Giles Kurns_Rogue Operator Read online

  Giles couldn’t contain his surprise. “You’re kidding?” he exclaimed, forgetting himself, his mouth hanging open.

  The Justicar’s eyes twinkled with renewed enthusiasm. “I’m not,” he assured him. “I have a deep respect for Molly and her team. They have done right by us time and again, beyond the call of duty. And now, with the interest you have demonstrated in a culture other than your own, I see you are cut from the same cloth. The curiosity of spirit and genuine compassion for other races — you may be puny and scaleless, but you humans… and Estarians,” he added, bowing politely to Arlene, “have your hearts metaphorically in the right place, even if that anatomically isn’t true.”

  In that moment Giles had a torrent of questions he wanted to ask about the Zhyn anatomy but managed to restrain himself. “Sir,” he said instead, “it would be our honor to have you accompany us.”

  “Well then,” Beno’or said, clamping his hands together in excitement, “if you give me a few more moments I shall tidy up my affairs, pack and then meet you back at your skylift station to embark on your vessel.”

  Giles, bewildered by the strange turn of events, stood up and bowed deeply. Arlene followed suit, allowing the Justicar to take his leave of them.

  “Well that was unexpected,” Arlene remarked, sitting down once the door to the sitting room had closed behind him.

  Giles looked over at her, shaking his head in utter amusement. “You’re telling me!” he concurred.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Aboard the Scamp Princess, en route to the Orn System

  The cockpit hummed with the now familiar sounds of the engines vibrating through the structure of the ship. The inhabitants of the Scamp Princess found it strangely soothing as they ventured into the unknown territory their quest was taking them.

  Arlene took a sip of tea, replacing the antigrav mug near the console but careful not to let it tip over. “Well, I think this ties into a mythology held by the Estarians about ascending. They seem to have retained it, but it doesn’t look like Zhyn culture has,” she said matter-of-factly, speaking more as a scholar than a wanderer in those parts.

  The Justicar eyed her knowingly, thrilled to be able to have this type of conversation with someone finally. “In fact, my dear, they do!” he told her.

  Arlene’s eyes widened and she leaned over her arm rest a couple of inches more, in rapt attention.

  Beno’or tilted his head to one side, conceding another point. “And yes, there is an emphasis on doing it at death, but those who have reached a certain level of familiarity with the realms advocating an attempt to ascend during their waking life time - casting off the body and moving to spirit form only. Same, same… but different,” he reported, clearly without judgment or attachment to either approach.

  Arlene’s eyes gleamed with interest. “This is… fascinating. But…” she frowned, reshuffling her world view to fit the new information. “…it just doesn’t seem to fit with the Zhyn culture around fighting to the death and violence being a show of prowess.”

  Beno’or nodded affirmingly. “You’re right. Obviously this isn’t popular with the factions who view this as tantamount to suicide.” He paused for dramatic effect. Arlene grinned.

  He continued, pleased to be entertaining her intellect. “And there have been some groups along the way who have tried to induce this state artificially with drugs, which would basically kill off higher brain functioning, which tended to end with the same result. But the intention is there. Beneath the overt culture of might and strength in the physical.” He used his hands and pinched fingers for emphasis as he articulated his argument.

  Arlene thought for a moment and looked off into the distance out of the ship’s side window. Everything was just blackness out there, yet her eyes seemed to register brand new horizons in her imagination.

  Beno’or continued. “But I still believe there are a number of groups who strive to do this naturally. In synch with their natural ascension.”

  Arlene brought her gaze back to Beno’or and rested her chin on her hand, leaning on her armrest again. “So where are these groups?”

  Beno’or sighed and settled back in the console chair. “I’m not sure. I haven’t heard of much happening on Kurilia. I think it was more prevalent on Zhyn-proper. The difficulty they face of course is the land energies, and trying to find places that are conducive to that energy draw they need.”

  His eyes defocussed as he searched his mind. “I seem to recall there are some planets where the iron ore content isn’t high enough to conduct the power, and other places where things are just too frenetic due to over population… or echos of war and destruction.”

