Winter took the reader and plugged it into the Fred. “I’ve got a captain’s meeting shortly. We’ve decided on what ships will attack and when. Basically, we’ve created two teams, splitting the fleet. One team harasses the Pertumit Garundi, and the other the Kerlians. Both teams bring their cargos and ships if they can steal them to us and Diargento, as senior quartermaster will work out the payment to the crews.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I hope Fred can find something in this data or we’re going to need to be very creative.”
“Very creative” was Darryl’s way of saying we were going to have to make it up as we went. I never liked Darryl’s idea of creativity as it usually had me hanging upside down off something or out in zero-gee, floating in reverse. I’m not a fan of inversion at all.
“So, how did Diargento manage to get himself appointed senior quartermaster if he’s already captain of a ship?”
Winter shrugged eloquently and loped off the bridge. “Do you want me to come with you today?” I yelled after her.
“Stay with Fred. I’ll handle it.” Her voice echoed off the deck plates.
I decided, after a run-in with the Siren’s newsie filters, to go clean our antenna dish of the carbon scoring it got in our last firefight. Normally, this was a job Winter did in zero-gee but since we were anchored to a deck, and I was bored out of my mind, it was as good a time as any. I’d seen Winter clean it on the cameras so I felt confident in my abilities. She’d already disabled the contraband com line, so all I had to do was crawl up the service hatch on the upper part of the wing. I took a scraper and some solvent with me and hoisted myself up, walked up the wing mount and up over the top of the bridge cabin. It would have been easier to do in zero-gee, but I had nothing better to do.
Fred’s antenna is an antique. I have no idea why Darryl would have wanted to install this archaic and unsightly thing, except it works so well I wonder where she found it. The signal discernment is amazing. The oval-shaped design sticks out like a sore appendage from the sleek hull of The Fred. I’ve not seen anything like it before, and the only reason I know it was installed aftermarket was because Merriloo told me. She used the signal tuner to find her favorite entertainment applications on a buoy bounce. Fred told me the shows she watched made him nauseated, and he’s an artificial life form so I can believe it knowing her. Anyway, I was up there scraping away when I noticed a stamp on the metalwork. I cleaned it up as best I could, but as I said, the antenna is old much older than Fred. I cocked my head and scrubbed harder. The language looked familiar but strangely written as if the letters were bent and distorted. It almost looked like Hashtaaleen but it wasn’t. I tried sounding it out, but my knowledge of Hashtaaleen isn’t very good. I did take out my reader and holographed it to show to Fred. I finished what I was doing and then crawled back down the top of the ship and into the service corridor.
Fred was working on breaking the encryption when I got back to the bridge but I persuaded him to take a break for a moment to realign the antenna so we could get a signal past the mag shield on the landing bay. We were still out past the heliopause of the Garundi system and I wanted to use their signal buoys to do some piracy of my own. I showed him the holo and he ran it through his translation matrix. The best he could come up with was the word, “Palatan.” Palatan didn’t come up in any registry for a modern shipyard but there were a lot of smaller ship forges out there. He didn’t indicate what language he thought it was, and truthfully, he was distracted by the decryption so I left him to it.
My own bit of piracy involved trying to figure out who the Trangee people were. I’d never heard of them and apparently, most of the galaxy hadn’t either. I’m no hexbreaker, but I can look at media images to discern glamours. Really good casters like myself can fool the eye but there is always a tell in images. I am extremely careful, arrest record notwithstanding, about allowing myself to be holographed.
Glamours, as it turns out, blur images. Most beings will think, “Oh, mechanical failure on the part of the holographic mechanism.” Only those who know about glamours would know it’s not a problem with the holography. A few casters of my kind can make themselves invisible to any light spectrum analysis, meaning they don’t show up at all in pictures. I wondered if the glamour user I ran into was a Trangee although he seemed like a changeling to me. Changelings are a thing of legend among my people. They started out as Violeteer but something either environmental or psychological changes them and they become evil. I’ve always thought changelings were my people’s version of a ghost story so running across a being fitting the description unsettled me.
I swung the antenna around and pointed it in the right direction. I programmed the Satcom to look for local newsies with information on their system of government. Since we were on the other side of Garundi, I had to use their feeds and long-distance sounder buoys to patch into the sat network on Kerlian. Sadly, this is not a quick process and neither of these planets is close to the center of our arm of the galaxy. In the relative distance, I suppose they are closest to Nayrystel but there is a good deal of space between here and there. This end of the arm is relatively barren of habitable worlds and Nayrystel is only a transfer point sitting above a gas giant.
