal, of course; they had no idea who he was. Still, his most powerful weapon was himself, and what he could do with the station’s systems, though more draining to use effectively.

Fuyue stopped to look at his reflection in a particularly shiny bulkhead outside of some sort of fragrance shop. His species made it easy for him to blend in, as a boringly-humanoid child of the galactic diaspora. He had no real fear of discovery by his unwitting hosts, since anything that might identify him as a Sortarius had been left on his ship, but as was the nature of the universe, one could never assume that any random person might not be sensitive to its patterns, and those who move among them like monkeys on vines in a verdant jungle. It was those patterns, obvious to anyone trained to seek them, that brought him so far from home, and into hostile territory.

He had been drawn to the station on a hunch, and thus hadn’t yet contacted the Order to let them know he was on the hunt. It was only after he exited his ship, and set foot on the concourse, that he realized the sensation pulling on his consciousness was real. Something had happened there, and of great magnitude. He continued to walk along the concourse, letting his instinct lead him, much like holding one’s finger in the air to determine the direction of the wind. As soon as he came within view of the security checkpoint for a docking station, some seventy-five meters away, he knew what he was looking for.

Someone there, quite recently, had used a Staff of the Archon.

As he drew nearer, he saw that the checkpoint had been roped off, and a sign posted that indicated the area had been closed for renovations. Looking past the cordon, there was no visible damage to anything, but his senses were screaming at him. The energy signature of something that powerful was unmistakable. A rush of adrenaline hit him, as he now knew what he must do, and it would provide a welcome change from the last several years of his self-imposed isolation on Far Reach, quite possibly the most boring planet in the galaxy.

Turning around, he saw a watchmaker’s shop directly across from the checkpoint. He headed inside, curious to see if the sign on the wall actually meant what it said. Indeed, the walls were lined with mechanical clocks, and the display cases were full of analog watches, both pocket-style and that meant to be worn on the wrist. Designs ranged from utilitarian to luxurious. The sounds of their operation met his ears, and it was a beat that he instantly liked; much like the pulse of the universe that he had been trained to feel.

Behind one of the counters sat an Anachronian woman, advanced in years, repairing a wristwatch. Fuyue gazed in appreciation at the web of tiny gears and springs inside the chassis of the small timepiece, which the woman was manipulating with considerable patience and skill. Eventually, she chose to acknowledge his presence, and glanced up at him, her right eye magnified by the loupe she had strapped to her head.

“Morning,” was all she had to say, and returned to her work.

“I’m surprise to see a shop like this in this place,” he said. “I wouldn’t have thought such ancient technology would be popular to anyone but the most fervent collector.”

“It’s a status symbol around here, popularized about twenty years ago. My husband and I learned the trade to take advantage of that.”

Fuyue pointed at a no-frills specimen that appeared to be robust in design. “How much for that one?”

She looked at the watch. “Fifteen credits. Be aware that it’s only calibrated for an Anachronian day. Others are adjustable between eighteen and thirty-six hour days, in two-hour increments, though they’ll run you more. Those ones also come with interchangeable faces for the desired period.”

“I’ll buy that one for forty-five, if you’ll come across with some information for me as well.”

She took off her loupe, and gave him her full attention. “Anything I could possibly tell you would be worth far less. But ask your questions.”

Fuyue nodded. “What happened at the security checkpoint across the way?”

“You mean yesterday?”

“Sure.”

“I didn’t see much. There was a loud thump, like a large piece of furniture falling over, and the next thing you know, soldiers are swarming the concourse. I did catch a glimpse of a woman holding a broom or something – I thought she was a soldier, too, by the way she was dressed – but she fled toward the airlock. Some military officers were brought out on stretchers not long after that.”

Fuyue rested his hands on the counter, and closed his eyes. He tried to imagine the scene she had described, until the images coalesced in his mind. The woman she spoke of was humanoid, with long brown hair tied back behind her head. She wore glasses, a camouflage jacket of mottled green and brown, and clutched a staff. A phrase jumped into his head.

“She who spoke the gospel.”

“What’s that now?”

He opened his eyes. “Sorry. What else can you tell me about that incident?”

“The military, and some people I believe were scientists, gave that checkpoint a lot of attention after that. As you can see, they shut it down, though for what reason, I couldn’t tell you.”

“Thanks.” He pulled out his PDA. “So I’ll take that watch. Forty-five credits, right?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Fifteen. For the love of the core, not everything in this galaxy costs money. Sometimes people just feel like talking.”

“I wish that were the case more often.”

She grabbed her own PDA, allowed the two devices to handshake, then retrieved the watch. Fuyue accepted it, and held it up to his ear. Its rhythm brought him joy, and he realized the simple thing could help him concentrate when he needed to.

“You be careful out there, Sortarius.”

His heart leapt into his throat, and he gave the shopkeeper a hard look. She winked.

“I’m not…”

“I care not who you are, as long as you take your drama away from here. Your business, though, is appreciated.”