Saving Cayn 6

Eighty-eight minutes passed mostly in silence. One by one the whole crew jammed into the command area. The William Placard settled to the rocky soil just out of sight of the colony, hidden by one of the ubiquitous sharp lumpy cliffs.

“Can we walk that far in our emergency life support belts?” L-T asked.

“Most of them are designed to last for an hour.” Lannetay turned her chair to look at the commander. “Carnifor, didn’t we get upgraded models?”

Carnifor blinked a few times then cleared his throat. He also pivoted to face the group. “Yes, the units we have aboard look the same as standard issue, but they’ll last two hours. According to Bill, it’ll take a hundred-fifty minutes for us to walk to the colony.”

“That’s only a half-hour buffer.” L-T’s observation cut to the heart of the issue. “Will we try it?”

“And we gotta git back,” Olthan added.

“We’ll call for the ship to pick us up,” Carnifor said. “Once we have the hostage we won’t need to sneak around.

Lannetay shook her head. “I’d like to use space suits for an hour or so. We could take those off, and finish the trip using our support belts. If we showed up wearing suits, that would be suspicious.”

“Okay, who’s goin’?” Olthan stood in the gap between L-T and Marc’s seats. His left hand rested on the boy’s right shoulder.

Goofball leaned in the corner behind L-T, looking as if the whole situation bored him.

Lannetay wondered. She should have thought that through earlier.I’ve been out of the Corps too long, Bill.

It’ll come back to you.

Carnifor didn’t let silence linger. “Lannetay and I are going. Olthan for muscle. Goofball for breaking into their systems. L-T and Marc stay put, ready to bring the ship when the situation warrants.”

“Can’t Bill break into their systems?” Marc asked. “He was in their Core, right?”

Bill grumbled as if irritated. “They have an air gapped Node running internal systems. Everything is separated from their Core.”

L-T didn’t look too disappointed at being left behind. “The ship could fly itself. If you can call me, you can reach Bill.”

“Bill is an AI.” Carnifor was again full of his usual bluster. “They tend to be . . . unreliable at times. Sorry, Bill.”

“No offense taken, Commander.” Bill did sound put out, however. “Humans are erratic as well. Besides, you don’t know me well enough yet. I’m better than your standard AI.”

“It comes down to programming.” Lannetay knew her late husband George had contributed greatly to the development of Bill.

“Like genetics,” Bill said, pointing out a connection between good genes and good coding.

Carnifor looked askance toward the corner of the room where he visualized Bill watched things in the control room.

“Have I glitched yet?”

“In the two months I’ve known you?” Carnifor asked. “No. Time will tell.”

“And yet you’ve slept every day. I count that as a glitch.”

Lannetay interrupted before a full scale argument could break out. “Let’s suit up, and head out.”

“Um.” Marc raised his hand. “Why don’t you wear two life belts?”

L-T smiled. “Kid’s got a point.”

Carnifor’s brow furrowed as he thought. “We’d make better time. Easier to walk with the support belt than in a suit. We don’t have to stop along the way. It’ll save us . . . .” he paused to think.

“Half an hour.” Bill supplied. “Based on what I’ve observed.”

Showoff, Lannetay sent.

AIs are superior to humans. It’s important he learns that.

Humans can reproduce without infrastructure.

You count my body as infrastructure, but yours isn’t?

An old, good-natured argument. One Lannetay doubted would ever be fully resolved.

“Two belts each.” Carnifor slapped his thighs and stood. “Let’s go.”

The support belts hung in a compartment in the airlock. Each of the crew had been trained in their use, but everyone buddied-up to double-check. A few moments later the outer hatch opened, and the four moved down the boarding ramp. Gravity decreased as they descended the incline.

Olthan seemed surprised when he reached the surface. “Feels like Mars. How’s that work?”

“Ever been to Mercury?” Carnifor asked. “Gravity is about the same because Mercury, being about a thousand klicks smaller in radius, has a higher density.”

“We should move out.” Goofball pointed toward the colony. “Wouldn’t want time to run away from us.” He took a huge leap, like he tried to jump to the ruby-and-orange sphere over head. Though his arms and legs flailed, he managed to get his feet to the ground.

“Be careful.” Lannetay worried about injuries. Their support belts would protect against some impacts, but foolishness could result in broken bones – or worse. “Low gravity takes getting used to. Make smaller jumps until you’re more comfortable with it.”

