Edge of Solace (A Star Too Far) (7 page)

“We’ve sent word to the
Persephone
, she’s on patrol in this system. They’ll come in and secure it.”

“Any word on the crew?”

“No, nothing. We’ll leave it up to the
Persephone
to decipher.” Captain Khan stood and smoothed the front of her uniform. “Get your rest, Lieutenant, we’ve a long trip ahead of us.”

William nodded. “Yes
, ma’am, thank you for coming.”

She returned a smile that was as plastic as the covering on the walls.

He watched her walk out and closed his eyes. Nanite dreams tinted the edge of sleep as the watch passed by.

*

Archie wasn’t sure who he was. He woke with vomit on his chest and crusted snot around his nose. Whatever happened was painful, deep, wrong at the most basic of levels. A complete mind rape.

How did it work? Where they reading his mind now?

At first he thought of only simple things, things that wouldn’t matter if they knew. Just in case the nanites were like a data logger. Maybe it captured every thought? he wondered.

He moved on to obscenities. He strung together every sequence of horrible
profanities he had ever heard. As a Marine he had heard more than the average sailor. This passed and he grew fretful that no matter what, he couldn’t keep them out.

Guilt was followed by regret. He pictured his sons, sons he knew he’d never see again.

Suicide was on his mind when the door opened once more.

Outside stood a man in tannish-gray body armor. The gangly shadow of a strider fell across him and into the cell. The man beckoned with an armored hand.

Archie stood slowly and stepped into the hallway. Immediately his skin chilled as the moving air sucked away what little heat he had. He missed the cell, just for a moment.

“Where to
, chief?” Archie asked. There was only one way, but he thought asking was a nice touch.

The hand beckoned away from where he had met
the Commandant. The thought of the man brewed anger.

They passed through a thin bulkhead and finally into a cargo area. The ship was alive, more alive than it had seemed from his cell. There were troops, staff, and striders moving all around. Striders he had never seen. Hulking brutes with delicate tool actuators for arms and squat weapons platforms that bristled with barrels.

The cargo hold was filled with gray containers that seemed to find a home in every ship. Some were old and pitted while others were freshly painted. The center of the hold was cleared. A pack of striders sparred in the center of the makeshift arena.

Archie regarded the dance of robots as he walked closer. One of the
Commandant’s striders danced through a trio of standard issue striders. The motion was fluid, fast, and brutal. Around the area stood men in uniform, armor, and bared chests. All eyes were on the dance.

A hand stopped his motion. He watched as the others did.

The Commandant’s strider was like a ghost. Anytime the others raged closer for a blow that looked to end the spar it evaded and landed a strike. On the far side of the hold the Commandant stood with his arms crossed. Three men crouched nearby.

The striders swayed and pulsed like a living organism. The trio worked in unison. One would feint while the others would dart and grab. The Commandant was a maestro directing every move in a solo symphony. Motions of beauty and grace made the three standard striders seem like stilted geriatrics.

It was like watching a ballet, Archie thought. A ballet without choreography, plans, or design.
No, there was always a plan.
Even here. He picked out the movements. He saw the Commandant lead them in, then out, then to the side. The trio seemed to be working together but, in reality, each was just pushing on his own using the others for cover. He had to admit, the Commandant was good.

Movement above caught his eye
. He looked up to see more drones in the air above dancing and pirouetting in another duel. It was a dogfight of avian proportions. The bird like drones darted in cover and behind conduit. He looked back to the crowd and saw the awe and wonder. Not only was the Commandant besting them on the ground, but in the air as well.

Archie wondered if this was for him, a show of force? Intimidation? What was more intimidating than what was already done
? He crossed his arms and watched.

The Commandant gave Archie a slight smile and a mischievous wink. He uncrossed his arms and walked slowly, methodically, directly across the training area. The striders continued the sparring as he walked within a meter of the trio. He raised his hand into the air and snapped his fingers.

The Commandant’s strider landed a double blow upon a pair and swung a leg out that crippled the third. In a second it was done, all in the time it took him to take another step. The echo of the snapping fingers hadn’t even returned.

“Major Theodore, will you join me for tea?” Commandant Nefoussi asked.

Archie followed the Commandant. Behind him the striders stalked. An avian drone landed on the shoulder of a victorious strider and disappeared within.

“A bit of practice
, Nefoussi?”

The Commandant turned his head and smiled widely. “May I call you Theodore? Seeing as you are my guest.”

Archie wanted to tell him to shove his name up his ass, but thought better of it. “Guest, eh? Well, you can call me Theodore then.” He spit.

Nefoussi nodded and put his head down as he walked. “Practice for them, not for me.”

“So you embarrass them three at a time?”

“Do you not train? Sweat in training rather than bleed in war?”

Archie snorted and walked in silence. He took in as many details as he could. The ship was larger than anything he had ever served on. Against the sides of the cargo hold were racks and racks of metal spheres. More sophisticated equipment was stowed nearby.

Nefoussi gave him a knowing look and proceeded down a bustling hall. He sat on a small stool. His hands proceeded through a ritual of unstacking the cups, adding loose leaf tea and pouring the boiling water. The smell of lavender mixed with dark tea.

Archie sat.

“So what do you think
, Theodore?”

“Don’t you already know?” Archie replied.

“Ahh well, one has to know where a man stands.” Nefoussi leaned forward and sniffed the vapors of the tea. “Such wonders in tea. They say you can read the future from the leaves.”

“Bullshit.”

Nefoussi shrugged.

“What do you want? You have everything in my head. Why not just toss me out of the airlock?” Archie was sick of bantering. Time to get to the point.

