Firstworld Read online

  ‘Gods, no!’ he said. ‘I’m a trader. Ky can have it with my blessing. You’ll sail us home in style, guy. Athelstan, didn’t you mention there was a spaceport on the Moon?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Athelstan said. ‘I have no details. It’s probably just a few square miles of asphalt. The ship can get you there like any standard portal would.’

  ‘Spirit of the Mountains!’ Kambisha said. ‘Spaceships, alien people, and now a flippin’ base on our own Moon! And none of us knew a curst thing about it.’

  ‘No, and that is strange, ma’am,’ Athelstan said. ‘As a rule, newly discovered peoples get visited by an envoy, to discuss trade and defense. In the case of your planet Firstworld, this didn’t happen. Instead, restrictions kept visitors away, including traders; it has an empty HQ, and a spaceport no one visits, and that is all. Most remarkable.’

  ‘Where would we find the answer?’ Odysson said suddenly, turning away from the bridge window.

  ‘At Moigar, I suppose,’ Athelstan said.

  ‘And that is?’ Odysson said with a nonchalance that was totally fake.

  ‘Moigar is the home continent of the Moi, sir,’ Athelstan said. ‘They, the Cra and the Rhu are the three peoples that live on Nithalai 4.

  ‘Can you describe the peoples?’

  ‘The Moi and the Cra haven’t been speaking for centuries,’ Athelstan said. ‘You are physically a Moi, sir, if I may say so. They are a people of great magic and mighty visions. They use powerful technologies, and centuries ago — before the quake, I should say — they burst into space.’

  ‘As conquerors?’ Kyrus said.

  ‘No, oh, no sir. That is not at all the Moi way. They built outposts like me, spaceports and naval bases to bring order to the galaxy. Especially after that Dregh business, the Moi started the Realm to turn the known part of the galaxy into a secure home for all peoples.’

  ‘So the Realm is not the Moi’s empire?’ Kyrus said.

  ‘No, sir. It is just the part of the galaxy under Realmfleet’s protection. We own no more than the bases and outposts; the Lesser Worlds are fully independent.’

  ‘What about the other tribes?’ Odysson said.

  ‘The Rhu are merchants. After the Moi went into space, they followed; each family in their own ship, and began trading with the Lesser Planets. They are an aloof people, sir. I am told they have pride in their neutrality.’

  ‘And the Cra?’

  ‘They are reactionaries, who hate spaceflight for reasons my data don’t reveal. If they were in charge, the Realm would be abandoned immediately.’

  ‘Awkward,’ Kambisha said. ‘They live on the same planet, but they can’t stand each other?’

  ‘The Moi and the Cra, yes, ma’am. The Rhu stay mostly in space.’

  ‘Those Lesser Worlds, who are they?’ Odysson said.

  ‘They are other populated planets, sir. Their people trade with the Moi and the Rhu, but they are not as developed. None of them has spaceflight. Not counting the Dreghs, of course.’

  ‘All right,’ Kyrus said. ‘I want to see their ship.’

  ‘Patience, bud,’ Kambisha said. ‘I’ve some more questions. How about food, drink, and such stuff? Are there a thousand years old stores in your cupboards?’

  ‘No, ma’am, that’s not how it works,’ Athelstan said. ‘It is all automated. Our Diner—the Universal Reproduction Unit—is in the mess, that’s the room beyond the bridge. It gathers all the free-floating matter—dust, stones, stuff like that—half a light-year around the outpost and turns it into food. The meals are based on the tastes of the Moi, but you can add your own recipes. I must explain the Diner accepts any material input. Waste matter from our toilets gets reused as well.’

  He coughed. ‘If you want me to, I can even reprocess the dead Dreghs. It all gets broken down to molecular level first, of course, so it’s perfectly hygienic.’

  Kambisha swallowed. ‘I’ll leave the clean-up to you. Can you show us this Diner?’

  ‘Certainly, ma’am.’ A door swished open onto another, now well-lit, corridor. ‘First room to the left is the mess.’

  They came to a sizable room with comfortable chairs and brass tables with mosaic tops. All the walls were covered with elegant wood paneling, there were shaded lamps and even some strange potted plants.

  ‘This is a messroom?’ Kyrus plopped down in one of the leather fauteuils. ‘It looks like the cawah lounge of a first class hotel.’

  ‘You want to order, sir?’ a pleasant female voice said. ‘Food? Drinks? We have everything.’

