Penny

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene ate carefully, aware that his familiarity with the table etiquette made his aristocratic background painfully obvious. He wondered how Ten would react if he began stuffing his face with the quick efficiency soldiers had learned during the grueling basic training courses where meals were frequently interrupted with drills or trumped up punishments. The thought brought a grin to Rene’s face and Ten’s own smile widened, misinterpreting the expression as bloodlust.

“Why do you want him dead?” Rene asked, taking a sip of wine. There was no point in worrying about being poisoned or otherwise subdued. If Ten intended that he had plenty of options, including simply locking the doors and having sleeping gas pumped into the room. Ten examined his manicure for a moment before responding.

“We have had certain dealings, Octavius Ralch is the son of a minor noble family, a client of the Tan’s and mostly depended on the largess of the Duke and his court. He is not however a favorite son and has, or I should say had, very little in the way of personal resources. For reasons that I didn’t fully understand until now, the Duke appointed him as chief Consul here about 18 months ago,” Tan explained. Solae was nodding along, it stood to reason that the Duke would want to control the PEAs. That was very difficult even for a sector duke, as they were under the control of the Diplomatic corp and the Imperial Fleet, neither of which was particularly vulnerable to pressure from the sector level. The array on Zatis was the sole exception, its unique arrangement meant it was under the control of a consul rather than an ambassador, and consulate positions were appointed by the Sector authorities rather than from Capella. When Tan had began planning his rebellion, one of his first moves was to put one of his flunkies into the position to secure control of the PEA.

“And he used his position to build up a personal fortune?” Solae asked, delicately prodding Ten along.

“Yes, he charges outrageous fees, bribes effectively, for access to information from the PEA, worse yet he sells information about who takes an interest in what. Some of my rivals purchased such information from him. We use encryption of course but just knowing who is sending and receiving can be used if one knows how. Some of my rivals purchased such information from him and some of my people were killed .” There was a hard edge to Ten’s voice, not upset about the bloodshed, but iron certainty that he would not allow such a challenge to his organisation to go unanswered.

“So if the Duke controls the PEA why does he need Solae?” Rene asked, frowning in puzzlement. If the PEA were to be of any use it needed to be able to send as well as receive. Ten laughed in amusement.

“The only authorized individual on the planet was an old rogue from the diplomatic corp named Kampyr Fenn. He and Ralch didn’t get along, partly because Fenn didn’t approve of the corruption that was going on and partly because Ralch is an insufferable ass. My informants tell me that Ralch killed Fenn in an argument a few weeks ago, but is covering it up,” Ten confided with a slight titter that raised the hair on the back of Rene’s neck.

“I suspect that Tan will have a few words for his flunky about that at some point,” Rene observed with considerable understatement. The revelation shone light on the events of the past few weeks and explained more than a few things. Duke Tan had intended that Fenn be captured by Ralch at the moment of revolt, an insurance policy if other attempts, like the one on Solae, failed. Tan must be furious with Ralch and it was unlikely that the minor functionary would survive the Duke’s displeasure.

“I am willing to help you reach your goal,” Ten went on, swirling his own wine languidly.

“I cannot claim it will be easy, Zatis is a dangerous place and Ralch keeps are large retinue of body guards. He has to you see, or the people he is shaking down might take steps…”

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene settled into one of the chairs feeling the same peculiar sense of unease he had at Lord Armon’s manor. Though he had grown up in environments even more luxurious than this, since joining the marines he had worked hard to put that part of his world in the past. Being back among such splendour now seemed somehow surreal. There could be no doubt that Ten was a man of considerable means. Rene was no bibliophile but he knew enough about books to recognise that the library on the wall was a true collection and not merely the standard collection of works many minor aristocrats curated to give the allusion of erudition.

Ten certainly wasn’t an aristocrat, the lack of genetic modifications made that as obvious as Solae’s unnaturally golden hair, but he had certainly risen to as high a level as any commoner could dare to aspire. That made Rene uncomfortable, though he couldn’t have articulated quite why. Entrance into the aristocracy was the next logical step. Sexual desire was hardly an important factor in aristocratic unions, given that children were designed rather than born. Perhaps he simply had as much as he wanted, or perhaps he was smart enough to realise what was likely to happen to those who allied themselves with Duke Tan. He might simply be playing the long game to curry favor with an important noble family, or trying to avoid ruinous secrets being made public just as he said. Rene supposed that he had saved them from the ambush, and for that he owed their host at least a tenuous trust.