Nefoussi made a wrinkle with his nose. He leaned towards the cup and took a gentle sip. “Ooo, hot!” He rubbed his lower lip. “You will be my biographer, the one who tells history what I was really like.”

Archie turned his head and looked closely at Nefoussi. “Biographer? To a Dictator, or a Dictator
’s General?”

“Come now
, Major, like your pseudo capitalist regime is any better.”

“We have choice.”

“You’re backwards. Fear of augmentation, nanites, even of your own colonies!” Nefoussi leaned forward and shook a fist. His eyes were intense.

“For good reason, men are men. Not machines.”

Nefoussi waved a hand dismissively. “Archaic. Your mindset feared fire on the plains of the Serengeti.” His hand fanned his tea as he looked downwards. “When I was young, before I can remember, they implanted the nanite computer in me.”

“We don’t do that to children.”

“Oh, I know, too easy to control someone. Map there mind. I’ve heard the arguments, but a society that is founded on that ideal, well, there is no issue! If you have nothing to hide, why be ashamed?” Nefoussi tested the tea with his finger and drew it back quickly. “Still hot!” He sat back and crossed his arms. “Once the nanites spread and grew I was able to use my mind like no one ever else had. Today the youth see this as normal. But I was the first!” His voice was triumphant, proud.

“Until someone hacks your mind.” Archie looked down to the dancing froth in his tea.

“Bah! You lack even the basic knowledge and yet you still discount it. Look at your Core Corporation, they have augmetics as good as ours.”

“For those who chose it. Even then, nothing is added to the brain like a full computer.” Archie looked back at Nefoussi and began to doubt his argument. Was this modification just evolution?

“You see us as monsters?” Nefoussi asked inflecting his voice with a high tone.

“Butchers maybe.” Archie leaned in. He distrusted the tea, distrusted anything that the Sa’Ami Commandant offered.

Nefoussi looked distracted for a moment. His eyes glazed over before he nodded his head and smiled warmly at Archie.

The sounds of a metallic music called out . The feel of the ship changed as footsteps shuffled about. Traffic reversed in the hallway.

“Prayer,” Nefoussi said, as he tested the tea again. “Hmm, about right. Would a lemon help?”

Archie looked at him and shook his head slowly. “No. I doubt a lemon will do much for me.” The thought of being a biographer was rolling through his head. He’d been many a thing in his life, a student, a robot tender, a wrestler, a vagabond, and finally a Marine. Biographer wasn’t even on the horizon.

“Things are already in motion that will change much. Of that much you know already. But there are more to come. Oh yes.” Nefoussi sipped and nodded at his tea. “Good tea.”

“What do you want from me
, Commandant?”

“Nothing. You will watch, and someday return and tell my side of the story. History will not make a villain of the Sa’Ami.” Nefoussi cupped the tea and nodded to Archie. “Do try the tea.”

“You’re already a villain, Commandant. How far you take it is up to you.”

Nefoussi set the cup down with a clink. “Mr
. Theodore, that was nothing.” The tone chilled Archie. “We will strike a blow unlike any ever seen, and in doing so, save billions.”

Archie shook his head and saw a man who had rationalized insanity. Like a bad wreck, Archie knew he’d watch, even if he tried to look away.

*

Abraham Yoder stood a least a head above everyone else. The first growth of a bushy beard sprouted on the bottom of his chin. His wide shoulders transitioned down to a slender waist giving him the form of a wedge. A very tall wedge.

“Heave!” the voice sounded.

Abraham squeezed the hemp tight in his hands. The rough edges dug into callouses. Feet shifted and he felt the ground bite.

On the other side of the rope three young men grinned back and bared teeth like animals. Each wore the bright colors of the Maronites.

Droplets of water exploded off the rope as the contest began. On one side the giant pulled against the strength of three men. Cheers erupted from both sides as the normally dour faced Anabaptists bellowed for their champion.

Abraham grinned across rope.

“Pull you ox! Pull!” Abdul hollered into his ear.

The three young men strained to gain a good grip. Feet slipped in the dry yellow dirt. Feet pumped and pounded.

A bright red rag marked the center above a wooden stake. It edged from one side to the next wavering and snapping.

“Double or nothing?” Abraham yelled across the rope.

The first man turned and spoke in Aramaic to his friends. “Deal!”

The rope cracked and pulsed as the three Maronites heaved. Abraham let it slack for just a moment. The three pulled back, sensing advantage.

Then he really pulled. One arm over the next he tightened his forearms
’til the muscles stood out like a knotted rope. The red rag drifted closer and closer. The three men stared back and cried out.

Triumph was his and he knew it. He cast his head to the side and gave a wink at the group standing behind. The cheers warmed his heart.

“Abraham!” a deep voice snapped.

Abraham knew the voice. Knew it since he was a child. Lately he grew angry every time he heard it, but he didn’t know why.

He pulled harder and snapped the rope back tumbling the three men forward. The contest was done. The Maronites cried foul while the Anabaptists were strangely silent.

Abraham turned and took two steps away from the rope. “Father.”

The crowds disbursed on both sides. The cask of hard cider was left undisturbed by either side. Abraham walked slowly away and rolled his white sleeves down.

The man waiting for him wore a heavy beard thick enough to nest birds. He was large, but not as large as his son.

Abraham looked at his father defiantly. He felt the urge to argue. He didn’t know why, he just did.

“That is not our way,” Thomas said sternly. His eyes were angry, but restrained.

Abraham looked away and eyed the cask of cider.
His
cider. “I earned it.”