  Arlene nodded. “Yes!” she exclaimed in recognition of the phenomena. “I’ve sensed that myself as I’ve traveled. I thought it was just me being too sensitive, but I’ve noticed exactly that.”

  Giles had been piloting the ship - or at least feeding instructions and parameters to Scamp, who was flying the ship. He glanced back, eavesdropping on the conversation. “So is that why you suddenly were fireball-less when we got to Teshov that time?” he asked.

  Arlene frowned. “Yes. Maybe,” she confessed reluctantly.

  Beno’or picked up on the sudden tension between the two. “So… erm, if you don’t mind me asking…” he ventured. “Are you two… married?”

  Arlene scoffed. Giles coughed in outrage. “No!” he said quickly and definitively. “Hell no!” he qualified.

  Arlene looked almost annoyed. “Not even…” she added in agreement for emphasis.

  “Only,” Beno’or continued lightly, “you do seem to have that old married couple dynamic.”

  Arlene narrowed her eyes at him. “Hey, you be careful who you’re calling ‘old,’ Your Highness.”

  Beno’or chuckled, placing his hand on his chest. “My deepest apologies, m’lady. That was not my intention. I was merely suggesting that your interactions were familiar.”

  Arlene pretended to still be offended, but simmered down, watching him carefully out of the corner of her eye.

  Beno’or continued to smile sagely to himself. “So, shouldn’t we have a think about the clues we already have for this next talisman?”

  Giles nodded. “Good plan, sir,” he agreed, pleased to be changing the subject. “Scamp, can you put the rhyme onto a screen for us for analysis please?”

  “No problem,” Scamp replied, pulling the file from Giles’s notes and displaying it on every unused screen in the cockpit.

  The Justicar sat forward on his antigrav chair to study the puzzle.

  Eleven moons, a sight to reap,

  When all align, no time for sleep

  A shaft of light, where the ions flow

  Onto the shroud, the glow does go.

  When one beholds the moons of orn,

  Be sure to look up at the horn.

  The crescent marks the spot to be

  When the time strikes keen and on the mark

  And when you read the map of gold

  In your hands you’ll graciously hold

  The elixir of life

  The holy grail

  The reason we’re on

  The rising trail.

  “You know,” Beno’or said after reading it through several times, “I’m sure this is a well-known site. I’m almost certain I’ve seen funds allocated to maintain it.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Makes you wonder why the Senate has never made more fuss about it. And why it isn’t under military protection.”

  Arlene stuck her lower lip out. “I wonder if it’s because they don’t think it’s that valuable? Or maybe it’s not even there anymore…”

  Giles swung around in his chair. “Hmmm. That they know of, perhaps.”

  Arlene nodded. “Or maybe they think it is just legend, and no one has ever thought that there was anything to this legend. I mean, without that Sacred Clan piece from Earth, we wouldn’t be hauling ass out here to check it out…”

  Giles turned back to his console. �
�You make a good point, Arlene,” he agreed.

  Beno’or continued to study the text, muttering to himself and taking notes on his own personal holo.

  Arlene closed her eyes and eased back into her console chair to contemplate the puzzle herself, too.

  Aibek Moon, Orn System

  Gagai walked into the guards’ hut, and took his bow and arrows from his back, placing the quiver just inside the door. The scent of rock and chalk was masked by the more organic smells of the natural building materials and the smoky scent of the fire crackling in the purpose-built fire place.

  Naldrir flicked his attention onto him. “Any joy?” he asked, not halting the careful strokes of the flint on his sword.

  Gagai shook his head. “Not really. A single rabbit, but nothing else,” he relayed, unenthused. He bent down to take off his outdoor boots. They were wearing thin again around the crease his foot made in the upper construction. He’d have to find some material to repair them at some point, he reminded himself. Repair had been their only option for the last hundred years… or however long they’d be stranded on this rock, in the name of duty.

