Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) (3 page)

Dietrich felt his temper rising again. Salena had always been insolent, even when she was a child. She liked to push her minders and bodyguards to the edge.
To the best of my memory, she had never taken that tone with me before. She has either grown more arrogant or more powerful. Neither is good.

Before Dietrich could respond, Damien spoke, “You're paranoid, Salena. You see plots and dangers where there is only truth. Everything in these documents lines up precisely with Peter's policies over the last quarter century. Both of them received grants from the Commonwealth government to attend Goteborg University, received internships in Commonwealth agencies, and start up loans for a business. Kristoffer even befriended Ian Evers who then bought him a ship for his hauling firm, probably at the nudging of carefully placed Sørensen agents. All of these opportunities came just after Peter signed them into law. He was paving the way for them.”

Dietrich nodded. “Peter kept a close eye on his children through his surrogates and made sure they never had want for anything.”

“And his sister is just as accomplished,” Damien continued, referring to the dossier more for show than actual need. “An advanced bio-medical degree as well as experience in precursor anthropology. She's an explorer that one, a risk taker. Where is she now, Dietrich?”

Dietrich frowned and cleared his throat. Damien found the crack in the armor and started worrying at the edges. “We don't know. She vanished five years ago apparently over a dispute with her brother and Ian Evers. We have been unable to locate her. We have therefore focused all of our efforts on keeping contact with Kristoffer, as he is the heir.”

“I don't care what they studied in school. It doesn't make either one of them ready for a throne,” Salena insisted. “You don't even know where one of them is. Don't you see what's going on here, Damien? These secrets are being kept from the highest levels of the family. These children, if they even exist, were raised by Sørensens, funded by Sørensens and aggrandized by Sørensens. This is all a Sørensen plot to place one of them on throne. Show some sense, brother.”

Damien waved his hand dismissively. “This is why Peter kept all this a secret. He was protecting them from the corrupting influence of paranoid Commonwealth politics.” Damien looked at Dietrich, “And from us.”

Dietrich nodded then shrugged apologetically surprised at Damien's levelheadedness. “Their safety was paramount for Archduke Peter. Their value to Commonwealth depended on their survival and Peter wanted them away from Commonwealth nobility and from the schemes and machinations that resulted in Arthur's death.”

“So my sister was correct. What else are you keeping from us you scheming bastard?” Damien leveled his gaze, suddenly hard and cold as ice, at the Sørensen house master.

Dietrich narrowed his brow, keeping his temper in check. “You will support Kristoffer as he takes the throne. You shall back his claim and obey his orders as if they came from your father or your brother. That is the end of the matter.”

He heaved himself to his feet and collected his sword. He clipped it to the titanium chain that hung from his belt then took hold of his cane. “Our agents have been alerted to our decision and will be bringing Kristoffer to Magdeborg for the funeral and coronation. You will both be in attendance.”

Damien stood as Dietrich turned to leave, but if he had anything to say, he kept it to himself. Salena blocked his path. “You cannot push aside our claims so easily. We have dedicated our lives to the preservation of the realm and you reject us like petty commoners. Both of us command more power than you ever will, old man. You risk much by this underhanded plot of yours.”

“You risk too much opposing
me
,” Dietrich snapped back then shoved past her. “I do not take lightly to threats nor do I make idle ones. There are plenty of skeletons in both of your closets that would damn you eternally if you interfere. I am not the weak old man you believe I've become.”

Lord Dietrich Sørensen left the two siblings, closing the door loudly behind him.

Alos had stepped from the observation room. His massive arms were crossed over his chest and his huge frame made his head appear to brush the ceiling, but his glare made his opinion very clear. Dietrich ignored the Azuren and headed for his ship.

I have never heard of an Azuren being caught by surprise before,
he thought.
A bit like seeing a fish try to swim through space. I hope they do not ever want to see me try the same feat. The results would likely be the same.