Goofball snorted. “We all had training in low-g. Did you forget that?” He jumped again, this time straight up.

Lannetay apologized. “Sorry, guys. It’s been a while since basic training.”

Olthan turned to Lannetay. “You was in?”

“Twenty years in the Marines. Retired as a major.”

“You don’t look that old, s–” Olthan looked guilty.

Lannetay smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Olthan.”

Bill sent, Like Goofball mentioned, you’d better get moving. Those support belts won’t last forever.

Hiking in gravity in the neighborhood of one-third standard took a little practice. Since they’d all been rated to handle various gravitational fields, they were able to walk normally before too long.

“You’re running behind.” Bill’s voice held a distinct note of admonishment. “You’ll have to step up the pace. At this rate you could have used space suits.”

“Still would have taken practice.” Lannetay eyed the sharp-edged rocks around them. Space suits would have protected them more than support belts. She was glad Marc wasn’t with them. Youths tended to be more reckless than they should be.

After a hundred and seventy minutes of threading their way through shallow canyons and over ridges, rounding the base of a low, axe-head hill, Cayn came into view.

The planet where the colony was based held enough atmosphere to soften shadows and hide all but the brightest of stars. A K2 star a few light years away hovered over the horizon, but was nowhere near as bright as Venus seen from Earth at night.

At the bottom of a wide crater rested a series of domes, scattered like glowing diamonds on a gray swatch of velvet. The jewels were strung together with a radiant spiderweb of pressurized transparent-walled corridors. According to the usual plans, underground tunnels would eventually connect each lighted dome with its nearest neighbors.

One gem – the largest – remained darkened. Hoarfrost covered everything for dozens of meters around the diamond’s flaw. A large number of the dome’s panels had given way to pressure from within, scattering frozen vegetation and dome material. One bright green and yellow construction machine was in the process of replacing one transparent panel.

Lannetay felt vibrations through the earth. “New framework is in place.”

“Old panel material being used. They might have the same problem again.” Carnifor pointed to an extrusion unit being loaded with discount Transpero. “That’s what happens when you contract with the lowest bidder.”

“They’da checked it out, right?” Olthan stepped out ahead of the group. No doubt his training to protect had kicked in.

Lannetay sniffed. “If not, they risk another blowout.”

Carnifor pointed to the left where the nearest dome stood. “Let’s go in there. Goofball can penetrate the Node and find out where the kid’s being held.”

Before Carnifor could take a step, Lannetay put a gently restraining hand on his elbow. “The ‘kid’ has a name, Carny. Call him Hyanto.”

Carnifor scowled at Lannetay using his nickname, but nodded. “Hyanto.”

If you're wondering more about these characters, their origins are detailed in Ebony Sea: Origins. If you appreciate this story, please share on social media, and consider supporting the author's ability to continue writing by purchasing the Origins story and leaving a review at the link above.

The Brotherhood (Part 6)

By Mark W. Meier

Act I

The Final Spell

Scene 6

“What exactly will it do?I know it’ll make me younger and age slower, but you’ve been a little vague on the details.”

True. I hadn’t wanted to reveal too much. “Okay. This spell will reverse the aging process of your body at about ten percent of your normal forward aging. In ten months you’ll have reversed one month of aging.”

“I’m sixty now. In fifty years I’ll actually be five years younger?”

“Exactly.”

“Then I’ll have a life expectancy of six hundred years?” Your eyes widened at the thought of centuries of life ahead. But then your expression changed. “How will I die? As a mewling infant messing my diaper?”

I laughed. “The spell doesn’t take things that far. You’ll age backwards until you reach ten percent of your chronological age, then age forward at that ten-percent rate. If you want to know when you’ll start aging forward again, use a calculator.”

You did. “At two hundred I’ll look forty-six. At three hundred I’ll look thirty-six. I won’t start aging forward again until I’m three hundred thirty years old!”

In some ways you were very quick. In others, not so much.

You realized your life span could extend to a thousand years, and only then did you think to ask, “How old were you when you died?”

“According to some definitions, I’m still alive.” I’d only tell you things about me that meant nothing. “I’ve been in this form a very long time.”

“You only look about seventy to me. How did you die?”

I decided on a half-truth. “I got arrogant. That’s all I’ll tell you.”