“No thank you,” Rene replied declining the drink politely. Ten nodded without particularly inflection as Cristeta went to work. She was an attractive woman in her early thirties with short closely cropped brown hair. Her skin was very slightly two toned with lines of a slightly paler shade overlaying her normal colouration, tell tale signs of tattoo removal surgery though with a standard skin graft rather than a genetically tailored version which would have matched perfectly. She lifted a medical multiplexer and ran the sensor probe over Solae’s burn. The snake like probe retracted into the instrument with the sample of DNA and began to hum as it synthesized stem cells. Cristetalooked at the palm sized view screen and made few more adjustments with the deft skill of an artist at work, then began to make slow passes over the burned area. A fine mist of medications and stem cells sprayed from the multiplexer’s nozzle, binding with the wounded area before a laser communicated the desired configuration. The cells bonded and debrived the burned tissue while the analgesics blocked the pain receptors. Cristeta paused and retrieved a small set of forceps before tugging away the layer she had just deposited, removing burned and damaged cells.

Rene watched the process with fascination. The technique was similar to the medi-comp he had used back on the slavers plantation, though it didn't require full immersion. The multiplexer clicked as Cristea made another adjustment and began laying down additional layers, the stem cells adopting the computers desired configuration and rebuilding the skin one dermal layer at a time. Cristea made frequent adjustments, though she rarely took her eyes off the injury, seeming to know that to adjust the way a painter knows how much color to mix. When the process was completed a few minutes later all trace of the wound had been removed, save for the fine hairs which had been burned away. Even those would return quickly, once the follicles had a chance to develop. It was a very neat piece of work and judging by the pleased expression on the doctors face, she was pleased with it.

“How do you feel m’lady?” Cristeta asked, casting a sidelong look at Rene. The soldier arched an eyebrow at her but she turned away and flushed slightly. Solae lifted her arm and moved it experimentally.

“Good as new,” she said with a smile. The doctor looked pleased with the praise and looked up at Ten who nodded his approval before she began packing away her instruments.

“Now my lady,” Ten went on smoothly, “shall we discuss what further service I can be to the house of Falia over dinner?”

The dining room was, if anything, more splendid than the library, though here too the expression of wealth was in simple good taste rather than gaudy extravagance. The same tasteful wood flooring had been continued but it rose to a small dais in the center upon which sat a large linen draped table with three chairs spaced around it so that the open side was to a large display of brightly aquatic fish. The water that held them hung in the air, suspended by projected force fields. Creatures that looked like tiny rays with long vanes of silver and gold flitted through the water curvetting and darting in time to some internal logic that escaped the watching humans. The table itself was laid with a variety of dishes, ranging from roasted meat of unfamiliar source, to candied nuts and fresh fruit. Several crystal pitchers held what appeared to be wines or liqueurs.

“Please be seated,” Ten invited and Rene steeped forward and drew out Solae’s seat allowing her to be seated first as befit the highest ranking person present. Ten seated himself next before Rene took the final seat beside Solae.

“To business then,” Ten said with a smile.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

“Are you all right?” Rene asked Solae, pulling open the small first aid it he carried and spraying the wound with a combination sealant and antiseptic. The wound wasn’t serious, just as Solae had said, but he was conscious of Oanh Park’s advice about not overestimating Solae’s stamina.

“A criminal?” Rene asked his eyes narrowing slightly, the pistol in his hand had cooled so it didn’t blacken the leather finish as he pointed the barrel at the driver. At this range the seat wouldn’t slow the slug appreciable, but shooting the driver of an air car in mid flight posed other problems.

“What kind?” Rene asked, his voice so casual that only Solae, who knew him intimately, would have recognised it for the warning it was.

“I’m a broker of sorts, goods, information,” Ten, or whatever his real name was, responded evasively.

“Do you deal in Syshin?” Rene asked still casual. Ten laughed and shook his head. Rene lowered the pistol though it still pointed at the pilot through the seat and the man probably knew it.

“I wont claim I’m too pure,” the man admitted, “but that particular market is pretty well cornered on Zatis.” Rene grunted, now was not the time to continue the work they had begun on New Concordia, but the day would come when the Empire would smash the trade and he suspected Ten would be able to provide just the information needed to do it.