Kristoffer

Captain of the MacCleod

Garda Station, Goteborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

______________

“There, that's the ship,” Kristoffer said pointing at the heavy freighter burning into the docking bay. It was an ugly craft that still held elements of blocky ship designs popular two centuries ago. Chris and his first officer Nickalaus watched the boxy ship fired its maneuvering thrusters fiercely as it struggled to line up with the docking collars from the relative safety of a glass-enclosed walkway. The operators hesitated as the ship swayed significantly just in front of the berth, unsure if they should risk moving too soon and damaging the ship or the hangar. Chris cringed as the operator missed the connectors on the ship for the third time. His Sub-Epidermal Signal Enhancer tattoos fluctuated anxiously in color and intensity as the ship lurched and buffeted against the docking collar.

“Amateur pilot,” Nick observed bitterly.

The ship bore the markings of some tiny transportation company probably on the employ of the local noble Evers family to move weapons and material the station to the planet. Garda Station orbited Goteborg's third and only habitable planet and was a major hub for a significant portion of the traffic coming into and leaving the system. As a duchy capital, Lord General Damien Sten felt compelled to protect the system at all costs and based his entire force here to do so. Lord Damien's ships maintained a steady patrol across the system, watching for the Dominion invasion they expected at any moment. Some of his ships were docked in the station undergoing repairs or refits and hundreds of Commonwealth soldiers, from the lowest squires and infantrymen to mighty knights and nobles were often spotted on the station. They represented over a dozen different houses in a pageantry of colors and sigils who donated troops to the cause.

The operator desperately swung the connectors around again as the ship lurched up and made hard contact then locked into the berth. The collars descended around the ship like a giant claw then a gangway extended to lock onto the ship's exit hatch and cycle the air.

“Let's go see her,” Chris said, clapping Nick on the shoulder. Nick nodded hesitantly and followed his captain towards the receiving area.

Noticing Nick's hesitation he added, “You haven't heard from her in four years, huh?”

Nick wiped a hand through his auburn hair and exhaled sharply. His SESE tattoos fluttered. “No. Not a word.”

Nick had been silent on the sudden departure of Chris' sister for years. They had shared a close relationship once, but after their studies at the university had come to a close, they'd parted ways.

After a pause, Nick asked, “Do you think it's true what she told you?”

“What do you mean?” Chris asked as they shoved past spacers and techs.

“About where she's been. Leading groups of Averi pilgrims through the Precursor ruins? After everything she's accomplished at the university, she's a tour guide?”

“I'm not sure if I'd use that term to her face, but that's what she said she's been doing,” Chris said shrugging.

I'm not sure if I believe her either,
he admitted only to himself.
Her messages had been few and far between and she refused to go into any real detail regarding her work. He knew she explored the ruins that dotted worlds across human space. Some were vast, ancient cities, others were old research stations or religious structures. Others were as insignificant as tiny farms or recycling centers. All of them attracted the devout as tourists. They also attracted those who tried to find valuable artifacts in the ruins, for which a lucrative black market had formed. If that's what Claire wanted to do, that was fine with him.

Where the ruins had come from were somewhat of a mystery. The Azuren claimed they were the holy remnants of a long dead civilization that achieved transcendence. It was an explanation of them was good enough for most humans including Chris. The leftovers of long gone societies didn't interest him.

“I haven't heard from her in a few months except that she was coming today,” Chris said. “She almost never responds to my messages.”

“Not even after you told her about your parents?”

Chris shook his head. That was nearly two years ago a few days after the cruise vessel they were vacationing on vanished as it was jumping into Barines, the system known for its impressive planetary nebula. The ship fell into the summoned wormhole, and never emerged on the other side, banished to another solar system or the vastness between galaxies. If the ship emerged whole, the passengers would face months or even years of cold loneliness as the ship slowly ran out of food and supplies. If the ship was damaged during the jump, they could have been ejected into space, or squeezed together, fused with the ship into a tight sphere. Chris preferred not to consider either fate. When a resulting search of nearby systems turned up no trace, the vessel was declared lost and all passengers legally deceased.