“Arrogant?”

“Yes. And my . . . rivals . . . vanquished me in the time it takes for your heart to beat. Lub-dub, and I was gone.”

“I want to go to church.”

A non-sequitur if I’d ever heard one.

You continued. “Caryn said something about arrogance, and I want to learn more.”

I laughed. “If you really believed Caryn, you wouldn’t need church. Besides, by those rules you’re already one of the lost sheep. There’s no hope for you in that belief system. You’d be better off casting this spell to live a much longer life.”

“Caryn said using magick isn’t right, that it’s usurping God’s design.”

“Caryn’s world view is skewed.” I crossed my arms and glared at you. “Look what you have accomplished using magick. Nobody in this county is hungry,” a lie, but you’d never know that,“because you have altered the weather for years to produce bumper crops of all the staples. The homeless have places to stay,” I fought to keep a straight face, “because you gave residents enough income to donate to charities. There’s never been this much prosperity since I lost my position, all because you are learning magick. That’s not because of some invisible sky-daddy. Think of what you could accomplish in the next half-millennia – and longer!”

You vacillated. “I don’t know. What if Caryn’s right?”

“I’m trying to be reasonable here. You’re at a crucial juncture in your training, and shouldn’t let myths of Jesus’ forgiveness get in the way. You’ve done magick. People have been killed in your name. There’s no forgiveness for you. All you have left is to live a long life of good deeds to offset the vile things you’re responsible for. Maybe – just maybe – you’ll earn forgiveness.”

“I don’t want to go to hell!” You stood and paced to a wall of spell components.

“Ken.” I placed a hand on your shoulder and let you feel the weight of my touch. “You don’t have to. Cast this spell, live for a thousand years, and when you die you’ll be a ghost – just like I am.”

They say a person’s eyes are a window to the soul. I’ve learned to look even deeper. Your soul lay open to me the day we met. I knew you couldn’t resist me and the power I offered.

I was right. Your “window” cleared with determination.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

I nodded. “First let’s practice one more time. Recite the chant.”

The entire mantra lasted nearly ninety seconds. You performed it twice without error as an energy hummed just barely audible.

“Show me your gestures.” Three minutes later, two flawless performances. The pitch of the drone increased. One of your bottles threatened to fall from the shelf, but I pushed it back with the flick of a finger.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“Let’s do it.”

Your hands wove a pattern in the air any dancer would envy. You chanted the words clearly, down to the syllable, drowning out even the thrum of building power.

It was beautiful.

It was deadly.

You completed the final movement as the last of your echoed chant died away.

Suddenly, you grabbed your chest.

“P-pain.” You fell to your knees.

I smiled – a nasty, self-satisfied, treacherous leer. “I know. It hurts. It’ll be over in a few minutes.” I didn’t need my hand wave to have the fake energy buildup stop in an instant.

Your face slammed into the floor. Arms leaden, you couldn’t block your fall. I’d seen this hundreds of times.

“What’s . . . wrong?” Somehow you managed to roll onto your side. The muscle tone in your arms and legs atrophied in seconds. You were nothing more than skin and bone.

“Nothing,” I said. “This is what I’ve been training you for.”

“I’m . . . d-dying.” Clutching your chest wouldn’t help, but the reflex couldn’t be stopped.

I smiled wider. “Exactly. While you were training for this one spell, you spread doom and social poison throughout the region. But more importantly I fulfilled a favor asked by my superior – to bring you to this fate at this time and place.”

“I heal . . . he . . .” You couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Healed? No. You spewed gibberish and I knit wounds, excised tumors, and the like.”

“No.” You reached a shaking, feeble hand to me.

I looked down at you without expression and swatted your hand away. “Yes.The spell you just cast wasn’t magick. There’s no such thing, by the way.”

“What. . .. ?”

“You see, I’m not a ghost.” I dropped my façade and allowed you to see my original form, a beautiful winged creature created by the Most High God. “When we were cast out, our forms changed. While we can still hold the old shape, it takes more effort than it’s worth.”

“Wha. . . .”

I shook my head. “It’s not worth showing you. I’m enjoying this show too much, and my now-natural form would frighten you to death too soon. You’ll stand before God soon enough.”

I’d seen so many of these deaths I could count your last seconds.