The aircar banked, having covered several dozen blocks in the space of a handful of seconds. The more or less commercial landscape had given way to larger structures of less definite purpose. Some were clearly workplaces, offices or warehouse, but others were just as clearly residences set apart by landscaping mostly with genetically altered stock that could live in the artificial light of the domes. On many urban landscapes tall buildings were the sign of status. The domes foreclosed such construction and so on Zatis power was commanded by the size of a buildings footprint rather than its height.

“If you deal in information then you know about our situation?” Rene pressed, uncomfortable with this unexpected turn of events.

“I know that Duke Tan has declared Solae Falia a rebel and offered a huge bounty for her capture,” Ten admitted. The aircar was slowing appreciably, dropping towards a large building of tastefully finished grey stone that shone in the domes artificial light like buffed granite. The roof had been carefully landscaped and was planted with a variety of trees, that had lush green coloration, despite the fact they were probably engineered for the low water conditions on Zatis. In the center of the roof shimmered an idyllic pool of cool blue water.

“I suspect…” Ten hesitated, making some pretence of fiddling with the controls.

“That given the lack of other communications in the past few days, it means something is majorly wrong politically,” Ten concluded. Rene neither applified nor contradicted the statement as the aircar sunk towards the pool. The car touched the pool and slid through the apparent water in a shimmer of light. Holograms used convincingly to provide privacy were nothing new, though Rene rather suspected there were electronic countermeasures also. They slipped into a large garage area in which several aircars, ranging from the ultra luxurious to the battered and inconspicuous sat. There were no staff in sight.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene spun smoothly, the heat of the plasma bolt close enough to his arm to singe his hairs. It burst on the facade of sculpted concrete half a block ahead of them spraying passers buy with shards of sharp hot stone. People screamed and ran for cover, most of them probably didn’t even realise what was happening, merely following the crowd, though in this case the impulse probably was a good one. Rene reached into his jacket, a heavy spacers garment meant to be proof against the mishaps of shipboard life, and pulled his own pistol free. Like their assailant, he opened fire without taking the extra few seconds to aim, more intent on preventing a second shot than putting down the attacker. The electromotive pistol cracked sharply and the mercenary dodge backwards as one of the shrubby plants in a planter beside her burst into splinters. Rene corrected his aim even as he used his body weight to force Solae and the newcomer into an alley and out of the immediate line of fire. His opponent fired a second time but she was clearly rattled by the failure of her ambush and it flew high splashing harmlessly off the distant dome. Rene settled his sight picture, finger taking up the slack, but before he could fire the mercenary sensed her danger and dived behind the cover of a large industrial trash container. Tracking automatically Rene fired into the obstruction, spraying a shower of sparks in all directions.

“Rene!” Solae called and the soldier yielded to a tug on his arm that drew him into the alley and out of sight. A flash of frustration shadowed his mind for a moment, Marine training was always to attack and not to leave an enemy alive while they could still do you harm, but his rational mind quickly overtook the conditioning. The shooter wasn’t a problem, unless she was crazy enough to run a block and turn into an alley where, for all she knew, Rene was lying in wait. That was unlikely as no one who lived to the apparent age of their attacker was stupid enough to pursue a dangerous opponet blindly. Plus there was the newcomer to consider.

The man was cloaked and difficult to make out, as Rene and Solae followed him quickly down the alleyway. Rene briefly considered that this might be some sort of ruse, designed to lure Solae into a trap by threatening her with false danger, but if that were the case the mercenary gunwoman had come way too close to killing Solae outright. Like the rest of Zatis the alley was dingy but not the trash piled midden Rene had expected. There must be some sort of sanitation service, even if that was as simple as bulldozing refuse into central locations for incineration

“I have a car!” the stranger was calling glancing back over his shoulder at them. Rene followed behind Solae, keeping his gaze over his shoulder in case he had been wrong, until they emerged from the alley. They stepped through a shimmering curtain of light which Rene belatedly realised was a holographic advertisements, and onto a broad boulevard. The street here was still filled with people though there were nervous glances in the general direction of the gunfire of moments ago. Zatis clearly wasn't a world where shootings were an unusual event. Air cushion vehicles moved up and down the street. Though most of the conveyances appeared to be commercial rather than personal, there were a number of air cars and sedans both in the street and parked along the sidewalk.