To give you an idea of how far away we are from civilization, if the jump gate at Nayrystel malfunctioned, and every ship lost its ability to generate a singularity, it would take a thousand cerens to reach Ualune provided the ship could travel faster than light. I hoped no catastrophes of that scale would happen while we are out here at the nowhere end of the galaxy.
I had the gee-bees and I needed to stop scaring myself. So, I concentrated on reading, checking up on Fred, checking the Satcom, and snacking on cheese cubes I’d purloined from Marion. Eight solis went by before I decided to check in on Winter. I found her on the command bridge watching L’Marchonase pace back and forth.
“Watch station check-in Winter. Meeting adjourned?” I popped another cheese cube into my mouth and chewed.
“First mission out and back. Picked up a Kerlian freighter bound for the transfer point. Still getting a report on her cargo.” Winter rubbed her forehead and stretched her neck.
“Anything good?” I tried to sound cheerful for the benefit of who else might be listening to our com.
“Don’t know until Diargento’s inventory. I’ll be in soon to check on Fred.” She quirked her mouth in a half-smile and signed off.
The first question I asked Winter when she showed up a quarter of a soli later was, “How come they didn’t bring the cargo here to sort?”
Winter looked disgusted. “Because Diargento gave a rousing speech to his crew and backed Enri into a corner. So he had to let the count happen on the Juni-daiie’s landing bay floor instead of ours. Diargento’s a piece of minhari chuksa and he’s a manipulative jagi, I have to give him credit.” She flopped down onto her navigation cradle and sighed.
“Did you eat?” I asked, knowing she probably hadn’t thought about it.
She shook her head. “Been working. Has Fred gotten…”
I cut her off. “He’s still on it. I’ll get us food. It will take time to count every bolt on a stolen ship so let it go for now and let L’Marchonase worry about it.”
The great part about being in the landing bay was the ability to hook up to the food synths. I managed us a decent meal of tsilii stalks in a mantaquil sauce, chevron noodles in sernay cream, and toasted panne. Winter went through her ritual of taking the choicest bits out of her food and placing them on a separate plate.
“You do that out of respect for a deity or is it a cultural practice?” I may have commented with a mouthful of noodles but she understood me. She looked up from her plate.
“The Goddess Mehariet is the patroness of the Hashtaleen people. As her servant, I am honor-bound to provide the best parts of my meal as an offering to her.” Winter shrugged and stuffed a stalk into her mouth.
“The Violeteer believe Oberonae and Dantiana want us not to starve. As such, they do not accept offerings of food.” I raised my sticks and showed her the large, juicy noodle before placing it into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed. “Speaking of which, do you mind if I find an unused corner and set up an altar?”
Winter shrugged. “Not at all. Do what you need to do. The Fred is your home just as much as he is mine.”
“Thanks.” I took another bite and swallowed. “Does Mehariet require you to do penance or is asceticism just a lifestyle choice?”
Winter stopped eating and looked at me. She frowned. “For me? A bit of both, I suppose.” She shrugged. “Mehariet is a goddess of mercy and healing. When I am worthy of her, I guess I will know.”
I nodded and said nothing else. I learned a long time ago not to get into discussions of comparative religion with other beings unless it was an academic discussion. Winter must have read my mind, though.
“Wars have started because of differences in religious thought. Mehariet’s teachings say all beings are the same in her sight, meaning your Oberonae and Dantiana are no better or worse than she. My beliefs will not conflict with yours.” Winter nodded to me and went back to eating.
“Mehariet is very egalitarian. Out of curiosity, was it a difference in religious thought between the Hashtaaleen and Bildarthia?”
Winter stopped chewing and looked at me. “Not that I know of.” She speared another stalk and put it in her mouth.
My curiosity got the better of me. “Do you know, though…I mean, what started the war?”
She stopped eating and folded her hands in her lap. Her head went down and popped back up a few seconds later. Her eyes became glassy and I thought to myself, Oh chuksa, now I’ve done it.