  ‘Cawah?’ Kyrus’ mind switched from his ship to his stomach with the ease from years of practice. ‘I could do with a cup.’

  ‘Yes sir. Cawah, directly from the plantation at Moigar, freshly ground and piping hot. You want three cups, sir?’

  ‘That would be nice,’ Kambisha said.

  ‘Coming up, ma’am.’

  A buzzing sound alerted them, and a small trolley loaded with cups, cream, sugar and cakes came rolling toward their table.

  ‘It smells like the real stuff.’ Odysson carefully took a small sip. ‘Tastes like cawah, too.’

  ‘And this is made from whatever the station can sweep up?’ Kyrus said.

  ‘Yes sir,’ Athelstan said. ‘But what you drink is cawah, sir. Chemically there is no difference.’

  ‘That Diner can make all sorts of food?’ Odysson said. ‘Clever. There sure would be a market for that.’ Then he shook his head. ‘No, there wouldn’t. It’s one of those things we must keep a secret, like how to build a portal, else we would instantly ruin every farmer, artisan and trader in the world.’

  ‘Yes sir. The Diner’s use is restricted to Realmfleet services only. The Moi declared any illegal use was treason, carrying the death penalty.’

  ‘A bit harsh, but I see their point,’ Odysson said. ‘Now you leave me to wonder how the Moi know cawah, a plant that grows on our world.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe the gods created them elsewhere too.’

  ‘Like the rats.’ Kyrus bit off half of a pink jellied cake. He grinned with his mouth full. ‘And the Moi. Those are neither of them very original.’

  From the mess they walked to the sleeping quarters; ten rooms of ten bunk beds each, one room with two beds and a writing desk and one single room with a small office attached.

  ‘Commander’s quarters, first and engineering officers, and crew,’ Athelstan said. ‘On the opposite site is the sickbay with the medic’s quarters. Beyond that, the engine room. The guestrooms are on the other side of the bridge.’

  ‘We want to see the engine room,’ Kyrus said. ‘Bedrooms aren’t very interesting. How are you powered? By crystals?’

  ‘Only secondary, sir. I get my mana directly from the Intermedium. If I hadn’t managed to enter lockdown, that mana quake would have fatally overloaded both systems. Luckily my crystals were fully charged. Still, while my brain and my emergency functions don’t use much power, I wouldn’t have lasted another thousand years.’

  ‘Would you have died?’ Kyrus said.

  ‘Not in just one thousand years, sir, my brain can last for a long time on its own. But my mental health would have deteriorated, and so would the state of the station.’

  The power room was a small space with a central pillar of gleaming metal. In an opening Kambisha saw the crystals, five fist-sized ones arranged in a curious pattern of blinking lines. Each of them was filled with mana, and together they could keep this base operational for centuries. They were in part why she had become a mana drive engineer, though she had planned a career among sea- and airships, not in space.

  ‘Well,’ she said, drinking in the song of the crystals. ‘They are beautiful.’ Then she hesitated as she thought to hear a false note. ‘Have you got spares?’

  ‘In the drawer below them, ma’am,’ Athelstan said. ‘There is a divergence? I wondered, but I couldn’t pinpoint it.’

  Kambisha sank into a reverie as she watched the crystals. All seemed well; they gloried in their onene
ss, singing divine praise. Yet... Then she saw it. The tiniest of cracks marred the body of the innermost crystal.

  She let her mind take out a spare crystal from the drawer and hold it above the faulty one. There was a communion. The cracked crystal wailed as she took it out and slid the other into its place. The new crystal was jubilant, while the old one lay whimpering in Kambisha’s mental hands. She hesitated, but she knew there was only one thing to do. Her hands twisted and the crystal shattered. She let the shards drop to the ground and concentrated on the new configuration. It was even brighter now, and the new crystal’s song led the whole to greater heights. Kambisha pulled her mind back.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, feeling terrible.

  Kyrus patted her shoulder. ‘You couldn’t do anything else.’

  ‘What am I missing?’ Odysson said.

  ‘It’s not only their singing,’ Kyrus said. ‘To her, those crystals are alive. She just killed a puppy.’

  ‘I had to.’ Kambisha stooped to pick up the shards again. ‘Those false notes would have destabilized the whole set. That would have endangered the outpost. Still, I hate having to do this.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Athelstan said. ‘It is a relief. You are a true one, if I may say so. I always feel much better with a techneer who understands.’