You rallied, imagining hope. “Stand before God? There’s still time? I can be saved?”

I shook my head and returned to my wizardly form. “No. It’s too late for you.”

Ten seconds.

“Damn you.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

“You first.” I examined my fingernails. “I have until the end of time.”

Seven seconds.

“I’m. . . .” you sputtered. “I’m doo . . . doom. . ..”

“Yes.”

Three seconds.

“Ken?”

In your final moments you listened to me with every fiber of your being.

“When I said it was too late for you. . ..”

I glanced up from my fingernails and stared you in the face.

“I lied.”

If you appreciate this story, please consider supporting the author's ability to write more stories by purchasing The Brotherhood, available in print and on Kindle. Please share on social media, and leave a review on the page linked above.

Next week Act II: Prophet of Death begins.

Saving Cayn 5

After spending decades in the Marines, Lannetay had grown accustomed to a day being substantially longer than a “day” on Earth. With most of humanity now living off-planet, keeping time by that cycle made no sense. Now a hundred seconds was a minute, a hundred minutes was an hour, ten hours every day, ten days per week, four weeks for a month, ten months a year. That made a standard year about twenty-four percent longer than a traditional year.

Two hours after the briefing Lannetay stood before a hologram of herself in her quarters, tucked into the space between the common room and the cargo bay. She wondered what an infiltrator should wear while trying to sneak into a domed colony.

“Bill, what kind of place is Cayn?”

“According to their initial colonization plan, they have a single dome for growing food, another for administration, three more for their population, and a sixth for artistic pursuits.”

Lannetay shook her head in disgust. Her holographic image mirrored the motion. “An art colony?”

“Afraid so.”

“So, if they have a farm, why would they need food?”

“I’m getting some interesting readings, now that we’re close enough for passive sensors,” Bill said. “The atmosphere in the area of the colony has a significant presence of oxygen. This planet had none when initially mapped.”

“Blowout.”

“Probably. If they lost their farm dome, their resequencers would keep them fed for a while, but without fresh biological input they’d have problems with nutrition before long.”

Lannetay pondered. “They’ll probably have folks trying to fix their dome. That means coveralls, probably with a dreary color. There will be artistic folks with interesting outfits, but no way of knowing what they might find fashionable.”

“According to records, they haven’t purchased any designs from Earth. The Wantis sold them a basic wardrobe when they first arrived. Nothing since then.”

“Penetrating colonial Core systems again, are you?”

Bill managed to sound abashed. “Only to help rescue the child you care so much about. We both know why you care so much.”

“Send Goofball any codes he needs to give us access to their system. And let me see myself in a coverall.”

The holo of Lannetay flickered. Her image wore a bright paisley lavender jumpsuit. She wrinkled her nose. “Bill, this is serious. Lives are at stake.”

“Well, surely there’s room for some individuality.” The AI modified the image to a severe gray outfit, but with a plunging neckline and ruby cuffs and collar.

“Bill!” As much as Lannetay liked what her husband had done to make their AI so unique, sometimes Bill took things a little too far. “We want to blend in.”

Bill muttered to himself for a moment, then Lannetay’s image changed again. A plain gray-and-tan construction dungaree outfit covered the hologram. The name tag read “Jelneriv.”

“You don’t mind some color in the stitching, do you?” Sarcasm from an electronic intelligence was rare, but Bill could pull it off.

The tag itself was a shade of ecru, while the stitching along the edges had morphed to brown.

“That should work, Bill. Thank you. Have it ready tomorrow. And have everyone else’s outfit match.”

***

Carnifor stopped dead in his tracks when Lannetay stepped into the crew corridor the next morning. “I’ve never seen you in such drab clothing. You dressing normally today?”

Lannetay turned to her left, then right, posing for a moment. “This is what all the best-dressed infiltrators are wearing these days.” She had to laugh to herself. Even when she dressed in “regular” clothes it put Carnifor off his stride. “Besides, it looks like you’re wearing the same thing.”

Carnifor glanced at his own coverall, seemingly surprised to find it matched Lannetay’s.

L-T’s hatch opened and he eyed Lannetay’s coverall. “Nice outfit.” He edged past Lannetay and Carnifor as Olthan exited his own stateroom and came to attention.

“Not military, my friend.” L-T smiled and moved forward to the common room.

“What do you think of her outfit, Olthan?” Carnifor smirked, obviously baiting the lance corporal.