  Naldrir went back to sharpening his sword in front of the fire. “Maybe the next shift will have better luck,” he suggested, his tone not really conveying any great hope.

  “Aye,” Gagai agreed. “Although I’m getting a feeling that a freeze is due.”

  Naldrir frowned. “What does the computer system say?” he asked.

  Gagai shook his head. “I’m not sure. I’ll go check. But if memory serves I reckon we’re due one in the coming moon.”

  Naldrir stopped sharpening his sword for a moment and gazed into the fire. “It’s the perfect protection when we enter the most vulnerable part of the cycle,” he mused, subconsciously reminding them of why they need to endure such harsh conditions.

  Jendyg had been sitting at the other side of the hut, mostly in shadow, quietly carving away at a small statue he was creating from a chunk of wood. “Yes, but also the time when the temple is at its most exposed. If we didn’t have the force field, the vulnerability wouldn’t exist and we wouldn’t have to risk life and limb going out there each time.”

  Gagai looked at him for the first time since he had walked in. “Without the force field we’ll have any power-hungry thief in the system landing on the planet!”

  Jendyg dropped his eyes back to his carving and continued his work. “We haven’t seen anyone anywhere near here for nearly seventy standard cycles,” he chuffed, irritated. “And no one has tried to land in ninety. I think we’re probably safe,” he retorted sarcastically.

  Gagai drew a deep breath. “I haven’t the energy to do this again,” he said, exhaling impatiently.

  Jendyg muttered inaudibly to himself as Gagai traipsed out in the direction of the computer room to avoid any further discussion.

  Naldrir had continued working on his sword. He worked slowly and methodically, using the task as a meditation more than anything else. “You know, the more you push against him the more staunch he’ll be in his beliefs.”

  Jendyg gaze fell towards the fire, the light from Naldrir’s sword reflecting a flash of light every now and again in the corner of his vision. “Aye, I do. But if I don’t challenge his thinking who else is going to?”

  Naldrir didn’t respond. He just continued working. Meditating, deep in his own thoughts.

  Aboard the Scamp Princess

  Scamp’s voice came over the intercom, waking Arlene from a lilting snooze and jolting Beno’or out of some research he’d become engrossed in.

  “We’re approaching the Orn System. Where would you like to stop?” he asked.

  Giles was still at the helm, looking distinctly frazzled by one too many mochas. He wiped his hands over his face. “On screen,” he mumbled, looking up at the arrangement of moons that were in a peculiar orbit around a central point with no perceptible mass at the center.

  He frowned. “What’s that one there?” he asked, poking his finger into the hologram at the one that seemed to have some in and outgoing traffic.

  Scamp’s line buzzed for a second before he responded. “I believe that is the visitor center.”

  Giles tilted his head back on his spine. “Visitor Center? What on Earth do they need one of those for?”

  At that moment Scamp zoomed in on one of the ships leaving the system. The details flashed up on the screen next to it.

  LIFE SIGNS: 475

  Of which, CHILDREN: 428

  “School trips!” Giles exclaimed in a eureka voice.

  Scamp appeared on the smaller holoscreen next to Giles’s controls. He performed his best, simulated, sarcastic smirk. “Yes. school trips,” he confirmed.

  “Alright,” Giles tutted. “Not everyone has all the information at their fingertips before you display it… which is clearly what we need you for.”

  “Correct,” Scamp confirmed.

  “And anyway,” Giles frowned, “When did you become so cheeky?”

  “Hmmmm…” Scamp processed his response for a minute, his virtual face making a deliberate expression of simulated human contemplation. “I think it might have been since talking with Oz and seeing how he got away with it with Sean Royale.”

  Giles shook his head. “You’re fucking kidding me? Royale is ruining the AI-human relationship for everyone?”

  Scamp’s sim-face returned to one of earnestness. “Yes, you could say that,” he agreed simply.

  Arlene stretched, yawned and ambled over to the front of the cockpit, overhearing the last part of the conversation. “What’s Royale done now?” she asked.

  Scamp grinned. “He’s shown us the light and demonstrated that nothing bad happens when we inject humor and sarcasm into our protocols.”