When she spoke again, her voice was soft and heavily accented. “No one really knows why they attacked us. Perhaps it was the trade for verango and our learning to grow it ourselves. Perhaps it was the scarcity of shurent root which led them to believe we were holding back reserves of it from them. Maybe it was our arrogance and self-reliance that prompted our nearer systems to ally with them instead of us. In our innocence, we did not realize we made enemies of them because we failed to understand how trade alliances with other alien races should work. We made many grave mistakes and should have listened to our own people, the Landers, who possessed a listening device and could hear them plotting against us. We should have taken their advice and strengthened our planetary shield. We should have tried to understand our enemies and our friends better. But most of all, we should not have alienated ourselves from within and without. The caste system should have been abolished and we should have made stronger attempts to make the other races of our planet understand we were all under attack. Instead, I fear our true enemy was not the Bildarthians, but ourselves.”
She stopped speaking and looked back down into her lap. After a long silence, she picked up her utensil and began eating again. I didn’t know what to say so I said nothing and continued eating. We finished the meal without speaking and she got up, placed her bowl in the recycler, and left the bridge. My Satcom pinged so I went to check on my project.
Luckily for me, they ran newsie snippets about their system of government. I gathered they were ruled by a triumvirate but those three individuals were backed up by a parliamentary-style group of representatives from all over their planet. I was surprised to learn the Kerlian resembled striped candy if the candy had three sets of eyes and wore a crown of flowers on its head.
The Viseur, the Glazier, and the Pronseci were colorful. The Viseur wore orange and white stripes with a crown or crest of orange protrusions. The Glazier had a curved head resembling a fern. They were a brilliant shade of scarlet. The Pronseci was a riot of colors and the crest on their head fanned out in all directions for at least a faren. Of the three, the Pronseci seemed to be the affable one. It gave speeches, posed for newsies, and preened for cameras. The other two struck me as secretive and furtive and even though I knew they were up to something, I would have thought it from just how they acted. In a segment on their advisors in parliament, I caught no less than four blurred images, which told me there were four glamor users who had insinuated themselves into Kerlian’s system of government.
I also got my first look at a Trangee.
They were tall, well over eight or nine farens. Bipedal with leathery gray-green skin, they had elongated heads and two sets of eyes. Their arms were overlong and reached well past their leg joints. The joint of the leg was backward of that of a human, Violeteer, or Hashtaaleen. They had holes in their faces, presumably to breathe but no nose to speak of. Their mouths were the stuff of nightmares, with sharp upper teeth and a lower jaw that folded outward bearing tusks. I honestly didn’t know what kind of alien I was looking at, except the Glazier introduced the tallest one as a member of the Trangee. The universal translator on the broadcast stumbled over the word, and I got the impression Trangee was the name the Kerlian gave them, but probably not the word they had for themselves.
I printed out a color holo of the creature to show to Winter, knowing if they were new to her, we were dealing with a total unknown.
Four ship days passed before Fred finally broke the encryption.
“Whoever created this helix code knew what they were doing.” Fred sounded oddly disconcerted.
“Why? You sound like you don’t like something about it.” I was chewing at the time but fortunately, Fred is used to my eating habits. Fred paused so long I started to think he’d not heard me.
“AI systems like me can create codes like that. So, there has to be another AI in L’Marchonase’s fleet somewhere, except all, and I mean, all, of the ships are analog. To me, this means there is a cybernetic life form somewhere. I’m spending my free time strengthening my system ramparts to prevent an attack, should the life form decide I’m a threat.”
“Wait, you think there’s a sleeper onboard one of the ships? In their systems or somewhere else?” I put down my cup of cafco and started running additional system alerts.
“I’m not certain. I might be able to track the code signature but that may alert it and see us as a threat.”
“Did you tell this to Winter?” I started working on the ship fire controls since an external attack might implant additional command codes in the fire and armament sections causing us to blow ourselves up.
“I’ve only now reached the conclusion, Ellora. Winter is currently on the bridge watching the Juunich-schrie take down a Pertumit ship.”
“Great. Well, everyone is distracted at least. Would you look for any medical data on Valoise and a possible cybernetic? I’ll see if I can pry Winter loose.”
When Winter returned, I remembered the holo of the Trangee. Truthfully, Winter and I hadn’t seen much of each other in a few days. She’d been busy overseeing the refinancing of several ships badly in need of repairs. The sale of the Kerlian goods to the Pertumit, and the reverse had a reasonable profit margin. She was also in charge of the sale of additional hijacked goods going through Nayrystel to various systems beyond it. I knew spare technologics were going to Altamira. I knew there was a planned retrofit of several larger craft, particularly their medical facilities. L’Marchonase’s crews were some of the healthiest pirates I’d ever seen.