Lannetay shook her head, silently telling Olthan he didn’t have to answer.

“It’s the same as ours, s–” He choked off the rest and followed L-T just before the hatch closed.

Marc and Goofball appeared at almost the same moment. Carnifor said, “Getting crowded here.” He edged closer to Lannetay to let the others slip past.

Lannetay gave a weak smile at Carnifor’s obvious ploy, then followed her son and the fighter pilot into the common room. Carnifor fought to keep up with her as she continued toward the control room.The hatch closed behind her as she sighed, and Lannetay pressed the control to lock Carnifor out. “I don’t like this, Bill.”

“I could hit him with a high-G field every time he looked at you ‘that way.’”

Lannetay laughed. “No, Carnifor’s leering doesn’t bother me. I just don’t like sneaking. Quietly poking around a star system is one thing, infiltrating a colony is another.”

“Not much difference,” Bill replied. “Turning off the drive is like walking tip-toe. Slowing enough to not ionize atmosphere is like hiding behind a machine while a guard walks past.”

Lannetay lowered herself into her seat. “Sneaking in a ship seems much cleaner.” She sent Bill a command to turn on the display “windows” so she could watch the planet as they approached, then had him release the lock.

The hatch slid open and Carnifor stepped in. When it stayed open, the commander grinned openly. “What’s with locking the hatch?”

“I wanted a moment to myself.” And couldn’t trust you to give it to me, she added silently.

“How long until atmo? Looks like we’re getting close.” Carnifor pointed to the expanding ruddy-brown planet in the display.

He could have asked that without coming in here, Bill sent to Lannetay.

Yes. But he’s the kind who likes things done by the book.

Book? Bill asked.

Lannetay sent the ship a silent laugh. “Fifty minutes.”

“There’s even less air here than on Herlorwis.” Carnifor sat in his recliner, facing forward as if to avoid looking at Lannetay.

He’s trying to make time, Bill said. He’s got the hots for you, baby! Want me to hit him with five-G?

Shut up, Bill. “Scoured away by solar wind, no doubt. Nobody should notice our arrival.”

Carnifor finally turned toward Lannetay. “How long for us to get to the colony?”

Lannetay had Bill bring up a holo of their projected course. “We’ll skirt their atmosphere, then drop to the surface just out of sight of the colony. If they’re watching with sensors none of that will make a difference, but if their farm dome had a blowout they’ll have other priorities. We should bite air in about a half-hour.”

L-T entered and the hatch closed. Carnifor glanced at Lannetay, who gave a sarcastic-sweet smile.

“Half an hour to atmo.” L-T lowered himself into the chair behind Carnifor. “How long until we’re gear-down?”

Carnifor beat Lannetay to the answer. “Probably less than an hour.”

He loves taking command, doesn’t he? Bill sent to Lannetay.

Probably thinks he out-ranks me.

“Bill tells me eighty-eight minutes.” Lannetay’s clarification was a weak attempt to contradict Carnifor.

“Yeah. Less than an hour.” Carnifor turned to give L-T a smug smile.

Lannetay waved to a chair. “Why don’t you keep watching from here? Should be more interesting than simply looking at a holo in the common room.”

L-T settled himself deeper into his seat. “Thanks, Captain.”

And it’ll keep Carny’s behavior more in check. Bill sent to Lannetay.

Carnifor’s smirk slipped a little. “She doesn’t hold the rank of ‘captain,’ L-T.”

“No.” Lannetay decided the time was right to reveal certain facts. “I hold the rank of ‘major,’ Lieutenant Commander, and earned it before you joined the Navy. I may be retired, but aboard this ship I am the captain.”

Carnifor leaned back in his seat as his expression faded into what could only be seen as stony. He stared straight forward.

That took some wind out his sails, Bill crowed.Probably doesn’t have access to your full file.

Most assuredly not. But now we’ll have to be careful. I don’t want his effectiveness compromised. We’ll have to support him at least once in front of the crew.

And whatever happened to dropping the use of military ranks? Bill asked.

Lannetay sighed. Shut up, Bill.

If you're wondering more about these characters, their origins are detailed in Ebony Sea: Origins. If you appreciate this story, please share on social media, and consider supporting the author's ability to continue writing by purchasing the Origins story and leaving a review at the link above.