“I sent word about the accident. She never replied.” Chris sighed loudly and suppressed the emotions roiling under his skin. “She's not good at handling death-”

“I remember,” Nick interrupted too quickly.

Chris and Nick found a corner of the receiving area to wait for passengers to disembark and settled in silently.

“She's with us now, but whatever she's been doing is her business,” Chris said. “None of ours.”

Those first out of the ship were the spacers in grimy gray jumpsuits who secured the gangway. They donned magsuits and exited through a small hatch into the bay itself. Like tiny bugs, they clambered over the surface of the ship looking for damage from micrometeorites and other space debris, marking them with florescent paint to notify repair crews.

Once the spacers had cleared out the civilians were allowed to offload. The largest freighters like this one usually carried only cargo, though occasionally they would allow on passengers who stayed in tiny staterooms and ate whatever the crew left over. Only the very poor, stupid or desperate actually relied on the freighters like this one for transport.

A row of Averi pilgrims came first, their white-hooded heads bowed and hands folded in front of them. Their white robes whispered as they walked by and their faces were obscured by white shrouds. They carried no money, no personal belongings and said no words. They carried only their personal copies of the holy Akora in their clasped hands. Chris, Nick and the few others in the receiving area gave them a wide berth and eyed them curiously.

“She's not one of them now, is she?” Nick asked quietly.

Chris shook his head uncertainly, “No. She said she'd be here to replace Lal and I don't think pilgrims are allowed to be doctors.”

Lal, his last medical officer died playing Heuretan Roulette, a modification of the game that replaced firearms with poisoned shots of alcohol. He'd picked the wrong shot glass and was dead before the contents hit his stomach. When Chris wrote to her and mentioned the death of Lal, she immediately volunteered to replace him until a more permanent replacement could be found.

The civilians followed the pilgrims out of the ship, dragging small pieces of luggage with them. Chris spotted her blond head bobbing and weaving between people.

“Chris, hey!” She called, hurrying to embrace him. She turned and hugged Nick close and held him a bit longer and tighter. “You realize its been four years since we've last seen each other?”

“The universe has a habit sucking people away into its vastness,” Nick said without emotion then started. “Er, sorry, I didn't mean-”

“When did you get philosophical?” She nudged him with an elbow, either ignoring or misinterpreting the connection to her parents' fate.

Nick shrugged helplessly. “Blame your brother. There's nothing to do on long cargo runs and Chris likes to hear himself talk.”

The captain rolled his eyes.

“I didn't see you after you got your SESE tattoos. They don't look too bad,” she said, eyeing them warily. “Can I?”

She lifted her hand and gently brushed the glowing parts of Chris' skin tracing the pattern around his eyes and terminating at his temple. They surged a gentle green and blue, matching his eyes. “Do they hurt?”

He shook his head. “No, they're just like every other part of me. You get used to them after a while.”

“You don't have the ones on your hands like Nick,” she observed turning them over in her own. They each had long fingers, nimble and deft which made Chris a successful spacer and Claire a successful doctor.

“No, those are just for the actual pilots who like to micromanage and the engineers. I can access all the ship's systems with just these and pilot it well enough. I leave the nitty gritty stuff for the computer to deal with,” he explained then turned serious. “Look, about mom and dad, there's some paperwork you need to sign. You know, inheritance stuff and legal documents-”

“Not now,” she said.

“It's already late, and I have to see Drayton to get this contract hammered out. If we don't get a contract soon, the crew is going to go mad. I don't want to sound uncaring, but we need the money,” Chris pleaded frowning.

“I'm not ready, there's just too much going on right now. We'll deal with that later, okay? Let's go.” Claire stepped to the side and waved a device towards the ship. A hovering platform hummed forward and followed her. It was a dumb piece of machinery programed to follow the signal in the device with just enough avoidance systems to prevent it from committing mass murder in fulfilling its hauling job. Claire had it loaded up to her chest with assorted boxes, cases, and baggage. The platform followed them quietly as they maneuvered out of the receiving area and down the corridor.