I showed the holo to Winter and she studied it for a long time. Finally, she looked up at me. “I’m not sure.”
I sat down at our galley table across from her. “What do you mean?”
She poured herself a glass of water. “Meaning the name Trangee is unfamiliar, and while I see some resemblance to a race I know, I would need to see more of them to make a comparison.” She shrugged.
I cocked my head. “What race you know?”
She gave me an odd closed-lip smile. “A companion to the ancient enemy thought to be extinct.”
“You mean the Bildarthians.” I studied her but saw no trace of the glassy-eyed stare.
“It may be nothing.” She waved her hand in a throwaway gesture and took a sip of her water.
“Fred, do you have anything for us?” I prompted him to speak although I knew he monitored our conversation.
“I have information on Valoise. He has Mordance disease, which has progressed to the point where the capillaries of the eye are stained purple. He is wearing a lens to protect the eye from further radiation damage. Mordance disease is terminal. The purple, blue, and red staining on his cranium, maxillary sinus, and across his lower jaw are indicators of the organism eating his muscle tissue beneath the skin. He has undergone treatment for this disease on Kell and in The Realm. He has the tattoo to cover obvious signs of the disease. It is advanced enough that without continued medical intervention, his mortality rate would sharply decline. As it is, he is past the stage for a significant intervention and he may only have a ceren or two left before he dies. Eteria is his girlfriend although I would use that term loosely. She also has Mordance disease, probably picked up the organism from him and did not detect it in time. She does not have the skin staining he does, and hers seems to be in remission.”
Winter spoke up. “Fred, what is Mordance disease?”
“Mordance disease is a caused by a parasitic organism common on worlds where swamps and brackish water proliferate. The disease caused by the organism is difficult to detect and does not affect other aquatic life forms. Humans are particularly susceptible.”
“Does the medical notation indicate where they might have picked up the organism?” Winter had a strange expression on her face.
“Both have participated in slave hunts on Darbulatan.”
Winter nodded her head. “Mehariet has her revenge then.”
“I thought she was the Goddess of Healing and Mercy” I piped up.
Winter shook her head. “Only to the people of Hashtaal.”
Fred spoke up “Remind me not to get on her bad side. Mordance has nasty side effects in humans. Valoise and Eteria probably do not have much of a relationship.”
I frowned, “Why do you say that Fred?”
“Hmm? Oh, other than the skin discoloration, other side effects include mood swings, hair and vision loss, and male performance issues which may be exacerbated by alcohol or drug use. His is the only ship in the fleet to have an Officer’s Club catering to the appetites of his crew. The information indicated he captains his ship from a table inside the club.
Winter nodded her head again. “That would make sense. I heard he keeps to his ship most of the time when they are not actively working.”
“I found an area of scrubbed code that I have been working reconstruct…” Fred stopped. “Ellora, I think I found our cybernetic.”
“What?” Winter looked alarmed.
“You did?” I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm. “Where?”
“Start over. Cybernetic as in a cyber form?” Winter sat down her cup and grabbed her reader.
“Yes. Ellora and I discussed the possibility of an AI creating the encryption which is why it took me so long to break it. None of the ships are run by AI that I know of, which leaves a cybernetic life form as the creator of the code. We already knew that individual and weaker encryptions were scrubbed and misleading information may have been planted. I see where there is information on Diargento’s medical history, mainly his eye. But, his entry has been deleted and re-written. Whoever or whatever erased his information does not know much about ghost data.” Fred sounded smug.
“Let me see!” Winter demanded. I watched as lines of code and patches scrolled across her reader. “Chucksa shuushuneki, I wish Darryl could see this.” Winter sighed. “She’d be impressed.”
“I know I was. But, this also means we’d be wise to shore up everything in my mainframe and use closed systems as much as possible from now on.” Fred sounded concerned.
“You think this cybernaut would come after you?” Winter glanced at the bridge panel where Fred physically resided.
“Would either one of you tell me if I should be worried or not?” I reached into our meager alcohol stores and poured myself a shot of brandimelon liquor.
“Yes.” Both Fred and Winter spoke at the same time.
“Great.” I downed the drink and poured another.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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