The stranger removed something from his pocket and the doors of a large aircar folded upwards like gull wings. It was an older model, though it must have been expensive when it was new, and appeared to be of a Cappelan design. The interior bespoke wealth, with fine paneling of some kind of dark polished wood as well as a high grade synthetic leather. The stranger climbed into the drivers seat as Solae jumped into the passenger seat, nursing the near miss from the plasma bolt. Rene half stepped half dived into the rear compartment, keeping his pistol muzzle trained on the advertisement hologram, which distance had resolved into a shimmering naked woman beckoning with a crooked finger. The text beneath read: Paradox - Where Nothing is as it Seems. The fans of the aircar hummed to life and it lifted in a spray of dust and grit, angling along the street in the direction they had originally been going, optimum for putting distance between them and their attackers. The driver, whoever he was, kept them close to the ground for a hundred meters or so, a professional move that kept the vulnerable fan nacelles safe from gunfire, before lifting them to a safer altitude.

Via Stellarum

The western sky had begun to lighten as the surviving conscripts made their way towards their objective. The ecological disaster around them grew starker with the extra sunlight, the landscape must once have been a forest but the changes that wide scale mining had wrought had killed all but the hardiest trees, leaving only dead fungus encrusted tree boles reaching towards the sky. Some trees, those hardiest and best adapted to the new conditions still sprouted leaves, but they were twisted and unwholesome looking, as though they had passed too close to a flame and begun to curl up in the face of the heat. The landscape itself had suffered as atrophied roots could no longer combat the vicious downpours that came each rainy season. Long gulleys were cut back to the bedrock where rain swept debris and detritus into pockets in the rock substrate, piling up impressive conglomerations of dead wood and small rocks.

Going was slow as the platoon slid down the sides of the erosion cut trenches and climbed up the other side. The loose soil was often to pliant to provide much in the way of hand holds and they frequently had to divert along the dry watercourses to find a place where the ascent was easier. Kyra was glad that they hadn’t landed during the rainy season as she was sure progress would have been completely impossible. Even with the suppressor chip in her neck she could feel the ambient mixture of fear and excitement. Each time a distant explosion shook dust from the trees she could feel a momentary spike of fear and then a trough of relief. The gunfire seemed more sporadic and less intense than it had during the landing, perhaps because the heavy guns that had been firing at the drop ships were now silent. What rifle fire they did hear was distant, and uncertain in its direction given the broken nature of the landscape.

They moved in a loose skirmish line that buched and expanded as the terrain demaded. Kyra stayed close to Edwin on the right end of the line while Reyes commanded they left. She didn’t know if the formation offered any advantage other than to keep them from bunching together where an artillery shell or machine gun burst could cut them all down, but truthfully she didn’t much care. After an hour or so her only focus became the defile ahead of her and she focused only on crossing each of the jagged cuts in the earth.

When Edwin’s hand fell on her shoulder she started and looked up for the first time in hours. They had reached a small ridgeline covered with shorty scrubby bushes with pale blue leaves. The landscape on the other side of the ridge was markedly different, though no less depressing. Instead of the knife cuts and tree stumps there was a flat rocky plain Kyra was momentarily surprised to see such a difference in terrain but then realised what had happened. Heavy earth movers had scraped the ground bare, bulldozing the top soil into the valleys. Now she knew what to look for she could see the lines of discolored, vaguely purplish earth, where the spoil had been sprayed with chemical plasticizer to turn it into a kind of poor man's concrete, presumably to prevent it from being swept away by the rains. Perhaps two hundred meters from the ridge lay a large compound. It was the size of a small town and surrounded by a thick burm of plasticized earth several meters high. Vast derricks reached into the sky from the center of the drilling station like the armatures of artificial mountains. The great rusted towers thrummed with power, the drills and pumps working ceaselessly to plumb the depths of the poisoned world. Periodically jets of flame or steam burst from outlet valves with a rush audible even from the distant ridge. A pipeline of rusted metal stretched off over the horizon, carrying whatever they were mining to its distant collection point.

Kyra tried to think back to the briefing but other than the word ‘drilling station’ didn’t remember very much. More for something to do than any real notion of what she was doing, she lifted her binoculars to her eyes and dialed up the magnification to X64. The burm was a real barrier, studded with watch towers ever thirty meters or so, spindly looking cheap constructions, with sand bagged platforms atop them. There were two large gates on the walls perpendicular to the ridge, each of which was protected by a block house. At the southern entrance an armored vehicle of some kind was parked, its turret pointed off to the south though clearly not aiming at anything in particular.

“We are supposed to capture this place?” Kyra whispered to Edwin, her quiet an instinct rendered completely unnecessary by the rumble of the heavy machinery at work at the base.