“No wonder you booked your flight on a freighter,” Nick said sardonically.

“Are we going to have room for all that on the
Cleod
?” Chris asked.

“You'd better. I'm not leaving my books on station,” she insisted then leaned in to whisper, “Some of them are priceless originals and first editions. I could pay for a hundred round trips to the Fringe with just one box.”

“Spacer pilots aren't real keen on books,” Nick pointed out, scratching the dark stubble on his chin. “Most of the academic types have been fleeing the front line of the war. I'm surprised Goteborg University is still staffed.”

Despite the threat of Dominion invasion, the twins' alma mater had remained in session. Both had attended on scholarships from the Commonwealth government. Nick had gotten himself a full ride due to his grades and proficiency in star ship astronautics and technical maintenance. He served as the ship's chief engineer in addition to first officer and had extensive SESE tattoos to his face and hands so he could maintain a better connection with the ship and its systems for maintenance.

“Probably because the Evers are paying the professors to stick around,” Chris replied. “They're pretty confident they can hold off the Dominion.”

“The Azuren haven't allowed the war to continue, yet,” Nick said. “Not until the Sørensens appoint a new Archduke. The Evers have more time to prepare their defenses.”

“When will people stop putting so much faith in the lieges?” Claire asked hotly. “The Azuren control the war and they'll let it go on for as long as it benefits them. We mean nothing to them.”

Chris cleared his throat and gripped her arm. “Watch your words. There's an Azuren Legate here and a small army of Averi. Not to mention the pilgrims. Just because they're silent doesn't mean they don't have ears.”

“And eyes,” Nick added, indicating their company. “The attack on the Averi ship last week has them on alert.”

As if in response, red lights in the corridor flashed and a voice came over the entire station's address system demanding all residents report to the bay floor for an important demonstration from the Legate. Chris and Nick exchanged worried glances.

Chris keyed the
MacCleod's
private hangar coordinates into the platform's route.

“My books,” Claire protested, reaching for the platform.

“They're fine,” Chris said, grabbing her arm again pulling her not-so-gently towards the hangar floor.

Crowds began to cluster on the ramps that crisscrossed the hangar bay. Ship traffic had been stopped and the great doors closed. The bay was flooded with oxygen and made habitable. People slowly stepped out onto the vast floor.

“Does this happen often?” Claire asked, trying to keep up with the two spacers.

“No,” they answered simultaneously.

Nick added, “They hold their weekly sermons in the bay, of course, but only when the Azuren want to make a statement do they interrupt everything and shut down the station. Looks like you caught one of the last ships in.”

Claire frowned deeply and pulled her gray jacket tighter about her and followed them closely. They passed rows of offices and firm headquarters. There were more people in the halls now, sporting all sorts of uniforms from House Evers soldiers to businessmen and Garda maintenance personnel. The vast majority of them were spacers and ships' crew who were looking to kill time while in station. They were a surly crowd, impersonal and cold like the space ships they flew. All of them possessed glowing SESE tattoos, bright greens, blues and reds and every color in between which allowed them to access and control the entire ship through the complex webbing structures. The more tattoos they had, the longer they'd survived doing their jobs so many wore them as a sort of status indicator. Some did it to mock the nobility, so obsessed as they were with the titles and honorific that they denied to the lower classes like the spacers, and fashioned themselves Star Lords, but only in secure company. They preferred to keep to themselves, often gathering in bars or in the station's hallways to speak quietly and glare at those who intruded on their domain. Many areas around the bottom of the station and around the shipyards were spacer territory and unwelcoming to those not invited. Despite their numbers and their traditionally inferior status, mutinies among spacer crews were rare. As long as the ships' captains paid the spacers well there was little complaining. On top of the influence of wealth, the spacers were a fervently religious crowd and Amrah did not smile upon those who strayed from The Path by committing violence. Of course, there were exceptions to every rule.