  She nodded, not wanting to speak of it. ‘Well, we should have a look at that ship out there.’

  ‘Finally!’ Kyrus said.

  ‘It’s the Realmcruiser S-Az 113,’ Athelstan said. ‘The Dreghs must have captured him somewhere. He’s quite a clever chap, but his years as prisoner of those rats didn’t do him good.’

  ‘We will see how it goes,’ Kyrus said impatiently.

  ‘Very well, sir,’ Athelstan said. ‘I suggest you take the dead trader’s body, as proof of his, ah, demise. And beware the smell. Not that I notice it, but you original humans do.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Kambisha said. ‘We’ll be in touch, Athelstan.’

  ‘I will be here, ma’am,’ he said.

  They went back to the entrance hall, and outside, Kyrus carrying the dead boss Dregh with one hand.

  CHAPTER 4 – A SHIP FOR KYRUS

  The outpost was connected to the cruiser by some flexible tube that bounced slightly as they walked through it. On the other end was an open door, with beyond it a wood-paneled corridor showing more doors on both sides.

  Kambisha gagged as she stepped into the ship. ‘Breath of the Mountains! It smells like it’s full of rotting bodies.’

  ‘That creature called himself a trader, but this...’ Odysson waved a hand at the crates and barrels. ‘It’s junk.’ He picked up something that looked like a disk with several rings, all spinning rapidly. ‘What the heck’s that?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Kambisha said. ‘Five rings? And they’re moving independently too. It would make a nice ornament.’

  ‘Space antiques,’ Odysson said slowly. ‘Made by aliens, ma’am. Over ten centuries old! Only ninety-nine libers, sir. Comes with a certificate of authenticity. A bargain!’

  ‘That’s it,’ Kambisha said. ‘And every word the truth.’ She threw open the next door. ‘Bunkrooms. Guess what? Junk and filth.’

  ‘Let’s add some more.’ Kyrus lowered the Dregh on top of some crates.

  ‘What do you want with that body?’ Odysson said.

  Kyrus shrugged. ‘I want it dissected. Even if Dad may not help us, there will be others back home who can do that.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Kambisha said. ‘Amazing.’

  He grinned. ‘Now back to the important things. Somewhere must be a messroom. I wonder if this ship has a Diner too.’

  ‘You can think of food in this disgusting offal heap?’ Odysson said.

  Kyrus shrugged. ‘I can think of food anywhere. That way.’ He pointed to the end of the corridor. A ladder led to a manhole overhead and into an oblong room.

  Odysson looked around. ‘Your seventh sense works perfectly. Tables, chairs, a long counter, and that looks like a Diner.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be out of place in Seatome,’ Kambisha said. ‘If it weren’t for the windows with their view of space in all its cold glory.’

  Kyrus opened a heavy door at the end of the messroom. ‘It’s the bridge!’ He put his hands to his back. ‘There’s no wheel, and precious few controls. Who the heck sails this vessel?’

  ‘S-Az 113,’ a voice said in a neutral voice. ‘Fully qualified BrainLabs AI, senior lieutenant class, Mark II.’

  ‘Sounds impressive.’ Kyrus glanced around. ‘Who is this genius?’

  ‘Me, sir.’

  ‘It is you? Happy to meet you, S-Az.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. Pardon me, but are you intruders? Not that it is any business of mine, of course, but that looked like my Dregh master you left in Cabin Sixteen. He didn’t seem very chirpy, I thought.’

  ‘He didn’t chirp,’ Kyrus said. ‘Unless his sort does that while busily being dead. You probably know them better than I. Hey, you know something else? Change of command.’

  ‘Oh? Are you... sure?’ The AI sounded different now, agitated. ‘You’re not Realmfleet, are you?’

  ‘Maybe we are. We haven’t decided that yet,’ Kambisha said. Athelstan said it was an AI, but that voice sure doesn’t sound like a machine.

  Several lights flashed red on the control board. ‘It can’t get any worse, of course,’ the AI muttered as if speaking to himself. Then something bleeped, and he became tonelessly formal again. ‘Very good, sir. Command code required. Add your name and rank, please.’

  ‘Foulammer,’ Kyrus said, chin up and eyes eager. ‘Kyrus of Kalbakar, Captain.’

  All red lights turned green.

  ‘Command code accepted. Change of command logged. Welcome aboard, Captain Kyrus. Any orders, sir?’

  ‘How do I change your code, S-Az?’ Kyrus said.