  Arlene squinted at the holoscreen. “Yeah, you wouldn’t have gotten the sarcasm from Royale though,” she thought, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. “I think you downloaded that as a patch from Oz. In which case, Royale isn’t the only culprit in all of this.”

  She slapped Giles on his upper arm. “I suspect your girlfriend has some inadvertent hand in this you know.”

  Giles shook his head. “The Empire seemed to function perfectly for what? Nearly 170 years? And then Molly Bates shows up and a guy can’t even get a bit of respect from his on-board AI. Women!” he exclaimed, absently, while checking the read out on another screen. He turned to Scamp’s screen and repeated himself emphatically. “WOMEN!”

  Arlene tapped him again. “Alright, I get the picture. So what’s the what?”

  Beno’or was now standing next to her, overseeing the screens, too. “Well the nursery rhyme would suggest that the moon with the visitor’s center on it is the site of the temple we’re looking for…” he said slowly. “But I don’t know. It all seems a little too obvious to me. Even if they don’t know what is there. I mean, at some point, someone must have.”

  Giles spun around in his chair, racking his brains. “That’s a good consideration, although, we have eleven moons where it could potentially be. And very few clues to narrow it down. We know we’re searching for a temple. And honestly, the official welcoming place of the system seems as good a place as any to start.”

  The three agreed.

  Giles took a deep breath. “Okay Scamp, set a course to land us near the Visitor’s Center, on, what is called… Ramachandra?” he instructed. He hesitated, checking he’d got the right moon on the system map. “I take it this is a planet where we can actually land, right?”

  Scamp chuckled, his tone with a tiny hint of condescension. “Technically, it’s not a planet. But yes, we can land here. Besides, I wouldn’t want to put you through any additional anxiety you might experience around the irrational fear of falling off skylift platforms.”

  Beno’or glanced down at Giles, who was turning a deep shade of pink and deliberately avoiding eye contact with Beno’or.

  “Very good, Scamp. Make it so,” he concluded, busying himself with the descent protocols.

 
The Sacred Ascenders Convent for the Gifted, Estaria

  “That child!”

  The Estarian nun strode into the kitchen and grabbed a ceramic mug from the shelf, then strode straight to the tap, poured herself some water, and began gulping it down.

  One of the other sisters, Sister Lorraine, was over at the other counter preparing vegetable matter for the evening meal. She glanced back to look at her. “Steady, Bridgette,” she said brightly, “anyone sees you like that they might offer you a real drink!”

  Bridgette stopped gulping and caught her breath. “The way I feel right now I might throw out twenty years of clean living and take it!” she exclaimed.

  Her friend abandoned the vegetables for a moment. “What’s happened?” she asked, taking a step to the center of the room. “Is it Anne again?”

  Bridgette nodded, trying to recover from the gulping of water. She put her hand on her upper chest and then swallowed. “Yes. Yes it is. She’s… infuriating, Lorraine!”

  Sister Lorraine smiled. “All children are. Especially when they’re gifted.”

  Bridgette shook her head defiantly. “It’s not just that. There’s just something off about her. She gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

  Lorraine chuckled, pulling out a seat at the kitchen table. She plonked herself down with a breathy groan, resting her tired feet. “Well, you could always transfer to something else. Maybe tending the gardens would be less stressful for you?”

  Bridgette put the cup down, leaned against the counter and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know. It’s just not my scene,” she confessed, despondency lacing her tone. “And I always wanted to teach. It’s just this one child. She tests my patience!”

  Lorraine tried to brighten her mood. “Well, what is it that is getting to you?”

  Bridgette’s mouth dropped open. “Well, apart from the incident the other day at morning meditation where she started floating, and then protested that she didn’t know she was doing it…? Just now I was instructing her and she got all frustrated and every candle in the room sparked and popped. I get it. It wasn’t as if she had any control and was trying to light them. She just expelled energy, with no thought of the consequences. It’s like she just doesn’t care at all!”