  ‘You can do it yourself, but better let NavBase handle it, sir. They need the new code for their files. I can arrange for it, as soon as they are back on the air.’

  ‘Do so,’ Kyrus said. ‘Another question. Our home planet is Firstworld, Flor 3. What do you know of it?’

  A view screen over the control board lighted up, and a map appeared. Well away from a large array of stars, one lone light shone brightly.

  Kambisha stared at the light, almost at the edge of the screen, away from the main body of stars. That’s us? It looks lonely out there.

  ‘Firstworld, third planet of the sun Flor, is a restricted area, sir,’ the AI said. ‘Are you sure you’re supposed to be here? Oh well... that too is none of my business. On the planet’s moon is Flor 3 Spaceport, but I have no recent data.’ He bleeped again and sounded resigned. ‘That goes for a lot of places.’

  Kyrus sat down in the pilot’s chair. ‘I believe you. Restricted or not, you can go there?’

  ‘Physically? Yes sir. Lawfully? Ah, who cares these days?’

  Kambisha looked at her brother. That AI fellow sounds plenty stressed. But Kyrus didn’t react, and she trusted his judgment.

  ‘Take us to Flor 3 spaceport, S-Az,’ Kyrus said.

  ‘Yes sir.’

  The ship shuddered slightly. Several lights turned red, then back to green. A klaxon blared. ‘Take-off imminent!’

  Instinctively, Kambisha braced herself as the ship’s lightning dimmed. Then they ported.

  It took a second before the lights went on again. Right ahead, the view windows showed a domed structure seemingly hanging from a wall. Then the ship turned, and the wall changed into a planetary surface, with the dome protecting an enormous field with several buildings against a backdrop of rocky craters and stars.

  ‘Flor 3 Spaceport, this is S-Az 113. Permission to land?’

  ‘S-Az 113, I am receiving you,’ a female voice answered. ‘You are cleared to land.’ In spite of the formal words, Kambisha thought the voice sounded strangely excited.

  ‘What are those buildings down there, S-Az?’ Kyrus said. ‘I had expected an empty field.’
/>   ‘Port headquarters, sir. I have no further details. Sir, my readings are favorable. The dome appears intact. Air pressure is slightly lower than normal but breathable for humans. Gravity field is on. Temperature five degrees over standard.’

  ‘Standard being?’

  ‘Freezing point of water, sir.’

  ‘Chilly,’ Kambisha said.

  ‘There are coats in the locker behind you, ma’am.’

  She went and opened the locker. Inside were leather coats.

  ‘Phew. Remember Dad’s story of those stinky coats they found in that old Wastrel hide-out? We got our own now.’

  ‘We’ll have them cleaned later,’ Kyrus said impatiently. ‘I want to see the base; they must get this load of rubbish off my ship. I can’t even properly inspect it.’

  ‘We will land inside the dome, I suppose?’ Kambisha said.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ the AI said. ‘Might I suggest you do wear your toolbelts before going on-planet? Such is standard orders, ma’am.’

  ‘Where are these belts?’ Kambisha asked.

  ‘Spares are in the same closet, ma’am. Top shelf.’

  ‘What do they do?’ Odysson hurried over to the closet and came back with three broad belts. ‘How does this work?’

  ‘Just put on the belt, sir. The pretty little lights to the left. Then shield up. Not the other way round, please, sir. Belt, pretty lamps to the left, then shield.’

  ‘Was your Dregh owner that stupid?’ the mage growled.

  ‘Yes sir. His understanding of technology was severely limited, sir. He was a Dregh, after all, even if he called himself a trade lord.’

  ‘Do you have a sense of humor?’ Kyrus said with raised eyebrows.

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘You could have fooled me.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the AI said tonelessly.

  ‘Ha!’ Kyrus grinned broadly. ‘I like that.’

  ‘If you’re done?’ Odysson said pointedly. ‘I’ve got some more questions.’ He clasped the belt round his waist. ‘Now what do these buttons do, S-Az?’

  ‘Loads of nice things, sir,’ the AI said patiently. ‘Button one maintains your air supply when shielded. Button two is your—big word warning—com-mu-ni-ca-tor. Button three gives you a shield against the nasty vacuum in space. Button four is a short-range portaller. I will explain that one later. Button five is a light to chase away the goobies. Always remember the right order to press them, sir; one, two, three. Not, I beg you, the other way round, sir.’